"You enjoy this, do you?" He lifted his eyes to gaze at her flushed face. Her eyes were soft and misted with desire.
"It’s quite pleasurable.”
"I love giving you pleasure." Sliding up her body, he nibbled the silky flesh on the side of her throat, then dragged his tongue back down between her breasts, causing her to shiver.
Evangeline reached up and touched his cheek, then trailed a lazy finger along his jaw line and downward over his Adam’s apple. She lingered on the scar at his throat.
"Why are you looking at me like that, Wolf?"
He shrugged. “I still have difficulty believing this is real, that we’re married and have a son.”
She sat up and inched closer to him, her hands cradling his face. “If I could change the past I would. I’ve searched my heart a million times and know that if I had yesterday to do all over again, I might have done many things differently.”
He saw the sincerity in her eyes, heard it in her voice. Still, guilt gnawed at him. “I shouldn’t have believed your father’s lies. Once I’d recovered from his attack, I should have searched for you. I should have believed in the love we shared. Then none of this would have happened. Garrick Payne would never have harmed you or Mac.”
Tears sprang into her eyes. “It’s of no use to look to the past. We have one another and Mac and a bright new future ahead of us. That’s all that matters now.”
He caressed her face, thumbed away a warm tear that inched down her face. “If I’d known Payne had abused you, I’d have been gentler in my eager approach our first time together as husband and wife.”
She smiled softly. “I enjoy your eager approach just as it is.”
“The thought of him hurting you makes me murderous.”
She lowered her eyes. “He didn’t make many demands of me.”
Wolf didn’t want to imagine what she’d been forced to do, but tonight, if it were in his power, he would make her forget.
She swallowed hard. “It might surprise you to know that Garrick visited my bed precisely three times during our seven-year marriage.”
Wolf lifted a brow.
“It’s true. The few times he came to me, he slipped in quietly in total darkness. The first time was brutal—one month after we were married. Unannounced, he came in the night and took me forcibly. Thankfully his subsequent visits never lasted long. At first I believed he avoided me because I’d born an illegitimate child, that he felt I was tainted. Years later I learned exactly why he didn’t come to my bed. He rather enjoyed the company of young men…boys if they were available, as evidenced by the vile act he tried to commit on Mac.”
Now it made sense why she’d flinched when he’d taken her that first time in the wagon. He squeezed his eyes shut a moment and swallowed down bitter bile that rose in his throat. If only he’d known the abuses she’d suffered, he’d have been gentler.
As if she sensed his discomfort over the subject, she propped herself on one elbow beside him and smoothed her palm over his shoulder. “I received no pleasure from Garrick, Wolf. Although he took his release with me those occasions, I’m certain he was abhorred by the fact he’d lain with a woman. He wouldn’t look at me for several days afterward.”
He drew her hand to his lips to kiss it. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“But I do. During those empty years I held onto the memories you and I shared, the passionate moments we spent alone, the way you kissed me, the way you caressed my body and made love to me. That was what helped me get through the lonely nights.”
“If you were lonely, why didn’t you take a lover?”
She sighed. “I didn’t want a lover. Certainly I had opportunities for male companionship, but I wanted you, and if I couldn’t have you, I wanted no other man.” She smiled, her fingertip circling his dark nipple. “What about you? Have you taken a lover in my absence?”
Ignoring her question, he rose over her and moved between her thighs. He’d known many women, before he met Evangeline and during her ten years away, but he’d never loved any of them.
“Wolf, you didn’t answer my question.”
He positioned himself as he gazed down into her eyes. “You are the only woman I’ve ever loved, Evangeline. Therefore, you are the only lover I’ve ever known.”
He silenced her with a swift thrust.
***
A knock on the door jolted Evangeline from sleep. Pale beams of yellow light filtered through the cracks of the window shutters signaling morning. Wolf rose from the bed and reached for his trousers.
He opened one of the windows. “Mac and John are back early.” He pulled on a shirt. Evangeline gathered her clothing.
“Give us a moment,” Wolf called toward the door.
Once they were dressed, he unbolted the latch and swung the door wide open. Mac skidded across the floor with a terrapin in his grip.
“Ma! Look what John did. He caught me a turtle on our way back from town. Can I keep him in a box? Please? I got a name all picked out—Horatio. Don’t you think he looks like a Horatio?”
Evangeline turned her face away, not because she disliked turtles, but out of embarrassment. In her haste to dress she’d failed to draw the quilt over the rumpled bedclothes. She was certain John had noticed.
“Y-yes, of course, Mac.” She dared a sidelong glance at the creature. “He’s awfully big to keep in the house, though.”
“Looks like we’re having turtle soup tonight,” Wolf joked. “Guess I’ll have to sharpen my fork and knife for the occasion.”
Mac hollered. “No way! You can’t eat Horatio. He’s my pet.” The child clomped to the door in a pair of oversized boots. “I’m gonna build him a box right now where he’ll be safe from your dinner fork, Pa. Then I’ll try to find him a friend so he won’t be lonely.”
Once Mac raced outside, she proffered her hand to Wolf’s hired man, John. Since her arrival he’d stayed in his own quarters behind the barn, keeping to himself. He looked vaguely familiar and she recalled Wolf saying he’d once worked for her father. “Thank you for taking such good care of Mac, Mr. Patterson. He appears to have enjoyed his trip to town.”
“Call me John, ma’am.” He lightly clasped her hand.
John looked older than Wolf, but not by many years. His hair was like sun-bleached straw, dry and pale in stark contrast against his dark, leathery skin. He was a handsome, rugged-looking man with clear blue eyes and deep wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.
“I believe you worked for my father, Elijah Braddock?” she inquired.
He nodded. “That I did, ma’am...one summer about ten years ago. Same as Wolf here.”
Wolf stood silently and she knew he was remembering the night her father and his ranch hands attacked him. She wanted to thank John for saving Wolf’s life, yet she sensed Wolf didn’t want her to bring up the topic.
John cleared his throat. “Ma’am, I picked up a slab of salt pork in town. Would you like me to bring potatoes up from the root cellar for your supper?”
She hadn’t thought that far ahead, but she supposed she should begin planning their evening meal after breakfast. “Yes, thank you. The salt pork will be nice. I found dried hominy in a crock on the counter yesterday and some fresh green onions and peppers in the garden. We’ll have a spicy stew tonight. Oh, and John, you’ll dine with us.”
***
There had been no sign of Mac for hours, not since he’d set out that morning to look for a friend for Horatio.
Evangeline paced the floor of the cabin as long as she could while John and Wolf left at dusk to search for the child again. The stew she’d cooked for their supper had grown cold in the pot and she’d thrown the hours-old corn fritters to the dogs. She told herself Mac was simply lost, that he’d wandered too far in his search for a turtle and he’d find his way home before dark. At least that’s what she wanted to believe. For all she knew Mac had been bitten by a rattlesnake, or had fallen into the swift moving waters of the nearby creek and drowned.
<
br /> Night was coming fast, closing in around the hills. Mac was terrified of the dark. Unable to stand the silence of the lonely cabin any longer, she donned a thick shawl, pulled on heavy boots, then lit a lantern and went to check the barn again. Wolf had searched it, had pulled almost every timber and hay bale out of place until it looked as if it had been hit by a cyclone. Still, perhaps he’d overlooked a clue.
She pulled open the creaking double doors and slipped inside. Eerie shadows grew long on the walls as she crept through. The night wind whispered between the cracks in the roof. A small, white owl perched high in the rafters hooted, and she shook off a chill that skittered up her spine.
“Mac? It’s Mama. Are you here?”
Silence answered. He’d done this once before—hidden for two days after Garrick’s death. He’d been ashamed and confused, although she couldn’t imagine what could have happened to cause a repeat behavior. “Please come out if you’re in here.” Pleading, she bit down on her lip to keep from bawling. “You’ve done nothing wrong, sweetheart.”
Still no response. She slumped into an empty stall as tears overtook her. What if they never found him or worse—found him dead. Something was wrong. She felt it deep in her soul. Mac hadn’t wandered away, nor had an accident befallen him.
Someone had taken him, someone with a grudge against her.
The author of the threatening notes.
***
Wolf pulled hard on the black’s reins as he rode into the night. He and John had split up two miles back. John’s orders were to return to the house and check on Evangeline, then follow the south trail and meet him at the fork where the San Marcos and Guadalupe rivers merged. Mac hadn’t wandered away and become lost. Nor had he fallen into the rushing river and drowned. He knew it, felt it in his gut.
The horse pulled up short, screamed and reared. Wolf fought for control, talking softly to his mount. The horse had never behaved this way, not even during the fiercest storms. Then he felt the burning in his side, reached down and felt the warm wetness with his fingertips and realized he’d been shot.
He heard another pop, felt the searing hot pain rip through his right thigh. The horse bucked him off and he hit the hard ground face down. His mount galloped away into the night and Wolf rolled onto his back, drew his pistol. It was too dark to see his assailant. He dragged himself into the brush for concealment. Another shot grazed his upper arm and the gun slipped from his hand.
A booted foot kicked it from reach.
He looked up to see a dark form standing over him.
“Well if it isn’t Gray Wolf McKinnon—or perhaps I should say Adam Smith. Allow me to introduce myself. The name is Garrick Payne. I believe you know my wife, Evangeline, quite well.”
Garrick Payne? The man was dead. Was this some sort of sick joke? On second thought, perhaps the man wasn’t dead after all. In fact, it all became clear now—the threatening notes to Evangeline before she left Savannah. Had Payne faked his own death, been stalking her all along? Had he taken their son? Fear sliced through him.
“What the hell have you done with my boy?”
The man laughed. “I always suspected the dark-skinned little bastard was sired by a breed. He looks exactly like you.”
Payne’s boot struck Wolf on the side of the head and pain splintered through his skull. His stomach roiled.
Payne squatted, pressed the cold barrel of his gun to Wolf’s temple. “With you out of the way, Evangeline will be my wife again. Everything she owns—your home and land—will be mine.” He leaned closer. “I cannot wait to see the look on her face when she learns I’m alive and you’re dead. I’m certain she’ll need special comforting.”
Wolf started to roll onto his back, but heard the click of the gun’s hammer and froze.
Payne chuckled. “Now, now. I will take very good care of Evangeline and the boy. Actually, I am quite fond of young Mac...quite fond.”
If Wolf could have gotten to his feet, he’d have ripped the son-of-a-bitch’s head off his shoulders and shoved it up his ass. “You touch my wife or my child and I’ll kill you, Payne. By God, I’ll tear every limb from your perverted body and feed them to my hogs.”
“Don’t worry yourself, McKinnon. You’ll be long gone by the time I reach your ranch and your dear little family.”
“Where’s my son?” Wolf fought the darkness that threatened to swallow him, no longer hearing the man’s words.
***
The door to the barn creaked open. Evangeline sprang to her feet, held her breath. She expected to see Wolf or John—or even Mac silhouetted in blue moonlight. Instead, it was Garrick. It couldn’t be. Oh, dear God, it couldn’t be! Garrick was dead!
He stepped closer. “Hello, Evangeline.”
“Garrick.” His name tumbled out in a rush of breath as her knees buckled. Her mind went into a dizzying whirl. “You’re dead.”
He laughed. “No. You only wish I were.” He drew his gloves from his hands and tossed them aside. “And when I finish with you tonight, darling, you’ll wish you were dead, too.”
Pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. His closed-casket funeral. The hasty departure of the undertaker from Savannah before the funeral. Now she knew the man hadn’t left town on urgent family business. Garrick must have killed the undertaker, put his body in the casket and switched places.
Her hand flew to her mouth to quell a sob slowly rising in her throat. Garrick had survived the blow Nell delivered to his forehead as well as the fall down the stairs. Now he’d returned to silence her for threatening to expose his dark deeds. Then another thought slowly coalesced in her mind. Mac. He’d taken Mac.
“Where is my son? What have you done with Mac?”
He shook his head as he uncuffed his shirtsleeves. “Always doting over that boy, aren’t you. Do not worry. I’ve not harmed him.”
Her eyes searched the darkened corners of the barn, looking for anything she might use as a weapon. Hoping to buy time, she added, "My husband will return shortly. You’d better leave before he arrives."
Garrick laughed. “Your husband won’t be returning tonight or any other night for that matter. I shot him on the road tonight.”
It was a lie! In her rage, she grabbed a hay fork and jabbed at him. He ducked. "Get off my property, Garrick!” She stabbed at him again. "Wolf will kill you when he learns you've come here!"
Garrick grabbed the handle, wrenching it away from her. He tossed it aside, then backhanded her, sending her stumbling backward against the wall. “Did you not hear me correctly, you stupid little bitch? I shot your husband and left him to die.”
He stormed toward her, seized her shoulders and shook her violently. “You cost me everything in Savannah—my ministry, my orphanage. Because of you I had to fake my death so you wouldn’t ruin me. Now, one year later, I still have nothing. So I’ve come to collect what belongs to me—including my dear little wife.”
“But you were buried...your estate settled. I thought you were dead. We all did. I waited an appropriate mourning time before deciding to remarry. You cannot come back and make demands on me. I am Gray Wolf’s wife, now.”
“You mean Gray Wolf’s widow.” He smiled coldly. “With your husband dead, you’re free to marry again. As your new husband named Mr. Jackson, I’ll take control of the property. I will prosper again, Evangeline, and this time you’re going to help me!”
At that moment it would have been so easy to give in to defeat and accept that Garrick had killed Wolf, but she couldn’t. She must fight to keep control of her emotions. He squeezed her shoulders so tightly she feared he’d crush them.
“You wrote the letters didn’t you, Garrick?” She tried not to sound nervous.
“And they frightened you all the way to Texas and into the arms of another man.” He shook her violently. “I took you in when no other man would have you. I fed and clothed and schooled your illegitimate child. And what did you do? Donate my house to charity and return to that Indian lover of yours! No
, you owe me, Evangeline.”
“I owe you nothing. My father paid you to marry me. I didn’t want to, but what choice did I have? He wouldn’t allow me to return home.” She shrugged free of his bruising grip. “I told no one your filthy deeds—even after your supposed death. I thought with your demise that would be the end of your dark secret, that Mac could heal and we’d both be free again.”
“Lying bitch! You kept silent because you didn’t want to be implicated in my murder!”
“I did nothing to you. Mac did nothing.”
“You protected your housemaid. Your silence implicates you in a murder plot against me to obtain my money.”
Oh, the bastard had some nerve suggesting such a thing! True, Nell had struck him and pushed him down the stairs, but she’d only been defending Evangeline. She’d certainly not prospered off his death as he’d left her with many unpaid debts. No, this despicable piece of filth had faked his own death to avoid being exposed as a child molester. He was a murderer also now if her instincts were on target. “I didn’t want Mac scandalized after what you tried to do to him. That’s one of the reasons I remained silent—not to protect myself in any manner.”
“As if anyone would have believed you—a whore and her bastard child. Or would they have believed that darkie maid of yours? Who would they have believed, Evangeline, you or me?”
“Your words no longer hurt or shame me, Garrick. I am not a whore and Mac was never a bastard. True, he might have been born out of wedlock, but he was conceived in love. Now where is my husband? What have you done to Wolf and Mac?”
"The boy is perfectly fine, but I’m afraid your dear husband is dead, Evangeline.”
In an instant, her world crashed. Wolf couldn’t be dead! He couldn't! "You're a liar!" she screamed, beating her fists into his chest.
He reeled back. "Am I? Then tell me if any of these items look familiar." Reaching inside his coat pocket, he withdrew Wolf's pistol.
"You stole the gun!”
Then he pulled out the necklace, the one made of turquoise beads and white shells. Wolf wore it at all times—the only keepsake he had of his mother. He never would have surrendered it.
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