She pulled a platter down from the cupboard and started pulling steaks from the bag. Unwrapping them one at a time, she slapped them onto the counter.
“Hey, slow down.” Warm hands slid around her waist and pulled her back against a solid chest. “They don’t need tenderizing.”
Elizabeth stiffened, sucked in her breath and her lips between her teeth. Being caught at her own pity party only made things worse. She wanted to turn into his arms, but she was too embarrassed. Cassandra wouldn’t be. She’d be purring and rubbing herself against him with that secret smile on her face that would tell him he was in for the night of his life.
But she wasn’t Cassandra and never would be no matter how much she pretended or tried.
Marshall lowered his head and rubbed his cheek against her ear. He kissed the lobe.
“George was the reason I came. You’re the reason I’ll stay.”
She turned in his arms and glared at him. “You did that on purpose. You waited right outside that door, didn’t you? You wanted to see how I’d react.” She couldn’t pull away. She was wedged between his body and the counter.
“Guilty as charged.” He lowered his head toward her shoulder and kissed along the edge of her t-shirt. “You told Roy to tell me not to come. Why?”
“Because I was worried about you, you big oaf. Because I knew you’d be changing from man to beast and back again and you’d have to change the others and heal some of them. I didn’t want you to be vulnerable to whatever’s out there. Someone wants to hurt you and these good people…”
He kissed her and Elizabeth forgot where she was going with her mini-tirade. She snaked her arms up his chest and wrapped them around his neck and kissed him back. She put everything she had been feeling into it; all her worries for him, all her concern for the people she’d grown so quickly to love, all her anxieties and uncertainties about her own involvement with these wolvers and how little she knew about any of it.
Marshall broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers. “If we don’t stop now, George will never be seen to and I’ll never get my supper.”
“And he that lives upon hope will die fasting,” she laughed.
“I don’t think Franklin was talking about the same thing,” he chuckled.
There were five steaks, not four, so she fixed a platter of two along with bread and cheese for Gwenna and George. When it was ready for delivery, the bedroom door was ajar so she pushed it with her toe and quietly entered the room.
Gwenna looked up from where she’d been watching at the side of the bed. She eyed the platter, took in the aroma of the steaks and blew Elizabeth a grateful kiss.
Elizabeth barely noticed and her whispered “You’re welcome,” was automatic. She was staring at George’s hip and the warm golden glow of light that covered the injured area. Marshall’s open right hand hovered about six inches above the area and where his hand moved, so did the golden light. Suddenly, he snapped his hand into a fist as if catching the light in his palm. For a split second, she could see the glow between his clenched fingers and then it was gone.
The air whooshed out George. He must have been holding his breath. “Thanks, my lord.”
Marshall winced. “It’s me should be thanking you, George. I made you wait until I’d tended to the others.”
“Bless you, Alpha.” Gwenna took Marshall’s right hand in hers and kissed his palm.
“Don’t,” Marshall said sharply and snatched his hand away. “I should have been here sooner. I should have known there was more to his pain.”
“He’ll be all right though, won’t he?” Elizabeth could hear the renewed fear in Gwenna’s voice.
Marshall opened his arms and gathered Gwenna in. She was wearing Elizabeth’s nightgown, the one with the pink roses and was obviously naked underneath, but the embrace had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with strength and comfort. Elizabeth felt a sharp pang of envy. No one had ever hugged her like that; certainly not her mother who would think such a display vulgar.
“He’ll be fine. He needs sleep and food.” Marshall nodded at the dresser where Elizabeth had set the platter. “Half of that. The other half is yours and don’t tell me you don’t need it. I can feel the hunger in you. We’ll talk about moving him tomorrow. He needs sleep and so do you.”
Marshall was right. Gwenna looked exhausted. Her face was drawn and her eyes were red rimmed with dark circles beneath. Elizabeth’s twinge of envy was replaced by guilt. Since the others left, she’d only been in the room once, for a quick shower and change of clothes. She’d taken enough time to pull out a fresh nightgown for Gwenna and suggest a shower, but she hadn’t really looked at her. Gwenna had been in the bed, curled around George and Elizabeth had been too embarrassed by the intimate setting.
She slipped from the room and went back to the kitchen to take care of Marshall’s dinner.
These people, these wolvers, she thought searching for the proper term, were like a huge extended family. Most of the women came from other parts of the country and yet they blended together like sisters and aunts and cousins, taking their mate’s families as their own. They made no dates to meet or appointments with each other. They just showed up. They were in and out of each other’s houses the same way they were in and out of each other’s lives. A part of her cringed at the lack of privacy, but another part of her wondered if it wasn’t somehow freeing.
There was no public face to put on, no questions of what to wear or where to be seen or with whom. Her mother had many critical opinions about peers and voiced them frequently behind closed doors. In public, she greeted them with toothy smiles and air kisses. Elizabeth found she preferred Maggie and Ruby’s good natured bickering. There was real love and friendship between the two.
As she filled a second platter, one she didn’t recognize as hers, she ran through the long list of women her mother knew trying to find someone she could name as her mother’s friend. She couldn’t and sadly, though her list was much shorter, she couldn’t name one for herself, either.
Since she couldn’t find her one and only tray, she left the kitchen balancing the platter and silverware in one hand and the open wine bottle and two wineglasses in the other. She was surprised to see a flicker of firelight from the grate. It was a nice touch. The days were still warm, but there was a touch of autumn in the evening air and a small fire would be enough to ward off the chill.
Marshall was sitting in the tall wingback with his back to her, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His heavy hiking-style boots were beside the chair and she could see his rag wool clad feet, toes pointed and crossed at the ankles. She thought he was asleep, but he opened his eyes and smiled at her as she set the platter down on the small table beside him.
“Hey. You don’t have to do that. We can eat at the other table.” He took the wine and glasses from her.
“No. You’re comfortable where you are. This is fine.” She pulled up a footstool and sat, hugging her knees.
He cut a piece of meat, looked at it and then at Elizabeth. “Where’s yours?”
“Oh, I wasn’t really hungry,” she said, “There were five steaks in the bag and I knew George and Gwenna hadn’t had much today.” She shrugged. It would have sounded perfect if her stomach hadn’t chosen that moment to growl loudly.
She reddened at being caught so blatantly in a lie, but thought she was saved from further explanation when Gwenna walked through with the empty plate.
“She gave you her supper,” Marshall said when the other woman returned from the kitchen.
“She did? Why thank you, Miz Elizabeth.” She didn’t say, “You shouldn’t have.” Or any of the other things people say to be polite, but kept her eyes on Marshall.
“I guess I’ll have to feed her mine,” Marshall said and winked.
“Why, I guess you will.” Gwenna grinned. Her eyes lit up and she looked like she wanted to applaud. “Can I tell George?”
“You can tell the whole damn world for all I
care.”
Gwenna fairly skipped back to the bedroom.
Elizabeth eyed him suspiciously. “What was that all about and why do I feel like I just passed some kind of test?”
“Eat first.” He held the fork to her lips.
“No. I refuse to eat until…” Her stomach growled again, this time loud enough to be heard on the other side of the mountain.
“Eat,” he commanded, “Before you wake up the bears.”
She gave up and opened her mouth. While she chewed and he cut another piece of meat, he explained.
“My father, the Alpha before me, always said that the best packs were tied together through small sacrifices. If a member breaks a leg at planting time, he needn’t worry. Each member of the pack will sacrifice a little of their time to see the job is done. No widow needs to worry that her children will go hungry or that she’ll have to turn to the State for support. Each family will sacrifice something from their larder. They’ll send their sons to chop her wood and their daughters to watch her children while she works.”
He continued to feed her until she held up her hand to say, “No more.” And then he finished off the plate while he told her stories of the pack.
“My family isn’t wealthy by the standards of the people where you come from, but we’re well off by the standards of these mountains. The Alpha taught us to be aware of our wealth and be grateful for it, but never to flaunt it. He taught us that the sacrifice of our time and our talents are more important than simply donating our money.” He poured her another glass of wine. “You made the small sacrifice of your supper to Gwenna and George.”
“I didn’t give them anything. You brought the steaks.” She was uncomfortable with calling it a sacrifice. It was only sharing a bit of supper.
“And it makes you part of the circle. That widow I told you about was grateful for the sacrifices of others, but not beholding to anyone for them. When she made pies from the apples someone brought her, she’d always make one for the old man who lived here. He loved a good apple pie and had no one left to make him one. Was her sacrifice of time and work any less because the apples didn’t come from her tree?” He nodded at the empty plate. “Those steaks came from McCarty’s freezer and the bread and wine came from Lara and Morgan. That makes them part of the circle, too. See? Small sacrifices that hold us all together.”
She liked sitting here next to him by the fire. It felt comfortable and right. Maybe it was spending the day with him as a wolf when sex wasn’t a consideration. Or maybe it was the kiss in the kitchen that let her know in no uncertain terms that he was still interested. Or maybe it was because so much had happened in the last two days that her nerves were played out and she no longer had the capacity to feel nervous over anything.
Oh, her body was still very aware of him. He smelled like the woods that surrounded them with a dash of sun and blue sky thrown in for good measure. And when he leaned toward her with the fork poised at her mouth or a bit of bread dripping with juices, she couldn’t take her eyes from his. She could drown in those deep pools of blue.
He didn’t use his hands much when he spoke, unlike herself, who could be a danger to others with her gesticulations. How many times had she been corrected for the overenthusiastic use of her hands? Marshall didn’t need broad gestures. His body radiated power and his voice carried the assurance of his position. When she first saw him in the beam of her flashlight, she thought it was his tall, muscular body and good looks that were his sole attraction, but now she thought that even if he was a small man with a plain face, women would still be as drawn to him as she was.
He didn’t need wild gestures to make his feelings known. You had only to watch the subtle nuances play across his face as he told her stories of the people here. The left corner of his mouth curled up first before he laughed and when his eyes crinkled with that laughter, the left one closed just a little bit more than the right. They widened and turned a deeper shade of blue when angered. The faint lines that ran from his nose to the corners of his mouth became more distinct and his face sagged, just a little, when he spoke of someone else’s sorrow. And then there was that cute little ear twitch that happened when he was amused and tried not to show it. It was happening now…
“Oh! I must have been off gathering wool. Did you say something?”
He laughed indulgently. “Gathering wool or compiling data?”
It was another fault her mother spent years trying to correct. She blushed. “Sorry.”
“For what? I’ve seen you do it before.” He gently tapped the top of her head. “You wander off in there, filing away everything you hear and see or you’re rummaging around for the information you need. You did it when you were working on George. I could see it in your face; picking up bits and pieces, keeping what you needed and discarding the rest. Thank you for that. I can’t heal when I’m a beast.” He laughed again. “Though I admit, I wonder what was running through your head just now.”
Her blush deepened. He would have to keep on wondering. “What did I miss?”
“I said you’re tired and you need some rest. Why don’t you take the dishes back to the kitchen while I fix our bed?”
“Our bed?”
Chapter 18
Okay, what was it I said to myself about not being nervous? Elizabeth looked down at her flannel boxers and orange tee as if they were armor that had somehow failed her. The silky white nightgown with the rosebuds around the neck was at least sexy by its sheerness if not by its design. She plucked at the orange tee.
‘Librarians Do It By The Book.’ Well yes, as a matter of fact, she did. She mentally went over the list of Things To Do Before Making Love:
Candles. She didn’t have any. She’d been determined to let the fresh scents of the mountains influence her work. She was leaving the artificiality of her life behind. Stupid woman!
Clean, crisp sheets. Who knew? She only brought one set and they were on the bed. Otherwise she would have washed and ironed them and sprayed them with lavender. She took a deep breath. Marshall was taking care of that. He wouldn’t expect her to roll around on the living room floor, would he? Surely when he said ‘bed’ he meant one of those camp things on legs with the inflatable mattress. Move on, move on!
Wine and her grandmother’s crystal wineglasses. The glasses she could do without, but the wine was gone and she couldn’t very well offer him Ruby’s white lightening. Or could she? She could certainly use a snort right about now.
Clean and sexy nightgown. Well, she’d already blown that one. The white one was the only nice gown she’d brought and the yellow one was in the wash. After all, she wasn’t planning on any lovemaking when she came up here. She was looking at comfort and writing a book. She looked once again at the orange tee. There was a spot on her left breast where the meat juice had dripped. She couldn’t even check off clean.
Bathe, oil, powder and shave. She’d showered. It wasn’t a long luxurious bath with fragrant oil, but at least she was clean and she vaguely remembered swiping deodorant under her arms. Shave? Oh, no! Did she? She reached down with hands soapy from dishwater and felt her legs. They were smooth. Huh. She didn’t remember shaving. Perhaps the habit had become so ingrained that it had become… Stop analyzing!
Hair. After her shower, she pulled it up, still wet, into a ponytail. She took a quick look at her reflection in the kitchen window. Yep. There it was, sticking up like a broken fan on top of her head and if she pulled it out now, she’d have that silly little dent running all around her head. This whole thing was turning into one disaster after another.
Condoms. She was an informed and conscientious woman and while she was protected from pregnancy, there were other things out there that were so much worse. Every responsible, modern woman should carry her own supply. So why were hers still in the nightstand in storage?
Someone help me! The situation was bleak and getting bleaker by the moment and she hadn’t touched the big stuff yet. What if she couldn’t…?
“You’re wool gathering again.”
Elizabeth shrieked and threw up her hands. Suds went flying. She whirled to face Marshall. He was laughing and wiping a splatter of soap from his cheek.
“Okay, next time I’ll call ahead.” He stopped laughing and his face became serious. “Lizzie, what’s the matter? You look like a treed coon. What happened?”
She flapped her hands at the side of her face. Another stupid gesture her mother didn’t approve of. Suds and water splattered her tee.
“I’m not ready for this.”
He stepped up, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. He shushed her while he stroked her hair. “It’s catching up with you, isn’t it? This wolver business. You’ve had no time to digest it, analyze it, and now that you have, it’s too fantastical for that orderly mind of yours to fit into place. That’s okay, Lizzie. It’s expected. I’m grateful you’re not afraid of us, afraid of me.”
She shook her head against his chest. “It isn’t that.” She was a little surprised herself. Maybe because everything happened so fast leaving no room for this-can’t-be-happenings or that-simply-isn’t-possibles. “It isn’t the Wolvers or you. It’s me,” she mumbled, “And what’s going to happen in there.”
She heard the breath ease out of him and felt his relief.
“Ah, my sweet Lizzie.” He stroked her hair and held her tighter to him. “Nothing’s going to happen that you don’t want.”
“But I do want.”
“Then…?”
How could she explain to him that she needed the props; the lists that told her how to act and what to do? This was a test she desperately didn’t want to fail.
“I don’t have a pretty nightgown,” she said stupidly.
He took a step back and grasped her shoulders. “Neither do I,” he said in mock panic. “No one told me there was a dress code.” He leaned down and looked at her face. “There. I see a smile, so it’s going to be okay. It’s also okay to be nervous, Lizzie.”
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