Caine's Curse Page 2

  Chapter Two

  Peter Tillman lingered in the servants’ hall long after the rest of the staff was abed, nursing his cup of coffee. He was torn, and could place the blame squarely at the dainty feet of a certain violet-eyed beauty. Iris was a temptation he didn’t need.

  She had looked so sad sitting there that afternoon though, her rosebud mouth turned down and her dainty brow furrowed. He would do nothing to jeopardize his position at the manor, no matter the allurement Iris presented. He’d been at Hawksfell for nearly a year now, but only just recently risen to the position of first footman. His siblings relied on the money he sent each and every month. With only a widowed aunt to keep the wolves from the door, his four sisters needed his support. Only the eldest was in service, but she earned little more than enough to feed herself. He was twenty-six years old and making a far more generous wage working for the earl, and living costs were high in London, after all.

  “What am I going to do?” he muttered, hanging his head.

  “About what?”

  His head shot up, and he saw Iris framed in the doorway. She was still clad in her uniform, but her expression was soft. Open. Heat flared over him, and he cursed his Irish complexion. No doubt Iris could see the flush on his cheeks.

  “Just thinking aloud, Iris,” he managed to say.

  She walked into the room, bringing her wildflower scent with her. His nostrils flared as he drew her deep into his lungs.

  “If you’re worrying about finding sleep, that coffee won’t help.”

  He caught her gaze, seeing a light there that made his heart twist. “Are you worried, Iris?” He stood and crossed to her, standing very close until he could almost feel the curves her uniform didn’t hide. “About finding sleep?”

  Licking her lips, she turned to face him fully. Her body grazed his and his cock hardened. When she placed her hand on his chest, he swallowed a groan.

  “Iris,” he rasped.

  “Do you get lonely, Peter?” she asked on a whisper.

  He reached up to stroke her smooth, warm cheek. “I do.”

  “I do, as well.” Her breath quickened, and she leaned her head against his hand. “I don’t want to be lonely.”

  Cupping her face in his hands, he brought his mouth to hers. “This can’t happen, Iris.” He kissed her, lightly. “We can’t be together.” He stroked his tongue over her lips. “No matter how much we want this. And damn, I want this very much.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, and he took advantage of her unspoken invitation. His tongue tangled with hers, and he swallowed every sigh she uttered. She tasted even sweeter than she smelled, and he let his desire flow through his body. In the next moment, he realized where they were and stepped back from her.

  Turning, he closed his eyes and tried to rein in his passion. She was more than he could resist, he knew, but he had to try his best.

  “Peter.” Her voice was soft. A bit husky. “Please.”

  He didn’t know what, precisely, she was asking. Did she want more kisses? Did she want him to leave her alone? It was of no consequence. He couldn’t stay there any longer. They were in the servants’ common rooms and, though the hour was late, it wasn’t unfathomable that someone might come upon them.

  Shaking his head, he kept his back to her. She came closer. He could still smell her, could still taste her. When she touched his shoulder, he flinched.

  “Good night, Iris,” he bit out.

  He had to get away from her, from any chance of discovery, before he did something to ruin both of the lives. He was barely aware of his flight up the back stairs to his room. The footman he shared his quarters with wasn’t within. No doubt he was playing cards with a few of the other male servants. Grateful for the solitude, he sank down on the edge of his narrow bed and hung his head in his hands.

  Perhaps he never should have touched her, but she’d looked so bloody beautiful. So sweet and tender. And her taste…what if he found some way that they could be together? He wanted her so much and, from her kisses, she wanted him, too.

  “Enough,” he growled.

  Sleep would be long in coming, but the next day would be an even tougher trial. A new Hawk was arriving on the morrow. A new temptation, no doubt. He’d had a difficult time fighting the inherent lure of the past Hawk visitors, though he hadn’t dared act on any sort of attraction. None of those particular gentlemen had looked at him askance, however. They’d either been smitten with their loves before coming to Hawksfell or very soon after.

  Peter hadn’t been completely surprised when the earl’s previous valet, Jackson, had left the manor only last month. He’d gone into service with Liam Hawk, who was also discovered to be one of the earl’s half-brothers! It seemed that none of the Hawksfell staff were completely immune to the Hawk men. Not that Peter was one to think about Jackson’s true relationship with Liam Hawk. He would do no such thing, given that he himself had been as attracted to Liam as he had been to the earlier Hawk visitors to the manor. No, and he wouldn’t think about the relationship with the earl and his countess either. While it was clear that they were blissfully happy in their marriage, there was the added relationship of Mr. Michael Crowley. The countess’s third cousin was evidently part of the earl’s marriage, but no one on staff would dare breathe a word of it. If he knew of any good and solid way to get sacked? That would do it.

  There was now a new valet, and Peter didn’t begrudge that man his elevated position. Perhaps someday he himself might be valet, but until such time, he would focus on being the best first footman Hawksfell had known in its long history. He had to please the family and the butler, Mr. Carstairs. That would be his focus. He wouldn’t think about dallying with Iris, no matter how tempting a package she was. It would end in heartache, and neither he nor Iris deserved to lose their positions were Carstairs or the housekeeper, Mrs. Holmes, to learn of their attachment.

  The next day dawned bright. It was late summer, and when all the servants would be summoned out to the drive to greet the newest visitor, it would undoubtedly be warm. He dressed with care and headed to the back stairway. He gave himself a long, stern stare in the small mirror hanging on the wall at the bottom of the stairs.

  “You are the first footman of Hawksfell Manor,” he told himself. “You will see to your duties and not let Mrs. Holmes or Mr. Carstairs see any behavior that isn’t above reproach.”

  He blew out a breath as he tried to tame his thick waves into submission. It would have to serve today. Tugging on the cuffs of his jacket, he followed the other servants into the common room.

  The servants’ hall was filled with pressed and polished staff, all chatting excitedly as they dug into the hearty breakfast fare served by the kitchen maids. Peter smiled absently at a few of the footmen as he made his way to one side of the long table, choosing to keep his gaze from the tempting piece of muslin seated close to the head of the table. When Mrs. Holmes and Mr. Carstairs entered, they all stood quickly and quietly until the housekeeper and butler sat themselves.

  “Good morning,” Carstairs said. “Today another relative of the earl’s arrives.” Chatter began anew, but the butler raised his hand. Silence fell in the room again. “Lord Burnley is traveling from the outer reaches of Yorkshire to pay his visit. He isn’t traveling with his man, so, Peter, you will serve him as valet.”

  Peter blinked, but swiftly nodded. “Of course, Mr. Carstairs.”

  Their meal resumed without any more said of the newest Hawk, until the bells began to ring. All rose—including Iris, his traitorous gaze noticed—and went about their morning’s duties.

  Not long after, they all stood on the drive. They were ready to welcome the earl’s relative. Peter strove to keep his gaze stoic and professional, but his position in the servants’ line put him dangerously close to Iris. When the shining motorcar rolled smoothly to a stop, he snapped to attention.

  And when Caine Hawk stepped out, tall and broad and just as arresting as the earl, Peter’s relentless attraction
to Iris was no longer his only problem.

  * * * *

  Caine stared up at the impressive edifice of Hawksfell Manor, disorientation making the sandstone walls seem to soar to the peaked roofs of slate glinting bright on this August morning. It was clear that the earl possessed the legendary financial good fortune as Caine did. The manor was very grand, indeed. As he’d navigated the Daimler up the long drive, he’d taken note that the grounds were well-kept. The number of servants lined up on the drive attested to the place being very well-staffed.

  “Lord Burnley, welcome,” a stout older gentleman said. “I am Carstairs, the butler of Hawksfell Manor.”

  “Hello, Mr. Carstairs,” Caine returned. “I’m gratified to accept the earl’s generous invitation.”

  A woman of an age with Carstairs approached, a ring of keys at her waist. She smiled, and Caine felt the warmth of her expression.

  “The earl seems to enjoy exploring his family tree,” she said. “I am Mrs. Holmes, Hawksfell’s housekeeper.”

  Caine dipped his head. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Holmes.”

  A glance down the line of servants caught a few curious glances before their masks dropped back into place. He spied a gorgeous maid close to the top of the line, clearly the personal servant to the lady of the manor. Her lovely violet eyes flicked to him from beneath thick lashes, and a flash of heat struck him. It couldn’t be his beast, rousing to life. He’d just appeased his urges but two nights ago!

  “…Lord Burnley?”

  Caine blinked and returned his attention to the butler. “Yes, Mr. Carstairs?”

  “The earl awaits you in his study.”

  Caine dragged his eyes from the alluring lady’s maid and followed the butler toward the grand entrance. He caught the maid’s scent, like wildflowers on a summer’s day, as he passed her.

  “Peter,” Carstairs called out to one of the footmen.

  Caine turned toward the striking young man who came to stand beside the butler. He appeared pressed and proper, but there was something untamed about his thick auburn hair and twinkling eyes that were either brown or green. Caine couldn’t tell their color, but the curve of his well-formed mouth soon drew his notice.

  “Peter will attend you during your stay, Lord Burnley,” Carstairs said.

  Caine met the footman’s hazel gaze, and that same heat he’d felt from a measured glance of the little lady’s maid struck him low in his belly. What was this? His lusts were never so focused, and were simply appeased by any willing warm body. This sharp reaction to the maid and the footman? It was beyond unusual in his experience.

  “It will be my honor, my lord,” the footman said, his voice rich and smooth.

  Caine swallowed and nodded. “Thank you, Peter.”

  To his relief, the butler urged Caine into the great house to meet the earl. He’d never in all of his life met another Hawk. He only had his butler’s knowledge on the matter and, though Reeves had been thorough in his tutelage regarding Caine’s curse, he’d never alluded to any other Hawks living a manageable distance away from Burnley Court. He’d told Caine the story about the origin of the curse, of course. Of witches and legends. In the dark nights to give a young boy delightful nightmares if for no other reason. Perhaps during his visit, Caine could compare tales with the earl himself.

  “His study is right this way, my lord,” Carstairs said.

  A new kind of unease swirled in Caine’s belly. Carstairs said something into the room as he opened the paneled door, and then stepped back. Caine swallowed and walked through the doorway to greet his relative.

  “Lord Burnley.” The earl wore a wide smile, giving his very familiar face a decidedly unfamiliar air. “I’m pleased you accepted my invitation.”

  “Thank you, Lord Hawksfell.” Caine stepped further into the large study. “Although I admit I was surprised.”

  The earl studied him for a moment, his dark brows drawn together, and then nodded. “Have a seat, Lord Burnley. May I call you Caine?”

  “Certainly.” Caine sat, rubbing his hands over his thighs. “Forgive me, but why are you so ready to welcome Hawks into your home, Lord Hawksfell?”

  The brought Lord Hawksfell’s smile back again. “My life changed drastically just over a year ago, Caine. And please, call me Gabriel. We are family, after all.”

  “We are?”

  “Most assuredly.” The earl quirked a brow. “You cannot deny the resemblance.”

  Caine ran his hand through his hair. “Aside from these light streaks? Yes, and it’s a little disconcerting.”

  “You’ve never met another Hawk, have you?”

  “I have not.”

  “You will, then. At least my brother Matthew, that is.”

  “Your brother?”

  “Half-brother, but that distinction is inconsequential. Since I’ve begun to search out other Hawks? I’ve nearly tripped over the number of brothers.”

  Caine straightened. “Never say you believe me to be your brother.”

  “I don’t believe so, but I’ve learned to never say never. Besides, my family is growing daily, it seems.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “My countess is expecting, Caine. Imagine? A babe to be welcomed into the world by its father and raised by him, as well?”

  “I thought…that is, I’d heard your father raised you.”

  A shadow flitted over Gabriel’s face. “My father didn’t raise me, Caine. The housekeeper and an able staff took over that apparently odious chore.”

  “I never knew my father. And I barely remember my mother.”

  “She passed when you were quite young, isn’t that true?”

  “It is. My butler served was my only parental influence.”

  “That is a good thing, I imagine. He convinced you to visit, I take it?”

  Caine was surprised yet again. “How can you know that?”

  “You have a bit of a reputation, Caine.” Gabriel waved a hand. “Oh, I’m not judging. Believe me, before I met my Millicent I was much like you. Hell, most of we Hawks have led lives of varying…excess.”

  Caine swallowed. “The, um, curse?”

  “Indeed. It cannot be denied that there is some flaw in our makeup. There is no fighting it, but it doesn’t have to define you.”

  “If you think I haven’t tried to fight the urges…” Caine’s cheeks flushed, but he pressed on. “There is no fighting it.”

  Gabriel pulled back. “I’m well aware of that. There is a way to end it, however.”

  Caine snorted. “Forgive my impertinence, but there is no end in sight for me.”

  “Many that have come before you adhered to that same notion.” He winked, actually winked. “And many have found the way to dispel their beasts.”

  This conversation was more than Caine could fathom at the moment, and the earl seemed to take note of his discomfort.

  “I’ll not press more on you today, Caine.” He came to his feet. “You’ll find your things in the bachelors’ wing of the manor. Please know that you may stay as long as you wish.”

  Caine stood and shook Gabriel’s outstretched hand. “Thank you again, Gabriel.”

  “And who can tell?” Gabriel added. “Tonight at dinner you’ll surely see more examples of a clear sort of happiness among our family. Your conviction on the subject may shift.”

  Caine thanked Gabriel again and left the study, bound for his guest room. The earl’s words echoed through his mind, his assurances that there was a way to escape the Hawk legacy. To live a normal life without mindless needs he couldn’t control.

  He doubted that very much, but who was he to argue with the earl? This was a man who didn’t seem encumbered by his curse, but that had to be some sort of quirk of fate in his favor.

  Caine didn’t believe any such cure awaited him. Not here at Hawksfell and not home at Burnley Court.

  Chapter Three

  “Gabriel, you cannot confine me to this room,” Lady Ha
wksfell said. “Iris, tell him I am well.”

  Iris shook her head as she tweaked a few finishing touches to her lady’s thick golden locks. “It is not my place, my lady.”

  “Your maid is not a nurse, Millicent,” the earl put in.

  The countess turned and regarded her husband with a tilt of her head Iris recognized well. It was that sweet determination that was such a part of her personality.

  “And I am not an invalid, Gabriel. I am having your heir.”

  “Within a fortnight.”

  Iris’s cheeks heated. This wasn’t a discussion for those outside of the family, but it was her experience that the Quality tended to speak as if the servants weren’t there. Although Iris was treated with more regard, she was still on the fringe of their life together.

  “Darling, please do not fret,” the countess said. “Take a page out of Michael’s book.”

  The earl made a snorting sound, and Iris held her expression impassive. Michael Crowley was Lady Hawksfell’s third cousin, and very much a part of the earl and countess’s marriage. All of the staff knew of it, but none spoke of it. Mrs. Holmes would have their heads and their positions if any of the staff were caught speaking of the earl’s family in such a manner.

  “Michael.” The earl fisted his hands. “He laughs when all we hold dear hangs in the balance.”

  The countess chuckled lightly and Iris hid her own smile. The earl wasn’t given to histrionics, in her experience over the past few months. It was clear that this blessed event had him at sixes and sevens.

  Lady Hawksfell rose, resting a graceful hand on the rounded belly covered in the voluminous skirt of her golden dinner gown. “Gabriel, the doctor has said all is well. All will be well.”

  The earl dragged a hand through his hair, his brows drawn together. “I know, I know.”

  They stared into each other eyes, their love quite evident. Iris took this as her cue to take her leave.

  “My lady, if there is nothing more?”