Molly grasped the doorknob and pushed the door shut, took a deep breath, and knocked softly.
“Come in.”
Wolf was staring at the fire, not at her, as she opened the door again and stepped into his room.
She was drawn to the warmth of the fire, and to Wolf, and without saying a word she crossed the wide room and settled herself on the rug. The small blaze was at her face, and a surprisingly cold husband was at her back.
Molly looked over her shoulder to her husband, at the harsh planes of his face that were not softened by the firelight.
“I’m sorry if I said something to upset you.”
He glanced down at her, and Molly realized that all his earlier anger was gone. “You certainly didn’t upset me. If I snapped at you it’s because I haven’t been sleeping well. I’m tired, that’s all.”
He did look awfully tired, Molly conceded, and she hated to bother him, but . . . .
“Why do we have two bedrooms?” she asked casually, though it wasn’t a casual question at all.
Wolf hesitated. She heard him sigh — such a human reaction for a man like Wolf. “I don’t sleep much, and you’ll rest better in your own bed and your own room.”
“You don’t sleep, you don’t eat. Don’t you need anything besides brandy and those smelly cigars?”
“No,” he answered quickly.
Molly drew her legs up and leaned back against Wolf’s chair, settled herself comfortably between his widely spread legs. “Would you be terribly disappointed if I told you that I didn’t want my own bedroom?”
He didn’t answer right away, so Molly tilted her head back so she could see his face. Wolf was smiling, just a little.
“No,” he finally conceded. “I wouldn’t be disappointed.”
“Good.” Molly returned her gaze to the fire. All in all, this was very nice.
She relaxed, once she realized that Wolf wasn’t going to be angry, and leaned her head against his knee. He didn’t seem to mind. A few minutes later he put out his cigar — because she had said it was smelly? — and then she felt his fingers in her hair.
“What do you want, Red?” The easy stroking in her hair continued, as Wolf asked his soft question.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“From me,” he clarified. “What do you want from me?”
The question was easier to consider facing the fire than if she’d had to look Wolf in the eye. What Molly really wanted was love. She wanted more than anything for Wolf to love her.
But it was much too soon for that.
Still, she had to be somewhat honest with him. “I guess,” she admitted, “that I want you to need me.”
“Why?”
Molly wrapped her arm easily around his leg. What else could she say? That need was as close to love as she was likely to get? That if he needed her he wouldn’t leave her behind for months at a time, and he wouldn’t ignore her for an entire day and even into the night?
The fingers in her hair tightened, and with a tug Wolf forced her to look at him. “Why?” he asked again.
“Because you don’t need anything else.”
He smiled, that wicked grin she had first spied in the forest. “It’s power you want?”
“Power?”
“Over me,” he clarified.
She already recognized that grin as a defense. It was nothing like a true smile. Poor Wolf, he expected the worst of everyone. “No.” His fingers tightened in her hair, but she remained calm. “Everybody needs something or someone. Everybody but you.”
“And what do you need, Red?” he asked sarcastically.
His voice was so harsh, so cold, that Molly shivered deep down. How much could she safely give of herself?
“I need you.”
The simple and truthful answer broke his defenses, and the false smile died.
“You need my money, for your family.”
“No.”
Wolf found it so difficult, perhaps impossible, to accept the fact that anyone could need him. He would never believe her if she told him it was so much more.
His hands in her hair relaxed, and with an easy motion he leaned forward and lifted her from the floor and onto his lap.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Red,” Wolf muttered as she settled her head against his shoulder.
“Am I, now?” She smiled against the warmth of his bare chest. It hadn’t sounded particularly kind, but she considered his words a sort of compliment.
Instinctively, she pressed her lips against his warm skin. He wouldn’t admit it, but he did need her.
Wolf set his brandy aside with a sigh, and wrapping his arms around her he stood. He carried her to his bed and tossed her gently on top of the satin coverlet.
“You’re a witch,” he grumbled.
Molly laughed as he fell beside her. “A witch, am I? What does that make you?”
Wolf was already sliding her nightgown up, trailing his hands over her flesh from ankles to hips, to sensitive breasts. “Cursed.”
She laughed again, and lifted her arms so he could dispose of her nightgown. He smothered her laughter with his mouth over hers, with a kiss that satisfied her and yet made her yearn for more.
Wolf pressed her back against the soft bed, never breaking the thrilling hold of his kiss, and Molly wrapped her arms around his neck.
He could ignore her all day, swear he didn’t need her, but there was a hunger in his kiss that belied his indifference.
Wolf drew his mouth from hers slowly, lifted his head with a marked reluctance. He removed his trousers quickly and tossed them aside as he had her nightgown, and then he was above her again. This time he lowered his mouth to her breasts, closed his lips over a nipple and sucked gently. She felt the power of his touch through her body, shooting through every part of her.
When he spread her thighs and stroked her, Molly caught her breath. When he raised his mouth to hers again, she caught his face in her hands and parted her lips. This was more intoxicating than any brandy, more brilliant than any gem he could offer her.
She throbbed, achingly empty, and the ache grew at an alarming rate. Every touch, every heartbeat took her to a new urgency.
With a surge he filled her, and Molly deepened the kiss. She was lost. Searching. She closed her eyes, and savored the sensation that intensified with every passing second, with every stroke of Wolf’s body inside hers.
She felt as if she had no control over her own body. Wolf had all the control, over his body and hers.
“Relax,” he whispered as he surged to fill her completely. “Let it happen, Red. Let go.”
Surely she was going to break. Shatter into a thousand pieces beneath the tender and demanding onslaught.
And then she did, or so it seemed. Lightning flowed through her body, given to her by Wolf. She clung to him, lifted her hips to take all of him.
The same lightning coursed through him. She could feel his release, as she had last night, inside her and in the trembling muscles beneath her hands, as Wolf finally lost control.
For a long moment Wolf lay very still atop her, the only sound his ragged breathing in her ear. He was heavy, and warm, and this was heavenly.
She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t move. Her body was drained completely of all energy.
Wolf rolled onto his back, but he didn’t release her. “I think I’ve finally found your vice,” he said, sounding as breathless as she felt.
“My vice?”
“I tried drink, I tried gambling, I tried diamonds and sapphires. But it seems that your vice is entirely of a physical nature.”
Molly should have been insulted, but she didn’t have the energy. “It seems so.” She snuggled against Wolf’s side, and for a while he held her. If he knew how much she loved this, he would surely move away.
“Wolf,” she lifted her head as her strength returned. “Why were you searching for my vice?”
“Because everyone has a weakness for something, and I wante
d to know what yours was.”
Molly rested her chin on Wolf’s chest and tried to decipher the stony expression on his face. “This is a weakness?”
The dying firelight flickered on his face. He wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t acknowledge that what had just happened was anything more than a moment of pleasure. “Yes,” he finally said.
Molly knew what had happened was more meaningful than Wolf was willing to allow. Surely he recognized it, though, deep down, just as she did.
But now was not the time to ask more of Wolf than he was ready to give.
“Will you teach me to be wonderfully lascivious?” she asked.
Wolf turned surprised eyes to her, and Molly smiled.
“If I am to be as sinful as you,” she continued, “I might as well be truly wicked.”
Molly was brushing one flat nipple on Wolf’s chest with an indolent finger, and he caught that wrist in his fast grip. “Witch,” he accused again, and with as little venom as earlier.
As he moved his mouth to hers, Molly wondered how long it would be before she could tell Wolf that he was her only vice.
She fell asleep in the exact position he’d awakened to find her in the night before. Her face pressed against his ribs, her leg thrown over his, as if she’d found the one place in the world where she fit perfectly.
Molly did seem to fit perfectly there, and she certainly didn’t have any problem sleeping.
He did, though, as always. Only now he was wondering if he’d disturb Molly if he moved around too much in his sleep. If he rolled on top of her or rolled away. Either was a distinct possibility.
Wolf had never considered himself the kind of man who’d make a good candidate for husband. He liked his freedom too much, and he’d never intended to settle down.
But right now his cold, wide bed was warm, and Molly was breathing softly against his side, and he liked it. Too damn much.
It wouldn’t last, he was certain. His nature was too restless. But for now, it was nice.
He should apologize to her, for erupting when she’d suggested he should have delivered his offered gifts himself. She’d been a child seven years ago, and she certainly wouldn’t remember what had happened the last time he’d made an appearance in Kingsport.
He tried not to remember it himself.
He’d gone to Kingsport to fetch the doctor for his father, never suspecting what sort of furor he would cause just by appearing in town. Oh, he knew very well that there were those who suspected him of causing Jeanne’s death and even of killing her outright, but he hadn’t known how vicious they would be, or how hard it would be to face their hate, and such open hatred it was. Stones thrown, along with shouted words of loathing that had hurt more than any rock.
After he’d spoken to the doctor, as he tried to leave Kingsport peacefully, the crowd had grown. A young girl had stared up at him as he’d ridden past, with such fear in her eyes it had startled him. You would have thought she was looking into the face of an untamed man-eating beast. That had been the moment he’d realized that there was no hope for him, that no one would ever forget.
The stones had hit him steadily as he’d left town. His pride wouldn’t allow him to race away, so he’d ridden back slowly and endured the abuse.
Not long after he’d looked into the terrified face of that pretty little girl, a small stone had hit him in the center of his back. He’d known the girl had thrown it, as soon as it hit.
He hadn’t been to Kingsport since.
Molly didn’t know all that, and Wolf suspected that if she knew the memory was keeping him awake she would pat him on the head and give him a kiss and tell him to get some sleep.
In the dark Wolf smiled, gathered Molly close, and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
The man apparently never slept. Molly lifted her head from the pillow, brushing the tangled hair out of her eyes. A thin stream of sunlight broke through an opening in the heavy drapes, lighting Wolf’s bedroom where she was all alone.
Just like yesterday. A smile crossed her face, even though he had deserted her without so much as a morning kiss. Already she’d decided that Wolf might be hers by night, but by day he was his own man. He would never admit by the light of day that he needed her.
One of the luxuries of the Trevelyan house that she had already learned to appreciate was the private bath that was connected to her own bedroom. Running water that was occasionally heated, if her timing was good, awaited at the twist of a handle.
Since she knew Wolf wouldn’t have breakfast with her, Molly sat in the tub as the water cooled. Her stomach was growling, just a little, but this was an extravagance she would not quickly leave behind, not even for breakfast. Her hair was piled on top of her head, but a few errant tendrils fell past her shoulder and into the bath water.
When she’d arrived at her new home, she’d found the bath well equipped with scented oils and sweet smelling soaps. Thick, splendid towels hung from a rack by the door, and every day they were replaced with fresh ones.
Molly leaned back and stared at the high ceiling. In a few days, Wolf would return to New York. That thought stole her smile and her comfort. This would be such a lonely house without him in it. Harriet wouldn’t allow her in the kitchen, Shirley scurried from the room whenever she entered, and Mr. Larkin . . . well, Mr. Larkin would be no company at all.
Just a few more days, and he would be gone.
Her daydreaming was interrupted by the sharp din of Wolf calling her name. Impatiently, as if it weren’t the first time.
“I’m in the bath,” she shouted, and a moment later he threw open the door.
He glared down at her, a flash of anger in his eyes, a hint of impatience. It didn’t take long for his expression to change, to soften so slightly perhaps no one else would have noticed. But Molly did.
“I’m leaving for New York today,” he snapped, lifting his eyes to hers.
“What?”
“A telegram was just delivered. It seems there’s been a minor crisis with the steel mill.”
“Oh,” she gasped, feeling as if she were having a major crisis herself. “It’s awfully sudden.”
His face was so impassive. He didn’t seem to care at all that their time together had been so short. “I’ll have to pack and be out of here in less than an hour, if I’m to make the train.”
“Less than an hour?” She tried not to sound as if she were complaining. Wolf didn’t want a demanding wife, she remembered. “When will you be back?”
“I don’t know.” He left the bath, closed the door before he quite finished his sentence.
Molly dried herself sullenly, no longer hungry, no longer content. She dressed in her best gray dress, to see her husband off. There had never been time to even see about having new clothes ordered, much less for them to be made and delivered.
And she remembered that Wolf was tired of seeing her in gray and brown and white. He would leave for the exciting city of New York, with all its beautiful women, and this was how he would remember her. A dowdy wife in a plain gray dress.
Molly watched Wolf pack his bags, standing back and out of the way. She remained silent because he was silent. He didn’t want a demanding wife, so it wouldn’t do for her to make a spectacle of herself. She’d never been one to cry, but she felt like it now.
She would make a fool of herself if she cried because he was leaving, when he so obviously didn’t care. In fact, he seemed anxious to return to New York, and she shouldn’t be surprised. It was undoubtedly a much more exciting place than Vanora Point.
“So long, Red,” he called as he hurried down the stairs with his two small bags.
Molly followed at a discreet distance, hurrying to match his step. So long, Red? That was it? “Wolf?” she called as he threw open the front door.
He stopped, turned to her slowly, and gave her an unreadable stare from hooded eyes as he waited.
“Aren’t you even going to kiss me good-bye?”
She didn’t mean t
o pout, not really. It took him a moment, but Wolf finally dropped his bags in the doorway and returned to the foot of the stairs where she waited.
“You want a good-bye kiss?” he growled.
“I don’t think it’s too much to ask,” Molly said defensively.
He kissed her quickly, impatiently, and no doubt simply to shut her up. His mouth barely touched hers, a cold brush of his lips like the poor excuse for a kiss he’d delivered on their wedding altar.
But before Wolf had completely raised his head, he relented with a low growl deep in his throat and kissed her again. A real kiss this time, with parted lips and hands that stole around her back.
“So long, Red,” he said again as he drew his mouth from hers.
“Good-bye, Wolf.” She reached up to straighten the lapel of his gray suit as he backed away from her. “Be careful.”
He turned his back on her and headed for the door and his waiting bags.
“Don’t forget that you must eat and sleep on occasion.”
He picked up his bags and left the house, slamming the door shut behind him.
Molly hated this house without him, already. It was too big, and too dark, and too empty. With a sigh, she sat down on the bottom step. Minutes later, when Larkin rounded the corner, Molly was sitting there dejectedly with her head in her hands.
“Can I get you something, madam?” he asked formally.
“No thank you, Mr. Larkin,” she sighed.
“Tea? Should I ask Cook to prepare your breakfast?” he offered again.
“I’m not very hungry,” she said.
“Should I fetch the doctor from Kingsport?”
Molly lifted her eyes to the persistent man. “I’m not sick, Mr. Larkin. I just miss my husband already, that’s all.”
He raised a normally steady eyebrow. Did she shock him with her honesty, or was he surprised that she missed Wolf?
The front entrance exploded, both doors flying inward and crashing against the walls.
Wolf looked — furious was not the word. Savage, like the animal he was named for. “You have five minutes,” he snapped. “Pack your bag.”
“What?” Molly didn’t even rise. “Where am I going?”
Big Bad Wolf Page 11
