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me.” He released her hands from his grip. “You should stay away from me, for I am full of poison, always will be.”
    “No, you aren’t. That’s over now, Brandon. That poison is out of your system. You are in control of your life again.”
    “It will always control me, Justine. I can feel the need for it blistering inside my veins right now. But it’s not just the opium.” His fierce eyes pierced hers, and the tangle in her stomach twisted into a knot. “You shouldn’t look to me for anything.” His voice was rough, low.
    Brandon’s severe, dark face took her breath away. It brought to mind the ghostly tales William would tell them as children of the lone black wolf who allegedly lived in the woods surrounding Wolfsgate, howling his despair into the winds of every storm. The last black wolf remaining in England was cursed to haunt the Traherne family forever.
    Brandon’s ancestors had been given their lands and title by a Norman king in the twelfth century as a reward for hunting and killing as many wolves as possible. Here, in the nearby forests which bordered Wales, the wolves had been quite numerous and were a constant threat to livestock and travelers. The fearsome creatures even desecrated graves. Over the years, the Trahernes proved themselves to be worthy hunters. By King Edward I’s reign in the thirteenth century the order for the animal’s total extermination had been given, and over a hundred years later, they had become practically extinct.
    William had always enjoyed telling the ominous family legend. Over the centuries, the spirit of one lone wolf had remained trapped in the woods which surrounded Wolfsgate and would appear on moonlit nights howling for his revenge on the Trahernes. No matter how many times it was told, they had always been completely absorbed by the tale. Listening to it would make Brandon unusually quiet and Justine melancholy. Only Annie, William’s sister and Justine’s stepsister, would roll her eyes and giggle.
    Justine blinked. Here he was before her; her tragic, howling, lone wolf.
    “I have nothing to give you.” Brandon’s long fingers gripped her face, his nostrils flaring. “Not like any normal husband should.”
    She covered his hands with hers. If only it were as simple to comfort him now as it was when he was overwhelmed with fever or chills during those first days, and she had held him in bed keeping him warm. But it wasn’t simple. Now, he’d probably only push her away. It wasn’t her he wanted anyway. Wasn’t Amanda what had brought him to Crestdown in the middle of the night in the rain?
    “Well, there is nothing normal about this entire situation, now is there?” she asked.
    “Why the hell did you bring me back?” The words wrenched from him.
    “Because you are alive and you are the heir of Wolfsgate. God’s blood, it was the right thing to do. You don’t deserve any of this.”
    “And what do you want from me? Why is my return good for you?” Brandon’s jaw tightened. “Now you are saddled with a deranged, deformed husband. There has to be a reason you risked their wrath. Tell me.”
    “You’re not deranged and deformed!” Her voice scraped from her aching throat. “Oh please, let’s go.”
    His fingers gripped her arm. “Tell me.”
    Her gaze met his. “To be free of them once and for all,” she whispered in the darkness against the pattering of the raindrops falling harder, faster. “I can bear no more.” The tension in her upper back and shoulders suddenly released. It felt good to say those words out loud at long last to someone who actually understood. Brandon closed his eyes for a moment. His hand slid up to the side of her face, and she leaned into his touch. He pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, his gaze flickering down her body.
    “You’re cold and wet,” he murmured.
    “As are you.”
    His lips twitched, his thumb stroked her cheek. “Did you saddle your own horse and follow me all the way here?”