Force Of Nature

by Peggy Webb

  When he broke away she whimpered, “No, please,” and suddenly he wrapped himself around her, and she lay in the pine needles curled tightly against him.

  The stars had never looked so bright.

  He listened to the sound of the female’s even breathing.

  Hannah. Her name whispered through him, then roared, and with it all the things he’d learned since leaving his wilderness and the company of his brothers, the wolves.

  The plane, the house, the furniture, the food…all of it was foreign to him and yet familiar in a disturbing way. Memories assaulted him, and with them the words. They were coming back. Rapidly. Hannah had opened a storehouse and unearthed the language that had been deeply buried.

  His head swam with the enormity of what was happening. It was too much. Too much excitement, too much pain.

  The only surcease he had was in her. His loins stirred once more and he sought the sweet musky scent rising from her. When he tasted her, she was instantly alert.

  “Hunter?” There was a softness in her when she touched his face, and he longed to say her name. Longed to but dared not. Not yet.

  He positioned her then drove into her so hard she rocked forward. The power his need had over him frightened him. With Hannah he was both master and slave, the hunter and the hunted.

  This was no mere mating. Instinctively he knew it was more. He had no name for what it was, only the certainty that it might change him forever.

  The hot, hard thrills overtook her once more, and she said to herself, I won’t think about what I’m doing, I can’t.

  Then she surrendered, and passion unlike any she’d ever known swallowed her.

  “This,” she whispered, as he drove into her, strong and bold and powerful. “Yes, yes…this…”

  The truth branded her mind and settled into her bones.

  She wouldn’t think about yesterday or tomorrow. She would hold the moment. Only the moment.

  For as long as it lasted.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It lasted until dawn.

  Afterward, Hannah lay curled against him knowing she had to get up and leave this enchanted place, but not wanting to. Wouldn’t it be great if she could keep him on her five hundred acres as a playmate? They could run around without their clothes on until the weather drove them inside. She’d be his love slave until she had to go off on assignment to earn their keep, and when she came home he’d be waiting.

  That kind of thinking was such a departure for her, she laughed aloud. Hunter raised on his elbows to study her, his expressive eyes asking the questions he could not. Or would not. Which was it?

  “I was just daydreaming,” she said. “They were silly dreams, really. Impossible. Not at all practical.”

  He smiled then, and she would swear she knew what he was thinking. No dream is silly. That’s what she heard.

  Once she’d read that when two people have been intimate in a way that touches the soul, they can sometimes read each other’s thoughts and send telepathic messages.

  Hunter leaned down and nipped at her neck. She’d seen wolves doing that in the wild. It was part of their courtship ritual, and not confined to the brief period before they mated. Wolves often demonstrated their affection in playful moments.

  She cupped his face. “What are you thinking right now? I wish I knew.” He had the most expressive eyes she’d ever seen, and he was studying her with an intensity that made her hot. Again.

  Lord, that was getting to be a constant state with her. Wouldn’t Emily laugh if she knew.

  “For whatever this is worth, that was the most phenomenal sex I’ve ever had. Absolutely over the moon. Of course I understand this is only physical, so please don’t think I’m like those women who read love into every encounter.

  “You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you? And you certainly don’t know any other women.”

  The idea of being his first pleased her more than it should have, particularly since their wild mating was nothing more than a force of nature. Nothing could ever come of it. A relationship with the wolfman was out of the question. Impossible.

  “If we keep this up…” He smiled and she flushed. “…and I expect we will since it’s…natural.” His smile got wider. Lord, what if he understood every word she was saying? “There are some things I can teach you. Not that you’re not already phenomenal.”

  Almost a god.

  Lord, she had to get a hold of herself.

  Here she was sitting in the middle of the woods on a chilly November morning wearing nothing but a nightshirt twisted up around her waist…and all she could think about was their next erotic encounter.

  “I think we should go back. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry and I could use a bath. Anyhow, we need to get started with your education.”

  Heat flooded her face once more. What they’d done in the woods was certainly educational. But who was the teacher and who the pupil?

  Look on the bright side, she told herself. There was no longer any need to be shy about showing him the wonders of modern plumbing.

  “Hannah, are you all right?”

  Her mother couldn’t have called at a worse time because they’d both had baths—together—and neither of them had on a stitch and Hunter was looking at her in that certain way that she already understood.

  “I’m fine, Mom.”

  “Well, I didn’t know. After last night…look, darling, I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help, but Clarice was there and quite frankly I didn’t know what to tell you. I still don’t.”

  Hunter was stalking her now. That was the only way she could put it. Never mind that she was on the telephone. He had the look of a man who wasn’t going to let a little thing like that stop him.

  “Listen, Mom. Can I call you back? This isn’t a good time.”

  “Why? What’s wrong now?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.” Hunter’s hands were already on her. On her breasts. He was panting, and she was beginning to.

  “Hannah, I don’t like this…you up there all alone with a man who is uncivilized… I’m coming up.”

  The drive would take one hour. Hunter would take longer.

  “No… Mother…don’t.”

  “It could be dangerous.”

  Her mother didn’t know the half of it. He was bending her over and she was talking with her head upside down. She hoped her voice didn’t sound funny.

  “Everything’s all right. Really.”

  “It doesn’t sound that way to me. You sound funny.”

  “I’m…getting a cold. I got a…chill last night.”

  And more. Ever so much more.

  Her knees were already on the floor. Any minute now he would be inside her.

  “I have to go now, Mom. Call you later.”

  The thrust drove her across the rug. Had she got the phone hung up in time?

  The first convulsions of pleasure overtook her, and that was her last coherent thought for a long, long time.

  “I was beginning to get worried about you, Hannah.”

  It was three o’clock, she was sitting on her bed with the telephone and Hunter was in the den watching TV.

  “I meant to call you back sooner, Mom, but so much has happened today, this is the first chance I’ve had.”

  “Good stuff or bad stuff?”

  “Good.” Wonderful. Phenomenal. Unbelievable. And that wasn’t just the sex.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “First, how’s Dad?”

  “I think he’s getting better. I really do.”

  Her heart broke a little. How like Anne to translate her own hopes into an optimistic attitude. If Hannah wanted to look beyond the rosy picture her mother painted, she’d have to visit the nursing home and see for herself.

  “I wish I could come for a visit, but right now that’s impossible.”

  “I know, I know. Tell me…how did it go today?”

  “Better than I ever thought possible. I wanted to tell him about his family
, so I looked up everything I could find on the Internet. The Wolfe family is very prominent…old money from a steel empire.”

  “He’s that Wolfe?”

  “One and the same, though his parents had become teachers. There was a media feeding frenzy after the plane crash. I printed it all out and read it to Hunter.”

  “Do you think he understood any of it?”

  “All of it, I believe. According to the records, he was a child prodigy. He has a photographic memory and the IQ of a genius. He’s in the den now watching CNN, drinking in every word. I thought it would be a good way to bring him up-to-date.”

  “Or make him want to head back to the wilderness. They don’t ever talk about anything except disaster.”

  “True, but how else is he going to become oriented?”

  “All this must be very hard for him.”

  “It’s impossible to tell. He keeps his emotions under lock and key.”

  “No wonder. Think of it…twenty years without human contact. Has he said anything yet?”

  “Not a word.”

  “Not even a sound?”

  Hannah felt her face getting hot. The sounds Hunter made wouldn’t do to tell her mother.

  Instead of telling an outright lie she said, “I’m hoping that will come with time. I just wish I had some training in this area. I don’t know if I can do it.”

  “You can do anything you set your mind to. You always have, you always will.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Hannah. Take care, darling. I just wish I could be there to help you.”

  “You’re where you need to be. Give Dad a kiss for me.”

  “You know I will.”

  Hannah looked up to see Hunter standing in the doorway. She hadn’t heard him. How long had he been there?

  “Hi.” She smiled at him. “I guess you’re getting hungry. How about a late lunch?”

  In the time it took her to speak of food, he’d crossed the room, stripped aside her silk wrap and positioned her on the braided rug beside the bed.

  “But then I suppose a man who ate as much breakfast as you did won’t be hungry again for quite a long time.”

  Which was fine with her. Very, very fine.

  By ten o’clock that night Hannah was exhausted. Combine marathon sex with the stress of trying to cram twenty years of lost family history into one day, and she was more than ready for bed. She was desperate.

  She stood in the doorway for a while watching Hunter. He was glued to the TV, gloriously oblivious to how he looked. Better than any movie star she’d ever seen. More like a god. A wild, primitive god.

  He wasn’t wearing a stitch. In fact, he hadn’t all day.

  Neither had she, except for occasionally donning her purple silk robe. Why bother? Clothes would have been nothing but a hindrance anyhow.

  “Hunter.”

  He turned at the sound of his name. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

  “I’m going to bed now. I have to have some sleep. Okay?”

  He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t turn back to the TV, either.

  “Please don’t try to run away or anything. You won’t, will you?”

  Still no response. She sighed.

  “Stay in the house tonight. Whether you sleep in your bed is up to you. Just stay here. Okay?”

  He was watching her intently. She saw his body language change, saw the fire leap into his eyes. Unconsciously Hannah tightened the belt on her robe.

  “I’m too tired to go traipsing through the woods looking for you tonight.” She gave a rueful chuckle. “I’m an older woman, you know.”

  Four years if the newspaper accounts were right. Which meant that when she was sixty he would be only fifty-six, a very young and virile fifty-six, capable of attracting forty-year-olds.

  What was the matter with her? By then he would be long gone from Mississippi, and there was no telling where she would be. Nor who she would be with.

  She had lots of wild oats left to sow.

  She gave a rueful smile. At the rate she was going, she was probably going to run out of oats in the next few days.

  “I’m going to bed now. Good night. I’ll see you in the morning. Right here.” She pointed to the floor for emphasis, and Hunter laughed.

  Good God. How absolutely male of him.

  She wheeled away and marched to her bedroom. She even thought about slamming the door, then decided that would make her look even more foolish.

  If there was anything Hannah despised it was looking foolish.

  She ripped off her robe and flounced into bed buck naked. She’d thought she would fall asleep the minute her head hit the pillow, but darned if she didn’t lie there missing him.

  Missing him, for God’s sake. Like any ordinary female. Like her sister.

  She even found herself dreaming with her eyes wide open, remembering how wonderful it had felt to be held in his arms last night and thinking how great it would be if he were in the bed with her now, holding her, simply holding her.

  She heard the plaintive call of an owl from deep in the woods. The moon shone through her window, still impossibly bright and big as a galleon. She could even see Mars. It looked like a red-gold Christmas ornament hanging in the treetops.

  Why hadn’t she ever noticed all those things before? Well, actually, she had, but they had never looked like this. They had never had such immediacy. They had never felt so personal.

  She tossed from side to side, sat up and punched her pillow a couple of times, then tried to sleep flat on her back which caused her to snore. Sometimes. When she was extremely tired.

  From the den came the faint sounds of the TV. Which didn’t mean a thing. For all she knew he could be swimming downriver by now. Or up. North toward Alaska.

  She kicked back her covers and tiptoed to the den. There he sat in the dim glow of the television screen. Looking no less gorgeous than when she’d left him.

  Hannah tiptoed back down the hall, and climbed back into bed. It was going to be a very long night. She could tell.

  Chapter Seventeen

  November 7, 2001

  I am fixing to get drunk. Skunk-drunk.

  I can’t take it anymore, that’s all there is to it. First, there was all that business with Hannah up there in the woods with a man who has lived with wolves and might do no telling what all to her, then Emily called and said, “I can’t get Hannah to answer her phone… Jake and I are thinking of driving down to see her…he’s never seen her place,” and I made a total fool of myself.

  “Wait. You can’t do that,” I shouted, and when she asked, Why? I said, “Just because.”

  Like a child. What was worse, I couldn’t think of anything else to say. As if I’m the one in the coma.

  I never could think of any adequate excuse to give her. I just kept saying, “Hannah’s too busy right now, is all,” and when Emily hung up she was miffed at me.

  Which turned out to be the least of my worries, because when I got to the nursing home I discovered a bunch of complete strangers in Michael’s room singing “In the Garden”…if you can call what they were doing singing.

  It was dreadful the way they were carrying on. Mournful. Dirge-like. Exactly as if they were conducting a funeral.

  “What’s going on here?” I asked. “What are you doing in my husband’s room?”

  I guess I was shouting, and I must have scared them all to death because they stopped their caterwauling. Thank God. Michael hated that song, anyhow.

  Hates. Hates. I must think of him in the present.

  Well, a wormy-looking little man separated himself from the group and said, “Hi, I’m Ron, and we’re from Mt. Pisgah Baptist Church.”

  He looked so earnest and apologetic I felt like patting him on the arm and saying, “There, there, it’s all right.”

  I didn’t, though, because just when I was getting my manners back a large woman in tight yellow bell-bottoms that cupped under said, “I know thi
s is hard for you, Mrs. Westland, but he’s going to a better place.”

  I wanted to slap her. My upbringing was all that saved her.

  “My husband’s not going anywhere, but you are. Get out of this room. All of you.”

  I know, I know. That was rude. But I didn’t care, not even when two nurses poked their heads in to see what was all the commotion.

  Larry Baird himself came down to smooth things over. When he asked me what was wrong I said, “They didn’t even get my name right,” then I started bawling. I could tell I was headed for a real crying jag because I could feel my nose getting hot and swelling. It always does when I cry really hard.

  “These groups do come here from time to time. Most of our patients and their families enjoy them.”

  That dried up my waterworks fast, I can tell you.

  “Well, I don’t, and neither does Michael. He likes Blues. Keep them out of this room.”

  He lobbied so hard for them I asked, “Are you their agent?” It just flew out of my mouth, and I guess I’ll have to think of some nice way to take it back because I certainly don’t want Michael to suffer the consequences.

  Maybe Clarice can come up with something clever. She’s good at that.

  Anyhow, when I got home I got in the shower and scrubbed myself hard in case any unctuous residue was still on my skin from that time I’d let Larry Baird hug me.

  What in the world ever made me think he was sexy?

  Oh, I’m going to make it up to Michael, I can tell you.

  But not tonight. I’m afraid to see him, afraid I’ll start crying all over again and not be able to stop.

  They say don’t drink alone, especially when you’re in this kind of mood, but I don’t know. Clarice would come over if I called. Or Jane. Still, I feel the need to be alone with this misery. I need to look at it from all angles, to figure things out.

  Maybe to learn.

  I know what Michael would say to me. “Precious, you have to have tears in your eyes in order to have rainbows in your soul.”

  When I was cleaning out his office I saw a book in his shelves with a title something like that. A book of Native American wisdom. Michael loved that kind of thing.

  He loved books of all kinds—poetry, history, science.…