Page 38 of Lady Petra and the Wolf

Until she found control.

And then she let that control snap.

Their coming together that time was not just the passion of the night before but a healing of something inside Petra. And she sensed it in Wolf as well, she thought, as he wiped his seed, which he had been quick to withdraw, off of her inner thigh. Once he had disposed of the linen, he wrapped his arms around her and Petra allowed herself to succumb to sleep again.

They dressed without words after they woke again, Petra’s mind awhirl with all that had occurred. As he assisted her with her corset with an ease that made her uncomfortable to consider too long, Petra debated the wisdom of asking him to stay. Ultimately, it was best he left, yet the longing his nimble fingers sent skittering throughout her body tempted her beyond reason.

True to his word of being gone by the morning, Wolf stood at the door of the room and gazed at her, his eyes drinking her in as if he did not know the next time they would see her again. He began to turn when Petra formulated the question that had been at the forefront of her mind.

“Jules.” He paused at his name on her lips. “Why was it different this time? Different from the library?”

He turned back and stared at her for a long time before he drew in a deep, rasping breath.

“Because that was before I realized I loved you.”

And with that, he walked out the door, leaving Petra frozen in his wake.

Chapter Thirteen

Wolf walked dazedly back to Wolfridge House in a pair of costume boots a size too small. Instead of calling for his valet to get out of the ridiculous and itchy costume clothing he was wearing, a conversation he was not looking forward to, he marched straight to his library and sat down. Ever since that evening at the Stillwell library, he had avoided his own, a painful reminder of his own duplicity.

Yet now that he knew where Petra was, that she was safe, his mind finally allowed him to leap to the beloved room. He had extended the safety of Wolfridge House to her and he believed that she was not so proud as to not to seek help if she needed it. Even if she did not trust him…

But did she trust him? Wolf could have sworn something healed between them as they came together that morning, which he now recognized took a significant amount of trust between two people. Yes, she had trusted him with her body, but did she trust him with her heart? Wolf would give all his fortune, everything he had for her to see that she could, to find some way to prove himself. He glanced down at the book before him, unsure of why he had pulled this particular stack of books.

Raking his hands through his hair, he acknowledged that he was lying to himself.

After he had left Petra, something unlocked within Wolf, pushing him to gather and read books that reminded him of her or that he thought she would like, starting with The Works of the Late Edgar Allan Poe, which began with the story he had mentioned at the theatre, The Murders in the Rue Morgue. Once he began reading, he discovered that he wished for her insight or commentary, though he did not dare go back out to her sanctuary. Kemberley likely had someone watching him and he would never bring that devil to her doorstep again.

As he read, he began to leave notes of his thoughts, though his soul recoiled to think of marking a book. So instead, there he was, leaving bits of paper throughout the book, marking parts that he thought Petra would like or that he wished her opinion on. The pessimist in him told him that she would never be present in his library to read them, yet that twisted ball of hope in his chest would not give up.

Turning a page, he bit the inside of his cheek as the true murderer was revealed in The Murders in the Rue Morgue. Petra would either think it brilliant or ridiculous. Or both.

Just as he finished his note for her, Escher stood before him.

“My lord, I wish to inform you—”

“Julian!” His aunt and uncle burst into the room behind the man, his aunt racing toward him before Escher could announce them.

“Forgive me, Escher, but I saw no need to stand on ceremony.” His aunt cast the butler a sympathetic gaze as she pulled Wolf into an all-encompassing embrace. Wolf huffed, biting back a laugh at Escher’s clear discomfort despite the man’s unwillingness to speak ill of a guest. He brought an arm around his aunt, the tension that had haunted his steps since he returned from Petra’s sanctuary melting away with her familiar warmth. How had he gone all these years without this?

His uncle slapped an affectionate hand on his shoulder, and Wolf moved to help him sit down in one of the wingback armchairs by the fire.

“Would you like tea?” Wolf gestured toward the drawing room. “Or would you wish to refresh yourselves after your journey?”

“Yes, in a moment,” Diana was still hugging him. “I suppose after not seeing you for so long, we just wanted to make the most of the amount of time we spent together.”

A pang of guilt crept slowly through Wolf at her words. He had ignored them for so many years. His aunt and uncle had no child and they had raised him like a son.

“What is all this?” Diana finally moved past Wolf, gesturing to the table where all the books and notes lay before them. “Murder at the…? Since when did you read about murder?” His aunt looked at him incredulously. Yet the softness in her gaze suggested she was teasing him, a glimmer of that playful mockery she had so often employed to ruffle his feathers in his youth.

“I’ve leaned toward mystery in the last few years. You know I was always a curious lad.” Wolf went to shut The Works of the Late Edgar Allan Poe, but unfortunately, this caused several of his notes to flutter out onto the table before them.

“Oh, I see.” As his aunt’s eyes danced across the notes, a knowing smile graced Diana’s face.

“You see?” He bit out, shoving his hands in the scratchy pockets of the costume trousers in an effort not to hide the papers away.

“This is for her. She likes a good mystery, like Wilkie Collins.” His aunt almost purred, looking like the cat who got the cream. “Have you won her back, Julian?”