When I touch her, she berates me as the viscount’s savage, yet when Reno holds her, she looks at him as though he had just come to earth on a bolt of lightning.
I don’t know who is the greater fool — me for caring, or Reno for being taken in by the conniving little aristocrat.
Wolfe crossed the living room with a predatory grace that warnedRafe and Caleb of what was coming. Reno didn’t notice Wolfe’s approach, for his attention was completely on Jessica’s laughter, the unusual color of her eyes, and the firelight caught in her hair. The hard masculine tap on his shoulder came as a surprise.
«Patience, big brother,» Reno said. «You’ll get your turn.»
«I will get all of the turns.»
The cold anger in Wolfe’s voice made Reno’s head snap around. He took one look at Wolfe and released Jessica without a word. She started to smile at Wolfe, but when she saw his eyes her smile vanished. She stumbled as he spun her away from Reno.
«Sorry,» she said, catching her balance by holding on to Wolfe. «You startled me.»
Wolfe didn’t bother to politely pretend that it had been his error in rhythm rather than Jessica’s that had caused her to stumble.
«I will do more than startle you if you insist on seducing every man within reach.»
Wolfe’s tone was as hard as his eyes. Though his voice was too low to carry beyond Jessica, each word was distinct, making her flinch as though at a blow.
«I wasn’t seducing —»
«The hell you weren’t, your ladyship,» Wolfe said icily, cutting across her words. «Now listen to me and listen well. You forced this marriage. Until you agree to end it, you will act in public as a married woman. This isn’t Great Britain, nor are the Moran brothers members of British aristocracy. In this time and place, married women have no other man but their husband, and married men have no other woman but their wife. Do you understand me? There will be no lovers for you or for me while this farce of a marriage lasts.»
Before Jessica could answer or protest, Wolfe released her and walked toward the Moran brothers. The music stopped as though cut off by a knife.
«Gentlemen,» Wolfe said with deadly softness, «don’t be fooled by appearances. Lady Jessica forced our marriage by claiming that I had seduced her. I did not. She is as virginal tonight as she was on the instant of herbirth.Yetwe are married. The little nun prefers it that way, for she knows I won’t force her. She believes she can remain forever a spoiled child, playing at marriage, playing at keeping house, playing at being a woman.»
The silence that followed Wolfe’s words was so absolute that the wail of the wind outside was almost shocking in its volume. Wolfe looked fromRafe to Reno and resumed speaking in the same soft, savagely controlled voice.
«Enjoy Jessica’s smile, enjoy her laughter, enjoy her lively conversation, but don’t get your guts in a knot over a spoiled little tease who whimpers during storms and can’t even build a fire — in or out of bed. Wait for the right woman, one like Willow, a woman, not a girl, a woman strong enough to fight by your side if she must, passionate enough to set fire to your soul as well as your body, and generous enough to give you children despite the risk to her own life. Jessica is not that woman.»
Wolfe turned on his heel and stalked to the front door. The cry of the wind increased as the door opened. Without a word or a look at his wife, Tree That Stands Alone vanished into the windy night.
12
Jessica slept more badly than usual that night, for Wolfe’s icy summation of her failures as a Western woman kept echoing in her mind, sliding past all inner barriers, cutting her in ways she couldn’t name. All she could do was endure as she had endured in the past, putting pain and memories behind her, forcing them into parts of her mind she visited her, forcing them into parts of her mind she visited only in nightmares.
But tonight Jessica couldn’t fight as she had fought in the past. Tonight she felt her carefully constructed defenses crumbling like a sand castle beneath a rising tide.
When Wolfe came into the room, undressed silently, and slid beneath the blankets, Jessica was more awake than asleep. The scent of him settled over her, evergreens and fresh snow. His hair radiated the cold wind that writhed over the land.
Lying absolutely still, certain that he sensed her wakefulness, Jessica waited for Wolfe to speak to her. When he simply rolled onto his side with his back to her, she closed her eyes and told herself she was grateful not to hear any more cutting words from Tree That Stands Alone.
But she wasn’t grateful. She would rather have been berated than continue to lie in bed half-dazed with regret and loneliness, listening to the wind’s victorious wail. Shivering with a cold that not even the fur blanket could warm, she waited for sleep to release her. In time, something close to sleep came, but there was no release in it, simply greater vulnerability.
Outside the room, a northern storm descended, fulfilling the harsh promises of the wind. A vast, ice-toothed scythe of sleet sliced horizontally across the land. Pellets of ice hammered over the roof and clawed down windowpanes while the wind screamed in a woman’s voice, describing eternal damnation.
Her mother’s voice.
Terror that was colder than the storm froze Jessica. Neither asleep nor yet awake, she clenched her teeth against the cries locked within her throat. She would not let Wolfe hear her.
…a spoiled little tease who whimpers during storms.
With a soundless cry of despair, Jessica turned her face into the pillow, fighting memories, fighting nightmares, fighting herself. Sensing weakness, the wind howled around her. Its icy fingers pried beneath her control, screaming to her in her mother’s voice.
But it was Wolfe’s words Jessica heard, Wolfe’s words that stripped her to her naked soul.
Wait for the right woman, one like Willow, a woman not a girl…a woman passionate enough to set your soul on fire…generous enough to give you children despite the risk to her own life.
Jessica is not that woman.
The wind screamed triumphantly as memory, nightmare, and storm combined, telling Jessica that she was alone and the wind was everywhere.
The sounds she refused to make shuddered through her tense body. Though she managed to stem her own cries, she could not stem the black tide of memories drowning her, a childhood recalled by her mother’s voice screaming with the wind, incidents she had spent a lifetime hiding from except in nightmares, and those she refused to remember upon awakening.
But Jessica finally was awake now. She was remembering her mother’s screams and her father’s curses, two figures interlocked on the hallway floor in brutal sexual combat.
I won’t remember!
Yet Jessica could not stop remembering.
Abruptly, she knew she could control her cries no longer. There was only one place where she would be free. Outside, in the center of the wind’s violence, where nothing living could hear her scream.
Just as Jessica’s legs slid over the edge of the bed, a powerful arm snaked around her waist and hauled her backward. The contact was unexpected, an extension of her nightmare where her father’s thick arm hooked around her fleeing mother, draging her down to the mating she had fought with every bit of strength in her small body.
Wolfe sensed the wild tension in Jessica the instant before she exploded. He put his free hand over her mouth, shutting off her scream as he bore her down beneath him on the bed. After a flurry of struggle, he overwhelmed her attempts to be free of him. Soon she was helpless, her arms stretched above her head, her wrists locked together in one of Wolfe’s hands, his other hand clamped over her mouth, and his big body pinning her so completely she could barely breathe. Screaming was impossible. So was escape.
«If you think I’m going to let you tiptoe off to have your feelings soothed by one of those fine Moran brothers, you’re crazy,» Wolfe said in a low, savage voice.
At first the words didn’t register through Jessica’s panic. Finally, the simple fact that she was helpless but
