Larkin made no attempt to leave the library, but stood at attention near the door. “It was very long ago, sir, when you were just a tot.”
“Where are your children now?”
“Ann is married and has children of her own, sir. She lives near Boston. Harry and George moved out West several years ago, and Ross lives in Bangor. He has a business there.” There was a touch of wistfulness in his voice.
“Why have I never met them?”
Larkin looked at Wolf as if he’d lost his mind. Not once in the seven years since his father’s death had Wolf asked the butler, or any of the staff, a personal question. He hadn’t even known their given names until Molly had told him.
“After my wife died, they went to live with my sister.”
“When did you see them?”
Larkin looked absolutely confused, but Wolf had to know. “Your father was very generous with me, sir. I spent every Christmas and a week every summer with them, as the years passed.”
A week and Christmas. It wasn’t enough. Larkin had rarely seen his children as they’d grown up, just as Wolf would never see his if he stayed with his original plan.
“And now?”
“Sir?” Larkin lifted his eyebrows.
“When was the last time you went to Boston to see your grandchildren?”
The man turned pink, and he fastened his eyes above Wolf’s head. “Three years ago, sir.”
“Three years?” Wolf clucked and shook his head. “That won’t do, Larkin,” he said abruptly. “We will survive without you, you know.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You can leave next week,” Wolf continued, his voice as businesslike and cold as it had been when he’d bargained with Clarence Young over the price of the steel mill. “Before true winter comes. Would two weeks be sufficient?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And in the spring I think a month off is in order. Would you like to see the wild West, Larkin?”
“Yes, sir, but . . . . ” Uncharacteristically, Larkin stumbled over his words.
“You don’t want to go?” Belatedly, it occurred to Wolf that Larkin might not be on good terms with his children, after all the distant years.
“It’s not that, sir. It’s just that I’ve seen to the running of this house for many years, and . . . . ”
Wolf noted the distress, and guessed at the problem.
“And you’re afraid you’ll find it in ruins when you return?”
“Yes, sir,” Larkin sighed.
“With a little instruction Molly will be able to run this household well. She’s a quick study.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Mentioning Molly’s name brought all his own problems rushing back.
“How has Mrs. Trevelyan been since her return?” Wolf asked suddenly.
“Are you speaking of her state of mind or her physical well-being, sir?”
“Both.”
“She’s been rather quiet, though I can’t say I know her well enough to know if that’s unusual.”
“It is,” Wolf grumbled.
“She seems inordinately concerned with causing trouble in the household, with . . . getting in the way, as she puts it. She insists on calling me Mr. Larkin, when Larkin has suited for years.” He took a deep breath. “Physically, I must say she seems quite healthy. I’ve never seen a woman eat quite as vigorously as Mrs. Trevelyan, and yet she is as small and quick as a hummingbird.”
Wolf smiled at the apt description. Larkin had been doing his job as he had for years, watching out for the Trevelyans. One of the questions that had plagued him was suddenly answered. “Tell me, Larkin. Did you happen to send me an envelope a week or so ago? A few sheets of crumpled paper?”
The mask was back in place, and Larkin’s eyebrows lifted in disdain. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”
Wolf dismissed the butler with a wave of his hand. As Larkin backed into the hallway, Wolf grinned.
“Thank you, Larkin.”
He was almost certain he heard a faint “you’re welcome, sir,” as the door closed.
Molly paced, her eyes on the locked door that separated her room from Wolf’s. She’d made herself perfectly clear, she thought. Until Wolf admitted that he loved her, they had no marriage.
But if he came to her, she wouldn’t be able to resist him. He knew her body too well, could break down her defenses with a touch or two, with a gentle kiss . . . .
But if he saw her unclothed, he’d know she carried the heir he demanded of her. The changes in her body were subtle, but she had no doubt Wolf would notice the slight bulge of her belly, the tenderness and swelling in her breasts.
There had been times, fleeting moments, when she’d believed that he did love her. She saw it in his eyes, felt it in his touch . . . but if it was true why wouldn’t he admit to that love?
As she watched, the knob rattled slightly. She waited for Wolf to begin banging on the door, demanding entrance. For a moment there was nothing, and she could almost believe that Wolf had given up.
And then, with a loud crack and a crash, the door swung in — followed by a glimpse of Wolf’s booted foot swinging to the floor.
Molly expected to see anger on his face, but he walked into her room with a wicked grin on his lips and a sparkle in his eyes.
“Don’t ever lock me out, Red. It’ll do you no good.” There was no anger in his voice as he delivered his lighthearted warning.
Molly licked her suddenly dry lips, and backed up a step. A step which brought the backs of her thighs to the bed.
“You’re my wife,” he said in a low voice, and the grin faded quickly.
“I know,” Molly whispered.
“You’ll give me whatever I want,” he demanded.
“I will not —”
“And what I want right now is a kiss goodnight.”
Molly had no answer for that, and she held her breath as Wolf advanced slowly. When he stood before her he rubbed the back of his hand across her cheek.
“You broke down the door for a goodnight kiss?” Molly asked as he lowered his lips slowly to hers.
“Yes.” He breathed the answer into her mouth as he closed his mouth over hers. It had been so long, and she’d missed this so much. Molly could feel herself giving in, yielding, as Wolf held her tightly, deepening the kiss, allowing her to feel his arousal against her belly.
Her knees were weak, her whole body glowed achingly, and all from a single kiss.
She couldn’t stop the soft moan that caught in her throat, the way her body arched against his instinctively. Her hands crept around his waist, until she placed the palms against his hard and warm back. She needed to hold him.
She hadn’t been able to tell him that afternoon, but she’d missed him, too.
When Wolf released her it was with obvious reluctance. His mouth left hers, and then was back for a quick kiss. His arms loosened, but slowly, and Molly dropped her hands from his back. When he had released her completely, he took her chin in his hand and lifted her face so she was forced to look into his eyes.
If he was trying to prove that she was defenseless against him, he’d done it well. She ached for him, and took little pleasure from the fact that she saw her pain mirrored in Wolf’s green eyes.
“Tell me,” he whispered. “That’s not perfect.”
With that he dropped his hand and spun away from her, to stride from the room without looking back. As he closed the broken door solidly, Molly sank onto the bed.
Wolf settled down for the night in his chair, cigar in one hand and brandy in the other. The nights were cold, now, so the blaze in the fireplace was necessary.
He no longer doubted that Molly was going to have a child. She was gently rounded, and her breasts were just a bit larger than he remembered.
His memory was not faulty in that area, he was certain.
It had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed to kiss her and then walk away. Particularly when he knew
damn well she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
If he seduced Molly now, she’d never forgive him. First, he had to prove to her that what they had was enough, that almost perfect was as good as anybody got in this life.
Wolf turned his head to the empty bed that was no doubt much more comfortable than his place by the fire, but he couldn’t force himself to crawl into that bed alone. He wouldn’t sleep there, anyway, not without Molly curled up against his side.
He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since she’d left him.
Wolf finished his cigar, sipped at the brandy, and listened to the crackle of the fire and the soft but constant movements from the room next door. Feet padding against the floor, a sigh, the sound of an uneasy body shifting again and again in the bed. Molly was restless, just as he was.
Wolf closed his eyes and pictured her, turning beneath the thick coverlet, sighing and attempting the impossible.
Comfort. He had to convince her that the only comfort she would ever have would come in his arms.
It wouldn’t be easy, and it might take more time than he’d thought, but Molly would come to him.
Wolf fell asleep in his chair, with a blanket thrown over his legs and a small smile on his face.
Chapter Twenty
Molly rose and dressed quietly, after a disturbing and restless night. The sun was barely up, but she was wide awake and starving.
As she buttoned her pale blue gown, she kept her eyes on the door that separated her room from Wolf’s, half expecting him to appear at any moment with a fierce grin on his face and a demand for a good morning kiss.
Tell me that’s not perfect.
If Wolf would keep his distance, perhaps she could continue to insist on having it all. Deep in her heart she knew that if he continued to touch her, to kiss her, she would certainly lose this battle.
Mr. Larkin was waiting at the foot of the stairs, as if he’d known she’d arise early.
“Good morning, Mr. Larkin,” Molly said as she descended.
“Good morning, madam.” His greetings were always cool, distant. Perfunctory. “I’ll have Cook prepare your breakfast immediately.”
He was off, stiff in bearing and efficient to a fault. Since her return to Vanora Point, Molly had been eating ravenously, especially in the morning. It was the only effect, other than the slight rounding of her belly and the tenderness in her breasts, of her condition. She hadn’t suffered from nausea in the morning, or from the terrible tiredness that had so bothered Stella.
But she did arise with a gnawing hunger.
She had tea and bread, and eggs and ham, and then more tea and bread. Mr. Larkin was there when her plate was empty, to take it away and replace it with more food. If he found her eating habits strange, he didn’t give any indication. Not even the lifting of an eyebrow.
She couldn’t face Wolf, not yet. She needed to strengthen her resolve, to remember why she was demanding more than her husband wanted to give.
Her life, their life together, depended on it.
“Mr. Larkin,” she said, feeling much better once her mind was made up. “I’ll be going into Kingsport today. Do we need anything from Mr. McCann?”
“I don’t believe so, madam. Willie went into town for supplies just yesterday. If you’ll let me know when you’re ready to leave, I’ll have him pull the carriage around.”
“No,” Molly said sharply. “I’m going to walk.”
The only indication that Mr. Larkin was surprised was the very slight widening of his eyes. “It’s quite a long hike, madam, might I suggest —”
“No,” Molly said as she rose from her chair. “The walk will do me good.”
Did Mr. Larkin sigh? She could almost believe he did as he turned his back on her.
The walk would do her good, and so would a visit with her mother, and with Stella and Hannah. If she planned this journey very carefully, she would return just before dark, eat quickly, and retire early pleading exhaustion.
All in all, it was a good plan.
Molly fetched her red cape from her bedchamber, moving slowly and silently so she wouldn’t wake Wolf and have to face him as she left. She actually tiptoed down the stairs and into the hallway.
Shirley was just entering the library, a dust rag in her hand. Molly paused in the doorway and watched for a moment as Shirley polished the long desk where Molly had begun all those unmailed letters to Wolf.
When the maid lifted her head and saw Molly standing there, she actually jumped, she was so startled.
“Oh!” Shirley held the hand that still clutched her polishing rag to her chest. “For a moment I thought you were him.”
“Him?” Molly repeated.
“Mr. Trevelyan.”
Shirley was shy and skittish, Molly had discovered, but she was truly horrified of Wolf.
“Shirley,” Molly stepped into the room, “Has Mr. Trevelyan ever done or said anything to frighten you?” She knew what the answer would be, even before Shirley began to shake her head.
“No, madam.” Shirley looked down at the desk, and started to dust with little enthusiasm.
“There’s no reason for you to leap out of your skin every time he comes into the room.” Molly held her tongue as further defense of her husband came to her lips.
“Are you . . . are you going to dismiss me, madam?” Shirley still refused to look up. Her voice was calm, as if she easily accepted losing her position.
“Of course not,” Molly said, indignant at the very suggestion that she would take anyone’s job away. “I just want to make one thing very clear.”
Shirley lifted her face, at last, and Molly smiled in an attempt to put the bashful maid at ease. “There’s no reason for you to be afraid of Mr. Trevelyan.”
“But he looks so ferocious, and there are the stories,” she said.
“We’ll have no gossip in this house, Shirley.” Molly’s smile faded. “I won’t allow it.”
“Yes, madam.” Shirley was staring at the desk again.
“But I will tell you a secret,” Molly said softly as she approached the desk. “No gossip, but a fact.”
Shirley lifted her pale face. The desk separated them, and Molly placed her hands on the surface and leaned forward, so she could whisper her secret.
“Beneath that ferocious scowl, behind that hairy chest . . . . ”
Shirley blushed, bright pink.
“There beats the heart of a spoiled, rotten little boy. A brat who never grew up. A great big ferocious baby.”
“Oh,” Shirley breathed.
“And he would never hurt anyone, in spite of what you’ve heard.” Molly pushed herself away from the desk. “There’s no reason to be afraid.”
Molly didn’t know if her explanations had helped Shirley at all, but if Wolf was to stay here at Vanora Point, at least for a while, it wouldn’t do to have his staff jumping in fear every time he entered the room.
“I won’t be back until late,” Molly said as she left the library. As she left the house, closing the front door silently behind her, she felt as if she were accomplishing a great escape.
It was just a dream, Wolf reminded himself as he ran toward the cliff and the woman who was poised there. His limbs were heavy, leaden, and they would barely move, no matter how hard he tried to reach her.
She turned toward him, and as he watched in horror Jeanne’s pale hair turned red. The child in her arms changed, too, from a faceless hairless infant into a child with red hair like Molly’s and green eyes like the ones he saw in the mirror every morning.
Just a dream, he told himself, but his anxiety turned to dread as he tried to reach them in time.
The dream had changed, so maybe the outcome would be different. Maybe this time he would reach the cliff in time to save them.
He had to save them. This was Molly and their child, and she was poised at the edge of the cliff and staring at him with a serene expression on her face.
She smiled at him, and for a heartbeat he knew
that everything would be all right. Molly wouldn’t jump, the way Jeanne always did. Molly wouldn’t jump because she loved him, and she loved their child.
She didn’t jump. She fell. Molly’s feet slipped out from under her and with the baby still clutched in her arms she disappeared over the edge.
Wolf woke with a start, practically coming out of the chair where he’d fallen asleep just a few hours earlier. His heart pounded against his chest, and the sweat that covered his body was not normal for such a cool morning.
Sunlight lit his room, but there remained a chill in the air.
He leapt from the chair, trying to escape the nightmare. The images in his mind wouldn’t go away, not even when he closed his eyes and reminded himself logically that Molly was asleep in the next room.
Illogically, he had to see her. A glimpse would do it. Wolf quietly opened the door he’d broken in last night, hoping that Molly was still asleep and would never know of this implausible lapse.
The door opened just a few inches, enough for Wolf to see the bed through the crack. Sunlight fell across an empty bed, and he pushed the door completely open to make absolutely certain she wasn’t in the room.
The complete silence told him she wasn’t there, but he crossed to the bath anyway. Just in case. He held his ear to the door, listening for a faint splash, a sigh, anything to tell him Molly was there.
Nothing. He opened the door anyway, just to be sure.
As Wolf dressed in the casual clothes he preferred while in Vanora Point, he told himself — silently and aloud — that what had disturbed him was just a dream. He was exhausted, and Molly was driving him to distraction, and he had substituted her face for Jeanne’s in the old nightmare because he’d fallen asleep with Molly on his mind.
Larkin was not waiting at the foot of the stairs, a good sign. Perhaps he was serving Molly her breakfast, or watching after her in what Molly called his uncanny way.
The dining hall was empty. If she’d had breakfast all signs of the meal had been cleaned from the room. Wolf stood in the doorway and listened for a moment, trying to place Molly. Surely she was somewhere in this house.
Big Bad Wolf Page 23
