A Wolf In Wolf's Clothing

by Deborah MacGillivray

  Paganne beamed. “I think I like you again, Sinclair.”

  But Brishen’s face shuttered, and the Romany hung his hand loosely on Paganne’s shoulder. “A waste of time.”

  “Hardly. The places we checked out are quick converts. We could get you in, set up and professional-looking in a couple of d—”

  Brishen’s tone was polite but unyielding. “I said it would be a waste of time. Even if I find a place, I cannot afford it, and I have no way to make it look convincing in a week’s time.”

  Trev laughed. “Oh, fairy godmothers are not the only ones who can work magic. Sometimes the Big Bad Wolf has a trick or two up his sleeve.”

  “I believe I missed that particular fairy tale.” It was clear Brishen wouldn’t allow himself even a shard of hope.

  Trev turned his attention to Paganne. “See he’s ready in the morning.”

  “I will.” Excitement flashing in her eyes, she bounced up and down. “I will.”

  “You won’t,” Brishen countered. “Leave it. Both of you. I thank you for your belief in me, but we Roma learnt long ago to make our own way.”

  Magda walked over to stand by her grandson, love beaming from her sad eyes. “Trust him, Brishen. This man is of a kind heart.”

  Trev shrugged when the young Gypsy remained resolute. “Well, I am buying breakfast. If nothing else you get a free meal.”

  Raven touched his sleeve at his elbow. “Good night, everyone. I will come again soon.”

  “Magda, I thank you for your time and wisdom. It’s been a pleasure.” Trev took the Gypsy woman’s old hand and kissed the back.

  Magda nodded, patting her grandson’s arm. “Come again, Trevelyn Sinclair. You will always find a welcome at our kumpa’nia.“

  As they started off into the wood, Trev reminded Raven, “You left your shawl. Did you mean to?”

  Raven glanced up and paused, giving him a half smile. “I didn’t bring one. Just this heavy sweater.” She held it up.

  “A scarf then?”

  Puzzled, she shook her head no. “Why?”

  “I thought you were wearing either a shawl or a large scarf when I followed you to the camp,” Trev explained, taking the sweater and helping her slip it on.

  “Followed? You didn’t follow me. I’ve been here all afternoon, helping settle Brishen’s cousin and the baby. They just returned to the caravan today. I had stuff for the baby and some clothing I wanted to give Katrina. We’re the same size.”

  “Then, I must’ve followed Paganne.”

  Raven shook her head. “No, she came with me. We’ve been here for hours.”

  “Someone was in the rose garden when I arrived at the cottage. She was wearing something red. I saw it flickering in the distance, and followed.”

  “And came here? Not likely. Gypsies generally do not like the color red. They think it brings bad luck. While they love bright colors, they would never carry that hue to camp, especially on the day Trina and the babe arrived. It’d be seen as bringing trouble to an innocent. Maybe your eyes were just playing tricks.”

  And perhaps the shadows and light called him by name as well? Trev wanted to argue but let it go.

  Chapter Fourteen

  On the walk back to the cottage, Raven was strangely silent. More importantly, she seemed emotionally distant to Trev. He had a notion she was working furiously to reerect those invisible bricks in the wall shielding her from the world that caused her pain. And that world presently included him.

  Naturally, he felt like an arse for not calling her. It brought back the words of Magda: “Only, when love finds you, sadly you’re selfish. This holding back of yourself causes emotional trauma.” Which is precisely what he’d done. All his life he’d been so controlled, never having to think of anyone outside his family. Women came and went, and none had touched him as Raven did. Which scared the holy hell out of him! Thus, every time he’d reached for the phone today, he’d held himself back, trying to prove he was stronger than his need to hear her voice. He almost preferred that she’d fuss at him instead of this cold shoulder routine.

  Without a word, she entered her cottage by the back porch, Chester and he on her heels. As she went through the kitchen door, she actually shut it in his face! He glanced down to the pussy cat, who looked up and meowed, and then the cat shoved himself through the pet door.

  “I wonder if that meow was catspeak for ‘every man for himself’?”

  Just as he put his hand on the knob, the door jerked open. No longer wearing her sweater jacket, Raven stood there with a sheepish expression. “Sorry. I’m just used to being alone, so things like closing the door behind me I do out of habit.” Nervously, she moved to the bag of cat food and picked it up, intending to fill the bowls. There, she paused. “Thanks. It was kind of you to feed them.”

  “You’re welcome. They’re quite adept at making their wishes known.”

  Raven set the bag down on the floor and went to the refrigerator. Taking out six lemons, she placed them on the counter and started slicing them—an activity where she didn’t have to look at him. Her hands shook visibly, to the point where Trev feared she might cut herself.

  He moved close, placed his hands over hers. “Perhaps I should deal with the sharp object.”

  Giving a brief nod, she stepped back and stuffed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. After a minute she pronounced, “I’m not very good at this.”

  “‘This’?”

  She tried to smile and be brave, but her expression nearly crumbled. “I’ve never had an affair before.”

  “Is that what we’re doing?” Trev asked, finished with slicing the lemons.

  “I’m sure this is old hat to you…” She stopped when she heard the jealousy in her words. “Sorry. Look, I’m not in a fit mood, so I won’t be good company tonight.”

  Trev smiled. “What say we start the evening over?” He went to the living room to fetch the florist’s box. Opening the front door, he stepped outside and pulled it closed after him. After counting to ten, he lifted the brass knocker and tapped out a rhythm until Raven opened it.

  Puzzled, she stood staring at him, Pyewacket and Chester curling about her legs. Her expression showed she was a little lost as to what he was playing at.

  He said, “Good evening, Raven. I’m sorry I didn’t call, but things came up. I’m hoping this will make up for my lapse.” He held out the white box with the pink ribbon. When she took the box but didn’t respond, he chuckled. “This is where you invite me in.”

  She wore no makeup; her long hair wasn’t styled and just hung about her shoulders and down her back. The simplicity of Raven was real, honest, and it moved him in a way he couldn’t quite explain. She stepped back, permitting him to come inside again, but he could see her heart wasn’t in the game. Setting the box on the table at the end of the sofa, she slowly untied the bow and lifted the lid. Her hands still trembled as she peeled back the layers of green tissue paper to find the single white bud nestled on a bed of ferns and baby’s breath.

  “Trevelyn…thank you. It’s lovely. White roses are my favorite.” She picked it up and held the pristine flower to her nose. Her beautiful countenance brightened a small measure, but the touch of melancholia lingered.

  Trev sat down on the arm of the sofa and reached for her, drawing her close. “Talk to me, Raven. It’s how we’ll come to know each other. You were upset I didn’t call. I’m very sorry I didn’t. However, since I was at the doctor’s getting needles poked into me just so I can be around your cats, and then went looking for a studio for Brishen, I think you can forgive me. So, it follows something else is upsetting you.”

  She gave him a crooked smile and asked, “You didn’t really get needles poked into you, did you?”

  Trev chuckled. “Alas, I did. He said it was for the allergy workup, but I think he likes to use people as human pincushions. And I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He leaned closer and whispered, “Needles are my kryptonite.”

  “You’
re teasing now.”

  “I wish I were. When I was eleven they gave the kids in our school gamma globulin shots because there was an outbreak of hepatitis. I took one look at that long needle and fainted dead away. My brother never let me hear the end of that, and even told my secretary, Agnes Dodd, about it. Now the blasted woman never misses a chance to torment me.”

  A spark finally lit Raven’s brown eyes. “You have a brother?”

  “Uh…yeah. James,” he answered. His heart missed a beat at the small deception. Well, it wasn’t a total lie. Jago was Old English for James. His eyes searched Raven’s face, but it didn’t seem she’d caught his hesitation. To distract her he added, “And he’s more than a brother—he’s my twin.”

  The hand not holding the rose reached out and cupped the side of his face, Raven’s thumb brushing his check. “Mirror or fraternal?” she queried, studying him with those artist’s eyes.

  “Mirror—though his eye color is a darker green.”

  She seemed befuddled to learn he was part of a pair. “I’ve lived my life as a twin, though Asha and I are so different inside. I never stopped to consider what it’d be like to be with a man who also has a double out there. It will take a moment to digest that.”

  “While you’re absorbing the detail, why don’t you tell me what is really upsetting you. I see you fighting deep emotions.”

  “Very well.” Raven exhaled a sad sigh. “It was Katrina and her baby.”

  “I caught you telling Trina to consider a suggestion you’d made. Is there something wrong with the child? He seemed healthy.”

  “No…he’s perfect.” Raven put her palm to his chest, tapping him lightly. “I’m sorry. This is hard for me to handle, and likely a subject that will bore you stiff. Perhaps it’s best if we just drop the subject.”

  He held her in a loose embrace, yet wouldn’t allow her to pull back, either physically or emotionally. “You’re not going anywhere until you explain what’s troubling you.”

  She leaned into his arms, almost struggling, edging toward a light panic. Then, her spirit just seemed to crumble. “Talking won’t help anything, but you’re a stubborn man and won’t let it go.”

  “A fair assessment of the situation,” he agreed.

  “Back in the summer, Katrina asked if I’d consent to be godmother for her baby. The request was a natural choice. I’ve been close to Brishen and Trina since we were children. I have the power and money to help her child, so I happily agreed. Foolishly, I never considered how hard it would be on me.”

  “Hard? Possibly. It’s a grave responsibility to agree to help oversee a child’s rearing. You were very kind to step in to the task.”

  “It wasn’t that actually. Holding him, I…” Suddenly, Raven broke away and rushed into the kitchen.

  Trev pondered what would be best, allowing her a few moments to herself or going after her. “I’m not a bloody wolf for nothing, Atticus,” he muttered to the bird who pecked at his instep. Pushing to his feet, he followed.

  Raven was doing busywork. Pulling a budvase from a cabinet, she filled it with water for the rose and, after trimming the stem, put the flower in the water. Next came lemonade. Taking a juicer, she squeezed and strained the lemons they’d cut.

  Trev stood in the doorway watching, wishing he could put her more at ease. Their relationship was still way too new for them to read each other’s moods with any assurance. He knew so much about her, why she did a lot of things in her life, yet so much remained a mystery. Before, with the women who had come into his life, he had never really tried to establish that rapport of friends as well as lovers. From Raven, he suddenly wanted both very much.

  “I’m not going anywhere. I can wait until you’re ready to talk,” he said softly. He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe to reinforce the point.

  She tossed a lemon rind into the sink. “You’re stubborn, Trevelyn Sinclair.”

  He nodded. “And arrogant, and sexy, and concerned. And…ouch! Being pecked to death by your menace on one leg. Why did you name him Atticus, anyway? It was Atticus Finch.”

  “It was a sin to kill a mockingbird in that book, as they don’t do anything to harm people. That line popped into my head when the vet told me I should put Atticus down. Poor thing had a broken wing and there was no saving his leg. I almost agreed, but then the silly bird looked at me and laid his head in my hand. I had to give him a chance.”

  Trev pushed away from the doorway and went to her. Putting his hands on her shoulder, he rubbed. “See, that wasn’t so hard to share. Now, why don’t you take a stab at telling me what’s tying you up in emotional knots?”

  She stared out the window into the night. Trev allowed her that much distance. Still, he could see her face reflected in the window glass and knew she watched his reflection as well. Perhaps it was easier to speak to him in that removed fashion, because she finally nodded.

  “My marriage—I loosely use that term—wasn’t one of the better points in my life. Almost immediately, Alec made it clear he had designs on moving up the corporate ladder at Montgomerie Enterprises. I was supposed to be the ticket to the top. When Cian demonstrated that would only happen when hell froze over, everything began to fall apart. By the time I filed for divorce, I simply wanted out of a dreadful mistake, to salvage what was left of my pride and life. Only, I was pregnant. To some, it might have been viewed as a dilemma. I detested Alec by then, so carrying his baby…Well, as I sat alone one night, I realized I carried a wonderful miracle inside of me—that quite possibly it was the only good thing Alec had ever done, one positive thing to come from my marriage. I wanted that baby. I could see myself rocking it much as Trina did her son tonight. There’s so much in me that I could offer a child. I truly wanted that baby—my baby, not Alec’s…mine. The stress of dealing with him proved too much, however. I lost my baby, and in some way I lost a part of myself. Holding Emile brought back all that sadness.”

  Trev slid his arms around her waist, cradling her lightly. Jealousy burned bright inside him. He didn’t want Raven having another man’s baby. Perhaps that feeling was selfish, but he couldn’t quash it. “You would be a wonderful mother. It’s very sad you lost your child, Raven, but you can still be one. There’s a baby waiting for you, for your love.”

  She shook her head, closing her eyes against the agony etching her face. “The doctors said it was doubtful I could carry a child after the miscarriage, that it would possibly be a risk to try.”

  “I’m sorry. Life can sometimes be so cruel and unfair.” Trev was speaking to Raven, but he was also thinking of his mother in Ireland. She was battling cancer, and had wanted to go home. She hadn’t said it exactly, but Trev had heard the unspoken truth that she’d gone home to die. Life hadn’t been kind to her, either.

  “If you cannot have a child of your own, why not consider adopting? You could fill your home with deserving children. You cannot tell me that if something happened to Katrina—knock wood—you wouldn’t step in and love Emile as if he were your own.”

  She gave a faint nod. “Holding Katrina’s son brought all my longings back. I put off considering adoption, allowed myself to coast here, far from everyone, away from worries and decisions. It’s easy to get lost in time when your corner of the world is safe and secure.” Raven rotated in his arms, looking up at him. “Make me forget the past, Trevelyn. I need to lose myself in how you make me feel.”

  His hands settled on the columns of her back, feeling the narrowness of her waist and how strong the muscles were. It had been maddening to be so close to her, to touch her yet keep his sex drive in neutral because of concern for her mental state. Now, a switch had been flipped. Desire burned a liquid fire inside him, slammed into his brain, down through his heart and then his groin.

  He moved his hands over her rounded hips. Grabbing the curve of that sweet derrière, he lifted her weight and commanded, “Lock your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist.”

  With a giggle she did as he asked.
Finally, she smiled—and the sun came out from behind the dark clouds. “Okay, I’m locked and clinging. What now? We still have all our clothes on, and we’re in the kitchen.”

  “Hang on. A quick change in locale is in order. Making love to you before the fireplace in the living room popped into mind, but I think my allergy pills and spray need to start doing their thing before I get eyeball-to-eyeball with your cats. Besides, I fear that psycho bird would take the opportunity to peck my head.” He gave her a rakish smile. “Once the meds do their thing, I will come armed with a whip and chair.”

  “You know,” she suggested impishly. “I think I would rather like walking like this without our clothes on.”

  Trev damn near stumbled going up the stairs. “Hmm, yeah. Well…we could practice that. Only, I don’t think we’ll actually be doing a lot of walking around. It’d be more along the lines of riding a stationary bicycle.”

  As he leaned down so he could maneuver them through the low doorway, she flashed him a shy grin. “You remembered to duck.”

  “A fast learner, I am. I also remember to shut out all invading animals.” He kicked the bedroom door closed and then carried her to the bed. Placing her down on it, he turned on the dim bedside light. Despite this being her invitation, he could see Raven was tense. On impulse he asked, “Do you have a deck of cards?”

  She seemed puzzled. “Uh…playing cards?”

  “Yes, I thought we might make things a bit interesting. We could play strip poker. I promise to lose,” he kidded.

  “I’ve never played poker. Well, my brothers tried once to teach me, but I never saw the point of the game.” She chuckled. “I do have a deck for Old Maid.”

  “Old Maid? I don’t think I have ever played it.”