Wolf at the Door

by Victoria Gordon

  ‘My ... er ... my mother, you mean?’

  Meg Scofield shrugged enigmatically. ‘He’s a one- woman man. The best kind there is.’

  ‘But...’ Kelly was honestly astounded. She had known her father only through his infrequent visits during her childhood, and although he had never in any way attempted to come between her and her mother, he had also never made any attempt she could see to affect a reconciliation. Her mother, indeed, had always made it abundantly clear that such a thing would be impossible in any event.

  ‘You’re wondering about him and your mother,’ Meg replied as if Kelly hadn’t even tried to interrupt. ‘Your father’s no fool, Kelly. He knew the first time she left him that he couldn’t hold her, and I think he knew that the kind of love he felt wasn’t being returned. But it couldn’t stop him loving her, and I break no secrets in saying he’s loved her all these years. It’s too bad the way it worked out, but any woman who expects to change a man’s entire way of life by marrying him is a damned fool ... no offence to your mother.’

  Meg shook her mane of silvery hair impatiently. ‘Oh, maybe I’m just too old-fashioned. Certainly I lose patience with this modern concept of women’s liberation. Grey’s father gave me so much, but the concept of being liberated simply wasn’t a part of our relationship. He was the strong one ... in my eyes, and yet I know that in his eyes I was just as dominant a figure. We just ... complemented each other’s strengths and weaknesses, I guess.’

  She paused to light a cigarette and then looked at Kelly with almost an assessing gleam in her eyes. ‘Grey gets more like his father every day. I wouldn’t want to see him marry the wrong woman through sheer stubbornness.’

  The tall, grey-haired woman rose abruptly then and left the room without any attempt to explain her meaning. It was a departure that seemed almost rude, yet Kelly sensed there was no rudeness intended; Meg Scofield was close to overcome by the intensity of her own emotions, and had hidden them almost too well.

  But what had she meant? Kelly threw off her robe and slid into the warm cosiness of the swimming pool, floating on her back and staring up at the swift-running clouds as she pondered the statement. Had Meg been warning Kelly off her son? Or was it a more subtle warning? Certainly the intentions of the blonde Freda Jorgensen were obvious enough … was Kelly being warned not to interfere?

  If nothing else, it’s a bit late to be warning me to watch my own feelings, Kelly thought to herself. Much, much too late. Worse, she realised that she, like her father, would only be able to love once. No second-best would suffice. And Grey Scofield was her choice, no question any longer about that.

  Was this, then, the substance of Meg Scofield’s hinted warning? The knowledge that Kelly was a one-man woman—coupled with the knowledge that Meg’s son was already spoken for—by Freda Jorgensen? The thought was too dreadful to maintain, yet Kelly couldn’t force it from her mind no matter how she tried. Suddenly the warm waters of the pool were soul-chilling, and she shivered into her robe and fled to her room. It would take all of her inner strength to endure a week in Grey Scofield’s company, and once again Kelly wished she had never come.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Kelly’s misgivings slid into the background during the following three days, days in which she hardly saw Grey. Rising before dawn, he was usually gone from the house before Kelly was even awake, and when he came home at all, it was in the small hours of the morning.

  On the fourth day the pattern changed. Kelly rose fairly early herself, and slid open the door to the swimming pool area as she prepared for a long before-breakfast swim. She was wearing the bikini Grey had found for her so many days before, despite having occasionally thought she ought to go into the city and buy one of her own.

  Sliding off her towelling robe, she dived cleanly into the cool, refreshing water, surfacing with a start as she suddenly realised she wasn’t alone.

  ‘Morning,’ Grey drawled with a broad smile of welcome. His silvery hair glistened in the strengthening sunlight, and droplets of water gleamed from his dark-tanned body.

  ‘Good morning,’ Kelly replied, suddenly quite unsure of what else she might say. Just the sight of his lean, muscular body brought spasms of desire to her own slim figure, and her mouth was dry with emotion.

  ‘I’m sort of a stranger here, but I have the weirdest feeling we’ve met before,’ he said confidingly, and Kelly felt her heart leap. He wasn’t angry with her any longer.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ she replied with a shy grin. ‘But you do seem vaguely familiar. Are you by any chance related to the resident ghost?’

  Grey’s own surprise and bewilderment were obvious. ‘Resident ghost? I’m afraid I don’t understand.’

  ‘Oh, it’s probably just my imagination,’ she replied. ‘But there’s this vague figure that sometimes stalks the halls of the place during the wee small hours. Of course it’s always gone when I’m awake, but ...’

  ‘Oh, that ghost,’ he interrupted. ‘Yes, you might say I’m related. That was the ghost of too damned much business, which makes Jack a dull lad indeed. I think actually he’s disappeared for the moment, and certainly I’m not very ghost-like, am I?’

  He reached through the water and took her hand, placing it gently against his shoulder. Kelly didn’t so much as think of resisting the gesture, and her fingers played softly along his collarbone in an orgy of examination that left her breath short.

  ‘No,’ she agreed. ‘You’re ... quite substantial.’

  ‘Did you miss me?’

  The question was so totally unexpected that she almost answered it without thinking. Miss you? I’ve missed you more than you must ever know, she thought. ‘Not really; was I supposed to?’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t part of any great plan or anything,’ he replied. ‘It’s just that I remember explaining this trip as a holiday and it’s been just about anything but.’

  ‘Oh, but I’ve been having a most restful time,’ she said innocently. ‘I’ve been spending all my time with my father, which was the whole idea, I thought.’

  ‘Not exactly the whole idea,’ Grey replied. ‘I had planned originally that you’d spend some time with me as well, but so far business matters have made a great hash of that idea.’

  ‘Well, of course business must come first ...’

  ‘But not always,’ Grey interrupted harshly, reaching out to capture her hand once again. ‘And I’ve missed you, even if it hasn’t been reciprocated.’

  Kelly’s heart fluttered at the possibility. Had he missed her? Had he even thought of her? Or had his business really revolved around the blonde attractions of Freda Jorgensen? Either way, there was no satisfactory answer to his implied question, and Kelly was saved by the timely arrival of her father.

  ‘You both look bright and chipper this morning,’ Geoff Barnes greeted them as he eased himself into the pool. He was improving every day, but still found himself so easily weakened by any form of exercise that he was taking things very carefully.

  The sound of his voice caused Kelly to spin away from Grey in an automatic self-conscious movement, but the silver-haired figure reached out to reclaim her hand even as she bade her father good morning.

  ‘We were just discussing what to do today,’ Grey said. ‘I presume you won’t mind me taking Kelly away from her nursemaid duties?’

  ‘Mind? I’d welcome it,’ Geoff Barnes replied. ‘Having her fluttering around like an amateur Florence Nightingale is enough to drive a man barmy. She’ll have me thinking I’m sicker than I really am, if I let her.’

  ‘Well, I like that!’ Kelly retorted, surreptitiously trying to free her hand from Grey’s grasp. ‘If this is how you react to my concern, I might as well have stayed in Kakwa camp. The way you’ve been acting since we got here, I almost wonder if your entire illness hasn’t been a sham.’

  ‘That’s no way to speak to a sick man, and even less to your father,’ Geoff Barnes replied with a half-amused grin. ‘And if you two want to cuddle, perhaps you’d be so
kind as to move to one side so that I have room to swim.’

  Kelly stood, her mouth open in shocked outrage, while Grey reached out his arm to wrap it around her waist. ‘You heard the man,’ he chuckled in her ear. ‘You wouldn’t want to disobey your own father, would you?’

  Her answer was a vicious backward elbow jab that forced a grunt of astonishment from him before she slipped from his arm and sped to the side of the pool.

  ‘I think you’re both quite hopeless,’ she panted in mock anger after slithering out of the water scant inches ahead of Grey’s fingers. ‘It would serve you both right if I refused to cook you breakfast!’

  Her father was instantly contrite, but Grey looked back with stubborn disdain. ‘I was cooking my own breakfast when you were still in three-cornered pants, little girl,’ he growled menacingly. ‘That’s one threat that doesn’t hold much water.’

  ‘Well, if you’re so smart, you can prepare breakfast for all of us then,’ Kelly retorted, turning on her heel to stalk back towards her room in what she hoped was a good imitation of high dudgeon. She wasn’t really angry at all, and after drying her hair thoroughly, she slipped into jeans and a T-shirt and wandered out to the kitchen.

  She was cracking the first egg over a slow pan when Grey, casually dressed in a pair of much-faded denims and soft Indian moccasins but still shirtless, strode into the room and grasped her wrist.

  ‘I thought I was delegated to be cook,’ he said accusingly.

  ‘What are we supposed to do, starve to death while we wait for you?’ Kelly replied. ‘It’ll be bad enough being restricted to toast and coffee, I should imagine.’

  ‘Get your butt out of here, woman of little faith,’ he growled in reply, turning her round and snacking her none too gently across the seat of her jeans. Her squeal of surprise cut across the morning greetings of Meg Scofield, who had come in just in time to view the byplay.

  ‘1 do wish you children wouldn’t play in the kitchen,’ Mrs Scofield chided in a tone so realistic she sounded actually serious. ‘And there’s no sense arguing with him, Kelly, he only sulks if he doesn’t get his own way.’ Taking Kelly by one arm, she steered her towards the door.

  ‘I’ll have crepes Suzette, pork sausages, black coffee and three slices of light toast, dear,’ she threw back over her shoulder. ‘And please stop burning that egg.’

  Grey looked back at the smouldering egg and threw a look of total frustration after the departing women. ‘You’ll have ham and eggs and damned well like it!’ he shouted, and his mother looked down at Kelly with a friendly, conspiratorial chuckle.

  ‘Sometimes it’s best to keep them just a shade off balance,’ she whispered, then raised her voice in cheerful greeting to Geoff Barnes.

  Breakfast was better than Kelly had anticipated, although even as the thought crossed her mind she realised she had no basis for assuming Grey couldn’t cook. They were settling down to final cups of rich, strong coffee when the subject of the day’s activities was again raised.

  ‘I think I’ll take Kelly off to Banff for a few days,’ Grey replied to a query from Geoff Barnes. ‘If we stay around here that phone will be ringing with some emergency or another.’

  Kelly tried to conceal her surprise. It was one thing to have him suggesting a few days away, but to have the suggestion emerge in front of their respective parents was a bit much, she thought. Or didn’t Grey think they understood that a few days must by attrition include a few nights? Her own father had merely nodded as if it were the most common request in the world, but Grey’s mother, thank heavens, was shaking her head in a negative gesture.

  ‘Kelly, have you anything really striking to wear to a terribly posh party?’ she asked, ignoring Grey’s suggestion entirely.

  Vaguely confused by the turnaround, Kelly shook her own head in negative reply. Even the best she had brought with her didn’t qualify.

  ‘Well then, Banff is definitely out,’ the older woman replied. ‘We shall have to spend at least this afternoon shopping, and perhaps tomorrow morning as well. And I shall have to get you an appointment tomorrow with my hairdresser.’

  ‘Mother, what are you talking about?’ Grey interrupted.

  ‘Why, the Jorgensens’ party tomorrow night, of course,’ she replied calmly. ‘Freda rang yesterday to remind me, and to extend an invitation to our guests. Naturally, I accepted.’

  ‘Naturally,’ Grey muttered with ill-disguised sarcasm.

  ‘You know very well Sven would have been quite put out if you’d forgotten,’ his mother replied. ‘It’s his birthday, and an annual party we haven’t missed in years.’

  Grey’s face revealed his agreement, but Kelly’s heart leaped at the thought that he might have actually forgotten the party in the enthusiasm of spending some time with her. His next words, however, dashed her feelings like a glass of ice water.

  ‘I don’t know how I managed to forget,’ he muttered absently, ‘Freda mentioned it to me herself just the other night.’

  Just the other night? When he was supposedly working? Kelly’s spirits fell like a stone at the thought of what kind of work Grey would be doing that involved Freda Jorgensen. She hardly heard Meg Scofield arranging for their shopping trip that morning, merely nodding agreement to whatever suggestion. It hardly seemed to matter any more.

  ‘I think I’d better take Kelly.’ Those words did penetrate her fog. Grey’s voice was too distinctive and too imprinted on her to be missed.

  ‘Oh no! I mean, it really isn’t necessary,’ she blurted. ‘Surely one of the dresses I brought with me will suffice. I mean, there’s no real reason for me to be too fancied up.’

  ‘There is and they won’t,’ he growled, answering her objections with a distinctly high-handed tone of voice.

  Kelly felt herself retreating in an almost physical gesture. She simply could not, would not, allow this arrogant man to take her shopping. Just the thought of it both terrified and angered her. How could he even suggest coming with them?

  ‘Come if you like, but you can keep your opinion to yourself until it’s asked for,’ Grey’s mother answered for them, leaving Kelly’s objections ignored.

  And an hour later they were threading the large station wagon into downtown Calgary, where Grey quickly found a parking garage and blithely escorted both women out into the busy shopping centre.

  He took one lady on each arm, striding briskly along as if shopping for women’s clothes was the most natural activity in the world for him. Kelly, for her part, tried to free herself several times, but his grip was unassailable. By the time they reached the first exclusive dress shop, she was unaccountably flustered and indecisive.

  With each dress she tried, Kelly grew more confused and angry, while Grey stood, silent, but his eyes spoke volumes as he solemnly observed each choice and turned thumbs down.

  It was in the fourth, and most expensive shop that Kelly finally began to see some creations that suited her tiny figure and strong colouring. The best was a gauze-thin, starkly plain sheath of turquoise, which was to be worn under a caftan-style over-blouse that was a riot of shimmering, vibrant colour. When she tried it, mentally visualising her hair piled high and styled just right, Kelly knew this was the dress she wanted. Meg Scofield agreed, and Kelly tried to ignore Grey, not wanting to see his expression.

  But she couldn’t avoid it when she emerged from the changing room in what she mentally termed a second choice. This was a basic black, but a black gown that was so startlingly daring she knew she would never have the nerve to wear it anywhere. It stopped just short of being a peignoir, with only the gathering to compensate for the sheerness of the material. Revealing of bosom and thigh, shoulder and ankle, it required all Kelly’s determination just to step out of the changing room in it.

  ‘No!’ The softly explosive whisper that shot from Grey’s lips denied the look in his eyes, and Kelly looked through her own soft brown eyes to take in the flare of his nostrils and the tautness of his neck muscles.

  No? How
dared he? She swirled before the mirror, conscious of Grey’s rigid stance as much as she was of his mother’s questioning, high-arched brow. The dress was really not Kelly’s style, although she knew at a glance it was exactly what Freda Jorgensen would wear, and carry it off with characteristic coolness as well.

  Alone again in the dressing room, Kelly pondered Grey’s vivid reaction at the same time as she pondered her finances. There was, barely, enough.

  ‘I’ll have them both,’ she coolly told the startled sales assistant when she emerged a few moments later in her street clothes. It was a frightful extravagance, but to Kelly the look on Grey’s face was almost compensation enough. His sharply indrawn breath during lunch when she confided to Meg Scofield that she would wear the black gown to the party was an added bonus with a bitter sweet, poignant flavour.

  Kelly knew very well that she could never muster the nerve to wear the black gown in public. It would be difficult enough she thought, to wear it as the peignoir it so closely resembled, as a visual invitation and stimulant to a loved one. But Grey did not know it, and she planned to milk his ignorance for all the mileage she could.

  Clearly he did not want her wearing that dress to the Jorgensen party, though for what reason Kelly couldn’t quite imagine. Was it, perhaps, because Freda Jorgensen was likely to wear something similar, perhaps even something Grey had personally selected? His knowledge of women’s fashions and the places they could be purchased displayed an unusual involvement in such things.

  During the afternoon, spent purchasing the various accessories to complement both her gowns, Kelly was aware of Grey’s distant, almost hostile disapproval whenever the black gown was displayed for comparisons and discussion. Not that he ever said anything; his expression was obvious enough.

  She deliberately stayed close to her room the next morning, pleading organisational requirements as an excuse to keep from any confrontation with Grey, although in honesty she wasn’t sure any such confrontation was in his plans.