Call of the White Wolf

by Carol Finch

  “That’s putting it mildly. You got a lot snippy and defensive.”

  “Well, so did you….” Tara blew out her breath, raked her fingers through her tousled hair and told herself not to initiate another shouting match that would rouse the children. “Forget I said that.”

  “Said what?”

  “Thank you. The thing is, I don’t want to be at odds with you.” She began pacing the floorboards and wringing her hands. “Neither do I want the children picking up negative signals between us.”

  He smirked. “Ah, yes, everything must be perfect here in paradise.”

  She ignored his sarcasm. “I’m here to call a truce.”

  “Fine. Truce accepted. Go back to bed, Irish.”

  She glanced at the shadowed corner where he stood. “Your tone of voice indicates you aren’t being very receptive,” she pointed out.

  “I’m not? Well hell, I thought I was agreeing with everything you’ve said. I happen to think I’m being exceptionally receptive,” he muttered.

  Exasperated, Tara threw up her hands. “I don’t understand your mood.”

  “Don’t you? Well, let me explain a few things to you.”

  He stepped forward. Moonlight beamed across his masculine physique. Her gaze dropped and roamed over every exposed inch of his virile body. Willfully, she focused on the air above his left shoulder.

  “Look at me, Irish,” he commanded sharply.

  “I’d rather not, thank you.”

  “Why not?”

  She swallowed audibly. “Because you aren’t fully dressed.”

  “And you’ve been pacing in the moonlight, wearing a gown that’s about as thick and concealing as cobwebs. I’ve already seen you naked once today, which was once too many for my peace of mind. Next, I watched you tramp around in wet clothes that left so little to the imagination you might as well have been wearing nothing at all. I promised I’d keep my hands off you, damn it. Then here you come, getting me all riled up again.”

  Indeed, he was riled up and aching with unappeased need he was damn tired of fighting, especially when he was damn tired, period. Seeing that alluring profile of thrusting breasts, concave stomach and long, shapely legs draped in a flimsy gown was enough to make him want to throw back his head and howl like a tormented coyote.

  Maybe if Tara realized she was hell on his self-control she’d keep her distance. That was the only way he’d be able to continue his rehabilitation here in the valley. Having the personification of every man’s fantasy underfoot was no picnic. He was doing his damnedest to resist temptation. And damn it to hell, his male body was getting mighty annoyed with his noble conscience.

  “I rile you up?” she asked, her wide-eyed gaze flying to his.

  “Hell yes! Have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately?” he snapped.

  She smirked in disbelief. “Next you’ll be telling me that a skin-and-bones urchin from the streets of Boston has become a ravishing beauty. Well, I know better. I’m fully aware that I’m conveniently available, because of our close quarters, and that a handsome man like you is undoubtedly accustomed to…well…receiving affection with no more than an interested glance.”

  “Hate to blow a hole in your theory, Irish, but I don’t bed hop from one end of this territory to the other. For your information, there haven’t been all that many women in my life,” he informed her curtly. “Believe it or not, I’ve even been known to turn down women who don’t interest me.”

  “Then we don’t have a problem, do we? I’m getting the distinct impression that you don’t like me very much, especially tonight.”

  When he barked a laugh, she clamped her hand over his mouth. “Shh!” she hissed. “Don’t wake the children.”

  John removed her hand from his face before the scent and feel of her crumbled what little resistance he had left. “I like you, Irish. I’d like to strangle you on occasion, but I do like you.”

  She studied him thoughtfully. “Does that mean you wouldn’t mind kissing me again, though we agreed not to?”

  “Yes,” he admitted frankly. “So I think you understand why it isn’t such a hot idea for us to spend time alone together…in the dark.”

  “Yes, I do understand,” she whispered softly.

  “Good. Then you also realize that you need to leave this room. Now.”

  Yes, she did understand that, but all those sensible arguments just didn’t seem so sensible while she was gazing up into eyes that glowed as brilliantly as the moon. Something about this man called to her on such an elemental level that she felt defenseless against the urgings of her feminine body. John was the only man she trusted not to hurt or abuse her. He’d defended her at the risk of his own life this afternoon. Plus, the children absolutely adored him. She was exceptionally partial to him, too, except when he tried to order her around as if she were a soldier under his command.

  “John, all you’ve said is true, and I’m in total agreement, except…”

  “Except?” he repeated cautiously, his voice strained.

  “Except it’s been a lousy day and I really think I’d feel much better if you’d kiss me, hold me.”

  He stood there so long, so still, that the old familiar feeling of rejection swamped her. When she was one second away from turning around and slinking out the window, he reached over to tilt her face to his.

  “Are you sure that’s what you really want, what you need, Irish?” he murmured, staring deeply into her eyes.

  “I’m sure. There are times when strangling you holds great appeal for me, too. But when I get over being angry, I find that I still like being with you, still like you. A little more than the day before—”

  His sensuous lips slanted over hers, shushing her. Tara melted against him, marveling at his tenderness, at this innate sense of right that consumed her. When he drew her body against his, letting her feel his desire for her, she roped her arms around his neck and willingly surrendered to the compelling sensations of warmth and pleasure that streamed through her.

  She felt his hands shift, measuring the indentation of her waist and the curve of her hip. She sighed as he nipped gently at her bottom lip, then dipped his tongue into the recesses of her mouth to taste her thoroughly. When she practiced that arousing technique on him, he groaned. When she slid her arms down his back to his hips, he murmured something in the Apache dialect that she couldn’t translate.

  Tara quivered helplessly when he slid a bare leg between her thighs. She forgot to breathe—couldn’t remember one reason why she needed to—when his wandering hand slid over the ultrasensitive flesh of her thigh.

  All the while he continued kissing her, turning her mind to mush, her body to molten lava. His fingertips drifted between her legs, stroking her, caressing her. White-hot waves of desire rippled through her when he touched her intimately. When he glided his finger inside her Tara moaned raggedly, clung to him as if he was the only stable force in a careening universe.

  John felt the spasm of passion shimmering through her body, echoing into his. She’d come apart in his hands, bathing his fingertips with liquid flames. Every male instinct was raging at him to press her to the bed and bury himself in her softness, to ease this aching need that burned him alive. Yet a small insistent voice kept reminding him that he was taking liberties that weren’t his to take.

  He’d been very much afraid the kiss she requested wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him. It turned out he was right. He wanted more than he knew he deserved from a good and decent woman like Tara. He couldn’t trust himself when he was alone with her. Not trusting himself was more than a little unnerving because, in his line of work, he’d learned that he was the only one he could trust.

  Considering Tara’s terrifying ordeal with that maniac rancher in Texas, John didn’t want to do anything to trigger a nightmare that might cause her to shriek in alarm and wake the household. Thus he was exceptionally attentive, tender and gentle with her—which left him marveling at each fascinating response he drew from her.


  He’d never taken so much time with a woman, and he was amazed that he derived so much pleasure from arousing her. But if he didn’t call a halt right now, this very minute, he wasn’t sure he had the willpower necessary to stop before things went too far. Neither did he want to risk having one of the children burst in to find them in a compromising position. Heaven forbid that he’d have to explain that!

  Teeth clenched against raging need, John set Tara away from him. He was aching so badly for her that standing upright turned out to be sheer hell. Damn, he’d never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Tara. She’d quickly become an obsession, an addiction he could scarcely control.

  “You’d best go, Irish. Right now,” he wheezed, his voice sounding as strained as his body.

  She pushed up on tiptoe and kissed him so gently that he wanted to scream in tormented frustration. Somehow he managed to keep his lips clamped together so he wouldn’t emit an agonized sound.

  “Good night, John,” she murmured against his taut lips.

  “Yeah, ain’t it though,” he growled under his breath.

  When she was gone, and he was as alone as he ever remembered being in his life, he plunked himself onto his pallet and counted about a thousand woolly sheep. He was definitely going to have to find something exhausting to do during the day so he’d collapse at night and not dream about what it’d be like to hold Tara, feel her feminine heat surrounding him, purifying him with the hottest, sweetest fire imaginable.

  He’d suspected she could teach him the meaning of exquisite tenderness, sweetness and unparalleled pleasure—all those things that were foreign and unfamiliar in the world where he resided. But years ago John had forced himself to bury his personal wants, needs and every vulnerable emotion in order to survive the constant upheaval that had been his life. He’d refused to acknowledge the need to love and be loved. Furthermore, John had left too much undone in the world beyond this secluded valley to even consider making a life here. He had to distance himself from these feelings and maddeningly sweet sensations Tara evoked in him. He could not have her, he told himself—repeatedly.

  Kissing Tara had been a mistake of gigantic proportions. He’d discovered a foretaste of heaven. He imagined that making love to her would change his entire perspective. That he couldn’t afford to do. His life wasn’t his own. Finding himself in love with that Irish siren, who didn’t even realize the full extent of her own beauty and power over a man, would become the curse of his life. There simply was no room for tender emotions like love in his harsh and often violent world. He’d be better off if he never let himself forget that.

  Chapter Seven

  The next day, while John remained behind at the ranch, Tara and the children rode into Rambler Springs. The children chattered incessantly during the three-mile ride. Samuel, Derek and Calvin announced they were going to spend their share of the reward money on store-bought shirts. The girls decided to buy dresses. Tara, however, had every intention of saving her share for those rainy days when money was hard to come by.

  There had been a lot of rainy days the past two years.

  The moment the entourage arrived in town, the children scattered in different directions. Tara granted them three hours to stroll down the streets and enjoy their free time, but she cautioned them to remain in groups and keep a watchful eye out for trouble. She made a beeline for the house situated behind the general store so she could tend her housecleaning duties. Working fast and furiously, she spiffed-up the Pragues’ house, then hurried to the Dentons’ home located behind the restaurant. She managed to squeeze in time to clean the church sanctuary before the designated time she was to meet the children at the restaurant for their afternoon meal.

  While waiting outside the restaurant, Tara eavesdropped on a conversation between two men who were discussing the latest spree of robberies and murders committed by a war party of renegade Indians. According to what she overheard, the gang had rustled cattle and horses from a ranch near Tucson and murdered two cowboys.

  Tara was pretty sure the so-called Indian war party was the gang John had been tracking when he was wounded. On one hand, she felt obliged to pass along the information to him. On the other hand, she was hesitant to remind him of the duties awaiting him in the world beyond Paradise Valley. That was selfish of her, but the truth was she craved his companionship. After their late-night encounter she was pretty sure the liking she felt toward him was evolving into something deeper, more profound.

  Tara had the inescapable feeling she’d fallen in love with John Wolfe. From the moment he’d kissed her the previous night, she’d felt her inhibitions sail off in the wind. Perhaps she’d gotten caught up in the erotic dimension of passion he’d introduced her to, but Tara knew herself well enough to know she’d never have responded to him with such reckless abandon if John hadn’t already owned a piece of her heart.

  The fact that he could’ve taken full of advantage of her helpless surrender—and hadn’t—increased her respect for him. He’d denied his own needs to offer her pleasure. She hadn’t realized any man was capable of that sort of sacrifice and self-restraint, but John Wolfe obviously was.

  After Tara and the children treated themselves to a delicious meal at the restaurant—a meal they didn’t have to prepare themselves—they set off for home with their new purchases, their spirits soaring. Tara wished she could afford these excursions on a monthly basis, but money was too hard to come by.

  The moment the procession descended into the canyon, Samuel, who was leading the way, let out a shout that prompted Tara to reach reflexively for her rifle. “My goodness gracious, John’s been busy while we were gone,” Samuel hooted. “Look at our barn!”

  Tara blinked in surprise when she noticed the sagging door had been repaired and the broken fence rails had been replaced. An extension had been added to the corral to make room for their newly acquired horses. She’d assumed John would spend the day resting. Instead, he’d taken the lumber she’d stacked in the barn and attacked several projects.

  “Zohn Whoof!” Flora yelled, flapping her arms. “Where are you?”

  John appeared from the shadows of the barn to wave a greeting. The children scrambled from their mounts and rushed toward him to display their purchases. Tara felt a pang of regret for allowing the children to become so attached to him. Already John had made a place for himself here and the children considered him a part of the family. Tara didn’t want to deal with the emotional consequences the kids would encounter when John mounted up and rode away.

  “Look what I bought!” Flora untied her package and held up the sunny yellow dress for John’s inspection.

  He squatted down on his haunches to take a closer look. “You picked this out all by yourself, half-pint?” he asked as he brushed his hand over the lace-trimmed fabric.

  “I surely did,” she said proudly.

  “You have exceptionally good taste, young lady,” he exclaimed.

  Flora’s smile was as radiant as the sun. “I do, don’t I?”

  “Indeed. I’ll always be able to see you coming because you’ll look like a ray of sunshine in this dress.”

  Flora flung her spindly arms around his neck and hugged the stuffing out of him. Tara’s heart twisted in her chest. The little girl was so emotionally attached to John that it would take months to recover.

  “I bought a new dress, too,” Maureen murmured as she unwrapped her package.

  With feigned concern, John surveyed the dainty blue gown that boasted frothy ruffles and satin ribbon. “It’s breathtaking, Maureen, but surely you realize that when you wear this lovely dress to town you’ll heap considerable responsibility on your older brothers.”

  Maureen studied him quizzically. John reached over to touch the tip of her pert nose, then tugged playfully on her strawberry-blond hair. “I’m absolutely certain that the young boys in Rambler Springs will be trailing after you, captivated by your dazzling good looks and this stylish new dress. Samuel and Derek won’t want just
any ole boy talking to their sister.”

  “I won’t, either,” Calvin said loyally.

  “I didn’t figure you would,” John said with great confidence. “A man has to protect his sisters, after all.”

  The three boys were so anxious to display their new shirts they couldn’t wait their turns. They held up their garments simultaneously, waiting for John’s approval. He didn’t disappoint them, even though the boys had chosen identical navy-blue shirts.

  “Nothing I like better than shirts that make a statement,” John said, appraising the garments.

  Calvin glanced down at his shirt. “You do? What statement do these shirts make?”

  “They announce that all three of you have arrived and you’re giving everybody fair warning that you’re all for one and one for all. If anybody messes with one of you they’ll have to answer to all of you. Brothers through thick and thin, that’s what these shirts say.”

  “I wasn’t thinking about all that stuff when I picked out this shirt,” Calvin said honestly.

  John chuckled. “It’s not something you have to think about. It’s just the way you feel about your brothers and the bond between you.”

  The three boys exchanged looks, then nodded, well satisfied with the meaning John read into their identical purchases.

  When John glanced past the children to meet Tara’s gaze, she realized abruptly she was sitting atop the mare with her eyes dripping sentimental tears. John had a way with the children that touched her deeply.

  “And what did Irish purchase?” he asked.

  “Tara didn’t buy nothin’,” Flora answered for her. “She said she couldn’t find nothin’ as special as having us as her family. But we took up a collection from our reward money to get something for you, since you didn’t come with us.”

  John was taken completely by surprise. Tara doubted that happened very often.

  “We wanted you to have a spare shirt that didn’t have a bullet hole in it,” Calvin said as he unwrapped the last package. “We hope it fits, John, and I reckon it says the same thing our shirts say, only we were too busy buying these new clothes to figure that out.”