He stared fiercely at the opposite wall. A gust of cold air blew in the cave mouth, lifting long black strands of hair across his face and shoulders. He made no attempt to brush them away.
"No," he said. "You cannot go back to what you were."
It was not what she had meant. "An invalid? Living in denial of half of myself? You're right, Morgan. I can only go forward, as you must."
He said nothing. She wanted to scream and jump up and down, if only to make him look at her. The closeness of their joining had been as fragile as a snowflake, evaporated in an instant of heat and passion. How could everything they had built last night have vanished so completely?
With an effort she composed herself. Violent emotion would only drive him further away. The wrong words might frighten him, but they were all she had.
"We never finished our discussion," she said. "There is still time for you to tell me everything, Morgan. I said I would listen, and not judge. I meant it. And whether you like it or not, you can't shut me out so easily. You see… I love you."
The cave reverberated with her calm declaration. Her heart tripped out a frantic tattoo. Morgan blinked, once, the only sign that he had heard and understood.
"There," she said with false lightness. "I have given you my greatest secret. I doubt that yours is any more terrifying."
Slowly he looked at her, expressionless to any eyes but hers. "What do you want of me?"
No tears, she commanded. It is his way. It is always his way to hide when he feels too much. "I want to know what you want. I want to understand why you think you must protect me from yourself when we have given each other so much."
He took in a long, deep breath and let it out again, wreathing his face in mist. "Will you come with me, now?"
"What?"
"I asked you once before," he said. "Will you come with me—away from Denver, from Colorado, taking nothing, giving up everything you've known? Will you, Athena?"
Yes, her heart cried. Yes, yes, and yes. But there was something wrong with his question and her own response to it. She hesitated, and in that hesitation lay the cold, hard seed of doubt.
So much had altered since the first time he had asked her to abandon her life. She had remembered how to Change, and healed herself. She had begun to discover that what seemed important was only window dressing and false pride. She had learned to love, not with charitable dispassion, but with her entire soul.
She was not the person she had been a few months ago. But Morgan demanded her complete surrender without offering his trust in return. He had tried to drive her away even as he claimed her for his own. He asked her to run, not toward a real life together, but away from what he feared in himself.
"You want me to go with you," she said. "But you expect me to do so in ignorance. You want me to trust you, when you will not trust me with the things that have hurt you and made you what you are. You refuse to believe that I'm strong enough to accept whatever you tell me." She held out her hand, cupping her palm as if she could touch his face. "All I ask is that you confide in me, Morgan. Confide in the woman who loves you. If you do that now, for me, I will go with you to the ends of the earth."
Dry leaves rustled across the cavern floor. Athena's heart beat five, ten, twenty times before Morgan moved. He smiled, only with his mouth, and she knew that she had lost her gamble.
"Your love is not enough," he said, almost gently. "The answers you want are only the beginning. You would find no contentment, no peace. You would always expect what I can't give you."
"You mean that you could not love me."
"Love breaks like thin ice on a lake just when you think it is sound to cross." He lowered his head so that the dark mass of his hair concealed his face. "It's a hard lesson, but it will make you stronger in the end."
"Strong… as you are? Is this your example, Morgan?" She uncurled and stood to face him. "Is it strength to pretend that none of this ever happened? Should I let my past determine my future, crawl back into my chair and play at being helpless so that I will be safe until the day I die?"
"You will not be safe in Denver."
Such irrational anger stirred in Athena that it was as if the wolf had taken her mind without Changing her body.
"Oh?" she choked out. "What danger will I face, once you are gone? My heart will be cast in iron, but I'll still be able to help those who can find some use in hope. If I'm careful, I can concoct an explanation for my recent behavior that may convince society to accept me back into its midst."
His eyes burned through the veil of his hair. "You will not be safe as long as your brother is alive."
"I know… I know that he tried to kill you, but he is not an evil man. I will talk to him. I'll make him understand, and he'll regret what he did—"
"No." Morgan stood, moving as if every bone and muscle in his body had been torn apart. "Niall told me the truth about your mother, Athena. He hid it from you all these years. He wanted you to remain dependent and weak, so that he wouldn't have to remember the woman who stole your father's love."
"What truth?" she whispered.
Morgan hesitated, staring toward the mouth of the cave.
"What truth?" She strode toward him and stood so close that he had no choice but to meet her gaze. "Tell me!"
He lifted his hand and let it fall. "He told me that he got rid of your mother."
Her knees locked, keeping her on her feet. "I don't understand."
"He hated her. He hated what she was, and that your father loved her more than he did his own mother. He was still a boy when he—"
"No." She pressed her hands over her ears. "I don't believe it."
"He had no reason to lie to me." The gentleness of Morgan's voice pierced her shock as no shout could. "Listen to me. You must be on guard against him. He knows what you are, and he hates you for it, just as he hated your mother. You betrayed him when you came to me. He will not forgive you, Athena. If he killed once, he can kill again."
"Like you?" She backed toward the entrance. "Do you presume to understand what Niall is because you have committed murder?"
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She had sworn not to judge him, not to use his past against him, and she had failed in her promise. "Morgan—"
His eyes were frosted glass. "I should have killed him."
In that moment she believed that he had done what Cecily claimed, that he could kill a man without compunction or regret. She stood on the lip of the cave, half in light and half in shadow, driven just as surely between woman and wolf, trust and betrayal, love and hate.
There was no certainty, no peace. The two men she loved most had become deadly strangers. Doubt ate at her like a cancer. Her familiar world had done more than change; it had shattered. She had only the smallest hope of putting it back together again. And she must do it alone. For Morgan's sake, for Niall's… and because she had no right to happiness she had not earned.
"I am going," she said. "I'm going to find my brother and make him tell me the truth." She stepped into harsh noon light, and Morgan tensed to follow. "No. Don't come after me. You owe me nothing." She closed her eyes to the sight of his beloved face. "You are free."
He laughed wretchedly. "Don't trust him. Athena—"
She Changed and was ready when he followed. She turned on him, snapping and snarling, until he had to retreat or defend himself. But he did not Change. He knelt in the snow, hands on his thighs, and watched her go.
Phantom tears gathered behind her wolf's eyes. It must be this way. Niall is still my brother. You would destroy us both if you killed for my sake. And I am not strong enough, my love. Not strong enough to believe in you.
Athena lost herself in the wolf and ran, with all her strength, until she knew nothing but the flex of muscle and the rush of wind through her fur. When she reached the ranch she traced a wide circle around the buildings and approached from the rear of the house, a shadow all but invisible to human eyes. At the door she Changed, slipp
ed into the house, and dashed up the stairs to her room. There she hastily donned a calico skirt and shirtwaist, barely enough to cover her nakedness.
Voices echoed downstairs, but none of them was Niall's. She took the stairs two at a time and confronted a pair of startled troupers, men she recognized as Harry's star aerialists.
"Where is Mr. Munroe?" she demanded.
They exchanged glances. "Miss Athena?" one of them said. "He left with Caitlin, just after dawn."
She had no time to consider the implications of Caitlin's involvement. "Where did they go?"
"I heard it was to look for you in Denver," the other man said. "Harry and Ulysses left last night. They said you might be in trouble." He paused. "Can we help, Miss Athena?"
She shook her head and tried to clear her mind. Did Harry and Ulysses know that Niall had tried to kill Morgan? Was that why they had gone to Denver? Why had Niall taken Caitlin, when surely he must believe that Morgan was dead and he was returning to face his sister's anguish? Caitlin would hate him just as much for what he had done.
Without another word to the troupers, Athena ran back upstairs and threw open the wardrobe. On one of the shelves she found a pair of trousers and a flannel shirt. She pulled out a pair of old boots and quickly made a bundle of the clothing, cinching it with a braided leather cord. She carried the bundle outside, dropped it in the snow, stripped, and Changed.
Wolf's jaws closed around the cord. She could reach Denver much more quickly in wolf shape, but there was no telling when she might catch up with Niall. If she found him in the city, she would need the clothing.
She would need every tiny advantage she could get.
Human voices shouted, severing her thoughts. She had been seen, and no rancher would balk at shooting a wolf. She burst from a standstill into a dead run. Rifle shot cracked in her wake. Pellets of snow brushed her fur, and a second bullet exploded in the ground where she had been an instant before. Then she was beyond human reach, headed unerringly toward Denver.
It was when she had reached the foothills, just as the sun was sinking behind the Front Range, that she remembered the significance of this night, the detail she had so completely put from her mind. It was the night of the Winter Ball.
She barked a wolf's laugh around the leather between her teeth. The ball. The very pinnacle of her social life, the event of which she had been so inordinately proud. What had once seemed worth a year's painstaking effort had become just another self-indulgent folly, a consolation prize to a woman who had misplaced the true meaning of life.
Cecily would be at the ball, lording it over everyone. Nothing would stop her, not even Athena's escape and its possible consequences to her designs upon Niall. Niall would expect Athena to be there under Cecily's vigilant eye. But he would not find his sister. Not before she found him.
Tonight's Winter Ball would indeed be one to remember.
"I am sorry, Mr. Munroe" the unfamiliar servant said with a diffident shake of his head, "but Miss Hockensmith has gone to the ball."
The Winter Ball. Dammit, he had entirely forgotten about that bit of foolishness. Cecily had mentioned that she'd changed the venue to the Windsor, but he'd forgotten that as well.
Nothing tonight was what it should be. There had been no groom lodged in the rooms over the stable to take his and Caitlin's weary mounts. Romero was gone. The house was noticeably devoid of servants. Niall stood in the hall of his own home, staring into the face of a man he did not know. Caitlin waited behind him, her gaze taking in the vastness of the high ceiling and the gilt and marble embellishments. She was no more lost than he.
"Who the devil are you?" he demanded, tossing the servant his gloves. "Where is Brinkley?"
"I regret to say that Mr. Brinkley has tendered his resignation," the man said with an air of false regret. "Miss Hockensmith felt it necessary to replace him and the other servants who have since departed."
Good God. Had the entire world fallen apart in the short time he had been gone? "The other servants?"
The man cleared his throat. "There have been a number of changes in the staff during the past several days, sir. You may wish to consult Miss Hockensmith for the details. Would you and the young lady care to rest in the parlor while I send for tea?"
"Miss Munroe has accompanied Miss Hockensmith to the ball?"
This time the butler was not so quick with an answer. "I… am not informed as to Miss Munroe's whereabouts, sir."
"What do you mean?" Niall seized the man's collar. "Where is my sister?"
"Sir… I… ah—" He choked and went very pale. "She has not been in residence since my arrival. Miss Hockensmith said that… that she had run mad, threatening to… to kill Miss Hockensmith if she attempted to restrain Miss Munroe. That is… all I know!"
Niall let him fall to the ground. Athena, run mad? Escaped? And Cecily had traipsed off to the ball as if all was well, knowing where Athena must have gone. The sudden resignation and hiring of servants was nothing compared to this.
"She went to warn Morgan," Caitlin said behind him. "She must have, knowing how much you hated him. Lord, if she made it to the mountains—"
"She could be anywhere. Lost…" Or with him. Niall stumbled toward the door.
"You can't go back to the mountains now," Caitlin said, grasping his arm. He tried to shake her off, but her grip was sure and fearless. "You're exhausted, and you would not know where to look. She will find Morgan if he hasn't found her first."
"If you are right, and he is alive." Niall stopped at the door, leaning his head against the paneled wood. "He may have her now."
"Then you have a chance to do right, Niall. Let them go. Let them live the life they were meant to have."
Niall ignored her, icy panic racing through his veins. "Cecily," he said, biting off the name. He snatched his coat from the stand where the new butler had hung it and threw it around his shoulders. He didn't bother to question the servant further, but strode down the hall and to the rear door facing the carriage house. Caitlin's footsteps drummed at his heels.
He harnessed one of the horses to the fastest buggy and swung into the seat. Caitlin climbed up beside him. With a grunt he lashed the chestnut out of the carriage house, down the lane and into the street.
In a matter of minutes he had reached Eighteenth and Larimer. The carriages of ballgoers made the streets almost as congested as they were during the business day, and as he neared the Windsor every available space was occupied by a conveyance. He drew the buggy as close to the Windsor as possible and tied the horse to a lamppost.
"You have no part in this," he told Caitlin. "Stay here." She shook her head, jaw set. He jumped down from the seat and started for the Windsor at a furious pace, not looking behind to see if she followed.
Only two hours into the ball, Cecily reflected, and everything was utterly perfect.
She gracefully deflected a compliment from one of Denver's leading dowagers and waved her fan with an elegant tilt of her wrist. The Windsor ballroom was crowded from end to end with Denver's elite and visiting dignitaries, many of them people that bitch Athena would never have thought to invite. The orchestra played sparkling melodies to delight every ear, and the refreshments in the adjoining room had been created by some of the city's most skilled chefs. This was Cecily's triumph, and hers alone.
As long as Athena and her brother did not spoil it. Cecily glanced about the mirrored chamber for the hundredth time. It was sheer foolishness to think that the bitch would return after her escape four days ago. Doubtless she had either perished in the mountains or found her lover and run off with him—if she had miraculously managed to reach him before Niall.
Nevertheless, Cecily had circulated sly rumors about the reasons for Athena's sudden disappearance. When she had told a few choice gossips that Athena was able to walk—that she had doubtless been deceiving society for years—she had spiced the narrative with the hushed, embarrassed account of how the girl had run mad and attacked her like a wild beast, threat
ening her very life.
How ready were the bored matrons and misses of Denver to believe such a lurid tale, especially when Cecily encouraged speculation that Athena had manipulated them into making excessive contributions for pity's sake. Cecily showed them the substantial bruise on her arm where Athena had grabbed her. She expressed compassion for the young woman who had fallen prey to bad elements and her own weak nature. A little truth here, a bit of exaggeration there, and she had laid the groundwork to explain Athena's violent deterioration.
Cecily had alerted the police, of course, and told them that Miss Munroe had declared her intent to travel into the mountains alone. If they had found the girl, Cecily would be seen as having done her duty, and Niall could not fault her. Any accusations Athena might make could be explained as resulting from her lunacy; Cecily had every confidence of victory in a contest of wits. But the police had not found Athena, nor had anyone been able to contact her brother because of the bitter storm. It was a tragedy indeed.
But the ball must go on. Everyone agreed, most solemnly, that Cecily was holding up very well. She had done everything she could, but Munroe had expected too much in asking her to care for a madwoman. Poor, demented Athena had done so much to create the ball, even if she had turned her back on society as well as sanity. It would be the height of irresponsibility to cancel the affair and deprive the blameless unfortunates who would benefit from the money collected.
So Cecily had forged ahead, swallowing her unease. She well knew she had Niall to face, assuming he returned from his confrontation with Holt. Perhaps he would not. Cecily felt only a lingering regret at the prospect. If Athena was mad—and clearly she was—he might be unstable as well. She could no longer bring herself to believe that marriage to Niall Munroe brought advantages enough to outweigh the disadvantages—particularly when she had begun to make some very promising acquaintances among Denver's wealthy bachelors.
Cecily issued a brave smile for the benefit of her peers and declined a dance offer from one such gentleman. Best to appear a little reserved, a little sorrowful over the recent events than seem too quick to dismiss them. There would be ample time for celebration after the ball, when her new social position was firmly established and she had dealt with Niall. If he survived.
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