A Wolf In Wolf's Clothing

by Deborah MacGillivray

  Crossing her legs, Melissa smiled. “Once upon a time there were three little pigs—”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, get on with it,” Raven snapped.

  The blonde chuckled and smoothed her skirt. “Oh, but I am enjoying this.”

  “Fine.” Raven pushed away from the desk. “But I’m in no mood to play games with you.”

  Melissa continued as if Raven hadn’t spoken. “Their names were Desmond, Jago and Trevelyn. They were rich little piggies, but what they had wasn’t good enough. They wanted to be kings of the realm.”

  Raven walked around the desk and picked up her coat and slid it on.

  “Oh, come on.” Melissa gave her a warm, cajoling expression. “Well, pooh—you’re no fun.”

  Raven flashed her a fake smile. “Ah, Melissa, I prefer my playmates to have a wee modicum of intelligence. I fear you do nothing but bore me. I shall leave you—and your ‘pooh.’” She breezed past the other woman, sailing through the office and past Agnes, who called to her. She didn’t slow. She had no idea what was going on. Something was very wrong, but she wasn’t about to allow this bitch whatever satisfaction she hoped to gain by hurting her. She’d go home, call Cian and have him deal with the information she’d overheard.

  Rain nearly drenched Raven as she pushed into her MGB, shaking to a point where she had a hard time getting the key into the slot on the steering column. Somehow she managed, but then the damn car went into its rainy-day act, refusing to start. Raven kept the ignition cranking, its noise almost catching but then stopping. It took three times before it finally caught. Finally the engine turned over with its familiar purr, and she reversed the car at an angle, planning on pulling out of the lot.

  Melissa whipped her white Alfa Romeo around to block the MGB’s path. She pulled up so she was facing the opposite direction. Their windows were side by side. Melissa rolled hers down, clearly at the touch of a button. She gave Raven an expression that said she had her pinned in and wouldn’t allow her to move until Raven rolled down her window and listened. Raven finally gave up and cranked down the glass.

  “Since you don’t like to play games, I’ll make it short and sweet. You’re getting screwed in more ways than one, sweetheart. Your sisters, your family, too. His name isn’t Trevelyn Sinclair—it’s Trevelyn Mershan. He and his brothers are positioning themselves for a hostile takeover of Montgomerie Enterprises. It’s already a fait accompli, I fear. I figure that’s information enough. Enjoy unraveling the mysterious Mershans. Ta!”

  Raven swallowed, waiting for Melissa to pull forward enough to permit the MGB to get by. She flipped on the wipers, then saw the silver Range Rover come flying down the road. This car Trevelyn had been renting for the past couple weeks pulled in the opposite end of the lot, as Raven’s and Melissa’s blocked the lower entrance. As Raven released the hand brake and began to ease forward, she glanced in the rearview mirror. Agnes had rushed out and was speaking to Trevelyn. She pointed and gestured.

  Raven just wanted to get away from him right now. She needed to get home and call Colford. She’d let Cian deal with the mess.

  Melissa smiled wickedly and gunned her little Alfa Romeo, pulled directly behind the Rover, crossways. Totally blocking Trev.

  “Thank you, Melissa,” Raven muttered. Her rickety MGB would never have outrun the powerful Range Rover. Now Melissa, intent on confronting Trevelyn—likely to get that bonus she’d been promised—had gifted her with a head start.

  She shifted the MGB for maximum speed, zooming down the road with the wipers barely keeping the windscreen clear. As she sped along, trapped in her thoughts, a coin dropped. She recalled Trevelyn saying his twin was named James. Jago. Jago was Old English for James.

  She really shouldn’t have been driving. Her emotional state allowed her to lapse into questions. Dangerous, on a wet roadway. As she reached the S-turns just past Colford, she was going too fast and the tires hydroplaned. She tried to steer into the skid, but she ended up spinning the small car around three hundred and sixty degrees. It only came to a stop when the passengerside tires edged off the pavement and found traction in the grass. Coming to a stop, Raven sat for a minute to gather her breath. Her heart was pounding and spots flashed before her eyes.

  Taking a slow, steadying breath, she realized the car had gone into a stall and died.

  She turned the key and it cranked but didn’t catch. “Not now, you spoiled brat! I have kept you from the junk pile or from being chopped up for parts. I have babied you, spent a small fortune on you. Don’t repay me this way. Oh, please.” She made the mistake of pumping the gas. The damn thing flooded. She didn’t have to know about its temperamental traits; she could smell the petrol.

  Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the steering wheel. “Bugger all.” Disgusted with the cantankerous car, she snatched up her purse, rolled up the doctor’s report and stuffed it into her leather pocket to keep it dry. On the left side of the steering column was a button, which she pulled to start the emergency flashers.

  She set off across the back part of Colford’s field, which cut her walking time in half. Her shoes would be ruined and she would look like a drowned rat by the time she got to the cottage, but she didn’t care. The rain kicked in, pouring harder.

  Her heels sank deep with every step across the spongy grass. “It’d serve Trevelyn Sinclair—” She caught herself and corrected the name. “It’d serve Trevelyn Mershan right if I catch pneumonia and croak.”

  As she stomped across the field, she was working up a proper temper. Muttering to herself, she cast all sort of curses on lying bastards and their brothers. Anything to pass the time, really. She’d always had a problem with high dudgeon: It required too much to keep it fueled. Whatever the offence, after her first flush of anger her temper rapidly faded until she couldn’t recall why she’d been upset. This time her rage wasn’t going to fade. If anything, she figured this was just the start.

  Dark was approaching, but fortunately the house came into sight. Hurrying across the driveway and into the house, she stopped just inside the door, resentment almost giving away to tears. If she started crying, she’d never stop.

  Both cats came to greet her, looking at her with odd expressions. “Yeah, I know. I look like a drowned rat. I’m not sure what a drowned rat feels like, but I’m pretty sure I feel like one, too.”

  Slipping off her wet coat, she went to the phone and punched out the number for Colford. It rang and rang before a maid finally answered, relaying the information that everyone was out or getting ready for a benefit for the Historical Trust. She left a message for Cian to call, saying it was urgent that he contact her immediately. Hanging up, she closed her eyes. Paganne’s to-do. Her sister was chairing a benefit to raise money for the historical preservation of an old manor house being sold, trying to keep the land from ending up in the hands of a developer. Trevelyn was supposed to escort her.

  “Well, scratch those plans.” Exhaling pain, Raven took a step to go upstairs and get a towel for her hair, because she was dripping all over the hardwood floor.

  The distant rumble of a car engine coming down the lane at high speed filled her little cul-de-sac. She watched as the headlights bounced, almost chuckled at Trevelyn’s head likely hitting the roof when he bobbed through the potholes. Frozen by the emotional fugue, she stood, observing the lights turn and the silver car zoom down the driveway and park at the side of the house.

  Looking down the long greenhouse, she realized Trevelyn could come in that way; that door was the closest. She ran down the long row of the glasshouse in time to lock it. Climbing out of the car, he spotted her there at the double-wide door and frowned. Tilting his head, he stalked around to the front.

  With a squeak, Raven rushed ahead of him, getting there just in time and locking it. She wasn’t sure precisely why she was barring him from the house. The cats looked at her, wondering what sort of new game she was playing.

  When he rattled the knob and then pounded on the door, she j
umped. “Raven, open the damn door!” he called, and then pounded on it again.

  “Ah, the wolf huffs and puffs,” she sniffed. “I do believe he’s getting his fairy tales mixed up, boys.”

  Chester twisted his tail and meowed, wanting her to let Trevelyn in.

  “No can do, Chester. He’s—Yikes!” She jumped as she heard Trev going down the front steps. “Next stop, glasshouse number two. Let’s see if Red Riding Hood can beat the very bad wolf.”

  She didn’t slow her pace. She could hear Trev rushing his step alongside the greenhouse. She got to the entrance just a couple of seconds before he did, and set the lock. She backed up almost as if she feared the blasted man might reach through the glass and grab her.

  Trevelyn stood there, glaring, the rain pouring down on him. Was he trying to will her to open the door? He very calmly mouthed the words, “Open the door, Raven.”

  She faked a yawn and then looked at her fingers as if examining them for hangnails or chips. His mouth compressed into a glower, but she just rolled her eyes, then she slowly turned as if going to her paintings.

  That same instant, he took off around the far corner heading to the back. Raven ran through the living room, down the hallway and into the kitchen. He made it onto the back porch before she could get out there, but she reached the inside door and shot the bolt.

  “Ut, ut…Trevelyn’s mad, I’m glad, and I know what’d take to please him,” she sang in the child’s chant. “Sorry, Mr. Wolf, you are out. Perhaps you should go back to that apartment Mershan International is paying for. You really should get some use out of it.”

  “Raven, please open the door so we can talk. I want to know you’re all right. I found the MGB sitting out in the middle of the road and you were nowhere about. Scared the bloody hell out of me.”

  “Go away, Trevelyn Mershan. I have to go get ready for Paganne’s benefit. I promised I would be there.” Of course she had no intention of going, but he could think whatever he wanted.

  “I’ll drive you. Your car is still out in the road, remember.” He rattled the knob.

  She shook her head. “I called Cian. He’s coming to pick me up.”

  He closed his eyelids at the mention of her brother. Obviously, he’d hoped to head her off from getting hold of Cian before he had a chance to warn Desmond and Jago that everything was going to hell in a handbasket. Let him think he was too late.

  “Raven, please let me in. There is a lot I need to explain.”

  “Explain?” Her voice rose two octaves. “‘Explain’ is where there is mistaken information you wish to correct. I seriously doubt you can explain this pack of lies. Now, bye-bye. See you around, Mr. Mershan.”

  She flipped out the lights, leaving him standing on the darkened porch, and went back down the hall. She paused to look back, to see if he was still there. He was gone.

  Raven scowled, caught between wanting to laugh over her small victory, yet ready to burst into tears. The bastard had lied to her! Then she remembered the New Year’s party and him telling her he loved her but didn’t think he had the right. Now it made sense! Trevelyn Mershan couldn’t tell her he loved her. He was lying! About so much. Was he lying about loving her, too?

  Trapped in the thought, movement at the other end of the greenhouse attracted her. “Guess he forgot we already played the game with that door.”

  Chester ran down the long room and up to the door, meowing, his tail vibrating as he talked at Trevelyn. Reaching for the wall switch, just inside the greenhouse—Raven flipped out the lights. The orange tabby came dancing back, meowing a protest about locking his friend outside.

  “Bloody traitor,” she fussed at the cat.

  She tried not to look at Trevelyn standing in the rain, getting madder by the minute. Of course, he knew he had no right to get angry, so he was trying to control it. She knew him that well; she understood what was going through his mind.

  “How can I know him so well, and yet didn’t even know his real name?” Feeling sadness about to engulf her, her eyes were nonetheless drawn to him—just in time to see him rear back and kick out with his foot. “Oh, hell. He’s unleashed that damn big toe again.”

  He walked in calmly, the rain from outside whipping around him, as though he were a wizard and had called down the power of the storm and surrounded himself with its ferocity. She watched him coming toward her. Coming for her. And she couldn’t seem to move to save herself.

  She watched, breathless from his feral beauty, the force élan that swirled about him like a mantle. Whatever his name, she loved him. And she was furious with herself for that. He had lied to her, used her, and she didn’t even want to consider whatever shenanigans Des and Jago had been up to. But she couldn’t turn off the emotions she felt.

  She might want to kill him, but she loved him. The lying bastard. Oh, she wanted to scream at him. He and his wolfish charm had forced his way into her quiet world. She had been content before; happy, safe. Now…now she carried his baby. A miracle! Whatever else may come of this, he had given her something she wanted very badly.

  Instead of offering contrite words, he grabbed her upper arms and kissed her. His unyielding mouth took hers, formed her to his will, devoured her. Her fingers curled into fists to keep from reaching out and taking hold of his arms to anchor herself against the windswept emotions buffeting her heart, her soul. The arrogant wolf wasn’t going to offer words or reasons, he was going to show her she belonged to him. He’d claimed her as his mate and that was all there was to it. Quite possibly it was—but she deserved his apologies, and he wasn’t going to get off so easy.

  With everything in her, she resisted him. She held herself stiff as a board. He didn’t care. He wanted her to understand he was claiming her and there was nothing she could do to fight him.

  Well, Trevelyn Mershan was about to learn she wasn’t a lass to give way so easily when something so important was at stake. Their future.

  She pulled back and started swinging side to side, struggling to break his hold. Tears rolled down her face, but she barely took notice. At this point, anger propelled her. She finally jerked away from him and took a step to run back to the living room. To do what? To run upstairs to the bedroom and play lock-the-door once more? To what purpose? Big Toe the Lethal Weapon would just have at it again. Nothing would be solved. There was no place she could run. She had a feeling there was no place on the whole bloody earth she could run to and he would not follow. Wolves mate for life.

  He grabbed her arms from behind, but she was losing control. Swinging her elbow, she hoped a knock or two would get him to release her. Only, she stepped down on her left foot wrong, nearly twisting it, which caused her right elbow to fly high. The pointed bone made hard contact with his chin, stunning him. He backed up a step, trying to regain his balance to keep them both from falling to the stone floor.

  “Oww!” he complained, rubbing his chin with one hand. “I may have a toe for a secret weapon, but that damn elbow is wicked.” He gave his head a shake. “You really rang my chimes.”

  Raven stopped struggling and looked at his chin. A reddish mark was already forming. She put her fingers over her mouth in horror of what she’d just done. It wasn’t her nature to fight physically. She shunned emotional fights, which was why the marriage to Alec had been so hard. And she’d never attacked anyone. Well, this had been an accident. She hadn’t hit him on purpose. Yet, tears streamed down her face, horrified she’d hurt him.

  “Oh, Red, don’t cry. Please. Let’s sit down and talk. I can explain—”

  “Do not ever use the word ‘explain’ to me again, Trevelyn Mershan. I mean it,” she warned, feeling her temper going up on a roller coaster of highs and lows. The doctor had warned she would likely experience wild mood swings due to the chemicals being put out by the baby creating a place to live and thrive in her body.

  He managed a laugh. “See, already you’re getting used to the Mershan name.”

  It was the absolutely, positively worst thin
g for him to say! She saw red, and before she was even aware of what she was doing, she pulled back and let fly with a hard right, catching him in the eye. Then she let out a deep moan, agog that she had just slugged the man she loved, lowdown, lying worm that he was. Her head spun, trying to bring the two opinions into harmony.

  “Not working,” she fretted, and then burst into a flood of tears.

  “Friggin’ hell, that hurts. I’m going to have a shiner tomorrow and a few days thereafter.”

  He touched his finger to the already discolored eye. “Damn it, Raven. If it makes you feel better, hit me again, but stop with the waterworks. I cannot stand to see you crying.”

  One big long howl came out of her, and she shoved past him, running outside. She had no idea where she was going or why, only that she needed to run. As her legs carried her out into the darkness, suddenly she understood why she ran. She feared he didn’t love her.

  Trevelyn yelled from behind. She heard his steps gaining on her, a wolf hunting down his prey. He’d win because wolves always did. She made it into the middle of the field. She saw car lights coming from the old road where it led to Colford, but she didn’t care who was coming. She just kept running, heading for the woods. There she could lose herself.

  Trevelyn screamed, “No!” and came flying through the air, bringing her down. He cushioned her fall, allowing his body to bear the brunt of hitting the ground.

  Raven lay there, crying, feeling odd, almost not understanding why she was running from him in the rain. It was a stupid thing to do, but she almost felt like someone else’s thought had pushed her to flee.

  The alien panic was leaving her, and reality crashed in. The baby. Oh, please no! She tried to push up, but Trevelyn rolled off his back and onto her, pinning her to where she couldn’t run.

  “Please,” she said. “Let me up. Please.”

  He shook his head. “I cannot let you run into the storm. If you do that, I will lose you. I cannot explain—”