No. No, it would only have delayed the inevitable. The truth of that resonated uncomfortably within him. If he was honest with himself, he had never been in control, not since the first time he'd met her as a man, and certainly not since the first encounter he'd had with her as a wolf. Which meant he should have known, should have seen it coming. After all, he had admitted to himself long ago that he was attracted to Jillian. It was natural. It was normal, to be attracted, even natural and normal to act on that attraction.
Like last night? Well, hell, he wasn't dead and it had been a long time since he'd been with a woman. He'd spent most of the morning trying to tell himself that was all it was. Except it wasn't all, not by a long shot, and he knew it. James couldn't even pretend that the wolf had had anything to do with it, because his alter ego had all but disappeared after that first kiss in the farmyard. His mind had certainly disappeared then, too. Perhaps he could plead insanity. After all, he was still reeling from that kiss, even after everything that had followed. Jillian had looked up at him with those big sea green eyes and that faery face and it had been like a hard kick to the stomach. All the air had left his lungs, and he had felt himself swimming in those eyes. Swimming and the water was oh, so deep. He had had to kiss her, had to more than he had to breathe. But she'd beaten him to it. She had fisted her hands in his hair and pulled his face to hers. There and then he had drowned.
Small wonder his heart had galloped on ahead of his brain and developed feelings, strong ones. As much as he was struggling to rationalize the whole situation, his own words mocked him: That's the whole damn problem with being human. You always end up feeling things you don't want to feel. Only that was a lie, too. He'd said things, thought things, felt things--and as much as he had told himself he didn't want to, he did-very much.
He threw the shovel he was carrying across the yard, launching it like a javelin so that it ended up sticking into the barn wall about fifteen feet off the ground. He left it there and stalked away, wishing he could Change and race away into the forest.
Jesus Murphy! He had to get a grip. So what if he had feelings for her? He couldn't let that matter. All that mattered was what would be best for Jillian, how best to keep her safe. A relationship was completely out of the question. She was human and he had to remember that. Associating with a Changeling would be much too dangerous for her. What little contact she had now was probably too much. Someone would notice, sooner or later. And Jillian would pay.
Bad enough that she was already going to be hurt-he'd be stupid to think that last night hadn't meant something to her, too-but at least she'd be alive. She was sure to hate him, too, and rightfully so. Because not only could he never see her again, he couldn't even explain why.
* * * *
She'd missed lunch again. Jillian finished with the goat in the corral and headed back into the clinic. She had just cut through the waiting room on her way to the kitchen when she spotted the large bouquet on Birkie's desk.
"These just came for you, hon." Her friend waggled her brows. "Pretty impressive choice of flowers, too."
Jillian stared at them. She recognized the roses--but what roses. The large blooms were exquisite, creamy white and long-stemmed. But they were interspersed with tall plumes of tiny bell-like flowers, also white. And those shiny green leaves-- "Is that holly?"
"It certainly is. Holly and white heather. Both of them symbolize a pledge of protection and defense."
"What?"
"It's the language of flowers, hon. Different flowers mean different things. This is a very strong message, a double message of protection."
"Protection of what?"
"Well, you of course. And the white roses, now those are just plain classy."
"Are they protecting me, too?"
"No, silly. I'm going to have to loan you one of my books. White roses are always more powerful than red ones, you know. The white ones mean 'love always' or 'pure love.' Like I said, very classy, very unique. Aren't you going to read the card? Let me tell you, it took a pile of restraint to keep from running it out to you in the corral."
Jillian fingered the small envelope, noted it was sealed, and tucked it in her pocket. "I think I'll read this privately first," she said and laughed when Birkie looked disappointed. "If it's G-rated, maybe I'll share."
"Oh, all right. Can I at least keep the flowers on my desk a while?"
"Of course. They'd be wasted sitting in my apartment all afternoon. I'll come and get them at closing time."
A pledge of protection. That seemed a little medieval, but maybe James was just trying to be romantic? Or maybe he didn't know any more about the so-called language of flowers than she did. But the white roses .... She figured those would probably pass for romantic in any language. Jillian hurried to the lunchroom, hoping for a few more moments between patients. She tried to open the envelope in a civilized fashion (as if she wasn't totally excited to read its contents), but in the end, she ripped it open. The picture on the face of the card was simple, trees in a forest. She smiled, thinking of when she'd last been in a forest ... then she opened it and her smile disappeared. She was still standing there staring at what James had written when Birkie came in to announce the next patient. Jillian handed her the card without a word and headed to the examining room.
"Jillian. You're a beautiful woman, but it would be best if we didn't see each other anymore. I'm sorry."
"Well, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Best, he says. Best for who?" Birkie shook her head, blinked hard until her eyes cleared. "Isn't that just like a man? Trying so hard to protect the one you love that it ends up hurting the both of you." She sighed and stashed the flowers in the supply room until closing. Then took them quietly to the dumpster and dropped them in.
* * * *
James was drill-seeding the back quarter section of land. Most farmers used herbicides to kill off all existing plants before putting in a crop, but there would be no chemicals used on Macleod land. He'd studied the latest techniques and decided to go with a no-tillage policy as well. That meant seeding the fields without plowing them, leaving the existing plant cover to hoard moisture and shelter topsoil from the powerful west winds. It would take time, plenty of it, but James was determined to steer the farm to organic production.
It would take a lot of work, too, but that was fine with him. In fact, the more work, the better. Right now, work was the only thing keeping him sane. Usually the land was soothing to his spirit, the soil enlivening, but not now and not for the last three weeks. Even from the cab of the tall tractor, he should have been able to feel a unique closeness to the earth but lately he'd just felt empty, hollowed out and aching. The deep peace and the satisfaction he usually found in green and growing things was missing, and in its place was desolation.
James told himself repeatedly that he'd done the right thing by walking out of Jillian's life. He should never have let things go so far in the first place. Should never have kissed her, should never have held her--but he couldn't seem to bring himself to regret it. God, that night together, tangled on the forest floor. Whenever he closed his eyes he still heard her heart hammering behind her teacup breasts, still saw downy curls glinting gold between her slim legs.
Everything had changed. She had changed. He had looked at her with human eyes for the first time while she slept in her apartment. That little frown on her fine features had immediately evoked a storybook picture of a cranky faery. But that night in the forest, the cuteness disappeared. The silvered light had revealed something downright ethereal, profound. Even regal. Not Tinkerbell but Titania herself. It was in the angles of Jillian's face, in her sea green eyes, in her wild cap of hair. In her narrow frame that seemed far too small to hold the blazing passions that drove her. In her skin that was so much fairer than even his own, so amazingly soft over compact muscle. Every night in his dreams he ran his hands over her body, delighting in the lines of it, the colors and textures, even as he breathed in the enticing scent of her, as his heart thrilled to the s
ound of her voice, her laughter. And every morning he had to remind himself that for Jillian's sake the dream had to remain a dream.
The sun was down, but the darkness didn't matter to James. The tractor had powerful headlights and his night vision was acute. He could easily finish this field tonight, maybe the one on the south side, as well. Whatever would keep him busy enough to stay awake was fine with him. James just didn't feel up to having another dream of any kind. Besides, when he was awake, it was a lot easier to control the wolf within. Relatively easier. Since James had ended things with Jillian, the wolf had been increasingly surly, miserable, short-tempered and likely to snap at anyone. Just like my human self. He didn't know how long he could keep a leash on the wolf, knew that it would find its way back to Jillian sooner or later. Maybe he should leave town. The wolf would have a tough time interfering with Jillian's life if James was in, say, outer Mongolia.
When the fuel gauge beeped a warning, he geared down and brought the tractor to a standstill, switched off the seeder. There was a fuel tank and a pump on the back of his truck, but he'd left it parked under the trees on the far side of the field. That was okay, he could use the walk. Maybe it would clear his head.
Stars were appearing and he could just see the full moon above the trees. It was glowing yellow like a Japanese lantern, but it would lose color as it climbed. James rubbed his hands over his face and opened the cab door of the tractor, let the breeze pour through, scented the air, let himself breathe deeply and rest, relax, just for a moment--
--suddenly he was the wolf, racing through a shadowy forest under a velvet sky bright with stars. He had to go faster, had to reach her, had to help her. Followed the river until it flowed through a city, until game trails gave way to manmade trails. Followed them until he caught the scent of violence and fear, hate and hopelessness. Followed until he caught sight of the upraised pipe. Of the brutal hands that held it. Of the man intent on destroying the life that fluttered in the slight figure crumpled on the ground beneath him.
The Change overtook him without warning. James cried out in shock and surprise, then his human voice was strangled off abruptly by the shift in form. His human mind had only time for a single thought as he leapt down from the tractor. Jillian. He had to get to Jillian.
The great wolf ran full out across the field, belly close to the ground, claws digging into the clay soil, tail a white plume touched with moon's golden light.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The calf was a big one, even for its large-boned breed, weighing almost as much as she did. Bloody to the armpits, her coveralls soaked with amniotic fluid, Jillian dragged the creature out of the three-foot long incision in its mother's side. The cow was blissfully unaware of that incision due to the contents of a large syringe carefully inserted between two of its vertebrae, and was looking around in mild interest. She blinked in surprise as the vet slipped in the wet straw and went down under 110 pounds of wriggling Charolais calf.
"It's okay, baby. It's okay. We'll get you out." Jillian fought her way to her knees, deftly stripped the sac from around the calf's golden face, reached into its mouth to pull its tongue forward and clear the throat, and laughed when her fingers were seized and sucked with gusto.
Grabbing a towel, she rubbed vigorously to dry the calf, grunted as she hauled the newborn over to where the cow could nose it. For a moment the veterinarian looked on in satisfaction as the mother licked her newborn, memorizing the scent, cementing the bond between them. Animal bonds, Jillian knew, tended to be unshakeable. Not like humans. Sighing, she unwrapped a fresh surgical pack--the contents of the first had fallen into the wet straw--and began the long process of closing up.
The full moon was more than halfway across the sky when Jillian drove away from the Murdock's farm. She had the heat on full blast and she'd taken off her coveralls, but her clothes were wet through. Her teeth chattered as she fumbled with a radio station. Most farmers would at least have offered her some coffee or something. But then, most farmers would have come out to the barn and pitched in. She had hoped for that kind of help when she couldn't reach Caroline. Jillian had thought about asking Connor for help. After all, it wasn't his fault his brother was a jerk. But she just didn't feel up to seeing any of the Macleod clan tonight. And so she had taken the calving call alone, even though the farm was in a remote location, nearly two hours away.
At least both cow and calf were fine. Jed Murdock hadn't been pleased that Jillian had shown up instead of Connor, but he wouldn't be able to complain about her work. Maybe a hefty bill would encourage the Murdocks to be a little more helpful next time. She had spent a lot of extra time trying to do everything herself.
Not that she minded being busy. It was harder for unwelcome thoughts to creep into her awareness when she was focused on work. That was why she had thrown herself into every task she could find at the clinic, why she was even making up tasks. Birkie had eyed Jillian with concern when she'd restacked the hay bales in the livestock area, but she didn't care. It was better than thinking about how much she ached inside, how much James Macleod had hurt her. Except for the card that came with the flowers, she hadn't heard from him. No letters, no phone calls. And certainly no face-to-face communication. After being at the clinic every single day for months, he hadn't come by even once for three solid weeks. Pretty hard not to read that message. She would never have picked him for the one-night stand type, but then, how much did she really know about him? It was her own fault for getting too involved too soon, for letting her hormones off the leash way too early. The fact that her heart had led the way didn't bear thinking about.
And so Jillian was determined not to think about anything. Her plan was to keep busy, so busy that the thoughts wouldn't stand a chance of getting through, so busy that she simply fell into bed late each night and was asleep before she hit the pillow. The system had worked just fine for the past three weeks. But now she was worn right out, and for the first time she wondered how long she could keep this up.
There was certainly no shortage of tasks to keep her busy tonight, even though it was well after midnight. The instruments still needed to be unpacked, washed, and sterilized. The surgical drapings and her wet coveralls had to be put in the wash machine and soaked. And she was already so damn tired. Her eyelids fluttered down, once, twice ....
Jillian jerked her head up just as the cab of the truck was suddenly flooded with light. There was another vehicle behind her with its brights on. She squinted as it rapidly closed the distance between them. From the height of those blinding headlights, she judged it to be a truck. A car's beams wouldn't have filled her pickup cab so thoroughly. Sound flooded in, as well. Though her windows were closed, she could hear the high-pitched thrum of a powerful engine and the brain-beating bass of a massive stereo system. It had to be kids. How could they stand to be inside that? She could feel the vibration of whatever music they were playing in her teeth, for God's sake.
Jillian prayed the driver would switch to low beams soon. She peered through half-closed eyes at her side mirror. It was indeed a tall pickup truck, but it was weaving back and forth, fishtailing on the gravel road. "Great, they're fooling around or drunk. Probably both." Jillian was suddenly uncomfortable about being alone and wondering where she'd stashed her cell phone when a row of dull orange spots suddenly appeared like eyes on the other truck's roof. Jillian made out the rack of hunters' floodlights just as they powered on.
Dammit! Jillian slapped at the rearview mirror, flipping its face to the ceiling. "Stupid asses!" She cursed vehemently as white light shot back at her from the side mirrors, the dashboard glass, everywhere. Pain stabbed her tired eyes. She cupped a hand around her brow as a flimsy shield and tried to focus on the road ahead. The light was bright ... and getting brighter. She wanted to slow down. She'd been under the 50 mph speed limit for the gravel road, but not by much. She touched her brakes lightly, once, twice, hoping the other truck was paying attention and wouldn't run into her.
A brig
ht yellow diamond flashed into view on her right, dazzlingly bright in the lights of Jillian's antagonist. She squinted at the highway sign and deciphered its symbols: a hill with a steep grade. She realized at once where she was. At the bottom of the hill would be the narrow steel bridge that spanned Little Burnt Creek. If the other truck was going to pass her, it would have to do it soon. She prayed it would pass. Her nerves were already rubbed raw by the assault of light and sound.
Suddenly the headlights swung away to her left, leaving her in abrupt darkness and temporarily blind.
She took her foot off the gas as her eyes fought to adjust to the bewildering change, as her unknown antagonist thundered by, bass pounding so loud it hurt Jillian's ears and stabbed at her brain, vibrated in her very bones. "Stop it! Stop it!" she yelled, but couldn't hear herself. The vehicle passed her in a blast of impossible noise and a rattle of gravel, hurtling down the hill. She caught a glimpse of a large red pickup with shiny chrome roll bars before the darkness swallowed it. The mind-numbing bass faded into the distance and was gone.
Half blind, shaken and disoriented, Jillian pulled to the shoulder of the road. It wasn't there. There was nothing under the right front wheel as she tried in vain to steer the still-rolling truck back to solid ground. Suddenly there was a sickening lurch as the rear passenger wheel dropped over the road's edge, as well. The truck teetered on the crumbling brink and she realized she couldn't make it back onto the road. Jillian steered instead for the deep ditch, trying to take it at an angle so the truck wouldn't tip. But suddenly the ditch itself dipped and disappeared into darkness. The brakes couldn't stop the momentum of the heavy truck as she hurtled down the steep embankment through a stand of brush.
Heart of the Winter Wolf Page 21