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Big Bad Wolf

Page 13

by Linda Winstead Jones


  “Ready-made, Red,” Wolf said sharply. “Not what I would have liked, but I can’t take you out in that.”

  Molly glanced down at her gray dress, a plain but perfectly good garment. “There’s nothing wrong with —”

  “It’s unsuitable for this evening.”

  She waited for Wolf to explain, to tell her where they would be going, but he turned his back on her and strolled to the window.

  “Where are we going?” she finally asked.

  Wolf glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “A gambling hall that happens to be a favorite establishment of mine. You’ll love it, Red. Drinking, gambling, smelly cigars, and loose women.”

  “I’m awfully tired, Wolf. Can’t we go another night?”

  “No.”

  “But I could hardly sleep last night. I’d never slept on a ship before, and it was quite disconcerting.”

  He raised his eyebrows slightly. They both knew that her sleepless night was attributed to more than the rocking of the ship.

  “I don’t believe New York can wait another night to meet the new Mrs. Trevelyan. What a sensation you’ll cause, Red.”

  “Why?”

  Wolf walked away from the window, and straight to Molly. “Why? Surely you appreciate the absurdity of this marriage.”

  “Absurdity?”

  “There are those who believed that I would never marry again, and there are those who believed that no woman of sound mind would have me.” Molly tried to look at a button on his waistcoat, but he placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face so that she had no choice but to meet his stare. “I go to Vanora Point for a few days and return with a wife I haven’t known a full two weeks. They will all want to know what kind of a woman would marry me.”

  “Wolf . . . . ”

  “And they’ll all know that you married me for money.”

  “I did not —”

  “They’ll wage bets on how long the marriage will last, and perhaps even on how long you’ll last.” His green eyes glittered, hard and unrelenting. “And we’ll smile through it all, you and I, and we’ll create a scandal to rival that of my first marriage.”

  “And how will we do that?” Molly whispered.

  Wolf lowered his face so that it almost touched hers. “Proper ladies don’t go where I’m taking you tonight. There will be a few daring and curious socialites in the crowd, hiding their features discreetly under a floppy hat, peeking from dark corners, seeking a thrill. Not you, Red. You’re going to march into that club on my arm with a smile on your face. You’re going to gamble, you’re going to drink, and when someone tells a bawdy joke, you’re going to laugh.”

  She couldn’t possibly do any of that. This idea of an education was quickly losing its appeal. Molly knew she could get all the tutelage she would ever need in this very room.

  “I don’t want to go.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you want,” Wolf growled. “If you don’t walk in on my arm, you’ll be carried in over my shoulder.”

  He would do it, too, of that Molly was certain. Wolf was an awful lot like the great-grandfather pirate he’d told her about. He took what he wanted, and didn’t care about the consequences.

  That wasn’t entirely true. Wolf did get what he wanted, but he’d never taken anything from her. He bargained, he cajoled, he seduced, until she gave in.

  Molly grasped the lapels of his jacket as Wolf pulled her close. “Why? Why do we have to do this?”

  A grin split his face. “It’s going to be great fun.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Once more, in the carriage that carried them from the Waldorf, Molly tugged at the bodice of her new emerald green gown. And again, Wolf laughed at her.

  “She made a terrible mistake,” Molly said, horrified at how much of her skin was exposed to the night air.

  “It’s exactly what I ordered,” Wolf said calmly. Casually, he reached across to brush the back of his hand against the soft rise of flesh above the low neckline. In reflex, Molly shivered pleasantly, but she was still mortified.

  There was nothing she could do about the indecent gown. All the tugging and pulling she’d done since first donning the gown, and there was still much too much skin exposed. She couldn’t even bring her hair forward to cover herself. Wolf had insisted that she twist her hair up in a fashionable psyche knot, so that her bare shoulders and a good portion of her chest was exposed.

  The carriage stopped in front of a red brick building. There were no windows, no fancy awning like the one in front of the Waldorf. There was not even a sign indicating that any sort of business was conducted within.

  Wolf grinned as he helped her from the carriage, and Molly clung tenaciously to his arm as he led her to the red door. She wondered if he could feel her shaking. It was a deep tremble that wouldn’t cease, no matter how hard she willed it.

  At the door Wolf stopped and stared down at her. His grin was gone, and so was the amused sparkle in his eyes. “You look splendid, you know,” he said softly. “Beautiful, in fact.”

  “I feel half naked,” she whispered, and the grin reappeared on his harsh face.

  “Wonderfully shocking,” he confirmed as he threw the door open.

  They were greeted by a somber faced man who recognized Wolf, and who merely nodded in Molly’s direction.

  “Good evening, Phil,” Wolf greeted the man enthusiastically. “Have you missed me?”

  “Terribly, sir,” the gloomy-faced Phil replied dryly.

  The fact that the man didn’t give her a second glance warned Molly that she was not the first woman to walk into this gambling hall on Wolf’s arm.

  “Phil,” Wolf said as he drew Molly close to his side. “Allow me to introduce you to my wife.”

  Molly watched with a grain of satisfaction as the man finally looked squarely at her. His eyes grew wide, and his mouth dropped open.

  “My bride, actually,” Wolf clarified with a grin.

  “Congratulations, sir.” Phil pulled his eyes from Molly and glanced up at Wolf. He had regained some of his composure, but was not yet completely recovered. “Enjoy your evening.”

  As Wolf led her into the smoky game room, he lowered his mouth to her ear. “Within five minutes everyone here will know.”

  They created a mild but noticeable stir as they walked through the gambling hall. Heads turned, men nodded to Wolf, and a few even spoke briefly before they returned to their cards or dice.

  The room was crowded, with tables and chairs, with a crush of patrons. Worst of all, the air was horrible, thick with cigar smoke, bay rum, and cheap perfume.

  Molly wasn’t the only woman in the room, but the others were different from her. Brassy, bold-eyed women stood beside or behind the gamblers and clung to broad shoulders just as Molly clung to her husband’s arm. A number of the women nodded and smiled at Wolf, and he returned their greetings.

  In shady corners, a few women sat and watched. Broad brimmed hats shielded their faces, and they sipped champagne from long-stemmed crystal glasses.

  Without instruction, a man appeared bearing a tray laden with glasses. Wolf took his customary brandy, and handed Molly a glass as well. She started to speak, to refuse the strong drink, but the stormy look Wolf gave her stopped any protest.

  “Well, well.”

  Wolf turned toward the sardonic greeting, and Molly turned with him. “James,” he muttered, breaking into a distant and chilling smile that warned Molly this James was no friend.

  “What’s this I hear about you marrying? Another one of your jokes?”

  “Not at all.” Wolf sipped calmly at his brandy, but he was anything but relaxed. Beneath his jacket his arm was tense, and that tic in his jaw was working. “This is my bride, Molly Trevelyan.”

  The man turned his attention to her, and Molly stiffened. She didn’t like the way he looked at her, as if she were a strumpet like the other women in the room. Of course, what was he to think, when Wolf insisted on dressing her this way?

 
“Well, well,” he said again. “Brave little girl, aren’t you?”

  “Whatever do you mean, James?” Wolf asked casually.

  James didn’t take his eyes from Molly. “Doesn’t she know about the first Mrs. Trevelyan? Perhaps I should enlighten her.”

  “You’ll have to excuse James’s horrid manners, darling. He’s still angry because I almost bankrupted him in this very room, not much more than a month ago. He’s always been a poor loser.”

  James ignored Wolf’s revelation and insult. “Money is a great motivator, isn’t it Mrs. Trevelyan? It can even induce a young woman to risk her life. To make great sacrifices. Particularly if the sum is great enough. With enough money, any man can buy himself a beautiful wife, even Wolf. Let’s face the truth. In this country, if a man has enough money, he can get away with murder.”

  James finally pulled his eyes from her chest and looked up at Wolf. Wolf smiled, but beneath her hand his muscles were tensed, and he was ready to spring.

  Their first night in New York, and already they were facing disaster.

  “Sir?” Molly leaned forward slightly, placing herself between Wolf and the insulting man who had so angered him, and James returned his attention to her. “If you insist on making such outrageous assumptions, I will be forced to consider that it is you who are so very brave.”

  Someone in the back of the growing crowd laughed, and the tension was diffused. Even Wolf seemed to relax.

  James had no answer for her, but turned away abruptly.

  “Really, Red,” Wolf said softly. “Things were just getting interesting.”

  “A little too interesting for me.”

  Wolf led her to a table where he sat across from a dealer, and he instructed her to stand at his side as he played. Molly felt as if every eye on the room was on her. The dress, the scene that had been narrowly diffused, the fact that Wolf kept her close, all combined to produce exactly the reaction he wanted.

  He played his game, faro, winning more than he lost. At times Molly thought he’d forgotten about her, but if she moved her hand from his shoulder or sighed too deeply, he turned to silently chastise her.

  “My God, Wolf,” a young man said as he took the next chair. He looked like a dozen men in this room. As young or younger than she, well-groomed, aloof in an annoying superior way. “What would possess you to bring your bride into Phil’s?”

  Did the man think she couldn’t hear? How very rude.

  Wolf didn’t seem to think so. He smiled widely at the man. “She’s lucky,” he said brightly. “My new good luck charm. How could I possibly leave her behind?” He captured her wrist lightly, and turned her palm to his mouth for a quick kiss.

  “Lucky?” the man muttered.

  Wolf raised his eyebrows and turned to the dealer. “A fresh deck, before we continue,” he instructed.

  The dealer laid a deck of cards on the table before Wolf. He shuffled them several times, then he placed the deck in front of the brash young man at his side. The young man cut the cards, and then Wolf spread them across the table, a wide fan of cards.

  “Five hundred dollars says she’ll draw high card,” Wolf said calmly.

  “Wolf!” she protested. He ignored her.

  The young man was excited by the challenge, and smiled widely. “Just five hundred? Really, Wolf, you have no confidence in your lucky charm at all. Double it, and you’re on.”

  “Done.” Wolf kissed her palm again.

  “Ladies first,” the young man insisted.

  At Wolf’s urging, Molly reached past him to choose a card. A thousand dollars on the turn of a card! Her fingers hovered over the fanned deck.

  “Go ahead, darling,” Wolf muttered softly.

  Molly closed her eyes and flipped over a card. Wolf laughed, and the young man who had insisted on doubling the bet cursed. She opened her eyes slowly, to see that she had turned over the queen of hearts.

  “Another red queen,” Wolf said, glancing over his shoulder.

  The young man reached out and turned over his own card, a ten of spades, and with a grimace he reached into his pocket and withdrew a thick wad of cash. He peeled off ten bills and placed them on the table in front of Wolf.

  Wolf gathered up his winnings and folded the bills neatly, before offering the fortune over his shoulder. When Molly didn’t take the cash right away, he glanced up and waved the cash.

  “Take it, Red. It’s yours.”

  Molly leaned forward. She didn’t want to cause a scene, though she knew Wolf would be pleased if she drew even more attention to them. “I don’t want it,” she whispered.

  “Ill-gotten gains,” Wolf answered, apparently not caring who heard. And there was quite an audience. “But you won it, fair and square, darling. Don’t be a spoilsport.”

  He had never called her darling before this evening, and it was becoming a trying habit. The endearment was delivered with no real affection, and in fact there was a sarcastic bite to the word that was beginning to irritate Molly.

  “No thank you, dear,” she answered coolly, and with enough sarcasm of her own to force Wolf to twist his head and look at her.

  In a smooth and powerful motion, he stood. Somehow he was taller, wider, more forbidding than before. The cash was clutched in one hand, and in a smooth motion Molly didn’t see coming, he tucked the wad of bills into the bodice of her decadent gown.

  Then with a smile he gave her an almost innocent kiss on the cheek. “Don’t ever defy me in public, Red,” he whispered before he pulled away.

  Molly was almost asleep on her feet, and Wolf watched her through narrowed eyes that he hoped wouldn’t give him away. She yawned, covered her mouth with one hand, and blinked sleepily.

  When the yawn had passed, she used the hand that had covered her mouth to push away a column of smoke that wafted past her nose.

  No low cut gown or sophisticated hairstyle was going to make her appear to be anything more or less than what she really was — an unsophisticated and beautiful woman whose only fault was her bad taste in men.

  He had finally allowed her to leave the table and to sit in one of the vacant chairs that lined the wall. As he studied her, she caught his eye and gave him a look that was pleading and tired and impossible to resist.

  “Tell me what I hear is not true.”

  Wolf turned toward the familiar voice and gave his old friend Foster a grin.

  “Married? Wolf Trevelyan? It’s blasphemy, that’s what it is,” Foster said as he took the vacant chair at Wolf’s right.

  “And true,” Wolf added.

  “What happened? You were drunk out of your mind and woke up married, right?”

  “Actually, I was sober as a judge,” Wolf declared.

  “You got her with child and had to marry her? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Wrong again.”

  Foster leaned back in his chair, his fair features colored with too much drink and his hair mussed, no doubt by one of his many women. Women loved Foster Williams as easily as they were frightened of Wolf.

  “She tricked you,” Foster hissed, horrified. “How ghastly.”

  Wolf leaned back and wondered if Foster would remember any of this conversation in the morning. He was pretty far gone already. “If you must know,” he revealed, “I married Molly on a whim. I wanted her, and marriage was the only way I could get what I wanted.”

  Foster looked terribly puzzled, completely uncomprehending. “Where is she? I heard the ridiculous story that you brought her here.”

  “Over there,” Wolf nodded in Molly’s direction, and Foster turned his head.

  A smile split Foster’s face. “Over there by the redhead? Forget the introductions, Wolf old boy. I’ll meet this Molly later. Right now I think I’ll introduce myself to the redhead. She’s new isn’t she?”

  As Foster tried to rise, Wolf grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. A glance showed him that some lady out for a thrill, complete with proper gown and wide brimmed hat, sat next to Molly.
/>   “Actually, Foster my old friend, Molly is the redhead.”

  Foster leaned back and studied Molly with more regard than was proper. “I see,” he muttered wisely.

  “What do you see?” Wolf growled.

  “Your motivation for such a drastic measure as marriage. She’s enchanting, Wolf, even though she appears to be colossally bored at the moment.”

  Molly yawned again.

  “So, when do I get a proper introduction?” Foster began to rise from his seat again, and Wolf yanked him back down.

  “When you’re sober.”

  Truth be known, he didn’t want Molly to meet Foster at all. Foster had the kind of good looks that drove women wild. Blond hair and blue eyes, features regular and perfectly proportioned. A smile that had been known to knock many a lady off kilter . . . and directly onto her back.

  Foster was one of the few men who had stood by Wolf after Jeanne’s death. At one time, Wolf had thought his friend believed him innocent. It had been years before he’d realized that Foster simply didn’t care if he was guilty or innocent.

  “Don’t be a bore.”

  “She’s tired,” Wolf said as he stood. “We just got in this morning. Another time, Foster.”

  Molly stood as he approached, a look of pure hope on her face. “Are we leaving now?” she asked softly.

  “Yes, we’re leaving.” He nodded to the woman under the broad brim, and took Molly’s arm. Before they’d reached Phil and the door, she was yawning again.

  A carriage was waiting, and Wolf practically lifted Molly into it. Once they were inside the coach she snuggled against him and closed her eyes.

  “You smell,” she said softly, wrinkling her nose but not moving away from him. “Like brandy and cigars and terribly sweet perfume.”

  “Thank you.”

  “That is not a compliment, Wolf,” she insisted. “Do we have to go there again?”

  He smiled down at the top of her head. The once tight knot of red hair had relaxed, and curls fell across his chest. “I go to that particular gambling hall almost every night.”

  Molly lifted her head and gave him a despairing glance. “Every night?”

 

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