“You’re coming to New York with me.”
Chapter Ten
They traveled inland by speeding carriage, the silent driver, Willie, was at the reins, and Wolf said nothing at all. There was no explanation for his sudden change of plans, and Molly was afraid to ask for one.
She was afraid his explanation would spoil her good mood.
They were just in time to catch the train to Boston, and once they started moving. Wolf seemed to relax. Molly was certain that if Wolf had missed the train because he’d changed his mind about leaving her behind, he’d blame it all on her. Very unfair, but she was grateful they were on their way.
Molly had never been any farther from Kingsport than Vanora Point, and she peered through the window for a long time. Lulled by the speeding train, she finally fell asleep with her head on Wolf’s shoulder.
In Boston they transferred to the steamer that would take them to New York, and Wolf carried their three bags to their stateroom.
It would be silly, wouldn’t it, to let her husband see how excited she was? Perhaps so, but she couldn’t help herself.
“Oh,” she said suddenly, when an unpleasant thought struck her.
“Oh, what?” Wolf asked impatiently. They’d hardly said half a dozen words all day.
“I just wondered,” Molly said uncertainly, “if I’ll get seasick. I’ve never been on a ship before.”
He gave her a look of disbelief. Did he think she would lie about such a thing? “Never? You live on the ocean, Red.”
“On it, not in it,” she said with a smile. “I’ve never actually been anywhere before, so there’s been no opportunity for me to discover if I suffer from seasickness. My friend Hannah sailed to Charleston last year to visit relatives, and she said she was deathly ill the entire time. She really thought she was going to die.”
Wolf crossed his arms over his chest, and there was, perhaps, the beginnings of a smile on his face.
“It’s not amusing,” Molly said indignantly.
The stateroom was comfortable, but small. In two strides Wolf was with her, his smile widening and his eyes sparkling wickedly.
“You won’t get seasick,” he rumbled as he wrapped his arms around her.
“How can you be so sure?”
“I won’t allow it.”
Unreasonably, there was comfort in his assurance, and Molly smiled as she placed her head against his chest.
“I’ll keep you so busy, you won’t have time to be seasick,” he continued. “Before you know it we’ll be in New York and on dry land.”
“You said we’d be nearly twelve hours traveling to New York. All night long. Wolf. What if I can’t sleep? What if the rocking of the ship makes me ill? What if —”
Wolf slipped his fingers beneath her chin and forced her to glance up at him. He was more relaxed, happier, than he’d been all day. When he looked at her like this, it made her heart swell and beat fast.
“We’ll be too busy to notice, Red. Trust me.”
Molly kept her face lifted, her gaze on the tall buildings their carriage passed, and Wolf couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
He would never know what had possessed him to go back, when he was well down the road and determined to leave her behind as he’d planned all along. How had she made him change his mind? With the request for a good-bye kiss, so unexpected and sincere? With the kiss itself? God, he couldn’t get enough of her. Had his incentive been those soft words Molly had uttered as he’d turned his back on her? Be careful. Don’t forget to sleep and eat. As if she actually cared.
Finally, he accepted the fact that he’d been gripped by the same madness that had possessed him to marry her, but he accepted this truth with a smile. It was quite safe to let down his guard and let go of the scowl he usually presented to his bride. Molly’s eyes were devouring the city, the people and the buildings, and she had barely given him a second glance since they’d docked.
The madness that had driven him to such extremes was intensified by the fact that two nights at Vanora Point with his new wife were not enough to satisfy his hunger for her. The passion would die, he knew. It always did. Until it burned out he intended to put his obsession to good use, just as he had last night, on board the steamer that had carried them from Boston to New York.
It made no sense that he wanted Molly so hard it hurt to look at her, that a smile aroused him, that those little catches in her throat when he kissed her drove him over the edge.
When they pulled up to the Waldorf and two bellboys appeared to take their bags, Molly’s eyes, impossibly, grew wider.
“Where are we?” she asked as he held her hand and assisted her from the carriage.
“Home sweet home,” Wolf muttered.
“You live here?” At last she looked at him, studied him as if he were completely daft.
“Not normally, but I don’t think you’d be welcomed at my gentlemen’s club, where I keep a room.
“It’s going to be terribly expensive,” she whispered as he led her through the front entrance and into the ornately furnished lobby.
Wolf was able to make arrangements for a suite rather quickly, and a brass-buttoned bellboy led them to the elevator. Inside the box, Molly gripped his sleeve and held on as if for dear life.
“Wolf?” she whispered, her soft words loud in the small space. “What floor are we on?”
“Our suite’s on the third floor.”
“Are there stairs?”
“Of course.”
She seemed to relax, but the grip on his sleeve didn’t diminish. “Good,” she breathed.
The bellboy led them to their suite, and at last Molly’s vise-like hold relaxed. They would be quite comfortable here, until the time came for Molly to return to Vanora Point. His obsession, his uncontrollable passion for her would surely fade as the days passed.
Their bags were placed in the bedchamber, a sumptuous room dominated by a wide bed with an ornately carved bedstead and a canopy of figured mahogany.
As the boy nodded curtly at the opened door, Wolf stopped him.
“My wife is in need of a dressmaker,” he said. “Someone reputable and quick. Can you make the arrangements?”
“Yes sir.”
“Have her here at four o’clock this afternoon. I’ll be back by that time.” He reached into his pocket for a generous tip.
“Where are you going?” Molly asked softly.
“My office,” Wolf answered as he peeled off a bill.
“What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”
Wolf paused with the single bill in his hand. “Did you ever finish your book?”
“No, but I don’t have it with me. You didn’t give me much time to pack, you know.”
Wolf smiled at the bellboy and peeled off another bill. “Have a copy of Little Women delivered to Mrs. Trevelyan.” His smile widened. “And while you’re at it, pick up a copy of Fanny Hill, and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, as well.” Wolf grinned down at his wife, at the innocent expression on her face. “A volume of Poe, I think, and if you can get your hands on an English translation of Balzac, that would be splendid.”
He peeled off more than enough bills, and the bellboy nodded as he accepted the cash.
Molly waited until the bellboy was gone and the door to their suite was closed.
“Another copy of Little Women would have been sufficient,” she protested.
“No, I don’t believe so. Red, my dear, your education has begun.”
“My education?”
Wolf brushed the back of his hand against her chin and her neck. “It was you who asked me, is it not true, to teach you to be truly wicked. Those were your words, Red. Not mine.”
“Oh,” she breathed.
“There’s no better place in the world for such an education than right here in New York.”
“Is that why you came back for me?”
She had no right to look so innocent, her clear gray eyes as guileless as a child’s, her
hair down and curling over her shoulders like a country maid’s.
But she was no child, and she was no simple country maid.
“Yes,” he said with certainty, even though he knew his answer was a lie.
Molly turned away from him, headed for the bedchamber to unpack, but Wolf caught her from behind and pulled her back against his chest.
“Wolf,” she protested softly as he teased her breasts with gently rocking thumbs. Through the fabric, he felt her nipples harden. “It’s the middle of the day.”
“I know.”
“But it’s . . . it’s . . . the middle of the day.”
“You already said that.” He propelled her toward the bedroom with a gentle shove, keeping his body against hers so she couldn’t help but feel how he already wanted her.
“But —”
Wolf spun her around before she could protest again, silenced Molly with a rough kiss she responded to almost immediately. As he backed her into the bedroom, he slipped several buttons of her gray dress through his fingers, so that she was halfway undressed even before they fell to the bed, knocking the bags to the floor.
“Oh, my,” she whispered breathlessly when he took his mouth from her to finish the job. “I didn’t know a businessman could act with such a lack of decorum.” She tried to sound serious, but broke into a giggle before she’d finished her sentence.
Wolf shucked off his shirt and leaned over Molly, giving her his most wicked grin. “My great-grandfather was a pirate.”
“Well that explains —”
Again, Wolf silenced Molly with a kiss, and her laughter died. What a sweet transformation it was. Swift, complete, magnificent. He savored it, as her merriment was replaced with a passion that matched his own.
Molly couldn’t sit still. She paced to the window, glancing down at the bustling scene below. Carriages and pedestrians crowded the street, and everyone seemed to be in a hurry.
She’d never seen a carriage as elegant as the one that had carried them from the dock to the Waldorf, but vehicles as fine and even finer passed regularly beneath her room.
It was another world, so unlike Kingsport and even Wolf’s grand house at Vanora Point.
This suite was as elegant as any room in the Trevelyan mansion, and larger than the house Molly had shared with her mother. It consisted of three rooms. The chamber she paced impatiently in was a sitting room, complete with a desk and straight-back chair, a settee, and two plush wing chairs, with a small table in reach of any chair. Unlike the Trevelyan house, this room was decorated brightly, all in gold and white.
There was a landscape hanging on one wall, and a gilt framed mirror on another. Fresh flowers, yellow and white, were arranged and displayed on the long table nearest the settee.
The bedchamber was as distinctive as the sitting room. Molly had never seen anything like the intricately carved canopy. There was also a huge wardrobe for storing their clothes, a piece that would have easily held everything Molly had ever owned. There was a vanity and mirror, rich wood that matched the bed and the wardrobe, and more yellow and white flowers were placed there.
Molly was afraid to touch anything.
The bath was similar to the one she’d used at the Trevelyan house, with running water and a supply of scented soaps and fluffy towels.
After wandering through the rooms, exploring but not touching, Molly made herself comfortable on the settee and picked up her new copy of Little Women. The same bellboy who had delivered their bags had brought her everything Wolf had requested, less than half an hour after Wolf had left for his office.
Molly tried to follow the story, but she was so excited she didn’t do it justice. After several wasted minutes, she closed that book and picked up another one. She leafed through the pages, curious as to what sort of reading material Wolf had chosen for her.
Fanny Hill was a far cry from Little Women, she decided rather quickly.
Molly removed her shoes, tucked her feet beneath her, and started at the beginning.
The minor crisis at the steel mill, an expensive piece of broken equipment that had to be replaced, was easily taken care of. Horace, Wolf’s assistant, had most of the paperwork taken care of. All that was needed was Wolf’s approval and signature.
But the manager of the lumber mill was threatening to quit, and a summer storm had battered one of his best ships, so Wolf found himself with those problems to see to, as well.
Wolf came up with an offer the manager of the lumber mill couldn’t refuse, and made arrangements for repairs to the ship. Fortunately, none of the crew had been lost, but there were bumps and bruises and a couple of broken limbs. By the time the ship was ready to sail, the crew likely would be, too.
Horace brought Wolf a small stack of papers to be signed, and without a word placed them on the desk.
Without his assistant, Wolf would be lost. Horace managed everything, had a brilliant mind for business, and as far as Wolf knew, the man had never been sick a day in his life. He’d certainly never missed a day of work.
Wolf signed the papers Horace had placed before him.
“I’m staying at the Waldorf, if you should need me.” Wolf kept his eyes on the papers. As he signed each one, Horace whisked it away.
“Is there a problem at your club, sir?”
“Only that they’re unlikely to allow my wife to stay there.” He signed the final paper and handed it to Horace.
Horace still gripped the stack of papers, but didn’t take the last document. His normally placid face was strained, his eyes wide with surprise. Above his starched white collar, his neck turned red, and the color seeped up and into his normally pale face.
“Congratulations, sir.” Horace’s voice was calm, and while his face was slowly returning to a normal color, he couldn’t erase the surprise from his eyes. “I had no idea you were planning to be married.”
“Neither did I,” Wolf revealed with a smile, as he continued to offer the last signed document.
“Would I know her, sir?”
Wolf shook his head, ignoring Horace’s attempt to discover the identity of the newest Trevelyan bride. “Not a chance.”
Horace recovered his composure and took the offered paper. He cleared his throat and straightened the papers unnecessarily. “We’ve another dispatch from Mr. Young’s office, requesting a meeting.”
“I’ve told Clarence a hundred times the steel mill is not for sale,” Wolf said tiredly.
“He seems quite determined to have it,” Horace observed.
His assistant had recovered quite nicely, Wolf thought. He’d dismissed the obviously shocking news about his employer’s marriage and returned to the business at hand quite smoothly.
The word would spread. Horace was no gossip, but this was big news. Soon everyone in New York would be clamoring to meet Molly, the second Mrs. Trevelyan.
* * *
Molly fidgeted as the seamstress measured, teetering for a moment on the stool she stood upon. Wolf was facing her, seated quite comfortably in a plushly upholstered chair, his legs stretched out before him as he stared up at her.
They were talking about her as if she weren’t in the room.
“She’ll need two velvet dresses,” Wolf instructed, “Four walking dresses, three ball gowns, six dresses suitable for receptions or parties. A silk evening robe, three nightgowns, five rather simple dresses for breakfast and lunch.”
“Wolf!” Molly whispered, trying to get his attention. This was ridiculous.
He ignored her. “Whatever undergarments she needs, slippers, boots, stockings. Oh, and two shawls, one silk and one lace. That should get her started.”
“I don’t need so much . . . . ”
“Use a light hand where the lace and frills are concerned. And as for color, I have only one instruction. No brown and no gray. That monstrosity she’s wearing is the best dress she owns, and when you’re finished with your work I’m going to burn it.”
The dressmaker sighed loudly, seemingly unaffected
by the large order. “She should have a black silk dress. Something sturdy and practical.”
“No black, either,” Wolf snapped. “Nothing sturdy, nothing practical. I think I should like several things in blue and green. No pastels. No blasted pink.”
“I like gray,” Molly said, raising her voice just a little.
Wolf locked his eyes to hers. “You like gray. Well, I don’t. Not on you.”
“I don’t want to be too . . . too flashy.”
Wolf grinned, and the light in his eyes warned Molly he was up to no good. “All right, Red. One gray dress.”
When the dressmaker was finished taking her measurements, Wolf lifted Molly from the stool and set her on her feet. Then she was excluded while decisions about her wardrobe were made. Wolf gestured with his hands, spoke so softly on occasion that Molly couldn’t hear, while the seamstress made notes and nodded furiously.
She’d been afraid to ask why he’d come back for her. Why he hadn’t left her at Vanora Point as he’d planned. And then he’d told her, to see to her education.
It was a game for him, she knew. Entertainment. She’d glanced through the books he’d requested for her, and knew he wanted to shock her, or else to transform her.
He wasn’t as wicked as he pretended to be, she knew. She believed. Was she blinded by love, or did she see something others missed? From first glance she’d seen more than an immoral animal. She’d seen loneliness, and pain, and just a spark of hope.
He needed her. He might never admit it, but he needed her.
While he was teaching her to be totally wicked, she was going to teach him what it was like to love and be loved.
When he closed the door on the dressmaker, Wolf turned to Molly. The smile he’d been wearing was gone, but it hadn’t been a real and true smile, anyway.
“It’ll be tomorrow morning before a delivery of any consequence can be arranged, but she’s promised one decent dress within the hour.”
“That’s not possible. It took four women from Kingsport three days to make my wedding dress.”
Big Bad Wolf Page 12