Big Bad Wolf

by Linda Winstead Jones

  He didn’t need to know that she’d huddled there beneath the covers feeling empty and alone, that she’d twice left the bed and approached the door that separated them.

  If he didn’t love her, she would always wonder how long they had before he became bored with her. How long before he became enamored of another woman. He had love within him, if not for her, then for someone else.

  She wanted it to be for her and for her alone.

  For this to work, she had to be strong. Otherwise, Wolf would wear her down and make love to her, and they’d go back to almost perfect, and she’d never know, she’d never be certain.

  After last night, Molly knew it would be impossible to face Wolf, hour after hour, day after day, and deny what they did have.

  “Good morning,” she stuck her head into Harriet’s kitchen warily. “May I come in?”

  Already the room smelled wonderful, with bread baking in the oven and fruit stewing on the stove. “Of course,” Harriet nodded curtly and returned to her kneading.

  “I’m going to see my grandmother today, and I wondered if there was any of that marvelous spice cake left. She’d love it, I’m sure.”

  Harriet smiled, just a little. “There’s half a cake left. Of course you can take as much as you please, madam.”

  She still didn’t feel like mistress of this house, in spite of the servants changing attitudes. They gave her respect she hadn’t earned, and it made her feel guilty.

  Molly wrapped a huge slice of cake in a linen napkin, and filled a jar with fresh lemonade. Carefully, she placed the goodies in her basket.

  Grandma Kincaid didn’t depend on her anymore. She had Larkin’s sister Emily to care for her, and on her last visit Grandma had been quite well. This visit was as much for Molly’s benefit as her grandmother’s. She needed another woman to talk to, and though it hadn’t quite worked out yesterday, if she didn’t tell someone about the baby she was going to bust.

  For her long walk, Molly had donned her own, old clothes, a linen blouse with wide sleeves and a heavy and serviceable brown skirt. There was a chill in the air, and so she grabbed her red cloak and placed it around her shoulders.

  “Where are you going?” The question stopped her as she opened the front door, and Molly spun around to face her husband.

  He had to have just awakened, but he appeared wide awake and calmly in control.

  “I’m going to see my grandmother.” Molly pulled her shoulders back and stood straight. Wolf could make her feel so small, when he scowled at her like that.

  Wolf lowered his eyes slowly, taking in her outfit. Molly expected a word of disapproval. Her husband had never approved of her simple clothing, and what she wore was certainly not befitting a Trevelyan wife.

  “Is Willie taking you?” Wolf asked, evidently choosing to ignore what she wore.

  “No. I need to get out. The walk will do me good.”

  Wolf lifted his eyebrows in an irritatingly superior manner. “I’ll take you in the carriage.”

  “I’d rather walk,” she insisted.

  “I’ll follow you,” he said quickly, “Just to be sure you’re safe.”

  Molly lifted her chin, straightened her spine. “I forbid it,” she said softly.

  Wolf looked, for a moment, as if he were going to argue with her, but he didn’t. For a long moment he just stared at her.

  “Tell me, Red?” he finally asked softly. “How did you sleep last night?”

  “Fine,” she answered quickly, and she could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. She blushed so easily! Wolf would know she was lying.

  “Me too,” he said with a half smile.

  Was she being too harsh, to insist that her husband love her? They did have something special. Something almost perfect.

  Molly turned away from him, and Wolf stopped her with a softly spoken word. “Red?”

  She turned in the open doorway. Wolf hadn’t moved, and his hint of a smile had faded.

  “Never mind,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

  “You know what I want, Wolf,” Molly whispered as she turned her back on him.

  “Stay on the road,” Wolf insisted as Molly pulled the door shut.

  For a long time, Wolf stared at the heavy door.

  No wonder Larkin and that bellboy had obeyed when Molly forbid them. She voiced her order accompanied by wide eyes and a slightly trembling mouth, and no man alive would dare to refuse her anything.

  He couldn’t give Molly what she wanted. Even if what he felt for her was love he could never admit it. In seven years, he hadn’t allowed himself to be vulnerable, not to anyone. He was in control, dammit. To admit otherwise was to offer himself up like a sacrificial lamb.

  He had never loved Jeanne, but losing her had changed his life. Men he had considered friends turned their backs on him, believing the worst. Strangers stared at him as if he were a monster. His own father . . . Wolf knew very well Penn Trevelyan had never fully believed that his only son was innocent of the crime of murder, that the old man had gone to his grave wondering if Wolf had killed his bride.

  Wolf had never completely allowed anyone into his life since that night, until he’d met Molly. With her innocent smile and her wide eyes and her trust she’d broken down seven years worth of armament. With her love she threatened to destroy all he had left of his control.

  Aimlessly, Wolf walked through the house. If he allowed it he did remember a time when he’d been happy here, before his mother’s death. A time when the house had been filled with love and laughter, occasional parties and summer guests. Vanora Trevelyan’s passing had all but destroyed her husband, he had loved her so much, and it had certainly destroyed the Trevelyan house.

  Since then this house had been cold, a prison Wolf willingly subjected himself to on occasion. Penance, for his many sins. Punishment, for sins he’d never committed. Reparation, for never being quite good enough.

  Not good enough to heal his father’s broken heart, not good enough to be Jeanne’s husband, not good enough to love Molly.

  When he reached his study, Wolf frowned. Something was different. Wrong. There was too much light, and a vase of freshly cut flowers sat in the center of his desk. He turned his eyes to the sparkling windows, and saw that the heavy drapes had been pulled back and secured to a brass hook in the wall. A new addition to the room.

  The pictures on the wall had been rearranged, so that when he sat at his desk he would be looking up into a soothing landscape, rather than the austere portrait of a long dead ancestor that had hung there for years.

  Changes Molly had made.

  Wolf walked through every room on the ground floor, and saw similar changes everywhere. Flowers, light, brightness.

  Life.

  * * *

  She stayed on the road for a while, and then Molly turned and slipped into the cool shade of the trees. Winter would soon be here, and there would be no more walks through the woods for a while. When spring came, she’d be too large and clumsy to walk to Grandma’s house, but by summer she’d be able to wrap her baby up and carry it with her.

  It was impossible to walk beneath the tall trees, through infrequent thin shafts of light that gave off no heat, without thinking of Wolf. Somewhere in these woods she’d first kissed him, first seen him smile, first known that she loved him.

  Then, it had been enough. She hadn’t expected Wolf to love her back, though she’d hoped for such a gift. Now, she loved him so much she couldn’t bear to live with him if he didn’t love her. Had she turned into the demanding wife he’d always feared?

  It didn’t seem demanding, especially when she was more certain every day that there was love in his heart. She wanted it for herself.

  She remembered his words to Adele so clearly it was as if she’d just heard them. He’d married her for heirs, to keep matchmaking mamas off his back, and when that was accomplished he would return to New York and things would be as they’d always been.

  Somehow he’d convinced her
to forgive that, but she’d never forgotten. When she’d realized that he had tricked her, tested her by asking Foster to flirt shamelessly, it had hurt, and she’d been forced to face the certainty that she couldn’t live that way — always waiting for Wolf to decide that he was finished with her, always wondering what doubts were in his mind. If he’d had no doubts, he wouldn’t have found it necessary to test her.

  A straight route through these woods should have taken her to the path, and saved her quite some time, but her mind wandered, and before she knew it, she was entering a section of the forest where the trees grew so thick, no sun shone through at all, and the growth at her feet was dense.

  Molly stopped and looked back the way she’d come. A small twig beneath her foot was broken, but there was no other sign to indicate where her passage had taken her.

  She couldn’t be lost. Not now.

  Molly tried to backtrack, but she soon discovered that it was impossible to walk in a straight line, for the thick growth, and so she had no way of knowing if she was returning to the road, headed for the path, or stepping deeper into the woods that covered miles inland of Kingsport and Vanora Point.

  She stopped for a moment to try to get her bearings. She listened to the complete quiet, and wished that somewhere in this forest Wolf waited for her, but she knew he didn’t. Knowing she had no choice, Molly plunged forward.

  Wolf approached Grandma Kincaid’s cottage with a second bout of uncertainty. This had seemed a good plan as he’d left the house, but right now it seemed no plan at all.

  Molly would be tired, and he would be doing his duty as a husband to give her a ride home. She couldn’t very well avoid touching him if she were sitting in his lap atop his horse.

  Of course, there was Grandma to consider. She’d attacked him once before with her cane. If Molly was crying, pouring out her heart to her grandmother, he’d likely be subjected to another beating.

  He tied his horse’s reins around the post not far from the cottage’s door, and before he’d even had a chance to knock, the door swung open.

  “Have you brought Molly to visit me?” Molly’s grandmother asked with a wide smile that displayed none of her dislike for him.

  Wolf’s heart sank at the sight of the old woman’s expectant face.

  “She’s not here?”

  Grandma Kincaid’s smile faded and mirrored his own concern. “No,” Nelda Kincaid said weakly. “I haven’t seen Molly in several days.”

  Another woman, shorter, stouter, and a bit younger, joined Molly’s grandmother in the open doorway. Wolf knew this woman was Larkin’s sister, but the only resemblance was in the stern eyes.

  “Listen,” Wolf said slowly. “I know you don’t like me, but this isn’t funny. If Molly doesn’t want to see me right now, just tell me so, but for God’s sake don’t tell me she’s not here.”

  He saw the undeniable concern in the old woman’s eyes. “I haven’t seen her. Saints preserve us, is she missing?”

  A gust of wind could have knocked him over at that moment. Missing. Just like Jeanne. But Jeanne hadn’t stayed missing for long. “She said she was coming here, should have been here hours ago. I told her to stay on the road.”

  “Molly never has listened to that sort of advice,” Grandma said softly. “Do you think . . . do you think she’s lost?” Her companion placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  Hell, he knew she was lost. Wolf backed away from the door and faced the footpath where he’d first seen Molly. Lost. Hell, he couldn’t take this again. “I’ll find her,” he said, heading for the forest.

  “Wait!” Grandma cried, and Wolf came to an abrupt halt. He turned to watch the old woman venture into the yard cautiously, every step an effort. “You can’t do this alone. There’s too much distance to search, and not enough time.”

  Not enough time. The words chilled him, and he knew they were true. Already, the air was touched with frost, and after the sun set it would be downright cold. Too cold for a woman to survive in the woods.

  And after dark the beasts would come out. The real wolves, the predators who would eat her alive.

  “You must go to town and get help.”

  “What?” Wolf turned to the old woman. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to do.

  “Go into Kingsport, check with Mary just to be sure that Molly didn’t change her mind about her destination after she left Vanora Point, and then round up a party to search these woods.” Her words were strong, but there was a low tremble there. Fear. Wolf recognized it, because he felt it in his own heart.

  “No one there will help me,” Wolf said softly. “I’ll just be wasting time I can’t afford to waste.”

  He faced the woods and shouted her name at the top of his lungs, then held his breath as he listened to the echo and strained to hear a response.

  There was no answer to his call. Nothing.

  His heart told him to plunge forward, to enter the woods and not come out until he had his wife . . . until he’d held her and yelled at her for not staying on the road and told her what she wanted to hear. The truth.

  That he loved her so much it scared him. That the thought of losing her sickened him.

  But another part, his muddled brain, told him Grandma was right. There were miles of forest land out there, and by now Molly could be anywhere.

  He couldn’t do this alone.

  He unhitched his horse and jumped into the saddle. “If she shows up here, tell her to stay,” he snapped.

  “I will.” Grandma looked up at him with expectant eyes. All her hopes for Molly’s safety were placed in his hands with that pleading look.

  Dammit, he didn’t want anyone to depend on him for anything but cold, hard cash. Molly had changed that, forever.

  “If she shows up here before I find her, tell her I . . . ” he swallowed his confession. The words still came hard. “Never mind. I’ll tell her myself.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  She should have reached her grandmother’s cottage hours ago. For the first time since she’d realized she was lost, Molly was scared. She hadn’t passed anything that looked familiar, the footpath or a glimpse of the road, or Wolf’s stream. Nothing.

  With a sigh, Molly lowered herself to the ground and took what was left of the cake and the lemonade from her basket. Half of it was gone, consumed not long after she’d admitted that she had no idea where she was.

  The lemonade was sweet and fresh, and the spice cake was wonderful. If she ever got the chance she’d have to remember to tell Harriet how they had seen her through the day.

  Could it already be turning colder? Molly gathered her cape close, huddled with her knees to her chest and her back against the rough bark of a tall tree. Somehow, she had to find her way out of the woods before nightfall.

  She shivered, more from fear than the cold. No one would look for her. Grandma Kincaid wasn’t expecting her, and Wolf wouldn’t miss her until it was late. Even then, he’d probably think she’d decided to stay with her grandmother.

  Twice she’d needed him, and he hadn’t been there either time. After Foster’s outrageous behavior that she now knew Wolf was responsible for, all she’d wanted was for her husband to hold her, to keep her safe. She’d found him with Adele.

  Even though he hadn’t actually been unfaithful at that time, he had betrayed her in another way. She’d needed him to love her then, but of course, he hadn’t.

  Again, after Robert Hutton had made his proposal, Molly had gone immediately in search of her husband and found him gone. When she needed comfort, Wolf was nowhere to be seen, so why should she — even in her wildest fantasies — expect that he would be searching for her now?

  Molly knew it was up to her to make her own way out of this mess.

  “Well, little Wolf,” she said, dropping her head and directing her voice to her belly and the child she carried. “What a mess your mama has gotten you into.”

  She’d already decided that if it was a boy she wanted to
name him for his father. If it was a girl, she preferred Vanora, for the grandmother the child would never know.

  This was all her own fault. If she’d told Wolf about the baby, he never would have allowed her to take off on foot. If she hadn’t forbidden him to follow her she certainly wouldn’t be lost right now.

  In spite of Wolf’s horrible timing when she really needed him, he could be so protective at times. Of course, he could be horribly distant a moment later, making her wonder if he cared for her at all.

  She popped a piece of cake into her mouth, savored it, and then washed it down with a small swig of lemonade. Even though she was still hungry, she wrapped up a small piece of the cake and returned it to her basket. She didn’t know how long she’d be out here.

  It was too cold to be sitting still, so Molly jumped up and surveyed the woods around her. Pines and low growth and shadow, all around her. Everything looked the same.

  “Which way, little Wolf?” she asked softly, and then she began walking.

  Mary Hanson’s face was as transparent as Molly’s always was. Wolf saw the surprised expression as she opened the door, the moment of fear that came and went quickly, the suspicion she couldn’t hide.

  “Is Molly here?” he asked gruffly, wishing he didn’t sound so damn scared and uncertain.

  “No.” Mary stepped back and invited Wolf to enter, and he did.

  “I think . . . ” Wolf began, “I know Molly’s lost. In the woods somewhere between Vanora Point and her grandmother’s house.”

  Mary lifted her eyebrows in apparent dismay, but she didn’t seem terribly worried. “Well, perhaps this will teach her to stay on the road.”

  Wolf wanted to shake the woman, but he clenched his fists and forced himself to remain calm. “Don’t you understand? She’s lost!” He hadn’t meant to shout, but the little house reverberated and Mary Hanson backed up a single step.

  “You’ll just have to find her,” Mary said softly.