Wolfe's Lady (2 page)

“Stella, you have good taste. We shall drink Earl Grey. Do you prefer lemon or milk?”

“Lemon.”

“Capital!” he said with a smile. “Milk would pollute a good Earl Grey.”

Darien sounded so British, she thought with delight, loving that in him. It made him unique among the men she had dated and she liked that, too. He might think he was more of a Yank now but his roots remained, just below the surface.

When the server, dressed in black slacks, white dress shirt, and a neat black tie, arrived Darien ordered Earl Grey. When the cups arrived, steaming, with a slice of lemon, Stella sipped hers, delighting in the full flavor. It was more refreshing on the late August day than she expected.

“Tell me about yourself,” Darien said, gazing into her face with those mesmerizing topaz eyes. “Why would a city girl from Kansas City decide to come teach in a small, rural town with a single high school?”

She had wondered that often since coming to Riverville.

“I thought I would like the change of scenery,” Stella said, “I guess I’m looking for a simpler life. What about you? Why would someone educated at Cambridge and Harvard want to teach in this small school?”

Darien stirred his cup of tea again and then put down the spoon before answering.

“I like my privacy and to live a quiet life away from prying eyes. I have lived in Riverville for six years now and although part of the small town reality is that everyone knows everyone else’s business, I like the place. The rugged hills appeal to my wilder nature and my home is very private.”

He sounded sincere. She continued, “Do you live in town?”

“My house is on the very edge of town, near the river. As I said, it is secluded and surrounded by gardens with old forests beyond that. The original owners planted all the old perennials and many trees, now aged. The setting offers both privacy and beauty, two things that I cherish. It is an older home and with your historical interest, I think you would like it. Now, in late summer, there are roses blooming everywhere and many other flowers. It reminds me of some of the old gardens at English country estates which is probably why I like it so much.”

“Is it out near the river?” Stella asked. “Or does the river border your property?”

“No, to both questions. I prefer it that way, actually.”

She adored water, liked swimming, boating, and fishing so his preference was foreign to her. “Why? Don’t you like water?”

He bit his lip before he answered. “No, I don’t. I can’t swim, you see, and so I have a phobia about rivers and such. As a child, I almost drowned once and it left me with a lifelong horror about water.”

Fair enough, she thought. She hated spiders and even the smallest one scared her. Darien feared water. “We all have our little quirks. Tell me more about the gardens. I like flowers, too.”

His smile banished his anxious expression. “Do you? I find their beauty to be manna for the soul. I miss the English gardens of my youth and so I strive to recreate something similar here. Some of the perennials were here when I bought the place and I planted others.

I have some of the tallest hollyhocks I have ever seen. There are delicate lilies of the valley in the spring and lilac bushes both lavender and white. The fragrance from them is like the sweetest perfume. I also have added a few bird baths, some garden benches, and even a few classic style statues.”

Stella imagined something like the walled garden from the children’s classic,
The Secret Garden,
both lovely and mysterious.

His description intrigued her so she asked,

“How much land goes with the house? Are we talking a large yard or a miniature estate?”

Darien tossed back his head to laugh.

“I would hardly call it an estate, my dear, but the house is large and rather picturesque. I have about five acres in all but just the acre surrounding the house itself is in gardens. The rest I prefer to keep as it is – a forest with many big trees and thickets. I like the woods very much, almost as much as I do my gardens and they serve their own purpose.”

The more she heard about it, the more curious she became.

“I would like to see it, someday.”

Over a second cup of tea, they chatted and she noted that his fingernails were quite long for a man’s, well shaped, and almost sharp. Whatever Mr. Wolfe might be, she mused, he was quite a unique individual. His differences captivated her, though, and she listened as he talked about quantum theory of mathematics. Most of it was far above her comprehension; math had been a difficult subject that she struggled to master in both high school and college. When the topic switched to history, however, she was on firm ground.

“So, Stella, tell me what your area of expertise is, what period,” Darien said.

“I will be teaching European history,” she said, warming to the subject with pleasure. “I will be teaching part one, roughly the Dark Ages through the Reformation, and part two, covering the Renaissance up until modern times. My personal area of study, however, centers on the Dark Ages – also known as the Middle Ages or medieval times. I did my thesis on superstitions and folk beliefs of that period. I always found the ancient legends about things like vampires and werewolves especially fascinating.”

Darien almost dropped the cup onto the saucer as his narrow fingers fumbled. His air of cosmopolitan poise vanished and for a brief moment, he looked vulnerable, almost afraid.

“Werewolves?” he asked, in a voice higher than his usual tone. “You say you studied werewolves?”

Stella nodded. “I did, to some extent. I know it probably sounds more than a little strange but creatures of the night carry a fascination for me.”

Darien’s interest seemed almost frantic but she chalked it up to the oddity of her studies. After all, most university students did not write thesis papers titled “Beneath the Moon: Werewolf Legends of the Middle Ages”.

“I wouldn’t necessarily say I am an authority but I know more about them than the average history major would.”

He stared at her with the oddest expression.

“And werewolves fascinate you?” he said, his voice still strained. “Why?”

“I’m not really sure,” Stella replied, with honesty. “The idea of a seemingly average man shifting into some kind of creature has a terrible appeal. I don’t know how to even explain it, really, but such power carries an almost seductive appeal and yet it would such a curse that the very idea is terrifying. But, such things don’t really exist, do they?”

“You have an interesting perspective.”,” his composure was back as if the awkward moment never happened although she noticed he didn’t answer her question. “It is late. Shall I walk you to your car? I presume it must still be at school. ”

“Thank you but I live just down the block. I can walk. I walked over to the school today, too,” Stella said, gathering up her purse. “Thank you for the tea. I enjoyed it.”

“You are most welcome, dear lady. Allow me to walk you home.”

For just a second, she wondered if he mocked her or if he spoke in all seriousness. After deliberation, she decided it must be the latter. His manners smacked of the Victorian Age and no one had ever called her “dear lady” in her life. Coming from anyone else, she might have been offended but somehow, delivered in his crisp British way, she found it somewhat endearing. Nor had anyone asked to walk her home since the third grade but Stella, somehow flattered, agreed.

“Thank you, I would like that.”

Out in the bright August sunshine, they sauntered down the sidewalk, peering into the shop windows that they passed. At a local photograph shop, they admired the bridal couples, the new babies, and the family portraits. Catching a glimpse of their reflection in the display window, Stella noticed that they made an attractive pair, Darien with his dark hair and topaz eyes, she with her light ash blonde hair and blue eyes. Fair and dark, they contrasted but in a way that worked.

“Look,” she said to call attention to their reflected image. “We make a striking pair, don’t we?”

Darien beamed. “We do, indeed.”

They paused in tandem to admire their contrast and then Darien focused on a display of vintage jewelry in the shop window.

“Those are exquisite,” he exclaimed. “Look at the fine workmanship and the attention to detail in each piece. Most modern jewelry is so bland, so without life compared to these.”

They were pretty, Stella thought, but pricey.

“I like that one.” She pointed to a beautiful black cameo surrounded by half pearls.

He leaned forward to see the exact piece and nodded.

“You have excellent taste, Stella. It’s the best of the lot, by far.”

At the corner, the old hotel stood four stories tall. Like the jewelry, it was vintage, a throwback to an earlier era. Made of solid brick with granite trim, the thick walls were sturdy.

“We’re here,” Stella said, extending her hand to shake.

“Thank you for walking with me.”

Darien Wolfe accepted her hand and held it in his. His palm against hers was very warm and he moved so close that she could inhale his very masculine, musky aroma.

“A gentleman sees a lady to her door,” he said, his voice deepening into a sensual level. He tucked her hand into his arm and escorted her into the lobby.

They crossed the wide, ornate lobby to the antique elevator and stepped into the car. His proximity excited her but she felt anxious. No matter how attractive Darien Wolfe might be, he was almost a stranger and they would be working in the same hallway.

That strict conduct code hadn’t mentioned whether or not staff members could date but Stella couldn’t help but think that they would frown on it if not forbid.

At her floor, Darien insisted on walking the length of the corridor to her apartment door. Stella inserted the key and opened it.

“I am home.” Her voice was a little too breathless and high pitched. “Thank you.”

He leaned against the open door frame, lithe and appealing.

“Oh, no need to thank me, Stella, but if you must, you can show your appreciation with one kiss.”

He moved fast, she thought, and without guile. Because she found him very attractive, Stella nodded and faced him.

“All right, then, one kiss.”

Darien stepped forward until a scant half inch separated them and with slow precision, he leaned down and put his mouth on hers.

From the moment his lips touched hers, Stella was lost. The warmth of his mouth ignited a sweet fire that spread through her body, delicious as honey, heady as wine. Her body sang with delight and her mouth responded to his greed by wanting more, by taking what he gave and returning it.

The space between them vanished and he put his arms around her, drawing her so close that she could feel the beat of his heart. He kissed her until she could not breathe, until she thought she might faint from the dizzy delight. By the time, he released her, her mouth felt swollen and her body weak, pliant like modeling clay. If he had wanted, he could have taken her and she would have been powerless to stop him. They both knew that, standing close, his topaz eyes hypnotizing hers.

“Stella, Stella, Stella,” Darien said. “You enchant me and I look forward to seeing you again.”

Before she could open her mouth to say good-bye, he turned and with a graceful tread moved away, gone into the mouth of the elevator before she could call out. She stared after him, touched unbelieving fingers to her mouth, and then went into her apartment.

In a daze, she put down her purse and walked to the front windows, leaning to see if she might see him when he exited the building.

On the first day of school, a Monday, Stella pulled her good navy blazer and skirt from the closet and donned them over a white, lace-trimmed blouse. She then put on panty hose and slid her feet into her best black pumps with three-inch heels. Stella wanted to look professional and did, although she expected she would be roasting by noon. Tempted to change into khakis and a polo shirt, she almost did but changed her mind at the last moment. She would wear her best for her first official day in the classroom.

Stella regretted that choice as soon as she stepped into her classroom. Although the school was air-conditioned, heat rose to the third floor and all but negated it. Her classroom felt more like a sauna and she stripped off her blazer before the students began arriving. Just as the bell rang, Darien stuck his head in the door, dressed in neat dark slacks, a button down white on white dress shirt, and a red tie. He looked competent and also very attractive.

“Good morning, Stella. You look lovely for your first day.”

“Thank you. I didn’t expect it to be this hot, though.”

He grinned, showing those long eyeteeth. “Wait until November; then it will be cool. Here they come!”

A babble of voices filled the hallway punctuated by slamming locker doors and many feet stomping. Stray giggles rang out above the other noise and when the whirlwind began to settle, twenty students burst into her classroom and careened into seats just as the tardy bell rang.

“Good morning, class,” Stella announced, standing in front of the desk. “I am Miss Raines.”

Forty eyes stared back at her, the stranger from another place.

Stella realized that most of the students would have grown up together, that their families would know each other for three generations back, and that here, she was the outlander. After a few moments of silent stares, noise emerged from twenty mouths. At first, there were a few snickers, and some whispers that crackled through the room with speed. Then, the noise erupted in earnest as some asked questions, others giggled, and some snapped bubble gum in rhythm. Their cacophony of sound hit unbearable levels as they chattered, discussed, and even cussed. She tried to field the questions but they came at her, too fast to sort, let alone answer as they came.

“Why did Mrs. Brennan retire? I wanted to take history because my brother said she was easy.”

“Where do you come from?”