«Is she? She may have been born and raised an aristocrat, but she’s not the useless little decoration you believe she is.»
Willow was talking to herself. The door slammed behind Wolfe as he headed for the barn.
17
When thesteeldust caught Wolfe’s scent, she nickered softly in welcome. He leaned over the stall door and looked inside. The breath went out of him as though at a blow.
Jessica was slumped in the far corner, asleep. The shotgun was propped against the wall within easy reach. A newborn blood-bay foal was curled against her, taking advantage of shared warmth. Silence grew while Wolfe measured the changes between the girl who had danced with him in London and the girl he was looking at now.
In London, Jessica’s skin had been as fine-grained and flawless as a pearl. America hadn’t been so kind. She had scratches and welts on one side of her face and her cheeks were chapped by the wind. In London, her color had been vivid, almost incandescent. Now her lips were pale, and exhaustion ringed her eyes with darkness.
It was only the beginning of the unhappy comparisons. In London, Jessica’s hair had been as sleek and burnished as flame, and jewels had glinted from its intricately coiffed depths. Now her hair was wild, wind- tangled, and mixed with straw. In London, her clothes had been designed and executed in the most expensive materials available, and her skirts had billowed like clouds. In America, she wore a boy’s flannel underwear, a boy’s buckskin shirt and breeches, and the evidence of her assistance at severalfoalings was spread from her shoulders to her small, durable boots.
In London, Jessica’s days were composed of teas and balls, plays and the latest books. In America, she worked like a scullery maid andstablehand combined. In London, she entertained her guests with wit and silver laughter. In America, she rarely laughed and had nearly died.
Jessi, what have I done to you?
There was no answer to Wolfe’s silent, anguished question except the truth: He had almost killed the girl who trusted him when she trusted nothing else on earth.
Making no sound, Wolfe went into the stall. He picked up the shotgun, took the shell from the firing chamber, and closed the gun. The small noise woke Jessica. She sat up with a start, automatically reaching for the corner where she had propped the shotgun out of the way.
«It’s all right, Jessi. The wolves are gone.»
She focused on Wolfe, blinked, and smiled sleepily. «All save one, and he is my very own Lord Wolfe. I’m safe with him.»
Pain went through Wolfe like black lightning, scoring his soul in ways he couldn’t name. He could feel it, though, a kind of agony he had never known before. Jessica trusted him without reservation, yet he had brought nothing but unhappiness and harm to her.
«My stupidity nearly killed you, elf. When I think how close you came to being torn apart by wolves…»
«You’re a fine shot,» she murmured, sliding back into sleep.
«I’m a fool.»
Though Wolfe’s voice was harsh, he was very gentle as he lifted Jessica into his arms. When she realized he meant to carry her from the stall, she woke up in a rush.
«Wait. You haven’t even looked at thesteeldust’s foal,» she protested. «She’ll be a wonderful foundation mare for our herd. I’ve never seen so fine a head on a foal, nor such a deep chest. It’s a filly. Isn’t that grand? In a few years she —»
«To hell with thesteeldust and her filly both,» Wolfe interrupted savagely. «Don’t youunderstand?Youcould have died.»
Jessica blinked. «So could you.»
«That’s different. It ends here, Jessi.»
«What?»
«I’m taking you back to London as soon as the passes are safe.»
«Going to give that carriage another shot at me, is that it?»
«What are you talking about?»
Jessica smiled and nuzzled Wolfe’s hardjawline. «I nearly got run down by a carriage in London, remember?»
Wolfe’s mouth flattened. «I remember.»
«You should. You beat that driver to within an inch of his life.»
«I would rather have killed the drunken bastard.»
«There are a lot more like him,» Jessica pointed out.
«So?»
«So I’m no safer in London than I am here, am I?»
The tip of Jessica’s tongue drew a line of sensual fire down Wolfe’s jaw.
«That’s not the point,» he said roughly.
«Then what is?»
«I’ve nearly killed you trying to make you admit that you aren’t cut from Western cloth. You’re a British aristocrat and you deserve to have the elegant life of ease for which you were bred, born, raised, and trained.»
As Wolfe spoke, he stepped out of the barn into the brilliant moonlight. The ground was cold and shiny with melting snow. The air was like warm silk.
«Nonsense,» Jessica said, yawning. «You wouldn’t be happy in England.»
«That won’t be a problem.»
Jessica went very still in Wolfe’s arms. All sleepiness fled before the wave of unease that swept through her.
«What are you saying?» she whispered.
«I’ll leave England as soon as our marriage is annulled.»
«I haven’t agreed to an —»
«You don’t have to,» Wolfe interrupted savagely. «I’ll be the one to seek the annulment.»
«But why?» she whispered. «What have I done to make you hate me so?»
«I don’t hate you. I never have, even when I wanted to throttle you for trapping me into marriage.»
«Then why are —»
Jessica got no farther in her question, for Wolfe’s mouth descended on hers. By the time he lifted his head once more, both of them were breathing quickly, hungrily.
«It’s over, Jessi. It never should have begun.»
«Wolfe, listen to me,» she said urgently. «I want to be your wife in all ways. I want to live with you, work beside you, bear your children, care for you when you are ill, and laugh with you when the rest of the world is a hundred shades of gray.»
The words were knives turning in Wolfe, tempting him unmercifully, slicing away at his self-control, making him bleed with all that could never be — an aristocratic elf and ahalfbreed mustang hunter. He had known it was impossible since she was fifteen.
And since she was fifteen, he had known what Hell was: living with what he wanted forever just beyond his reach, forever calling to him across an abyss he must not cross, for if he did, he would destroy the very thing he wanted.
He had nearly done just that despite his best intentions.
«I love you,» Jessica said. «I love —»
«No more,» Wolfe interrupted savagely, cutting across the words that were more painful to him than any blow he had ever received. «I am Tree That Stands Alone. You are Lady JessicaCharteris. You have nothing to fear in England any longer. I’ll see that you get a suitable husband or none at all.»
