Beauty and the Wolf by Marina Myles Page B

if she’d missed her only chance to know Draven’s hard body against hers.
    Gathering a clean handkerchief, she pressed it to her injured mouth. She crouched down and began to search her husband’s wardrobe. There on the bottom shelf sat a plaid blanket. She removed it and saw nothing behind the folded material on the same shelf. But when she returned the blanket to its original position, a brass key tumbled from its folds. Isabella picked it up and flipped it over in her hand. What did it unlock?
    She tried the key at Draven’s desk to no avail. Would it give her entry into the mysterious library?
    She moved to the window Draven had leapt through on their wedding night. To her dismay, it faced the courtyard and not the beach. She wondered if her husband had reentered the house yet. If not, perhaps she had time to try the key in the library’s door before he returned.
    She decided to take her chances. Rushing to the manor’s first level, Isabella slipped the brass object into the lock. She sucked in a breath and turned the knob. It opened! After stepping quietly into the dark, circular room, she clicked the door shut behind her and threw back the curtains. Then she set about searching for anything that might enlighten her about Draven’s family history.
    A writing desk stood in the corner of the vast library yet held nothing of importance. Shelves of novels and various textbooks yielded nothing noteworthy. She was about to search the drawer of a side table when Draven’s booming voice shook the walls.
    “Rogers, I’m going to my chambers and I don’t want to be disturbed.”
    “Will ye want supper brought up later, sir?”
    “No.”
    “As ye wish, m’lord.”
    Isabella heard Rogers’s footfalls on the back stairwell while Draven’s boots pounded on the main staircase. Her pulse raced. There was only one place she hadn’t searched: a decorative chest hidden behind a three-setting sofa. Stretching a hand forward, she pulled on the latch. Locked.
    Her hopes sinking, she looked about for something she could use to open it. Hastening to the writing desk, she extracted a letter opener. She returned to the chest and fumbled with the sharp object, cringing when it made noise inside the lock. She was ready to abandon the task when she heard a pop. The chest’s lid swung into the air by its hinges, releasing a whiff of musty air. She peered inside and saw that deep in the shadows sat an ornate notebook. A journal of some kind.
    Isabella sat on a nearby stool and ran her fingertips over the binding. On its cover was an embossed symbol of a moon. After she flipped the cover open, she thumbed through the pages at a rapid speed, glancing through illustrations of lunar phases, schedules of forthcoming full moons, and recipes for herbal remedies. Intrigued, Isabella stopped at the most recent entry penned yesterday.

    October 12, 1820
    The scent of Isabella’s blood beneath her skin is driving me mad. I’ve become transfixed. The flow of her blood naturally makes her pulse throb. As her pulse rises and falls against the cream of her neck, I long to run my mouth along it and gently bite down.
    Damnation!
    Why has she returned here? Simply to torture me? No. She has done the honorable thing by resuming our marriage. Therefore I must be a gentleman and do the same. How I wish I could tell her of my curse. But she would surely leave me again. In my silence, I will have protected relations with her. I hope I can stop myself from hurting her, for God knows, I care for her deeply.
    Will I ever tell her of my affections—or of my Gypsy hex?

    The entry made little sense. Isabella’s heart beat in triple time. What hex could Draven be referring to? She was happy that he planned to make love to her, but his attraction to blood still alarmed her.
    Her hands trembled and she felt light-headed. Draven’s words offered proof of his violent thoughts but it also gave her a glimpse at his emotions. Tears sprang to Isabella’s eyes. By