Midnight Pleasures

Part Four CHAPTER 1

A WULF'S CURSE
RONDA THOMPSON
CHAPTER 1
England, 1820
The impatient stamp of a hoof. The jingle-jangle of a bridle. The leather creak of a harness. All sounds of the caravan preparing to leave. Elise Collins stood in the shadows, the wagons barely distinguishable through a thick London mist. She clutched her valise in a white-knuckled grip and kept repeating the phrase, I am an adventurer, over in her mind.
A loud roar split the night. Elise jumped. Good God, what roamed the mist?
"Beast Tamer!" a voice thundered. "Come see to Raja. He's in a surly mood tonight."
The door of the wagon closest to Elise swung open. A figure stepped outside. She couldn't see his face, but unless the mist and the shadows played tricks with the night, he was very tall. Moonlight danced around him, illuminating him in a spiritual light. His shoulder-length hair nearly gleamed silver. A low curse floated to her upon the chill, dismissing his saintly image.
"Raja is spoiled for my company!" the man called. "I had hoped to sleep, since Nathan said he'd drive for me."
"Unless you keep the tiger quiet, none who have sleep duty tonight will get any!" the big voice boomed. "Leave your wagon empty and ride a while with Raja."
Tigers? Elise swallowed the lump in her throat. Danny, her uncle's groom and an accomplice to her daring escape, hadn't mentioned that there were wild animals among the traveling show. Perhaps she shouldn't have sent Danny off so quickly once he'd delivered her safely to the outskirts of London. But no, Elise had made her decision. She must follow through with her plans.
Her gaze strayed toward the now empty wagon. With her dark cloak covering her, she should be able to steal inside without being seen. Her uncle would never think to look for her among such people. The caravan was her best hope of escape. Gathering her courage, Elise darted toward the wagon.
Sterling Wulf paused before the sturdy bars of the animal wagons. One dark shape paced inside each wagon. Leena, a black panther, had gotten up in years and seldom gave him trouble, but Raja, a Siberian tiger, was ill-tempered most of the time and needed coddling.
"Want me to ride with you, do you?" Sterling asked. "You're nothing but an overgrown kitten." As Raja paced nervously before him, Sterling related to the tiger's unease. He'd been on edge since they'd reached the countryside of London and begun their nightly performances. London brought back too many memories, and it had been dangerous for him to be seen. What if someone had recognized him? And the temptation to seek out his brothers had almost proven too great. He'd feel much safer as soon as the troupe put London behind them.
Raja rubbed his great hulk against the bars. Sterling shook his head and stuck his hand inside, his fingers rumpling the animal's fur. "All right then. I'll ride with you, but only for a short while."
"I wish you would pet me as nicely as you pet him."
He turned to find Mora, the snake charmer, watching him. "You should be in your wagon," he said. "Philip will call the signal to start moving at any moment."
Mora sashayed toward him, her silver jewelry flashing in the dark. "I had hoped to ride in your wagon tonight - had hoped we could do more than sleep."
Sterling shrugged. "Maybe another time."
She placed her hands upon her ample hips. "You always refuse my offers. Do you not like women?"
Women were a nice distraction, Sterling admitted, but some said they were, for the most part, a curse to man. How well Sterling knew the truth to those words. However, Mora posed no threat to him, at least to his heart. She was older than he was, and she didn't smell all that good, but she held a certain appeal. It had been a while since he'd given in to his baser urges. Sterling found himself tempted, but tonight the cats demanded his attention.
"Raja is upset and I've been asked to calm him so the others can sleep. As I've said, maybe another time."
The snake charmer made a sound through her nose, not unlike the horses that pawed the ground in readiness to be off. "You cannot avoid me forever, Beast Tamer. I am curious to see if the big bulge in your tights is really you, or if you enhance your charms with a sock."
Sterling laughed. He was long past blushing over vulgar conversation. And he hated wearing the blasted tights while he performed. Philip, the caravan master, had insisted, assuring Sterling that not only men liked to ogle the troupe members. He supposed Philip was right. He did collect more than the rest of the performers, and the coin wasn't always tossed by men.
"Time to move!" Philip shouted.
Dismissing Mora, Sterling climbed up beside Taylor, an older man with a hump on his back who saw to the caravan animals, horse and beast alike. The man flicked the reins and moved the wagon forward. Raja growled in protest.
"Enough of your tantrums!" Sterling called down to the tiger. "Sleep, Raja. Heaven knows I'd rather be settled in my cot than feel this hard bench pressing into my ass."
The gentle sway of the wagon seduced her. Elise could barely keep her eyes open. She had sworn not an hour past that she'd be too frightened to relax, but nothing had happened to her. The man had not returned to the wagon. Her back hurt and her petticoats did not sufficiently cushion the hard wood beneath her bottom. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she made out the shape of a cot.
What harm would there be in resting there for a moment? Just long enough to ease the stiffness settling into her bones? Elise crawled forward and hefted herself upon the bed. There were warm blankets and a soft pelt to snuggle beneath.
Her eyes trained warily upon the door, she stretched out. She would not sleep but merely rest. The bedding had a scent about it. A male scent. Beast Tamer. What sort of name was that for a man, anyway? And was he really as tall as his shadow? Was his hair silver? Maybe he'd be a very old man, this Beast Tamer.
The last thought comforted Elise. Perhaps he'd be a kind, grandfatherly figure who'd be happy to take her beneath his wing and see her safely to her aunt's door in Liverpool. The sway of the wagon, the steady clip-clop of the horses' hooves as they plodded along, combined to soothe her. She was safe, at least for the time being.
Sterling eased the door to his wagon shut. No need to bang about and wake those sleeping inside the other wagons. He stripped from his clothes and slipped into his cot, only to find it smaller than he remembered. A soft moan rose from the space beside him. He was not alone. Mora, the snake charmer, Sterling assumed. He supposed most men would feel flattered to find a woman waiting in their bed, but he wasn't all that certain he even liked Mora.
Her sweet scent drifted up to him. He didn't recall the snake charmer ever smelling particularly fetching. In the darkness, he touched her hair. Silky beneath his fingertips. Mora appeared as if she seldom took a brush to her tangled mane.
Had she made such effort to please him? Because he was pleased. His blood heated in his veins. Lust stirred to life inside of him. Sterling sought her mouth in the darkness. Again he was surprised. Her lips were petal-soft beneath his, and her breath did not reek of garlic. She sighed, opening to him. He took full advantage of her invitation.
Such a strange dream. Elise had never been kissed before. It was pleasant. Whoever her mind had conjured seemed to know what he was about, which struck her as odd. Shouldn't her dream include only her own experience in such matters? He swirled his tongue inside of her mouth, something she had never considered a man might do. His lips were firm, warm, demanding, but demanding of what, she wasn't certain.
A response, she realized a moment later, but only because she felt one. Heat flooded her body, settling between her legs. Her breasts suddenly ached, her nipples standing erect against her stiff chemise. And then his hand was there, cupping her through the fabric of her frock. Elise came awake with a start. She suddenly understood that the man kissing and fondling her was no dream phantom. Her first instinct was to scream, but then she recalled her circumstance.
"Kindly remove your hand from my person," she said against his lips.
He immediately pulled back, but his hand still rested where he had left it. "Mora?"
His voice was as deep and rich as she remembered. "That is not my name, and you, sir, are taking liberties against my will."
"What the bloody hell?" He scrambled off of her. She heard him fumbling about, then saw a flint spark, his obvious intent to light the lantern.
A soft glow filled the wagon. Elise got her first good look at this man called the Beast Tamer. He was not old. He looked nothing at all like a kind, grandfatherly figure. His skin was not loose and wrinkled, but firm and smooth. And there was a lot of skin bared for her innocent eyes. The man stood before her completely naked.