To Catch a Wolf (10 page)

To Catch a Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 04

Page 72 of 410

Until a man like this one came along. And suddenly, painfully, she was aware of his

potent maleness and her own shortcomings as a woman.

"Miss Munroe," he said.

She started, hardly expecting him to speak. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance,

Mr. Holt," she said, grasping at the rote phrase. "What is your area of expertise in the

circus?" She smiled cautiously. "Are you the lion tamer, perhaps?”

He made a sound in his throat that she guessed was a laugh. "There are no lions here.

No animals in cages, except for one. You could say that I tame him, as much as he can

be tamed.”

His voice was baritone, a little rough, without the accents of refinement that Mr.

Wakefield's held, or the hint of a more advanced education that marked Harry French's

speech. It had its own particular music, like the sighing of wind in mountain pines.

"And what sort of beast is it, Mr. Holt?" she asked.

"One you have never seen before.”

"Rare and deadly, I suppose?”

"Yes." He stared at her face as if he could discern her thoughts through sheer

determination. "What do you do, Miss Munroe? What is your

expertise? Or do you

have one?”

He was mocking her. She prided herself on reading voice and expressions, and there

was no doubt that Morgan Holt meant to provoke.

To Catch a Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 04

Page 73 of 410

She glanced around to see if Niall was listening, but he was deep in conversation with

Mr. French and Caitlin Hughes. Ulysses had gone, and only Tamar watched from a

distance, her snakes coiling about her upper arm.

"You refer, perhaps, to this?" she said, gesturing at her lower body. "Do you judge that

one in my situation is unable to do anything of worth? I assure you that neither my mind

nor my heart are paralyzed, Mr. Holt.”

As soon as the words left her mouth she wondered where they had come from, and why

she had revealed so much to a hostile stranger. He did not know her, nor she him, yet

already she felt as if they were at odds, engaged in a battle for which she did not

understand the cause.

And that was ridiculous. If anything, he was an employee, part of a world separated

from hers by class, money, and inclination.

"I am sorry," she said coolly. "I misunderstood your question.”

"Harry says your family are important people in Colorado," he said. "Your brother hired

the troupe knowing Harry had to accept his offer, whether he wanted to or not.”

He scraped a hollow in the earth with his foot. "When you have money, anything is

possible, isn't it?”

Now she understood his antagonism. He did not feel contempt for her disability, merely

for her wealth. He resented what he and his people lacked, and what they owed Niall.

Perhaps his own background was one of poverty.

That was no excuse for his discourtesy. "I think I see," she said. "You have decided that

having money renders a person incapable of virtue or honest work. It is wealth that you

To Catch a Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 04

Page 74 of 410

object to, even when it provides you with employment. I am truly sorry that your life has

been so difficult, Mr. Holt.”

Ah. That penetrated his armor. "Very kind of you, Miss Munroe," he said with a curl of

his lip. "I guess when you spend your life helping your inferiors, you don't notice what

your own life is missing.”

She did not allow him to see her flinch. Who in heaven's name did he think he was? He

did not know her, or anything about her. She held on to her temper, bewildered by her

growing anger. She had almost forgotten what real anger was. It distressed her far more

than anything Morgan Holt had said.

"I can see that my activities would not interest you," she murmured. "I do not tame

dangerous beasts, merely persuade reluctant ones.”

"What would you call me?" he asked softly. "Dangerous, or reluctant?”

His questions made no sense except as another pointless provocation. That he could

be dangerous she had little doubt

though not to her. How could he be? He was only a

man—proud, rude, and difficult, but still a man. She could escape his company

whenever she wished. And as for reluctant

"You seem to like riddles, Mr. Holt," she said, "but I prefer to save such amusements for

my friends.”

They stared at each other. Athena felt increasingly uncomfortable, and the new,

phantom tingling in her legs grew more pronounced. No, not in her legs

somewhat

above and between them. Her mouth went dry. She thought about calling out to Niall

and asking him to take her home, but her throat issued only a whisper.

This was quite ridiculous. Mr. Holt was a challenge, but she had faced such challenges

before, from ruthless businessmen and distrustful poor alike. She felt sure that she

To Catch a Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 04

Page 75 of 410

could win, if not Morgan's liking, at least his respect. It seemed important that she do so,

as long as she did not concede too much. It was necessary if she was to help him.

Help him? What had put such a thought into her head? He was neither destitute nor ill,

merely ill-mannered.

"I did not mean to be discourteous," she said. "We simply do not understand one

another. We are—”

"Too different." A strange expression passed over his face. Had she not known better,

she might have thought it wistfulness. Loneliness. But then he laughed, shattering the

illusion. "If I ever came to your world, Miss Munroe, you would have to keep me on a

leash.”

She knew better than to back down. There must be something truly wrong with him—a

great bitterness, or some subtle disorder of the mind. And yet, even as she considered

it, she knew the explanation was too simple. There was much more to Morgan Holt than

met the eye.

His eyes. What was it about his eyes?

The uneasy silence came to a halt with a sudden commotion at the edge of the lot. A

string of handsome carriages drew up behind Niall's, and Athena recognized them

immediately. She sighed with mingled relief and apprehension. She didn't know who

had told her friends about the circus, but she was glad enough of the distraction.

"If you will excuse me, Mr. Holt." She wheeled her chair about, intending to make her

own way, but she found herself being propelled forward by strong, sure hands. She

knew the touch was not Niall's. In spite of Morgan Holt's surliness, he pushed her chair

with skill, avoiding stones and potholes as deftly as if he had been doing it all his life.

To Catch a Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 04

Page 76 of 410

Perhaps it was a form of apology. She could scarcely object when her friends were

already coming to greet her.

Cecily Hockensmith was in the lead, followed by several of the younger and more

adventuresome ladies in Athena's circle. They advanced in a flock, exclaiming and

staring at the astonishing sights and smells.

"My dear Athena!" Cecily said, holding out her hands. "We heard about this wonderful

new scheme of your brother's, and just had to come and see for ourselves. How clever

of him, to hire a circus just for the dear orphans. How very original!”

Suzanne Gottschalk, blond and beautiful, lifted her handkerchief to her nose. "How

very

fragrant it is.”

Millicent Osborn trilled a laugh. "Of course, silly. Have you never seen a circus before?"

She nodded at Athena. "Do not pay any attention to Suzanne. We are all so impressed,

are we not?”

"Indeed," Grace Renshaw said, sliding her spectacles up her nose. "Yet another feather

in your charitable cap, so to speak. I do not know what the unfortunate of our city would

do without you and Mr. Munroe.”

Athena hid her pleasure and greeted them all with a smile. "You praise me far too

highly. It was indeed my brother's idea, and quite unexpected. I have just arrived

myself.”

"Then we are not too late for a tour," Millicent said. "It must be terribly exotic. And, of

course, we shall want to contribute to the performance—you must allow us to help!" She

looked up over Athena's head. "Perhaps this

gentleman?”

To Catch a Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 04

Page 77 of 410

Athena was keenly aware of Morgan behind her, of his earthy scent and masculine bulk.

And the obvious fact that he was not a gentleman. He was more than likely prepared to

insult her friends as he had tried to insult her. She could only pray that he did not.

"Ladies," she said, "may I present Mr. Morgan Holt, one of the performers of French's

Fantastic Family Circus.”

The ladies fell silent, gazing at Holt. Athena wondered if they were having the same

reaction she had, or if they merely found him an uncouth curiosity. Most of her friends

did not share her habit of going into the slums to distribute food and clothing. To them,

he would not seem much different from the "lower elements" their fathers and brothers

warned them about.

"I declare," Suzanne exclaimed. Millicent giggled, and Grace shushed her.

The back of Athena's neck continued to prickle. "I am sure that Mr. French will be

pleased to show us the grounds, but Mr. Holt may have other engagements.”

"What a pity," Cecily said with frosty emphasis. "We do not wish to keep you, Mr. Holt.”

A gentleman would have taken Cecily's dismissal with good grace and beat a dignified

retreat, but Morgan Holt did not move. Instead, it was Cecily who took a step back,

bumping into Suzanne and causing a minor disturbance.

"I have no other

engagements," Holt said, faint mockery in his tone. "Should I show

you the wolves first, Miss Munroe?”

Morgan stood still and let himself be stared at, as contemptuous as a raven surrounded

by chattering sparrows. No, not sparrows, but extravagantly plumed parrots who had

ventured from their cages for an afternoon.

To Catch a Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 04

Page 78 of 410

The leader of the flock accepted their homage in regal majesty, prim and proper in her

wheeled chair and only slightly less gaudy than the others. And he wondered, not for

the first time, why he remained with her.

Their meeting had been less than cordial. Even had he not known her identity, he would

have pegged her as the kind of woman—lady—who had existed only on the fringes of

his life: an engraving in a tattered magazine; a beribboned mannequin on the arm of

some overstuffed peacock parading down the dusty main street of a nameless town; a

face from the box seats during a performance.

What else should she be? He knew what kind of people she and her brother were. His

father had envied and aped them all his life. How many promises Aaron Holt had made,

to his wife and children, always beginning and ending the same: "You'll lack for nothing

once I make my strike," or "When I'm rich, in just another year or two

”

Athena Munroe came from a world Morgan touched only by rare chance, as alien to him

as tea cakes to a timber wolf. The fabric of her gown alone might have seen a poor

family through an entire winter. The pearls about her slender neck and in her ears were

tasteful and even more costly. She wouldn't have looked at him twice if he hadn't

spoken first.

And yet, within the space of a few minutes, he had said more to her than he generally

did to his fellow troupers in a day.

And he was afraid.

He knew the reason, though it made no sense. When he had first seen Athena Munroe,

when he had looked into her bright hazel eyes, he felt for an instant that he'd found the

source of the voice. The voice, the call from the north, the one he had ignored and

dismissed that last night in Colorado Springs.

To Catch a Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 04

Page 79 of 410

The feeling persisted even when he realized the folly of such thoughts. It certainly was

not her beauty that held him rooted to the spot, staring like a boy with his first woman.

Athena Munroe's face was pleasant and even of feature, with slightly full lips and high

cheekbones. Her skin was clear, her jaw stubbornly firm. Her hair was an unremarkable

brown. What figure he could see was slender. But her eyes

Her eyes held unexpected depths. They shifted in color with every small motion, from

brown to green and back again. They gazed at Morgan with a perplexing combination of

vulnerability and defiance, and he had sensed that she was afraid—not of him, but of

his pity.

She was a cripple. He could not imagine a fate more awful than to be trapped as she

was, unable to run. That was the other, unlooked-for quality he'd seen in her eyes—the