Wolf at the Door

by Victoria Gordon

  ‘First of all, I do seriously apologise,’ he said after a moment’s silence in which each of them assessed the other from a viewpoint far different than their earlier ones.

  ‘And I accept,’ Kelly replied softly.

  ‘Does that mean I get breakfast?’ His grin was contagious.

  ‘T guess so,’ she said with a smile of her own.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she replied, thinking, this is really silly. It’s ridiculous, in fact. We can’t sit here trading inanities like this.

  ‘When is Marcel Leduc coming back?’ He had to repeat himself twice before Kelly shook herself from her own thoughts to answer him.

  ‘I ... I’m not sure. When I need him, I hope. But we made no specific plans. He has the various other camps to supervise, as I imagine you know.’

  ‘Hmmph. How’s your father?’

  ‘He’s recovering, but it could be a month before he leaves hospital,’ she replied. What is he leading up to, anyway? she thought.

  ‘And you’re going to administer things here. Alone? And do the cooking as well?’

  The pattern started to become clearer, and Kelly steeled herself for the objections she expected.

  ‘For the moment,’ she replied. ‘Marcel is supposed to be looking for two new cooks. I fired the two drunkards who were here when we arrived today.’

  She half expected that remark to draw a strong response, but he only grunted admiringly. ‘Saved me the trouble,’ he said then. ‘I’d have done it if you hadn’t.’

  It was calculated to get a rise, and Kelly knew it, but she couldn’t help retorting, ‘By what authority, may I ask?’

  ‘My authority. Miss Barnes,’ he replied softly, and the lines of his face told her it was an authority only a fool would question.

  ‘But they were our employees, not yours,’ she retorted, almost flinching in expectation of a blast. Surprisingly, it didn’t come.

  ‘It’s my camp,’ he said quietly. ‘And it’s a dry camp; no booze allowed, and no exceptions. What the men do in town is their own affair, but they don’t bring liquor into camp or they’re out on their ears.’

  Kelly looked at Grey Scofield, then reached down to pick up her glass, sip at her whisky, and replace the glass with a significant thud on the table.

  ‘And do we go separately, or together?’ she asked with a derisive grin. The grin widened at his look of astonishment.

  ‘Touche!’’ he nodded after a moment’s silence. ‘But I think we can consider this a medical emergency. It’s certainly been a drink-deserving shock to me. And besides, being the boss does entail some privileges.’

  ‘I hope that applies to the cook as well,’ she replied wryly. ‘I wouldn’t fancy trying to make coq au vin with fruit juices instead of wine.’

  ‘After today’s performance ...’ he paused to grin engag­ingly at her immediate stiffening,’ ... I would be run out of camp on a rail if I dared to question anything you did in your kitchen. Miss Barnes. Which puts me in something of a difficult position ...’

  He let the comment drag out as if expecting a response, but Kelly leaned back in her chair and waited silently for him to continue. It wouldn’t be all his way, she vowed, knowing there was something coming she wouldn’t like.

  ‘I can see you’re not going to make it easy for me,’ he said finally. ‘Okay, we’ll do it your way. I’d like you to go back to Grande Prairie.’

  ‘Right this minute?’ Kelly replied with a deliberate obtuseness.

  ‘As soon as is reasonably possible.’ It was a blunt, yet somehow gentle statement, obviously calculated to make her ask why.

  ‘Now is reasonably possible,’ she replied. ‘But are you capable of getting breakfast for eighteen men? And lunch, and dinner tomorrow? Or hadn’t you thought of that. Mister Scofield?’

  ‘Now don’t get snarly, little fox,’ he said with a grin. ‘There’s been enough misunderstandings already today ...’

  ‘And all of them yours,’ she snapped back.

  Grey Scofield lifted his eyebrow and scowled at her in what might have been mock anger. He was about to speak when she interrupted.

  ‘And just for the record, Mr Scofield, I am not a fox,’ she said sternly.

  He laughed, causing her to once again recognise just how truly handsome he could be. ‘You’re one of the foxiest ladies I’ve ever run across,’ he chuckled. ‘And according to my boys in the dining hall tonight, you are the ... original ... red fox. You should take that as a compliment, by the way.’

  ‘That was their stomachs talking,’ she replied, grimacing at the remembrance of what she had looked like in the kitchen, with stained overall, smudged face and no makeup.

  ‘Today, true enough,’ Grey admitted. ‘But it’s tomorrow and the next day that worries me. And next week even more, because once the novelty wears off you’re going to mean nothing but trouble for me, Miss Barnes.’

  ‘You mean I’m going to become a sex object,’ she replied tartly. ‘And you don’t think I can handle that?’

  ‘Frankly, no, I don’t,’ he said.

  ‘Your confidence is overwhelming,’ she sneered.

  ‘And so is your naïveté.’

  Kelly flared visibly. ‘I’ve been dealing with men throughout my working life,’ she said angrily. ‘And may I remind you, Mr Scofield, that I may look rather young, but I’m no longer a child. I can take care of myself quite comfortably, thank you.’

  Grey was unperturbed. ‘Well, maybe where you come from it works your way,’ he replied with a grin, ‘but out here you’ve got to kick before you caution. Any one of that bunch of roughnecks out there would eat you for breakfast.’

  ‘Funny, that’s what I heard them saying about you,’ Kelly replied hotly, then immediately regretted it as he looked at her with sudden speculation.

  ‘And you don’t think I would?’ he asked with alarming gentleness. ‘Don’t let anything fool you, Miss Barnes. The way to a man’s heart may be through his stomach, but once you get there he’s likely to forget about food in preference to other things.’

  Kelly had to fight to keep from shrinking back into her chair; the expression in his eyes was all too vividly descriptive. He was undressing her with his eyes, and their touch was almost a physical caress.

  ‘I would have thought you could control yourself quite adequately,’ she replied carefully. ‘Certainly you couldn’t expect to control your men, otherwise.’

  He grinned at her, but the unholy gleam never left his eyes. ‘That wasn’t the point,’ he said. ‘Do you think that you could control me?’

  ‘I should hope I wouldn’t be placed in a position where it would be necessary," Kelly replied coldly.

  ‘You’re evading the issue.’

  ‘Not at all,’ she retorted. ‘I simply feel that the control of your men is your responsibility and I expect you to exercise that responsibility.’

  Grey shook his head and grinned at her. ‘Very nicely put, but it doesn’t answer the question. Nor does it resolve the problem, or hadn’t you noticed?’

  ‘I haven’t seen any problem,’ Kelly replied resolutely. ‘And I don’t expect to see one, unless you make it. As a matter of fact 1 think the impression you’re trying to create is quite libellous and probably equally unfair. You forget, Mr Scofield, that I’ve already met your men, and I didn’t see a single indication of all this trauma you keep dreaming up.’

  ‘In other words, you think I’m something of a panic merchant.’

  Kelly smiled at the thought. ‘You might say that,’ she murmured.

  ‘And you’re quite sure you can handle this ... mythical problem I’ve dreamed up?’

  She didn’t like the smile that accompanied the question, but she was in far loo deep to back away. ‘That’s right,’ she said.

  Grey rose easily to his feet and moved towards the doorway, and Kelly automatically rose and walked over to see him out.

  She was barely on her feet, however, when he suddenl
y spun around to clasp her in arms that crushed the very breath from her as they hugged her against his broad chest. She could feel the heat of his body through her thin blouse and was far too vividly aware of the strong masculine scent of him, a scent of pine and spruce and tobacco ... and man.

  She tried to struggle, but he had moved so that she was backed against the counter; she couldn’t get leg room to kick and his arms held her own immobile as he stared down into her eyes with an intense, mocking ferocity. She met his eyes, unable to turn away even though she wanted to, and when his lips descended upon hers, she was helpless to stop them.

  At first they were harsh, demanding a response from her without caring what that response might be, but after a moment his mouth softened, exploring her lips and her cheek and her face before returning to caress her mouth with expert skill. His arms pulled her against him, and the touch of his fingers in the small of her back was an exquisite torture that helped to part her lips beneath his as she began to return his kiss.

  His fingers became lighter, moving so gently across her back, her shoulders, into her hair and then down to caress her flanks as she fitted herself against him. Her mind was crying stop, but her body no longer listened, and her hands were wound about his neck, her fingers tangled in the thick hair as she pulled herself up to merge her body with his, oblivious to all warnings and heedless of all but their combined desires.

  She was only dimly aware that he had lifted her dear of the floor and was moving, until suddenly he bent to deposit her on the huge double bed, his body floating down with her as his kisses held her captive and his hands began a more subtle, intimate exploration.

  Sanity returned with a burst of uncontrollable terror as she tried to fling herself away from him, only to find herself pinned by his body and those delightful, frightening, almost irresistible hands. Shaking her body in total panic, she struggled and fought and twisted, first in silence and then with a terrified attempt to scream. But as her mouth opened, he closed it with his own, and her captivity became all the more difficult to fight as she felt his lips soften almost immediately into a caress. His chest flattened her breasts and she could feel his passion rising against her as he used his strength to manoeuvre her flailing body to meet his desires.

  Again she tried to scream, and again he stopped her with his kisses, and as her own strength began to fade, Kelly’s mind seemed to retreat as well, seeking solace within herself as she gave up the fight and lay passive beneath him. He could take her now, and she realised it, and with that realisation came a renewed instinct to fight, to resist him somehow, anyhow.

  But even as her body stiffened in response to that inner crisis demand, he was gone. He had released her and backed away from the bed in a single panther-like gesture, and Kelly looked up to see his large form looming over her.

  ‘Now we both know the answer to my question,’ he said very softly, and Kelly was astounded at how aware she was, not only of his voice, but of his heaving chest and the tense, rigid stance that proclaimed his control. And she was also aware, perhaps even more so, of how much her own responses had contributed to the intensity of his lovemaking. Her mind was as bruised as her lips, and the bruising was because she couldn’t be totally certain she had really wanted him to stop.

  ‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’ Grey demanded after what seemed like hours of silence in which their eyes were locked as if by an invisible chain.

  ‘I think you’re ... an animal,’ she whispered. ‘Get out of here ... get out ... get out ... get out! I could kill you for that! You’re totally despicable ...’

  ‘And now you hate me. Quite a change from five minutes ago, isn’t it?’ he replied with the ghost of a grin.

  ‘Get out!’ Kelly spat. ‘You’ve made your point, now get out.’

  ‘Only part of the point,’ he replied with infuriating calm. And then, to her surprise, he walked over and reached down for her hand.

  She recoiled as if she had been shot, jerking her hand away before he could touch her. ‘Don’t you dare touch me!’ she snarled, ‘If you ever touch me again I’ll kill you, I promise you that!’

  ‘And you accuse me of over-dramatising things,’ he grinned. ‘It’s only your pride that I hurt and you know it, so stop being so ridiculously defensive and listen to me.’

  It was true, but there was no way on earth that Kelly was going to admit to Grey Scofield just how right he was. ‘I can’t imagine myself being the slightest bit interested in anything you might want to say,’ she replied bitterly.

  ‘You want to stay here in this camp, you’ll listen,’ he growled, then waved his huge hand in a vague gesture towards the door. ‘I want that locked whenever you’re in here, day or night. And at night, you’ll either be here or with Marie in the cook-shack, unless you’re with me. The bunkhouses are off limits, so’s the shower block. And after dark, by which time you ought to be in bed like a good little girl anyway, you don’t go anywhere alone. Not anywhere — is that clear?’

  ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t rather get some chain and a padlock, so you can either chain me to the stove or lock me up inside here?’ Kelly replied hotly.

  ‘If it comes to that, I’ll consider it,’ was the grim reply. ‘While you’re here, you’re my responsibility whether you like it or not ...’

  ‘Well, I don’t think much of the way you’ve been upholding your responsibilities,’ she interrupted. ‘Who’s going to protect me from you, while you’re so busy protecting me from everybody else?’ Gone was her earlier fear of his masculine power; the sheer anger she felt at his autocratic attitude overshadowed everything else.

  ‘I’ll protect you from me,’ Grey said with soft but vivid emphasis. ‘What worries me is who’s going to protect me from you. I don’t fancy arsenic in my coffee.’

  ‘I’d favour strychnine myself,’ .she .snapped. ‘Arsenic is for people, not mangy old wolves.’

  To her surprise, Grey laughed delightedly at the retort, and his laugh softened into the boyish smile she had liked so much earlier. ‘You’re tougher than I thought,’ he said with what actually appeared to be honest admiration. ‘Now if you were just a little bigger, I wouldn’t worry half so much about you.’

  ‘If I were very much bigger, you’d have to worry about yourself,’ she replied angrily. ‘Now will you please get out of here. I’ve had a long, difficult day even without your assaults, and I’d like to get some sleep.’

  ‘Do you promise to lock the door behind me?’ he asked suspiciously.

  ‘I would like nothing better,’ Kelly assured him with a grim shake of her head. ‘Unless it was to shoot you.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be so snarly about a harmless little object lesson,’ he replied. ‘It’s only your pride that’s hurt, and you’re young enough to get over that. Hell, by tomorrow you might even like me again.’

  ‘Don’t hold your breath,’ she murmured as he stepped through the door. Then she rushed to slam it behind him, throwing the bolt in a frenzied movement before she leaned against the counter, panting with a mixture of anger, fear and emotion.

  And now that he was safely outside, she began plotting her revenge.

  CHAPTER THREE

  She soon found out, however, that plotting revenge is far easier said than done, especially for someone like herself who wasn’t a vengeful person by nature. In the few minutes before exhaustion claimed her, she thought up and immediately rejected several possibilities, most of them so ridiculous that when she woke in the morning she couldn’t but laugh at them.

  A ‘hot chocolate’ drink made from a powerful laxative had seemed appropriate and fitting the night before; in the cold light of dawn it was unseemly cruel. If she had been in charge of the laundry, she would have given somewhat more serious consideration to heavily starching Grey’s underwear, but the logistics of that possibility were beyond her.

  Obviously, her revenge would have to he a highly personal one, yet not so serious that it would threaten her father’s business arrangements with
the arrogant Mr Scofield. And it also couldn’t be anything that would unduly upset anybody else in the camp. She thought idly of lacing his apple pie with cayenne pepper, but rejected that idea too. Somehow, Kelly knew, she would have to find her revenge in some fashion that made it a private thing between herself and Grey Scofield, some fashion that wouldn’t hold him up to public ridicule or scorn -- because she knew that would be unthinkably dangerous.

  Subtlety — that must be the key, she thought as she flew through her shower and headed for the cook-shack to start breakfast preparations.

  She became too busy, then, to worry about anything but slicing bacon and whipping up mountains of scrambled eggs and skyscrapers of hot buttered toast. Even when Grey sauntered into the dining room with a careless wave of greeting, she could only return the wave and favour him with a blistering scowl when he finally approached to claim his portion of the breakfast feast.

  And she was mightily grateful when he announced that he would have the men return to the camp for lunch that day, since it would have been unreasonable to have expected her to know the camp routine on such short notice and have cut lunches already prepared.

  ‘But why didn’t somebody tell me?’ she objected, feeling intensely ashamed for not having thought to ask the night before. It was a slur on her own professional standard not to have known, and her embarrassment wasn’t aided by the fact that she should have known without being told.

  ‘You didn’t really need that kind of burden on top of the day you’d already had, did you?’ Grey remarked. And at her vague admission, he laughed in a casual, friendly fashion. ‘Look, we’re not monsters out here,’ he said. ‘And we don’t ask for miracles, either, although about half the men think the meal they got last night was in the miracle class. Now I want you to pace yourself today. Let Marie take care of lunch; it only has to be sandwiches and coffee, and you see if you match last night’s dinner without working yourself to death.’