Wolf at the Door

by Victoria Gordon

  ‘No!’ Kelly cried. ‘Oh, no!’ She began to twist and squirm in his arms, reaching up to claw at his hair as her eyes grew wide with real terror. She just couldn’t let him take her like this, no matter what the incentive, no matter what the power he could hold over her.

  She landed on the bed with a thud that shook the entire trailer, still writhing and fighting for the seconds it took her to realise that Grey wasn’t on the bed with her, but was standing over her with a wry grin on his face. Only the grin didn’t extend into his eyes, which held an undeniable passion.

  There was a trace of pink alongside one eye where her nails had caught him, but otherwise he was unmarked by the assault except for the harshness of his breathing. His eyes burned down at her like beams of frozen light, but he said nothing as they raked across the curves of her body. And then, abruptly, he turned on his heel and strode quickly from the trailer, slamming the door so hard that the entire structure rocked on its springs.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Ten minutes later Kelly watched through tear-reddened eyes as the tall figure of Grey Scofield slid into the driver’s seat of his personal pick-up truck, which then lumbered slowly towards the compound entrance. She wasn’t surprised that Grey made no attempt to so much as glance towards her trailer, and couldn’t help wondering if he would ever bother to tell her when he got news of her father’s release from hospital.

  She was still standing by the window when a blaring horn signalled the arrival of a new vehicle, which sped into the parking lot and slid to a halt before Kelly’s trailer. Marcel Leduc, looking even more slender than usual in a pair of tight-fitting blue jeans and a shirt half open to his narrow waist, slid from the driver’s seat and strode impatiently to meet Kelly at the trailer door.

  ‘Mon Dieu! You look as angry as that Scofield person, who almost ran me off the road back there,’ he exclaimed. ‘And I suppose it has been him that makes you cry.’

  Marcel didn’t wait for an answer, probably didn’t even want one, ‘And so it is perhaps a good thing that I have arrived with such good news,’ he said. ‘It is not good for someone so beautiful to be all red-eyed and weepy.’

  ‘I could use some good news,’ Kelly admitted, smiling in spite of her mood at Marcel’s intriguing use of his second language.

  ‘Bien! Just so long as you don’t snap off my head, like Scofield has done when I tell him about it,’ Marcel replied. ‘One would think he would be pleased to hear that your father will be coming from the hospital tomorrow, but no! I tell him and he merely snarls at me as if I am the bringer of bad news instead of good.’

  ‘Tomorrow? Oh, thank goodness!’ Kelly cried, her mind already leaping ahead to begin planning for the big event. But she sobered quickly with the realisation that her father’s release meant yet another confrontation with Grey.

  Marcel was quick to spot her change of mood, and under his rapid-fire questioning Kelly had little choice but to reveal Grey’s plans for both her and her father. But if she expected support from the French-Canadian, she was mistaken.

  ‘Scofield is right, of course,’ Marcel said immediately. ‘Your father must be removed from this area or he will worry too much about the work, or about you. At least from Calgary he can do nothing, and must get the rest he still very much needs.’

  ‘But will everything be all right here if I leave for a week or more?’ Kelly replied. ‘I mean, Fred Griffiths is a fine cook and I believe he can handle the rest of it, but...’

  ‘But you must go, and that is that,’ was the blunt reply. ‘If necessary I shall myself stay and keep order here, but first I think this man Griffiths deserves a chance. We are always needing good men who can run a camp properly. Come, we will go and see him now, so that you can begin your preparations for the trip.’

  They spent the remainder of the day sorting out the various aspects of the takeover, and with her own nerves jangling from her latest encounter with Grey Scofield, Kelly was increasingly pleased at Marcel’s matter-of-fact approach to the problem. His volatile personality and Gallic courtliness were soothing to her ego and her own flash-point temper.

  After a dinner in which Marcel united with Fred Griffiths to introduce a mildly unusual menu for the evening. Marcel took Kelly by the arm and insisted gently that they wander down by the river so that she could try to relax.

  ‘You are letting Scofield upset you far too much,’ he said. ‘So you must go with him to Calgary … so what? Your father is with you, and Scofield’s mother, who must be a most formidable woman to have raised such a son. In truth, I would come with you myself, but that is for the moment impossible. But it is nothing to worry about.’

  He turned the conversation to other, more pleasant topics, and by the time sunset began to pool shadows against the vivid colours of the sky, Kelly was more at ease than she had been in weeks. They strolled hand-in-hand beside the river, Marcel courting her with a widespread frivolity that was more comforting than erotic, and Kelly found herself responding with a flirtatious pleasure that was enhanced by the lack of seriousness.

  Only when they returned to her trailer did Marcel reveal that his flirting was not as light hearted as she had imagined.

  Raising her lingers to his lips, he kissed them with an intensity that was far from the formal gesture she had expected, and seconds later he was pulling her into his embrace as his lips sought her own amidst a barrage of endearments.

  Surprised, but not really put off by the embrace, Kelly raised her lips to meet his, and felt his arms close around her with unexpected gentleness. It was a pleasant, comfortable, but uninspiring kiss, fired by Marcel’s passion, but equally cooled by the lack of a responding passion from Kelly herself.

  She couldn’t help the immediate comparison with the soul-destroying kisses of Grey Scofield, whose lips seemed to light her every nerve even when she was angry with him.

  Marcel kissed her a second time, then slowly released her as his awareness of her cool response became more acute. His fingers slid away from her shoulders with a tangible sadness, and she could see in his eyes the knowledge that her heart was already enslaved somewhere else.

  ‘I see …’ he began, but before he could continue the sound of approaching footsteps in the gravel made both of them turn to face the intruder.

  Grey’s eyes were cold with barely suppressed anger as he halted, hands on hips, and stared down at Kelly. He ignored Marcel so completely, so arrogantly, that the French-Canadian might as well not have existed.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ growled that gravelly voice. ‘But I’m leaving at five in the morning. If you’re coming, you’d maybe better think about getting some sleep.’

  Kelly’s whispered reply was wasted upon his broad back as he turned and strode away without waiting for an answer or deigning to speak to Marcel, who muttered something foul in gutter French as Grey disappeared into the darkness.

  Kelly waited to hear no more. Muttering a brief goodnight to Marcel, she fled into the sanctuary of her trailer, where she sat awake for long hours and wondered how she could possibly bear to spend a week in the company of a man who so obviously despised her. When she finally did fall asleep, it was to turn and stretch restlessly throughout the short remainder of the night.

  Morning arrived with no solution to her problems. It took only moments to pack a small case; the best of her clothing was in Grande Prairie and would have to be picked up en route. Kelly looked into her mirror and was unimpressed by the red-rimmed eyes with dark circles beneath them. It took the best of her make-up skills to repair her appearance so as not to cause her father undue worry when they arrived to collect him.

  Promptly at five o’clock, she closed the trailer door and sat down on the step outside to await Grey. It was only a minute before he approached her, stepping out in his distinctive, long-legged stride.

  ‘Is this all you’re taking?’ he asked brusquely, reaching down to pick up her small overnight case.

  ‘My better clothes are in town,’ she replied with equa
l abruptness. His only reply was a grunt of assent as he handed her into the truck, threw the case on to her lap and walked quickly around to seat himself behind the steering wheel.

  They drove from the camp in a hostile silence that seemed to deepen with each passing mile. Down across Mouse Cache Creek, through the close-mowed airstrip at Sherman Meadows and finally to the mist-shrouded waters of the south lake at Two Lakes—the truck rumbled its way over the dusty gravel track and its occupants stared straight ahead in total, chilling silence.

  But as they swung around the bend to come in sight of the north lake, a flicker of movement beside the road caught Kelly’s eye and she gasped with amazement a second later.

  ‘Oh ... oh. Grey, stop! Please stop,’ she cried involuntarily as a big cow moose, her gangling, wobbly-legged calf at foot, splashed from the marsh at the lake shore and trotted almost directly towards the truck. There are few animals so hopelessly clumsy-looking and yet strangely appealing as young moose, and to Kelly, who had never seen one before of that age, it was a sight to be savoured. As the truck slowed to a halt, she rolled down her side window and stuck her head out to watch with delight as the long- legged calf floundered along behind its mother.

  Kelly watched until both animals had crossed the road, then turned to find Grey watching her with gentle amusement in his eyes. ‘Wasn’t it absolutely delightful?’ she cried excitedly, forgetting in her own pleasure that they were supposed to be angry with one another.

  ‘It was indeed,’ he replied gravely, reaching down to thrust the truck into gear again so they could resume their journey.

  ‘You think I’m silly, don’t you?’ Kelly demanded. She was quite unashamed of her enthusiasm, and was angered that Grey might think it childish.

  ‘Only when you make remarks like that,’ he growled. ‘There’s nothing silly about enjoying the sight of a wild animal like that. I enjoyed it just as much as you did, if not quite so noisily, and I’ve seen it many, many times before.’

  Kelly didn’t know what to reply, and they continued along in silence for a few minutes. Suddenly, however, Grey flung the truck up on to the verge and turned off the ignition as he turned to face Kelly.

  ‘Look, before we get to town I think it’s best we have a bit of a chat,’ he said seriously. ‘We’re going to be spending the next week in rather close proximity and I don’t really want all this antagonism to upset your father.’

  ‘Well, neither do I,’ said Kelly, then refrained from adding that it hadn’t been she who had started it.

  ‘Good. We’ll call a truce then?’ Grey looked unduly solemn as he reached out his hand. Kelly looked at it cautiously.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ she said, ‘that we’ll be able to stick to it unless you promise to keep your hands to yourself. I’ve had quite enough of being mauled by you every time you want to make some point or another.’

  ‘Damn it, woman, shaking hands is hardly a prelude to mauling,’ he grumbled, looking at his own palm as if expecting to find it covered in grease.

  ‘Okay. Truce it is,’ said Kelly, reaching out her own tiny hand and placing it in his. Just the touch was enough to send shivers up her spine, and when he clasped his fingers around her hand for an instant before releasing it, she had to restrain a visible shudder of delight.

  Grey started up the truck again, and they drove for some time without speaking. But now the silence was far less hostile than before; it was almost, Kelly thought to herself, comfortable.

  Looking sideways, her glance hidden by long lashes, she could surreptitiously study Grey’s strong, intensely masculine profile and the easy movement of his hands on the wheel of the truck. In tight whipcord trousers, the flexing muscles of his thigh were all too evident as he shifted through the gears on the rising and falling roadway.

  ‘Actually, you know, there are times when I rather like you.’ The comment was so sudden, so totally unexpected, that Kelly flinched at the sound. And having flinched, she could think of no truly suitable reply.

  ‘Don’t you want to know what those times are?’ Grey asked after a further long silence. He didn’t take his eyes from the road, but Kelly sensed he was watching her reaction from the corner of his vision.

  ‘I’d be more interested to know why you’ve never shown it,’ she finally replied, and instantly regretted the flippant tone.

  ‘Probably because they’re so rare they surprise me,’ he replied calmly, ‘and if it’s any help to you, they don’t include the times you want to be a smarty-pants with that rapier tongue of yours.’

  He was grinning just slightly, and Kelly found herself falling into something of his bantering mood.

  ‘It’s hardly my fault you expect all women to be awed into silence by your very presence,’ she retorted .saucily.

  Grey laughed aloud, his voice booming through the relatively small enclosure of the truck cab. ‘It’s been my experience that women are always odd but seldom silent,’ he replied, then chuckled again as Kelly giggled at his deliberate play on words.

  ‘Very well,’ she said at last, ‘so just exactly when are these rare moments when I meet with your approval? When I’m cooking, I suppose?’

  ‘A cook of your calibre is a treasure in itself,’ Grey replied, ‘but I was thinking more of times like when we saw the little moose calf, and the odd time I’ve seen you watching the sunset and really seeing it.’

  Kelly didn’t know what she might reply to that comment, so she kept silent, and Grey also fell into a calm, serene quiet that lasted almost until they reached the Wapiti bridge on the southern outskirts of the city.

  ‘Your father’s liable to balk rather considerably when we spring this Calgary thing on him,’ Grey said then. ‘Can I count on your support? I’ll need it, because he can be stubborn as a mule when he sets his mind to it.’

  Kelly was aghast. ‘Do you mean you haven’t even told him?’ she demanded. ‘The way you brought it up I thought it was all arranged.’

  ‘It is. I just haven’t told him yet,’ Grey replied. ‘To be honest, I wanted to have you on my side first.’

  ‘Well, you would certainly have done belter to come out with the truth in the first place,’ she retorted. ‘If it wasn’t for the fact that Marcel agrees with you, I’m not sure that I would, regardless of the arguments.’

  ‘So old Marcel agrees with me, hey? That’s a first, I can tell you,’ said Grey.

  ‘So I should imagine,’ Kelly replied. ‘And he’s not old. I imagine he’s actually younger than you are.’

  ‘There are times when I think everybody is younger than I am,’ Grey replied with a cynical tone. ‘And other times when I’m sure of it.’

  ‘How awful for you,’ she said rather tartly.

  ‘Oh, it isn’t too bad really; some girls prefer older men,’ he grinned. ‘I take it that I can count on your support with papa bear?’

  ‘Yes, you can,’ Kelly admitted. ‘Although I’m still not sure that I should be going along. I don’t really feel I deserve the holiday, and if my father and your ... your mother are old friends as you say, I can’t see that he really needs my moral support.’

  ‘Probably doesn’t, but I would like you to meet dear old Mom. You’ll probably get on like a house on fire; she’s got a rougher tongue even than you have.’

  Kelly didn’t bother to pick up that challenge; she was too busy wondering about the implications of meeting Grey’s mother. Why? She worried at it like a dog with a bone, but could see no truly logical answer.

  As Grey had predicted, Geoff Barnes raised a howl of protest at the prospect of being sent to Calgary as an invalid. But in the face of what appeared on the surface to be a united front, he finally backed down and agreed that the rest would be pleasant.

  Still, be groused about it all the way back to the house, where Kelly insisted he sit down and rest while she packed the necessary clothing and accessories for both of them. Grey, who required a minimum of packing because he obviously kept clothes at his Calgary home, wandered into K
elly’s room as she was looking over her dresses and wondering what to pack.

  ‘Bring along that checked dress,’ he said without preamble. ‘And the green dress too; we aren’t terribly formal, but Mom likes to dress up for dinner.’

  Kelly was first inclined to take neither dress, just to spite him, but as he maintained his lounging position just inside the doorway, she chose instead to ignore his presence as she carefully folded both dresses into her suitcase.

  ‘Is it all right with Your Majesty if I wear this to travel in?’ she queried lightly, indicating her pale green jumpsuit. ‘Or do you think the airline crew would expect something more feminine?’

  ‘The captain definitely would, but I guess it wouldn’t accomplish much since he’ll be too busy flying to pay that much attention,’ he replied with his normal mocking grin. ‘It wouldn’t do to have the poor fellow all hot and bothered while he’s flying.’

  It wasn’t until they arrived at the airport that Kelly caught the true import of that comment. Instead of the commercial terminal, Grey turned his truck towards a small private hangar, where a crew was already preparing a private aircraft.

  ‘Oh,’ Kelly muttered half to herself, and Grey turned to regard her with a slight smile.

  ‘Surprised?’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about it, dear girl, I’m actually a fairly good pilot. Haven’t killed anybody yet, at any rate.’

  ‘It’s just that I’ve never flown in a small aircraft before,’ she replied. ‘I’m rather looking forward to it, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘Well, if you’re especially good I might let you have a go at flying it yourself,’ he said, handing her father up into the main passenger compartment and then lifting in the various articles of luggage. It seemed obvious that he expected Kelly to share the cockpit with him, and she was standing, waiting for him to open it, when a blaring car horn announced the arrival of a speeding taxi.