Chapter Two
“Grandmother”—Abigail closed the cottage door behind her—“I’m home.”
She dropped her basket on the nearby table, relieved that her grandmother didn’t immediately emerge to interrogate Abigail for her delayed return. She clutched her hand to her chest, struggling to slow her loud and ragged breathing, hoping to undo all evidence of the encounter on the road. She wrapped her cloak around her as she shivered, her body cooling, her heart returning to its normal rate.
If her grandmother knew what had occurred tonight, she wouldn’t be allowed to leave the cabin again. Her grandmother’s protective instincts would deprive Abigail of her only outlet to the world beyond their home. Regardless of her current fear that she’d be tempted again, and this time unable to say no, she couldn’t allow that to happen. She combed her fingers through her hair, attempting to smooth the mass of knots. A shiver raced down her back with the tugs on each difficult snag. The wind, combined with the urgency of her escape, had snarled her hair into a tangled mess that would take hours to straighten. It served her right. She deserved far worse punishment for speaking with a stranger alone. Many weren’t so fortunate after such an encounter.
But the danger had been what had appealed to her, the draw that had encouraged her to act imprudently, despite the possible consequences. Beneath the bare oak trees, perched on the edge of the path, her body had tingled, alive as she’d never been before.
She shook with the memory she’d relive over the many quiet years to come. Was this one moment all she’d have? One short memory to replay for the rest of her life, settled into a mundane routine with Hunter, or someone like him?
Uncomfortable with the direction of her thoughts, Abigail called again into the dim room, “Grandmother?” She needed distraction from these startling questions, before she decided to act.
A damp chill rippled down her spine. She pulled her cloak closer, turning towards the hearth. The cold stone berth lay almost empty, the fire burned down to embers. The soft glow of the coals was the only evidence that any blaze had lit the chimney today. She stirred the hearth with a dismembered branch, the flames leaping to life upon the stone and giving off a lovely, necessary heat.
“Grandmother?” Abigail shouted, unease and worry wobbling through her words, the silence closing in around her. “Are you here?”
Fear coiled thick and dark in her stomach. Though still early autumn, frost already appeared on their windows each morning, making the fire’s heat a necessity. Her grandmother would never forget the flame during such a cold season.
She placed a large log on the now burning fire, watching as the flames broke down the wood’s resistance and set it ablaze. She inserted the candle wick into the hearth, the thick string surging to life.
She remembered only a few instances when her grandmother had left their home, and never without her accompaniment. There was certainly no reason for her to abandon the cabin on such a cold night, while Abigail was still out. She had to be here somewhere.
Holding the candle close, Abigail moved through the main room, searching the small space that only held a thin woollen carpet and the stout table and benches centred upon it. All was empty, devoid of any sign of her grandmother. By this time of night, her grandmother would have their meagre supper prepared for them, yet no supplies were disturbed.
She turned to her grandmother’s bedroom. The hinges moaned low and deep, unaccustomed to her quick, frantic yank as she pulled back the door. The sound echoed through the quiet room. The bed lay unoccupied and unused—the sheets still made in tight folds. The barren floors gave no more evidence than the previous space.
Trepidation filled Abigail, freezing her blood. She fled the room, migrating towards her own chamber. The chance of finding her grandmother within appeared unlikely, but, desperate, she reached for the handle.
The air prickled around her, alive with energy, as if another creature inhabited the space with her. Her eyes scanned the room with hope, searching for anything amiss in the limited candlelight. The empty bed stood in the centre of the room, the corners not as crisp as the tight creases of her grandmother’s.
She stepped to the mattress, and noticed a different texture among the sheets. Placed in the middle of her pillow, a folded square of dirty parchment rested, as if awaiting her return. Spreading out the rumpled corners, she pulled the light close to the page. Two hastily scrawled sentences crested the paper’s surface. “I went to return the neighbour’s cow. I will be home soon.”
She slumped onto the bed, holding the note close, her fingers tightening around the candlestick. When had she left? Darkness had fallen hours ago, and the closest neighbour lived only a mile away. Her grandmother wouldn’t have started her journey so late. At least, Abigail didn’t think so. Why hadn’t she waited for her so she could help return the animal? What had made the errand so dire? And why was she still gone?
Light shifted along the floorboards. The shadow of a bird flew across the face of the moon in the night sky, drawing her attention to the farthest corner of the room. In the filtering moonlight, Abigail noticed a dark shape, like the toe of a boot, shift in the shadows.
Fear coloured her vision and her mind spun. Her body shook in a combination of dread, anger and exhilaration. Her breath caught in her lungs. She assessed her surroundings, desperately searching for what she’d missed in the small room.
Jumping up, she thrust the candlelight in the direction of the stirring. As if from a dream, the tempting stranger appeared before her. His skin glimmered bronze in the candle’s glow, accentuating the contours of his weather-worn features. A devilish smile curled his lips and his eyes gleamed dark and dangerous in the limited light.
Her stomach twisted. Her heart thumped, filling her with heat stronger and warmer than the flame only inches from her flesh. The yearning anticipation that had suffused her upon the moonlit path swelled inside her again, coaxing her to follow where she shouldn’t go.
“What are you doing here?” She extended the candle before her like a weapon, ready to club him if he came too close, though she had no idea how to wield it without setting the entire cabin ablaze.
“I came for you, my pet,” he growled, and tendrils of longing raced through her. “I followed you here. Your scent and desire drew me.”
Her muscles tensed beneath the effect of his words and heated gaze. She should be appalled. Insulted by the assumption that he could make her his with a few pretty words. But all she wanted was to know more. To find out all the secrets hidden behind his dark gaze and cocky grin. “Who are you?”
“I am Wolf.” He bent forward in a mocking, courtly bow. “And what’s your name, my sweet?”
“Abigail.” She cringed at her eager answer.
“It’s a pleasure to finally be introduced, dear Abigail.” His tongue ran along the length of his perfect mouth.
Thoughts blossomed in her mind of other locations his tongue could caress. Heat flooded her, scorching her from the inside out.
“Though I must admit, I enjoyed our previous meeting as well.” His smile expanded.
She breathed deeply, attempting to calm her racing mind to evaluate his words. Was she as alluring as this Wolf said? The idea caused a stream of warmth to ripple through her body. She fisted her hands to prevent their shaking. An image of the bard’s devouring look upon his damsel filled her mind. Her heart pumped faster with the desire to be looked upon with the same yearning and devotion as the beauty in the market square.
Did Wolf feel the same towards her as the bard had towards his lady? No one had ever gone to such lengths for her before. Certainly not Hunter. The idea that Wolf had risked possible arrest or attack to see her again affected her more than she’d anticipated.
She shook her head, trying to regain rationality within her mind. The paper of her grandmother’s note crinkled in her hand. She stared down at the thick, blocky letters. She’d never seen her grandmother write before. Was it possible she hadn’t written the note
at all? Maybe the note played a part in this man’s ploy to get what he wanted. The same goal that had propelled him to steal into her home in the dark.
“Do you know where my grandmother is?” The words held no threat, but the accusation resonated through her tone, the statement dropping from her lips from duty, more than belief. She didn’t want to accuse the man before her, but that he might have had something to do with her grandmother’s disappearance was the only logical conclusion.
“I know nothing of your grandmother.” A slight pang of hurt crested his words. “The house was empty when I arrived.”
Guilt arrowed through her heart at the reproach. She had no reason to feel guilty for the question. This man had broken into her home when her grandmother had disappeared. What else was she to think? Could she believe the note in her hand? Might the two events be a mere coincidence?
“How did you arrive before me? I ran as fast as I could down the path.” Her gaze travelled along his body, assessing his strong form, gauging his response for any hint of a lie.
“The trip’s far shorter off the path.” He stepped closer, despite her tense stance, not waiting for any other acknowledgement that she desired his presence. His wicked smile and the determined dangerous gleam in his eyes tempted her across the candle’s glow. He brushed her cheek, and the heat of his touch curled her insides.
She forced herself to remain rigid. She didn’t want to enjoy his touch, but her traitorous body refused to listen. Pleasure radiated from her centre out to the tips of her fingers and toes. She gasped, and Wolf’s gaze dropped to her mouth. His eyes burned, dark and demanding.
“If you’d have been willing to explore with me, I would’ve been glad to show you.”
His stimulating caress warmed her cheek. She strained her neck, fighting the desire to turn into his hand and rub against his hot palm. She worried if she gave in, she might purr beneath his touch, like a cat begging for a saucer of milk.
Wolf reached for the candle in her grip. The waxy stock slipped from her hold with little struggle as her body complied with Wolf’s silent commands. Her movements were no longer within her control, like one of the puppets that entertained in the market square, her limbs and actions manipulated by strings. As odd as it might be, he didn’t scare her. She felt alive and safe under this Wolf’s command.
He placed the candle on the windowsill. The golden glow shone on his features, illuminating half his face. The shade accentuated his threatening look. His mysterious scowl tempted Abigail to reach out and stroke him, to swirl her fingers through the prickly hairs along his jaw, imagining the same bristles upon more delicate areas of her body.
What was she thinking? She stepped back, separating herself from Wolf’s consuming presence. She wasn’t safe with this stranger, and to feel otherwise was insanity. The thrill he offered would come with a price, one that might be far steeper than she could afford. Her body—and heart—might be irreparably changed by their contact, possibly damaged beyond repair.
“No. I need to find my grandmother. It’s not like her to be gone so long.”
Wolf didn’t appear surprised or upset by her sudden retreat. He seemed exhilarated by her flight. His eyes glowed and his smile captured her, like a bunny in a snare. His nostrils flared, breathing deep. Could he sense her fear? Did he know she was tempted and aroused, even in her anxiety?
“There’s more I can show you.” He filled in the distance she’d gained. His intoxicating, woodsy smell surrounded her, offering to take her deep into the unknown. Guiding her on a sensuous tour off the safe path to locations so treacherous she might be unable to return. “Treats beyond your imagination.”
“What tells you I’m interested in such a show?”
His lips turned up in a smug grin. How could he be so confident while her mind and body were swathed in confusion? Her muscles ached from battling her body’s instincts. Her mind whirled, searching for a space where the unknown no longer held such allure.
“I saw you in the market.”
She froze. What had he seen? Had he watched her wander into the alley and spy the bard and his lady?
“I could see in your eyes what you desired, what you needed. And with the way you’re standing there, breath rasping, face flushing with colour, eyes large and bright with interest, you’re not denying the truth. I can hear your heart pounding. The smell of your arousal is so strong and enticing it would call to any man. I know you’re interested, better than you know yourself.”
“But what of my grandmother?” She searched his features for a hint of his involvement in her disappearance.
“She left you a note. She is fine.” Wolf stepped towards her, invading the space between them. His body rubbed against hers, kindling an ache deep inside her own. “And if you give me a chance, I’ll distract you so completely you’ll forget she was ever here.”
Abigail looked up at him in shock, wanting to pummel the arrogant expression from his strong features. His over-confidence and harsh sentiment were too much to bear in the face of her confusion. She raised her hands, dropping her grandmother’s note, prepared to claw him, bite him, slap him for her own freedom.
But before she could move, Wolf grabbed her wrists, holding them to her sides with his strength. She yelped, surprised by his quick movements and her subsequent capture. Moisture erupted across her body, sweat dampening her skin, and confusing wetness dewed between her thighs.
With a slight tug, Wolf pulled her to him. Her breasts pressed against the rough fabric covering his broad chest. His fierce grip upon her wrists remained constant and forceful. Her inner muscles clenched, her betraying body finding gratification in his dominance even as her mind rebelled against it.
“Bastard,” she cursed as he moved towards her. His strong, angular nose rubbed against the length of hers. His lush and inviting lips were close enough that if he spoke they almost brushed against her mouth. His breath fanned her face, bringing with it the scent of forest and man.
“If you think that will deter me, you are quite wrong, my sweet. Your harsh words only inflame me further.” He gazed into her eyes, imploring her to take what she desired, now so close at hand.
He fastened his lips on hers, enveloping them in a consuming kiss. It wasn’t gentle or sweet, as she’d seen other lovers embrace, but it was electrifying. His tongue and teeth devoured her mouth. She moaned, savouring his taste. His beard rubbed against her cheeks and chin until they flamed and chafed, becoming extra-sensitive.
Her body responded without her knowledge. She licked his lips, sucked upon his tongue, and nibbled the very tip. Her resolve faltered, in spite of how diligently she fought. The urge to press her aching body into him, to push closer until she found release almost overcame her.
He pulled back suddenly, his breath desperate and racking. A waft of logic returned to her, yet she clung to it with the death grip of a climber upon a broken tree limb. She struggled against him, trying to yank her hands from his grip. She needed to rebel against his temptation. The only way back to safety would be to free herself of him, of his troubling influence and his intoxicating touch.
She let out a frustrated sigh when her effort went unheeded, his grip still holding her tight and his large smile still raining down upon her. She turned her head away sharply, refusing him her expression, not letting him see the true results of his effect upon her. Her copper hair tangled across his rough cheeks. The tug upon her hair created a small quake deep within her stomach.
Biting her lip, Abigail held her neck stiff away from him, desperately clinging to her last refuge. Her fingers shook, her knees grew weak as her small defiance crumbled beneath his continuous advance.
Chapter Three
A growl rumbled from Wolf’s chest, anger roaring deep within him at her turned head and obscured expression. He despised being denied any of her. The soft, parted lips and soulful eyes burning with need. The sweet puffs of her excited breath breezed across his skin. Her darkened expression pushing him, showing him wh
at she needed, without words.
Her continued struggle plucked his need for control, goaded him on. That was why he’d sought her out, the reason he wouldn’t allow their short interlude on the road to be the end between them. This woman, with her sweet innocence, rebellious nature and hidden desires, gave him more satisfaction with a few deep breaths than other women managed with hours of effort.
He assessed the beautiful picture before him, searching out the path to her submission. He studied the bare inches of creamy flesh. She might deny him the view he wished for, but he’d find other ways to stimulate them both.
Choosing his place carefully, Wolf dropped his head, sweeping his heated breath along the breast exposed above the curve of her bodice. The smooth skin erupted into gooseflesh beneath the soft exhale.
She rotated into him, until they were chest to chest and groin to groin, even as she struggled against his hold. Whether she wished to obtain her freedom or hasten the pleasure already bubbling within her, he couldn’t tell. He dropped his lips to her chest, trailing a line of moisture along the edge of her dress with his tongue.
She tasted sweet, like a ripe apple plucked right from the tree, untainted by the world. The flavour inflamed him further. He moaned against her chest and she attempted to jerk free from him again, even as her pulse rate increased, her heart beating next to his.
He respected her fight, and wanted to break it in the same breath. It fascinated him, watching her battle against what they both wanted. If she had the strength to deny herself, she’d have the power to protect herself, from him or anyone else.
“Why do you fight what can give you such pleasure?” He dusted his lips across the edge of her bodice, not searching farther into the folds to the temptations below. “Why fight what you want?” His words puffed against her kiss-moistened skin. He nipped at the soft flesh, not to cause pain, but to awaken her already trembling breasts.
Wandering Off the Path Page 2
