Wolf at the Door

by Victoria Gordon

  Grey still hadn’t answered, but sat regarding her through half-closed eyes. An idle evaluation, it seemed, but his tenseness was revealed through the rigidity of his body and the taut cords of his neck.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Her voice squeaked with the intensity of the question, and she struggled to raise herself in the bed without being too revealing about it.

  ‘We haven’t finished our little talk yet,’ he shrugged, a hint of a grin playing about his strong, mobile mouth.

  ‘Oh yes, we have!’ The firmness she tried to inject into the reply didn’t materialise, but he didn’t appear to notice.

  ‘Maybe you have, but I haven’t,’ he countered. Then he leaned back in the chair, so that his dark green oilman’s drill shirt strained across his wide chest.

  He was too confident, too completely in control of the situation.

  ‘I have nothing to say, and I’m not interested in talking to you,’ Kelly said stoutly. ‘Now please leave before I ... I...’

  ‘You ... what?’ There was a definite smirk there now, and Kelly felt herself growing tense with anger. The absolute nerve of the man, walking into her house, her bedroom, and demanding that she talk to him.

  ‘I shall call the police,’ she said defensively.

  Grey crossed his forearms across that broad chest and showed his strong teeth in a downright mocking grin. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Go ahead.’

  She was halfway out of the bed without thinking, bare legs flashing from beneath the coverlet. Then, with a little shriek of comprehension, Kelly scrambled back beneath it and looked wildly around the room.

  ‘My clothes! What have you done with my clothes?’ she cried loudly. It was appallingly daunting to realise that she was there, naked beneath the coverlet, and that not only were her clothes gone from the bedside chair (or was he sitting on them?) but that the closet stood open — and empty. She couldn’t possibly get out of the bed, much less call the police or anything else, unless she did it stark naked.

  ‘You took my clothes,’ she said, quite unnecessarily.

  ‘Great powers of observation,’ he replied mildly. ‘Now about that little talk we were having ...’

  ‘How dare you?’ Indignation raised her voice to a shrill squeal.

  ‘It wasn’t difficult at all, I assure you,’ he grinned. ‘And at least it will stop you from running out on me before we’ve finished.’

  ‘We’ll finish nothing,’ she shouted, tears of anger starting from her dark eyes. ‘I want my clothes!’

  He grinned mockingly. ‘Don’t be any more naive than you have to be, darling. If you want your clothes you’ll have to get out of that bed and find them, and you might as well understand right now that I’ll have that quilt off you like the skin off a sausage before you reach the door. Not that,’ and he paused with a grin that was positively wicked, ‘I haven’t seen you before in next to nothing. But then that was before I realised you are just about the most innocent, naive, stubborn, pigheaded and downright stupid child in the entire world.’

  ‘I am not!’

  ‘Rubbish! And you’re also pretty stupid if you’d let Freda Jorgensen run roughshod over you. What the hell did she tell you, anyway?’

  Kelly snapped her mouth shut and glared at him. Games! He knew damned well what Freda had said; otherwise he’d never have brought it up. Well, if he thought she was going to further shame herself by repeating it for him, he had another think coming! Still, she couldn’t help the flush that rose along the slender column of her throat, rising like a pink tide from the virginal whiteness of the coverlet.

  ‘Or was it your pretty Frenchman who turned you against me so completely?’ he continued, one eyebrow raised in a question that didn’t hide the rigidity of his jaw.

  He didn’t know. He couldn’t, or he wouldn’t have brought that question up. He was only fishing, Kelly thought, and visibly relaxed with unexpected relief.

  ‘Hah! So it was only Freda. I suppose I should have expected as much. All right, let’s have it,’ he demanded.

  Kelly said nothing, her own jaw clamped in firm defiance. Until he reached over and tugged firmly at the bottom end of the coverlet. Then she shrieked.

  ‘Stop that!’ Both hands were clamped into a vice-grip on the top of the quilt, her legs flailing to keep beneath it as he twitched the bottom first to one side, then the other.

  ‘Come on, talk, And hurry it up.’

  Another twitch of the coverlet. ‘All right,’ she squealed. ‘She ... she ... warned me off you, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh, did she?’ He released the quilt and leaned back in that supercilious pose of commanding calm. ‘And you, of course, said, "Yes, Freda; certainly, Freda," and then very daintily walked out to treat me like some kind of garbage. No way, sweetie. First, I can’t imagine you being that easily dissuaded, and secondly it doesn’t explain why I climbed so high, so quick, on your little blacklist. There’s still plenty you’re not telling me.’

  ‘My God, but you’re conceited!’ Kelly countered, suddenly wild with anger. ‘Yes, she warned me off you. Damned right she did. And I told her she was welcome to you, you ... you ... egotistical, chauvinistic pig. What do you think you are, God’s gift to women? Just because some little blonde chippy thinks you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread is no reason to think that I ... I...’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. I rather thought we had something quite ... pleasant going, you and I,’ he replied. ‘Apart from periodic attempts to poison me at the dinner table. Or am I to assume that you were just playing games — the kind of games you keep accusing me of?’

  Kelly remained silent. Her anger made coherent speech nearly impossible, but worse was his apparent admission that he had really thought they ... she couldn’t think about that.

  ‘What else did she say to you ... I presume it was during the party?’

  ‘You know. You must know, or you wouldn’t be trying to do this to me,’ she replied in a shaky voice.

  ‘I don’t, you know. Oh, I can guess. Freda and I are old ... friends, so I know the way she operates, but I don’t know specifically what she said. And I damned well intend to know, or you’re going to be in that bed a helluva long time.’ Then he grinned that wolfish, mocking grin. ‘So you’d better tell me before I decide I’m tired and come in there with you.’

  ‘You ... you…’

  ‘Me ... me ... what? Hell, woman, what are you? Stupid as well as naive?’

  Then suddenly he clamped his mouth shut and stood up, walking over to stare down at her in a sudden, frightful silence. He stood there for what seemed like hours, his eyes boring into her. And when he finally spoke, it was through teeth that were clenched with anger.

  ‘Damn you,’ he murmured. ‘I’ve never met anybody who could make me so angry I could strangle them without half trying. Now you’re going to shut up and listen to me, because what I am going to say, I shall only say once. And by God, you’d better get it right the first time!

  ‘I don’t know what Freda baby said about me, and frankly I don’t especially care. But I would have thought you knew me a bit better than to just sit there and swallow it, whatever it was. And don’t bother to tell me it didn’t matter to you anyway, because we both know better. You may not love me — lord knows you’ve tried hard enough to make sure of that — but you don’t hate me either, no matter what you say. At least I would have thought you’d grant me the right of an explanation, though.’

  And suddenly his hands were on her shoulders, dragging her up from the questionable protection of the coverlet. Kelly would have screamed, but his mouth was already claiming her lips, grinding against her in a kiss that was so angrily brutal it frightened her. She. couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t resist, until he released her mouth and flung her back against the bed with as much ferocity as he had lifted her away from it.

  Then, to her utter surprise, he stalked to the door and flung it open. ‘I’m going to make us some coffee,’ he said in a grim voice. ‘A
nd we’re going to drink that coffee, and then you’re going to tell me what the hell is wrong, and you’re going to listen to my explanation — if I have one — and then ... ah …’

  His final words were muffled, but the violence with which he slammed the bedroom door was sufficient to exhibit his anger.

  Kelly lay back in stunned amazement. She had thought she had seen Grey angry before, but nothing like this. Now there was a barely-contained violence which both aroused and frightened her. She trembled, but it wasn’t all fear. Just the touch of his hands, his lips, his anger ... she felt all quivery inside and was as frightened by the pleasantness of that feeling as much as anything else.

  And what could she do? Clearly he was going to have his answers. With equal clarity, she had to admit he deserved them. But at what cost to herself? Did she dare to reveal her true feelings? Expose herself to ridicule, perhaps scorn? On the other hand, with the love for him she could no longer deny, could she continue to defy him? She thought about it, the words racing through her fevered mind as elusive as butterflies, and when he opened the door again she was ready ... sort of.

  At least he appeared somewhat more calm, she thought, striding smoothly into the room with a tea-tray heaped in coffee cups, sugar, cream and even biscuits.

  He laid the tray across her lap almost gently, avoiding touching her as he did so. Then he dumped sugar and cream into his own cup, took it with a handful of biscuits, and retreated to his chair.

  Kelly prepared her coffee, took a tentative sip and tried to hide an involuntary grimace at the strength of it. ‘I ...’

  He waved a hand in a brusque gesture to cut her off. ‘Drink your coffee first,’ he said sternly.

  ‘I’m damned if I will,’ she snapped in sudden, unbidden anger. ‘Just what the hell do you want anyway. Grey Scofield? First you come in here and threaten me because I won’t tell you something, and then when I’m ready to tell you, you ... you tell me to wait!’

  ‘Patience,’ he replied, ‘is a virtue. And I have so few, according to some authorities, that it’s one I try to cultivate. Drink your coffee.’

  ‘I won’t!’ Kelly reached under the tray, only a heartbeat from throwing it at him, before she saw the glimmer of a smile as it wrinkled his lips. The devil! He was deliberately provoking her as usual, and as usual she was helping him. Well, not this time, Mr High and Mighty Scofield, she thought, and forced herself to relax and drink the bitter, scalding brew.

  ‘You really make terrible coffee,’ she said finally. It was an inane comment, but welcome in that it broke a silence that seemed ready to smother her.

  ‘I know,’ he grinned. ‘Why do you think I hire people to cook in my camps? If I did the cooking I’d lose my men inside a week.’

  Then he lapsed into a silence that was almost companionable, sipping at the horrible brew as if it was the elixir of life itself. And waiting. Kelly knew this was only a delay; the moment of reckoning would come.

  ‘I can’t finish this slop,’ she said suddenly, shuddering at her final gulp of the brew. ‘Are you ready to listen now, or is this some sort of third-degree torture?’

  ‘I’m ready. But let me take that tray, just in case you decide to throw it at me again.’ He grinned as he strode over to lift the tray, which he laid down beside the door. Kelly shot a tight grimace at him, both angered and somehow amused by his ability to read her mind, her every gesture. Why should she need to tell him anything, she wondered idly, when he seemed able to look into her eyes and knew it anyway? How could he possibly not know that she loved him?

  ‘All right,’ she said when he had seated himself, and then she told him exactly what Freda Jorgensen had said, omitting, of course, any hint of her own true feelings in the matter. Let him believe she had been merely shocked that he could sell himself in such a fashion. That was enough.

  When she had finished, he laughed. And laughed ... and laughed. Finally he said, ‘Is that all? No engagement, no pregnancy, no half a dozen kiddies hidden away anywhere?’

  ‘I should think you might take it a little more seriously than ...’ she began, but he interrupted her.

  ‘And of course your only concern was my ... principles?’ he asked with that familiar mocking grin. ‘You were merely offended at the suggestion that I could be so easily ... bought?’

  ‘Well, of course,’ she replied, too quickly. He might not even have heard her.

  ‘Your own feelings had nothing to do with it. All of this marvellous outrage, this absolutely splendid outrage — all for me and my so-called reputation, or character, or whatever you want to call it?’

  ‘Yes.’ She said yes, because what else could she say?

  Even as the word emerged, it seemed hopelessly inadequate.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘What?’ The question surprised her. Then it frightened her. What possible answer to that one?’

  ‘You heard me. Why?’

  ‘Er ... well...’ Kelly stammered, playing for time, for anything! What could she say? Grey gave her no time, no chance.

  ‘It wouldn’t have anything at all to do with your own feelings? Not possible that you don’t really hate me that much at all? No jealousy? No ... love?’

  The final words were a whisper that filled the room like a shout. Kelly closed her eyes, shivering with the tensions inside her. Of course I love you, you stupid man, .she thought. But I shouldn’t. I should hate you for torturing me like this.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Suddenly his fingers were on her shoulders again, but not harshly this time. Instead they traced the lines of her collarbone like fairy wings, meeting beneath her chin to lift it to meet his lips. Kelly kept her eyes closed, all her other senses being more than sufficient to gather in the touch of his lips as he kissed her so lightly, so gently, that she could barely feel it.

  The light, fleeting touch went on and on, only his lips moving and the softness of his breath against her cheek like a warm breeze. His fingers stayed beneath her chin, still as any statue and yet warm, so incredibly warm.

  There was no pressure, no force, no questioning, nor was it needed. Kelly slowly lifted her own arms to slide them around his neck, her fingers tangling in the short bristle of hair at the nape as she twisted her face to gather in his kiss.

  Her mouth searched, trembling with the passion that flooded up from her thighs, bringing her breasts hard and firm as they lifted free of the cover. Her mouth flowered, softened, softened, moulded itself to his.

  Grey’s fingers moved down, circling around her breasts with a touch that fired rockets in her brain and stirred a fiery warmth inside her. Then his lips followed them, searching down the line of her throat to capture each breast in turn. She reached up to capture his head, to hold him there for ever, but she could not.

  The eyes that met hers when he lifted his head, straining against the pressure of her arms to do it, were a soft, dove- wing grey, textured like velvet with feelings she could no longer question. And his voice, too, had that velvet softness when he finally spoke.

  ‘And to think I almost let you get away ...’

  Kelly was silent, her lips wanted kisses, not words, and her fingers tugged him toward her again.

  ‘Oh-uh. We’ve got too much to do first,’ he said hoarsely. And his huge, gentle hands lifted to press against her shoulders, holding her away from him as he straightened up and turned toward the doorway.

  ‘Get dressed while you’ve still got the chance,’ he said, his breath coming in ragged gasps. ‘I’ll be out on the porch.’

  Kelly felt mildly ridiculous, scampering around the house naked in the five minutes it took her to find her clothes, decide they couldn’t be worn again, and finally fumble her housecoat out of one suitcase. She looked at herself in the mirror, eyes no longer tired, but shining with an eternal glow from far within her, and found she couldn’t be as generous about her hair.

  ‘I’m going to have a shower first,’ she said after opening the front door to find Grey sitting on the steps with a ci
garette in his hand. ‘I have time, haven’t I? And to wash my hair and dry it? I can’t go anywhere like this.’ The words tumbled out in evidence of her excitement, and he smiled up at her.

  ‘Depends how long you want to wait for your explanations,’ he said. ‘Or don’t you reckon you need them any more?’

  ‘I’ve got all I need,’ she replied, meaning every word. His eyes raked over her, and she felt a shiver of ... anticipation?

  ‘I could do with a shower myself,’ he said then, very slowly and deliberately. ‘Shall I come and wash your back?’

  ‘You shall not!’ Kelly’s outraged expression was a sham and they both knew it.

  ‘Huh! I should have expected it, I suppose. It’ll have to be marriage, eh? Won’t settle for anything less?’

  She paused before answering, choosing the few words with special care. There had been enough misunderstandings; this was no time for more.

  ‘I’ll settle for ... whatever you’re offering,’ she said then, turning very slowly back into the house. She was halfway across the living room when a shrill whistle halted her in her tracks.

  ‘You’ll damned well wait for marriage,’ said Grey when she turned around. ‘Now hurry up and get clean, because we’re flying to Calgary before this day is out and I hate flying in the dark.’

  Grey staunchly refused to provide ‘explanations’ until they were airborne, although he was equally adamant that she must know the facts behind Freda’s deceptive comments.

  ‘I was selling out, actually, but not the way she said it,’ he said. ‘Her being part of the deal was just to get at you. You’ve met her father; you shouldn’t have fallen for that part at all. He’s as genuine a person as you’ll ever want to meet.’

  Annoyingly, he kept interspersing his explanations with tour guide directions through the windows of the aircraft, and Kelly thought she might never hear the full story before they reached Calgary. Grey insisted upon following the road south to Kakwa camp, waggling his wings as he did a slow loop around it and then circling the impressive Kakwa Falls twice to be sure she had a good view.