To Catch a Wolf (11 page)

abiding sadness of permanent, devastating loss.

Loss he understood. Pity came, and with it the kind of emotion he despised. He had

provoked and taunted her, hoping to shatter his unwilling sympathy, to chase her away

or incite some pompous remark that would bolster his dislike of her kind.

But she had answered him with spirit, even attempted an apology, and he felt the

stirrings of reluctant admiration at her courage. He had remained by her side to help her

when he should have walked away. That had been a mistake.

She was not like him. She was a lady—spoiled, protected, used to having her way—and

now that he saw her among her own people, he knew that his sympathy had been

misplaced.

"Wolves, Mr. Holt?" she asked lightly, not bothering to turn toward him. "I thought you

had said that there were no wild beasts in your circus.”

He wheeled her chair around. "No beasts, Miss Munroe—only men who act like them.”

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"Of course. I have already seen an example. Would you not prefer to return to your

friends?”

She, like the cold, black-haired beauty among the parrots, was trying to dismiss him. He

smiled, showing his teeth. "I am all you have at the moment, Miss Munroe.”

"Perhaps we ought to come at another time," the black-haired woman said.

"No," Athena replied. "If Mr. Holt is willing to guide us, then let us go ahead, by all

means." She nodded to Morgan. "If you please.”

So she turned her disadvantage around and kept her dignity, putting him in his place

again. No, she didn't need his pity. He planted himself behind the chair and pushed her

in the direction of the big tent, pursued by the clacking beaks of Athena's parrots.

He was debating how best to shock the silly creatures into flight when Athena's brother

strode up to join them. He tipped his hat to the ladies, who simpered in return, and

smiled down at his sister.

"Well? Are you pleased, my dear? I did warn you that these people are not what you are

accustomed to, but—”

"It is lovely, Niall. Thank you." She half turned her head, as if she were trying to catch a

glimpse of Morgan's face. "Have you met Mr. Holt? I believe he

handles the animals.”

Niall glanced at Morgan with indifference, and then focused with a hard stare. It was

obvious that he had not noticed who pushed Athena's chair. Morgan's instincts came

fully awake, as they did in the presence of an enemy.

"We have not met," Niall said. "Mr. Holt, I will escort the ladies.”

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"Mr. Holt was about to take us on a tour—" Athena began.

"Mr. French has arranged one for a more appropriate time," Niall said. His gaze

remained fixed on Morgan. "All of you ladies will be welcome, of course.”

The black-haired woman pressed close to Munroe. "I was just telling Athena how very

generous it is of you to provide such grand entertainment for the children.”

"I fear that I cannot take credit, Miss Hockensmith. This was entirely Athena's idea.”

"Niall—" Athena began.

"Please do not deny it," Miss Hockensmith said, covering Athena's hand on the chair

arm. "You do so much, my dear. We can but admire your dedication.”

Morgan studied the woman. His immediate dislike for her was almost as intense as it

was for Niall. She hung on Munroe as if she claimed him for her mate, but his scent

revealed no trace of interest.

Athena gently withdrew her hand. "You are too kind, as always.”

"Not at all. But surely you tire yourself, dear Athena. We should all go back, as your

brother has advised.”

Morgan tightened his grip on the chair handles, recognizing what he was seeing.

Athena was the lead female of her pack, and Hockensmith coveted her place. Among

wolves such competition could lead to injury, even death. But these creatures were

more likely to squabble and peck than rend and tear. He watched Athena to see how

she would respond.

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But he was denied the chance to find out, for Harry and Caitlin reappeared, Tamar a

few yards behind. Caitlin stopped several feet away from the society ladies. She looked

at Niall Munroe, and he looked back. The scent of attraction was unmistakable.

Munroe and Caitlin? As likely a pairing as himself and Munroe's sister. But he was not

the only one to have noticed that mutual stare. Miss Hockensmith's dark eyes were

narrowly centered on Caitlin. She all but snarled.

Harry bustled up to Athena's chair, a trio of rolled posters in his hands. "Ah, Mr. Munroe,

Miss Munroe

ladies! I had thought them all burned in the fire, but I have managed to

salvage several of our papers. You may find them amusing." He handed one to Niall,

one to Athena, and the third to Miss Hockensmith. "We would normally have many more

printed in advance when we are to play in a town, but since this is a performance for

your children, Miss Munroe, that will not be necessary.”

Niall Munroe tucked his poster under his arm without unrolling it, and Miss Hockensmith

did likewise. Athena glanced at it and smiled up at Harry.

"I'm sure the children will enjoy seeing this. Thank you, Mr. French.”

He nodded and glanced at Morgan. "Ah, Morgan, my lad. Perhaps Mr. Munroe has told

you that we plan a tour and rehearsal for Miss Munroe and her friends in a few days'

time. We wish to be at our best, do we not?”

Morgan understood the hint, if not Harry's reason for giving it. He stepped away from

Athena's chair. Unexpectedly, Athena pivoted to face him and smiled as she had at

Harry.

He forgot whatever had been in his mind. Speech failed him.

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"Thank you, Mr. Holt, for offering to escort us," she said, extending her hand. "We shall

meet again.”

He took her hand without conscious thought. It was small and warm in his, and her

glove did not lessen the firmness of her grip. Why should a pampered rich girl be so

strong?

"Would you like to see my little pet, Miss Munroe?" Tamar pushed between them,

stretching one of her snakes toward Athena's face. The serpent probed the air, tongue

flickering. Athena flinched and held very still.

"Tamar," Harry said, "I do not think that Miss Munroe—”

"Oh, do not worry. He is quite harmless." Tamar stroked the scaled head tenderly.

"Harmless to my friends.”

"Tamar." Morgan grabbed her arm. "Take it away and leave her alone.”

She let herself be pulled aside. "Of course, my darling wolf." She smiled at Athena. "I

am certain that we will become better acquainted. I have many other little companions

eager to meet you.”

Niall took a step toward Tamar, looked at Morgan, and clenched his jaw. "Mr. French, I

trust that you will make sure that no dangerous animals are allowed to run loose on

these grounds." At Harry's hasty reassurance, he assumed his position behind his

sister's chair. "Come, Athena. I'll take you back to the carriage. Miss Hockensmith,

ladies.”

He tipped his hat with one final, telltale glance at Caitlin and set off at a rapid stride

before Athena could speak again. Most of her adoring flock went with them, and Tamar

stalked away toward the tents.

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Miss Hockensmith lingered. She dismissed Morgan with a glance and subjected Caitlin

to a long, slow examination.

"Are you one of the performers, dear?" she asked. "What a very daring costume. If you

go into the city, I do hope you will wear something less

provocative.”

Caitlin glanced down at her tights and skirt. "I—”

Morgan saw with astonishment that Caitlin's sharp tongue had gone as mute as his

own. He turned on Miss Hockensmith. "Caitlin has a reason for what she wears. You

dress like that"—he indicated the woman's elaborate gown with a jerk of his chin—"to

make males sniff after you.”

She stared at Morgan, her lips parted in utter shock. "How dare you.”

"He dares

quite a bit," Caitlin said, finding her voice. "I would not annoy him.”

No insult quite fitting enough came to Miss Hockensmith. "I

I see that Mr. Munroe has

been taken in by

by

I shall have to tell him—”

Morgan growled. Not a small growl from deep in the throat, but the kind he would use

on a lesser wolf who came too near a challenge. Miss Hockensmith paled and took

several hasty steps back, almost tripping on her ridiculously confining skirts. Without

another word she spun around and hastened after the others.

Caitlin let out an explosive sigh. "That was not a good idea, Morgan.”

"They are all alike, Firefly. Do not trust them.”

"I don't think you follow your own advice.”

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"What?”

"I saw the way you looked at Athena Munroe.”

For the second time in a handful of minutes she astounded him. "And how was that?”

"The way I've never seen you look at a woman before.”

"You had better cut your hair, Firefly. It's getting in your eyes.”

She shook her head. "You have a good poker face, Morgan, but you're a terrible liar.

What was it about her? Her pretty voice? Her fine manners?" Caitlin's expression was

uncommonly serious. "You have better taste than I thought. I liked her.”

"And you never liked outsiders," he said harshly. "Until today.”

"Niall Munroe is a gentleman. This is his doing, after all. He didn't have to be so

generous.”

"What is it about him, Firefly? His fine suit? The fancy way he talks? Most females

would consider him handsome.”

"The way his sister looked at you, she must think you're pretty handsome yourself.”

The hair behind his ears bristled. "I am no gentleman.”

"And I am no lady. Still—" She shrugged. "My feelings have been wrong before. Maybe

they are this time.”

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He didn't ask her what particular "feelings" she referred to. If she chose to moon after

the cold-blooded Niall Munroe, it was her privilege—so long as she did not expect

others to have such feelings. Him least of all.

Caitlin yawned with exaggerated indifference. "Well, I am off to bed. It will be dawn

soon. You should rest too—even wolves need sleep." She set off for her tent, and after

a moment he headed for the one he shared with Ulysses.

The little man was lying on his cot, arms pillowing his head. He opened his eyes when

Morgan walked in.

"Something is disturbing you," he observed. "I noted it when we met the Munroes.”

"Everyone is interested in my feelings tonight," Morgan growled.

Ulysses rose on his elbows. "It is only that you so seldom reveal your inner thoughts,

and it is rare that I am able to observe them.”

"I should be honored that you find them entertaining.”

"Nothing of the sort." Ulysses swung his short legs over the edge of the cot. "I am

naturally concerned about the well-being of my fellow performers, especially when one

of them has sacrificed much to remain among us.”

Morgan poured water from a pitcher and drank several glasses in succession. "There is

nothing wrong with me. I have no interest in this Athena Munroe.”

"Ah.”

"Sometimes, Wakefield, your brains get in the way of your sense.”

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"Perhaps. But your own objectivity is frequently in question, my friend.”

"When have you seen me with a woman?”

"Never. But you are not like other men—except, I venture, in one essential manner.

Neither man nor wolf is without certain instincts for the preservation of his kind.”

"Including you?”

"It would be most inadvisable for me to father children," Ulysses said gravely. "But you

have a gift worth preserving.”

"I have met Miss Munroe once, and already you and Caitlin have decided that I want

her." He laughed. "As if she would have me, crippled though she is. I am not human.

Worry about Caitlin, not me.”

Ulysses was silent for a time. "I feel that it is incumbent upon me to warn you that you

talk in your sleep.”

Morgan turned sharply to face him. "What?”

"You have spoken of things

deeply painful. I know you would not wish to share them

with outsiders, but I am your friend, Morgan. I will listen, should you—”

"What did I say?”

Ulysses held his gaze without fear. "You spoke of your father. And of prison bars.”