by Karen Kelley
THE
WOLF
PRINCE
KAREN KELLEY
CHAPTER 1
“I need a man,” Darcy Spencer said, moving her cell phone to her other ear.
The trail she was on ran through the park on her parents’ country estate so she didn’t have to worry about interruptions. Besides, it was too early for anyone else to be out and about. The sun was just coming up, painting an orange-red glow across the Texas sky with a wide stroke. The lush green grass was damp from the heavy dew and a slight chill hung in the air. Being outside this early felt good—fresh and clean.
“Do you realize what time it is?” Jennifer asked, her words thick from sleep.
“I don’t know.” She squinted toward the horizon. “Around six, I suppose. What does that have to do with anything?”
“It has to do with the fact I was still asleep, and besides, if you’d gone with me to the club last night, you could have found a man easy enough.”
Darcy didn’t sleep much, and often forgot her friends did. “A man from the club won’t work,” she told Jennifer. “And I’m sorry about waking you. I forgot you like to sleep late.”
“Nine is not… never mind. Why wouldn’t a man from the club work?”
“I don’t want that kind of relationship. I need someone long term.”
Jennifer’s deep sigh came clearly across the phone. “What about Peter or Dick? Peter thinks the sun rises and sets with you.”
“Peter was a mistake. Never date a man who’s always been more like a brother to you.” Darcy stopped walking and frowned. “Have you ever thought about my ex-boyfriend’s names? I mean, in reference to the male anatomy.”
“Merely a coincidence.”
“I’m beginning to wonder.” She continued walking along the edge of the dense stand of trees, but keeping in the open. “There was Willie—remember him? He loved garlic and onions, and always smelled faintly of … well … onions and garlic. Then there was Tom Johnson. And Woody.”
“Wait, I don’t remember a Woody.”
“Woody Harrelson.”
“You didn’t date him.”
“No, but I had a crush on him at one time. The guy has a seriously funny sense of humor.”
“A crush doesn’t count. Maybe you should date a guy with boyfriend approved stamped on his ass. Like FDA approved meat. Except this would be boyfriend approved meat.” Jennifer chuckled at her own joke.
“I’m not sure the FDA approval stamp carries as much weight as it once did.”
“I still don’t know why you’re looking for a man.”
Darcy turned and started back toward the house. “I sort of told my mother I’d met someone.”
“In other words, you lied through your teeth.”
She nibbled her bottom lip. “That’s one way to put it. I told Mom that she could meet him when she and Dad join me next month.”
“Why do you do these things?”
Darcy shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” And it had. Now that she thought about it, maybe not so much. But no other plan had seemed plausible.
“You’re twenty-five,” Jennifer said. “You shouldn’t have to lie to your parents. Just tell your mother you’re not ready to settle down.”
“Except then she would try her hand at matchmaking again. Remember Albert?”
Jennifer chuckled. “He did sweat a lot.”
Shivers of revulsion ran up and down Darcy’s spine just thinking about the guy. “He was flatulent. I am not going to get stuck with another one of my mother’s attempts to fix me up with a man, and that’s exactly what she’d do. She would drag him down here for the whole summer. Some trust-fund baby who’s doing nothing but living off his parents’ wealth.”
“Uh, I hate to break it to you, Darcy, but you just described us.”
Darcy flinched, knowing her friend spoke the truth and feeling again as though she were caught between her guilty conscience and her overbearing mother. Enough already! This was the summer she’d convince her mother to untie the apron strings. If her mom dragged another Albert along with her, it would never happen.
“So, just what are you planning?” Jennifer asked, breaking into her thoughts.
“I’m not sure, but I have a month to figure it out.”
“The great procrastinator. Hey, keep me up to date with what you’re going to do so I’ll know which lie to tell if anyone asks. And don’t stay gone too long. I get so bored without you in the city, but I loathe the country. Too much fresh air. I’ll take smog and pollution any day.”
They talked a little more, then said their good-byes, and Darcy closed the phone, slipping it back in her pants pocket.
She kicked at a rock, sending it flying into the woods. Jennifer was right. Darcy had to get more control of her life. She was twenty-five, and had a freakin’ private investigator license, and a degree in business, except her mother cried every time Darcy even mentioned getting a job that might be remotely dangerous.
But Darcy was good at finding things. It was almost as if she had a sixth sense. She’d make a great investigator. She loved the thought of intrigue, stealth and danger. Actually, there probably wouldn’t be that much intrigue, stealth or danger. It would be a lot of research on the Internet, or spying on wives or husbands suspected of infidelity. She didn’t really think she would enjoy spying on cheating spouses. But finding things that might be lost intrigued her, making her pulse beat just a little faster.
Her shoulders slumped. That is, if she ever got the chance to work. She didn’t have an ounce of courage when it came to standing up to her mother.
Darcy loved her mom, but the woman really had to loosen up. The rooms, no matter how opulent, were closing in on Darcy. Trouble was, she understood why her mother was so suffocating, which made everything worse. Mary Spencer had had four miscarriages before adopting Darcy. She’d been smothering her only child ever since.
A large dog jumped from between the trees and into her path. Darcy froze. The dog turned and glared at her. It wasn’t unusual that people dumped unwanted pets in the country, but this dog was really big. Maybe not even a dog. She would swear it was a wolf.
Her palms grew sweaty. She glanced around, careful not to make any sudden moves. There was a large branch within reach. She cautiously leaned down and picked it up. Damn, it was heavier than she’d expected, but heavy was probably good.
“Go away or I’ll clobber you.” She spoke calmly, but fear coursed through her veins.
The wolf didn’t make a move to leave.
A thick fog began to roll in. Should she run? What if the wolf attacked and ripped her to shreds?
She hesitated too long. The fog was so thick now, she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. There was a rustle in the brush. Darcy stiffened. Then she heard someone groan, and more movement in the brush.
Was someone else there? Had the wolf attacked somebody earlier? Maybe she’d interrupted the wolf eating its prey. Her stomach turned at the thought of finding body parts. Even worse the wolf might still be hungry and decide to eat her. She gripped the branch a little tighter.
The fog began to dissipate almost as fast as it had rolled in. She hugged the branch to her chest, ready for anything.
“Ow!” A deep male voice grumbled. “By the gods, is this place filled with thorns?”
“Who’s there?” she croaked, then quickly cleared her throat.
He stepped out from behind a tree as the fog completely cleared.
Her gaze swept over him, then jerked back to his face. “You’re naked,” she said, her voice trembling. Oh, God, there was a naked man in the woods, along with a man-eating wolf. She was going to die!
The man stepped toward her, holding out his hand.
Her legs were shaking so badly she had to lean against the side of a tree for support. Oh, God, she’d just knocked out a streaker. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her racing pulse. She could barely take a breath. Adrenaline surged through her veins.
Calm down. You’re still alive.
She opened her eyes and curled her lip as she stared at the naked man. “Ha! That will teach you to walk around naked and accost women.” Not that he’d accosted her. But he was naked.
Her eyes narrowed. And he wasn’t moving.
Another kind of fear swept over her.
She stepped closer and nudged him with the toe of her tennis shoe, then jumped back. He still didn’t move. Oh, crap, had she killed him? Dammit, he’d scared the hell out of her. What was she supposed to do?
If she said it was self-defense, would they send her to prison? What would she tell a jury, though? That he’d held his hand out to her and she’d killed him. Oh, yeah, that would go over good.
She could lie. That might work. Her mother still didn’t know who’d broken the window in the living room when Darcy was twelve. But her mother would buy anything Darcy said. She might not be as lucky in front of a jury of her peers.
His chest suddenly rose and fell. Relief washed over her. Thank God, she wasn’t going to prison. A good thing because orange was so not her color, nor did she like stripes or bars, for that matter.
She stepped closer, still hugging the branch. Who the hell was he? His raven-black hair was shoulder length, and his eyes had been a warm whiskey-brown with gold flecks. Maybe early thirties? His shoulders were broad. Nice biceps, too. Her gaze lowered. Among other things. She swallowed hard. Very sexy. Cover model sexy. Male stripper sexy. Freebie lap dance sexy.
Who the hell was he and why was he strolling through the woods stark naked?
Was he a vagrant?
A homeless man had risked his life to save her from a wolf, and he got hit over the head for his trouble. Not that he looked homeless. Only unconscious. Possibly dying. Cripes, she needed to get help.
She removed her jacket and laid it across his lower half. Thank goodness she had her cell phone. She pulled it out of her pocket and quickly punched in the number of the house, and then waited while it rang.
“Spencer residence,” Ms. Abernathy said.
“It’s Darcy.”
“Are you okay?” the housekeeper asked, worry lacing her words.
“I’m fine, but I nearly killed a man.”
“I’m sorry? Did you say you nearly killed a man?”
“There was a wolf, then this man stepped out from behind a tree, and I had a branch so I sort of clobbered him. He’s still unconscious. Have Ralph bring the little trailer so we can get him back to the house. Oh, and call Dr. Wilson. He’ll need to examine him.”
Ms. Abernathy said she would be right on it. Darcy snapped her phone closed and exhaled a sigh of relief.
Ralph wouldn’t waste any time getting here. He took care of the grounds, making sure everything always looked well manicured. He was practically like a father to her. He would help her without reprimanding her for hitting first and asking questions later. She hoped.
Even though she knew Ralph would hurry, time seemed to come to a standstill. She picked up the branch again, just in case the wolf came back or the guy regained consciousness. Though she had a feeling the stranger had scared the wolf away.
She glanced at the rising sun and looked up the path. She couldn’t see the house, but it was just over the hill. Ralph would come from that direction. She glanced nervously at the stranger and silently prayed he wouldn’t wake up before help arrived. What if he attacked her?
Darcy snorted. Had she really been thinking only a few moments ago how great it would be to have danger and excitement in her life? And how had she handled it? By knocking some guy over the head whose only crime was to run around the woods naked.
In her defense, he had startled her. First the wolf, then the naked stranger. She’d acted on instinct when she’d hit him. She had really good instincts. Most of the time.
She breathed a sigh of relief when the golf cart came chugging over the hill, the trailer bouncing behind it.
She tossed the branch and wildly waved her arms. It wasn’t that hard to spot her since she was out in the open, but waving her arms gave her something to do. Ralph pulled up beside her and turned off the key.
“I’m afraid I hit him pretty hard,” she said. “But he stepped from behind a tree and scared the hell out of me. He’s still unconscious.”
Ralph walked over to him. He nudged the stranger with the toe of his work boot. “Yep, you got him a good one.” He raised her jacket, then let it quickly drop. “He hasn’t got a stitch of clothes on. What kind of man runs around the woods naked? You did good knocking him over the head.”
“Well, he did scare off the wolf.” She had no idea why she would take up for the stranger. Remorse? That had to be it.
Ralph had brought one of his grounds workers with him and they started to pick up the stranger, but Ralph hesitated at the last moment. “Might want to turn your head, Miss Darcy.”
Heat flooded her face when she caught the meaning of his words. Ralph had worked for the family before she was even adopted and he really was like a second father. She quickly turned around. There was a grunt, probably from Ralph, and then a thud as the stranger was placed on the trailer.
“Okay, he’s as decent as he’ll ever be. What do you want us to do with him?”
“Take him to the guest house,” she said.
Ralph’s brows drew together. “Are you sure about that?”
She nodded. “He saved my life.” The wolf was gone.
“Then I guess you owe him something. At least until we know who he is.” She jumped in beside Ralph, while his helper got in the trailer with the stranger.
Ralph started the golf cart up again and they made their way to the guest house. The estate sat on ten acres deep in the Texas hill country. The house had six bedrooms, besides the guest house. They had room for one naked stranger.
The trailer bounced over a bump. The stranger groaned. She bit her bottom lip and looked over her shoulder. What if she had given him brain damage or something? She would never forgive herself, even if it turned out he was a bad guy. Well, if he was really bad, maybe she wouldn’t feel quite as guilty.
He hadn’t looked like a bad guy. Oh, Lord, what if he was a neighbor who liked running around naked? The Bishops were on vacation, but they had their place up for sale. They would be gone all summer, unless it sold. What if this guy had purchased the property? It might not go so well for her at trial if she’d brain-damaged her new neighbor.
Ralph pulled in front of the guest house as Ms. Abernathy came hurrying out of the main house to meet them.
“Is he dead?” she asked, walking briskly toward them. Loose tendrils of gray hair had escaped the usually tight bun that sat on top of her head like a hummingbird’s nest. “We could bury the corpse and not tell anyone a thing.” She eyed Ralph’s young helper as if he would be the one who’d snitch. The poor guy lowered his head and shuffled his feet.
Ms. Abernathy was very loyal. She was also thin, almost to the point of anorexia, which was ridiculous since she could out eat any man, and she was the best cook for miles around. She told everyone she was blessed with a fast metabolism.
“He’s not dead.” Ralph climbed out of the golf cart.
“You’re not planning to put him in the guest house, are you?” Ms. Abernathy’s eyebrows shot up. “Mrs. Spencer will fire us all.”
“He saved my life,” Darcy told her.
“Then why’d you whack him?” she asked.
“He scared me. Is
the doctor on his way?” Darcy asked. Irritation laced her words. She just wanted everyone to stop asking so many questions.
“He’ll be here soon enough.” Ms. Abernathy reluctantly opened the French doors to the guest house, and stepped back. The men lifted the stranger out of the trailer. “Lord-a-mercy, he hasn’t got a stitch of clothes on. What’s a young man like him doing running around the countryside in his birthday suit? Your momma is going to skin all of us alive for letting a naked stranger stay in her pretty guest house.”
“Then we won’t tell her he was naked.” Darcy wore the expression her mother always said was her daughter’s stubborn look.
“But—”
Darcy held up her hand. “Not a word.”
“Okay, but you know she’s going to find out. That woman always knows everything that goes on around here.”
“But we won’t tell her. Right?”
Ms. Abernathy pursed her lips. “She won’t be hearing it from me.”
“Good.” Darcy hurried to the bedroom and pulled back the bedcovers. Ralph and his helper placed the stranger on the bed.
Ms. Abernathy quickly pulled the covers up. When the stranger groaned, she jumped back. “Ralph, go get the gun.”
“He’s injured. I doubt he could overpower all of us,” Darcy told her.
“They say the crazier they are, the more strength they have,” Ms. Abernathy said.
“Well, there’s four of us, and only one of him,” Darcy reminded her.
“Hello!” Dr. Wilson called from the other room.
“In here, Doc,” Ralph said.
Dr. Wilson came striding inside the room carrying a small black bag. The doctor was past retirement, but still saw a few patients, and he’d always been the Spencers’ doctor.
The doctor glanced around, his gaze landing on the man in the bed. “Who is he?”
“We don’t know,” Darcy said. “He was in the woods. He startled me when he stepped from behind a tree so I sort of hit him over the head with a stick.” Heat rose up her face. “A really big stick.”
Dr. Wilson walked closer. After putting on exam gloves, he ran his hands over the stranger’s head. “You bopped him a good one. He’s got a big goose egg.”