“Yes,” she whispered softly.
“Afraid you’ll get lost if you wander too far?”
“Yes.”
Standing so close, Wolf seemed taller than she remembered, wider in the shoulders. She should have been intimidated by his strength, but she wasn’t. If she felt intimidated at all, it was by the inexplicable power he had over her.
“I won’t let you get lost.” His voice was low, a gravelly murmur. He lifted his hand slowly. “Come with me, if you want to see the stream and the wildflowers.”
Molly hesitated, but Wolf’s hand didn’t drop. He held it there, palm upward, and waited for her to refuse his offer or else lay her hand in his.
If she turned her back on him now, she’d never get another chance. Never. There was no guarantee that Wolf would be here tomorrow, or the next day, or ever again. Hesitantly, she placed the heavy basket at the edge of the path, and then she touched her hand to his. Her hand looked so small compared to his, so pale, so fragile. Still, there was no helpless feeling welling up inside her.
“I don’t have much time,” she said softly. “Grandma will be waiting.”
Wolf closed his warm, strong fingers over her hand, and she could swear he almost smiled. “Sometimes you have to live dangerously, Red.”
He led her away from the path, through the white pines and around the blooming asters. Their course was a winding one, and led them deeper into the woods than Molly had ever dreamt of venturing. Infrequent fingers of sunlight shot to the forest floor, dotting their unmarked path with warmth and radiance.
Wolf held her hand tightly, and there was such a wonderful comfort in the simple touch of his hand and those long brown fingers. Warmth and strength flowed through her, all from the feel of Wolf’s hand around hers. He walked before her cautiously, taking shorter steps to accommodate her pace. On occasion he had to stoop down to avoid a low limb, and he always looked over his shoulder once he was past, to make certain she watched her step.
With wildflowers in one fist and Wolf’s hand in another, Molly followed without a second thought. Their path twisted and turned so many times during the short trip that she was totally disoriented. She couldn’t possibly point in the direction of the footpath she walked every day, much less find her way back, but she was not alarmed.
Wolf wouldn’t let her get lost.
Without a word, Wolf led her from the thick shadows of the forest and into a small clearing.
A stream did indeed cut through the middle of the clearing, and flowers — wild yellow lilies and blue flags — covered the grassy earth. A break in the cover of the tall trees allowed more sunlight to break through, and it sparkled on the rushing water and warmed the ground.
“It’s wonderful.” Molly smiled and lifted her face to Wolf’s. “Like a little bit of paradise hidden here in the middle of the forest.”
Wolf didn’t return her smile, and he didn’t release her hand. “Worth breaking the rules for?”
“Yes.”
She slipped her hand from his and walked to the edge of the stream. The rushing water that sparkled in the sunlight was shallow and narrow. Wolf could probably traverse it in a single leap.
“I never knew . . . . ” She bent to pick a few of the wild yellow lilies, intending to give them to her grandma, but she stopped when she’d picked only two. How would she explain finding the flowers? She couldn’t. And she would never be able to find them again without Wolf’s guidance.
Molly added the two newly picked flowers to her bouquet. She would leave the flowers on the footpath, somewhere, and collect them as she returned home. Even when they were dried and no longer bright, she would look at them and remember this afternoon. The bouquet and Wolf would have to remain her secret. It was rather sad to realize that this was a joy she could not share with anyone.
“So tell me,” Wolf growled. “Are flowers plucked from the ground when you’ve stolen away from your path ill-gotten?”
Molly turned as she stood. Wolf stood there at the edge of the forest, hiding in the shadows, as if he didn’t belong in the sunlight.
“I don’t know. Perhaps.”
“As ill-gotten as the winnings from a simple card game?”
“Definitely not.”
Wolf had not smiled once today. Even now, his expression was austere. “So, you have rules that you can’t even explain. Some can be broken, and some cannot.”
“I never break the rules.”
“You’re here,” he whispered harshly. “You left the path, left your grandmother waiting, and you let me bring you here.”
“I wanted to see —” Molly began.
“So you break the rules when it suits you,” Wolf interrupted, stepping into the sunlight. The bright light was not kind to him. It revealed the harsh planes of his face, the brutal cut of his features. “You might as well have no rules at all.”
“Is that how you live? No rules?”
“Yes.” Another step and he would have been upon her, but Wolf stopped abruptly.
“I can’t live that way,” she revealed.
She expected Wolf to argue with her, but he didn’t. He just stared at her coldly, and at that moment she was certain he knew everything she felt and thought. An errant strand of black hair had fallen over his forehead, a crescent shaped sable tress above those mesmerizing eyes that was much safer to stare at than his eyes or his lips or even his broad chest.
“I need to get back, now. Grandma will be worried.”
“Go ahead.” Wolf turned his back on her and wandered upstream, his steps slow and long.
Molly turned toward the forest, glimpsed into the darkness. She would never be able to find her way back to the footpath without Wolf’s guidance.
“Won’t you walk me back?”
“I don’t think so.” He didn’t even turn to look at her as he denied her request.
“But you said . . . you said you wouldn’t let me get lost.”
Wolf spun around, and at last there was a grin on his face. A wide smile that did nothing to make Molly feel better. “It doesn’t matter what I said. I break all the rules, remember?”
“I can’t find my way back, not alone.”
In a few long strides, Wolf was standing before her. For the first time since their meeting in the forest, Molly felt threatened. She didn’t believe that he would hurt her, but he did hold some power over her, and at the moment he knew it. She saw the knowledge in his glittering green eyes and wicked grin.
“I’ll take you back, for a price.”
Molly didn’t back away, didn’t even flinch. “What price do you ask?”
“A kiss,” Wolf said, already leaning toward her.
It was a price she was more than willing to pay, and Molly lifted her face to meet the mouth that descended slowly toward hers.
Wolf’s lips were soft and warm, and molded to hers instantly. Molly closed her eyes and drank it in, savored the heady sensation that washed over her as Wolf moved his mouth against hers.
Wolf’s hands were at her back, and Molly allowed her bouquet to fall to the ground as she wrapped her arms around his waist. To keep from falling, she told herself. To keep her suddenly weak knees from buckling beneath her.
He parted her lips with his tongue, moaned against her, into her with a shared breath, and Molly was lost. Completely, totally, magnificently lost.
His tongue brushed lightly against hers, and the most unexpected bursts of pleasure shot through her. Her breath caught in her throat with a muffled cry that Wolf responded to by deepening the kiss.
When Wolf took his mouth from her, Molly protested softly. She wasn’t ready for the kiss to end. It was too soon. But Wolf didn’t release her. He lowered his lips to her neck, forcing her head to fall back gently. This was as bright and unexpected a sensation as the kiss, his gently moving mouth against her skin. Slowly, he trailed his mouth up to her ear, where she felt a little nip.
“Wolf?” she whispered breathlessly. “Did you just bite me?”
> “Yes.” His voice rumbled against her throat.
“Oh.”
Wolf’s mouth returned to hers, and it seemed so natural to meld her lips to his, to rock forward so that her body was against his.
“You know what I want, don’t you, Red?” Wolf whispered, his mouth still touching hers.
“No,” she breathed. It was a lie, and she recognized it as the breath left her lips. “Yes,” she amended quickly, dropping her arms and backing away a single step. Wolf didn’t try to hold her, but let his hands fall from her back. “I can’t.”
Wolf gave her a smile, a grin no doubt meant to soothe her fears. But there was nothing soothing about that grin. Nothing reassuring about the white teeth he had nipped her with, or the wicked curve of his mouth.
“Of course you can.” His voice rumbled. “Life’s a lot more fun when you forget the rules.” He captured her hand and pulled her back into his arms. “Say it Red. To hell with the rules. All the real fun is off the path.”
“I can’t.”
Wolf tried to change her mind with a kiss that made the ground beneath her feet tilt and her head spin. Molly held on, gripped his shirt with both hands and clung to him.
“I can’t,” she whispered again when he slipped his mouth from hers and to her throat. “Wolf, don’t . . . . ”
With that plea he lifted his face from her throat and met her gaze. “I want you, Red.”
Molly took a deep breath. She couldn’t tell him that she wanted him, too, that she wanted something she could never have. A man like Wolf would never understand that to her there were more important considerations than what she wanted from the moment. She didn’t think she could make him understand, but perhaps she should try.
“I don’t have much,” she said, reaching up to smooth back that errant strand of black hair that brushed his forehead.
Wolf held her, but lightly, and he narrowed his eyes.
“No dowry, no family land but the parcel my mother’s little house sits upon.”
“I don’t care — .”
“Hush.” Molly laid two fingers over his lips. She wondered if her own lips were swollen and red as his were. “Listen, for a moment.”
He took her wrist, kissed the palm of her hand, but said nothing.
“One day I want to marry, and all I have to offer my husband is my virtue. I’ve never even kissed a man until today . . . . ”
“I’ll give you a dowry,” Wolf offered huskily. “I’ll buy you an estate of your own . . . . ”
“No.” Molly pulled away, indignant at his vile suggestion. “You can’t buy me.”
He glared at her through narrowed eyes, and the lips that had been so soft and warm moments ago looked hard and unforgiving. “I suppose that would qualify as ill-gotten goods.”
“Of course.” Molly turned her back to Wolf, and faced the forest. She couldn’t look into his face and be certain that he didn’t see with those piercing eyes how she was tempted, not by his offer of a dowry or an estate, but by the memory of that kiss. “Will you take me back now? I paid your price.”
He grumbled angrily at her back. What if he refused to take her back to the path? It might take her hours to wind through the woods until she found the road or the footpath. Her basket was sitting there at the edge of the path, where she’d left it without a second thought to follow Wolf, and Grandma was waiting.
“Follow me,” Wolf grumbled as he passed her, his long strides carrying him from the sunlight and into the woods. Molly had to run to keep up with him, for this time he didn’t hold her hand or move at a leisurely pace.
She held her cloak off the ground and ran to keep up with Wolf until she was breathless. He didn’t look back, not as he knocked low branches aside, not even as he made sharp turns that threatened to take him from her sight.
The kiss she had wanted so badly had come at a price. She should have known that Wolf would not be satisfied with something so simple and beautiful as a kiss. She should have known what he wanted when he’d offered his hand to her and invited her to leave the path. He wanted more. And Wolf Trevelyan was undoubtedly a man accustomed to getting what he wanted.
Soon they were back on the path, there where she’d left the basket. She was breathless, but Wolf seemed unaffected by the vigorous walk through the forest.
Molly leaned against the trunk of a tall tree, the basket at her feet. She had to catch her breath before she could continue. Surely Wolf would disappear without another word, angry and sullen, disappointed. He didn’t seem like a man who was accustomed to disappointment, but rather one who got what he wanted. Always.
She never should have followed him into the forest, she never should have left the path. She was unaccustomed to the feelings that continued to well up inside her. Longing. Emptiness. Disappointment. Frustration. The sense of something important left unfinished.
Wolf Trevelyan would have no patience with disappointment and frustration, and she expected him to disappear into the woods without so much as a word.
But he planted himself in front of her, his body close to hers. Strong fingers gripped her chin, and he lifted her face so that she was forced to look into his eyes. He kissed her again, a soft kiss that made her insides whirl.
“We’re not finished, Red,” he whispered as he brushed his lips across hers.
Molly ducked down and escaped quickly, grabbing the basket and setting off on the path. She didn’t tell Wolf, couldn’t tell him, that it was finished.
She had wondered what it would feel like to be kissed, and now she knew. Her curiosity had led her from the path in more ways than one, but it could go no further.
Wolf Trevelyan would never marry a girl like her. He had money and social standing and could have any rich, beautiful woman he wanted. New York City was full of socialites who would make a suitable wife for a man in his position.
And no matter how much she wanted it, she wouldn’t give herself to any man but her husband. Her virtue was all she had to offer.
Despite her resolve not to, she glanced over her shoulder to see that Wolf remained on the path, watching her. Legs spread and arms crossed over his chest, he looked as formidable from a distance as he did up close.
Grandma had been right all along. Wolf Trevelyan was a dangerous man.
That red cape danced down the path, and Wolf didn’t take his eyes off of Molly once, not even when she glanced over her shoulder as if she were afraid he was giving chase.
He wanted to. Surely she knew that.
Now she was afraid of him. Not for rumors of the past, but because he’d awakened something in her she didn’t understand.
Passion. It was in her kiss, in her eyes, an intriguing mix with the innocence that was always there.
No woman had ever spoken to him of virtue before. Of course, the women he knew were unlikely to be acquainted with morality, and he doubted any of them remembered what it was like to be a virgin.
Molly Kincaid wasn’t his type, damn her, so why did he want her so hard it hurt?
Wolf stood in the center of the path long after Molly had disappeared, until he could no longer see even a hint of her red cloak through the trees.
There was nothing like this forest in New York. A park, no matter how vast, couldn’t be compared to the real thing. There was beauty and peace here, something he rarely sensed anywhere else.
Perhaps because he didn’t allow himself the luxury of peace, and what beauty he recognized was man-made, such as: the bracelet Molly had refused, fine architecture or art, a woman whose beauty was enhanced by an expensive gown and hours in front of a mirror.
In trying to explain away his obsession, Wolf associated Molly with this forest. She was real. Everything about her was natural — her beauty, her honesty, her innocence.
Escape. When he returned to Vanora Point that feeling of flight was always there. When he felt he could no longer stand the structure of his life, when he found himself in the gym four or five times a week, this was the sanctuary he sough
t.
Molly had made herself a part of this sanctuary, against his will, against her will.
Wolf stepped off the path, headed away from Molly and for the road to Vanora Point. He forced his way past low branches and stepped on and over low growing bushes, crushing leaves and flowers as he went, heedless of the beauty he had admired moments before.
Molly snuggled deep under the covers, hiding her face. Her mother had easily accepted her explanation of a headache for her sullen mood, and they’d both gone to bed early.
If only she’d listened to her mother and stayed on the road, then she never would have met Wolf, and she wouldn’t be lying here, wide awake and feeling absolutely tortured. This was her punishment for not obeying her mother’s strict order.
And punishment it was.
Why had she bothered to wonder if she loved this man she barely knew? It made no difference. She could love him as no woman had ever loved a man, and it would change nothing.
He was Wolf Trevelyan. Rich. Powerful. Well educated. Even if he didn’t have a sensational reputation, this would be forbidden.
The most Molly could hope for was a fisherman like Stella’s Wallace, or perhaps a merchant. Men like Wolf Trevelyan just didn’t marry women like Molly Kincaid.
The heavy blanket didn’t keep her warm enough, even though the night was mild.
Tonight there would be more dreams of Wolf, and they would most certainly be more intense than ever, after the kiss and the way he’d held her. She wasn’t sure if she looked forward to the night ahead or dreaded it.
Molly squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Somehow, she had to get some sleep. Dreams or no dreams, she couldn’t lie awake all night and envision what she couldn’t have.
It didn’t come easily, but eventually Molly drifted off to sleep. Her last conscious thought was — I should have stayed on the road.
Chapter Five
Wolf stood at the tall window as the sun set, his back to the study that had been his father’s and was now his. The mahogany desk, the wall of books, the burgundy leather. Wolf didn’t have to turn to study the room. It was ingrained in his mind.
Big Bad Wolf Page 5
