The other woman was looking at her with concern. “Still having some morning sickness?”
Mel gave her a watery smile before answering evasively. “Maybe or it could be something I ate.”
“Do you want some tea? Or crackers? They always helped sooth my stomach when I was pregnant with Maria.”
Olivia was one of those calm, competent women who never looked fazed by anything. She had two children—Angelo who was four and Maria who had just had her first birthday—yet Olivia never seemed tired by their antics. Mel hoped to be even half as good a mother as the woman who stood before her.
Refocussing her attention on Olivia’s question, Mel nodded slowly. “The tea might help.” She brushed her hair from her face and vaguely noted that her hand was shaking.
Olivia gave her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. “Being sick to your stomach is the worst part of being pregnant. Why don’t you go lie down and I’ll bring a tray to your room.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll just sit in the kitch—”
“Melody!” Ryne’s voice boomed down the hallway and Mel cringed. She didn’t want to see him right now, so she stepped back into the bathroom, foolishly intent on hiding in there until she was more composed, but it was too late. Before she had time to even grab the door, Ryne was there.
His piercing blue eyes searched hers, concern evident on his face. She looked down at the floor, too unnerved by the secret she possessed to meet his gaze. Her hand reached for the door knob and gripped it tightly, her fingers tuning white.
“Melody, what’s this about you being sick?”
Mel tightened her lips. Damn his werewolf hearing! He’d picked up on the conversation with Olivia, maybe even heard her retching. In vain, she tried to shrug it off. “It was nothing.”
“Like hell it was ‘nothing.’ I overheard Olivia saying you were sick. The pregnancy book I’ve been reading said you should be over the nausea by now.”
“Well, you know I never follow the rules.” Mel gave a brief laugh and moved to walk past him. He shot his hand shot out and caught her gently by the arm. A familiar tingle washed over her at the point of contact. It was always that way when they were together; the attraction between them was like an electric current. Normally, she revelled in their connection, but today it made her cringe away.
Of course he noticed her withdrawal and gave her a puzzled look. She strengthened the mental block she’d created, not allowing him access to her thoughts. Being blood-bonded had its drawbacks when you were trying to keep a secret and this wasn’t something she could just spring on him. Besides, her own thoughts and feelings on the matter were still in a muddle…
A hurt look passed over his face as he realized she was keeping him out. Olivia seemed to sense something was wrong too, for she quietly left, murmuring that the tea would be ready whenever Mel wanted it.
“Melody?” Ryne cupped her face and forced her to meet his gaze. He seemed to be searching her eyes for an answer, but she had none to give him yet. Tears welled and she blinked trying to keep them at bay. “Ah, Melody, don’t cry!” Gathering her close, despite her resistance, he rocked her in his arms. His tender gesture made her cry all the harder. Ryne wasn’t one to display his feelings; he was more of a ‘rough around the edges’ kind of guy. When he showed his softer side, it always made her emotional; it was only for her that he was willing to be vulnerable and expose his true self.
She clutched at his shirt with her fingers and sniffled, her tears slowly fading. The warmth of his body seeped into her and she began to relax, knowing it was wrong, but unable to resist.
Just for a moment, she’d pretend everything was fine.
Chapter 10
The tea kettle whistled softly on the stove in the kitchen of the Greyson Estate. Through the large windows, Franklin could see the grey clouds hanging low in the sky. With the temperature hovering at the freezing mark, they could herald a spring snow or a cold rain. Dampness permeated the air and he pulled his chair slightly closer to the old, stone fireplace, enjoying the warmth emanating from it.
He murmured his thanks as Mrs. Teasdale placed a cup of tea in front of him before sitting down opposite him.
“How do you think our young miss is doing?” She asked as she curled her hands around the cup. No doubt the dampness was making her arthritic fingers ache.
“I’m sure she’s fine.” He stared at the steaming liquid, holding back a smile at the good news he had to impart. It would take her mind off her aching joints.
“That’s what you always say.” Mrs. Teasdale scolded him gently, then sighed, wrinkling her brow in worry.” I just wish she was here, where we could take care of her.”
Franklin took a sip of tea before responding. “She has her reasons for staying away, I’m sure.”
“It’s been three years. Surely by now...?” She let her voice trail off and looked at him pleadingly.
“Cassie’s special, we both know that. When the time is right—”
“But what if we wait too long?” The elderly cook leaned forward setting her cup down. There was an urgent expression on her face.
Franklin shrugged. “Greyson tried his way and it blew up in his face. We obviously can’t force contact. Letting a pack find her on their own is a risk, but what other option do we have?”
Mrs. Teasdale smacked the table with her open hand. “Bring her home! We’ll take care of her—”
“And when we’re gone? She’ll be alone again and all the money in the world will be of no use to her.” It was an old argument; one they had every few months. He reached across the table and patted her hand. “We agreed to let fate take its course. If she stays away and ends up losing the estate, then so be it. At least she’ll be with her own kind.”
“But will she find her own kind?”
“Perhaps.” Franklin gave a slight smile. “Though I think they might be finding her.”
Mrs. Teasdale sat back, looking surprised that their habitual conversation was taking an unexpected turn. “Are you hiding something from me?”
He tried to look mysterious by looking to all sides before leaning forward to whisper. “I’ve had a positive report.”
“Really?” She clasped her hands to her ample bosom. “What did Meredith have to say?”
“Just that a man has been around.” He leaned back and tried to act casual, but couldn’t keep the smile from his lips. “And not that young fellow she’s presently with.”
Mrs. Teasdale snorted. “Kellen Anderson. I’ve never liked him.”
“Cassie’s an adult now. We have to accept her choices.” Franklin chided her gently.
“But we don’t have to like them.”
“True.” He conceded the point. “Anyway, Meredith called this morning to give a report. It’s not definite, but she claims the man had a certain air about him; the way he moved, the way he held his head and watched Cassie. According to Meredith, he matched most of the signs Mr. Greyson used to identify that young reporter—Melody Greene—a few years back. Even Netty concurred.”
Mrs. Teasdale chuckled. “Netty wouldn’t know a werewolf from a hole in the ground. Meredith was just pulling your leg on that one.”
Franklin laughed softly. “I know, but she does a good job, so we can let her have her little delusions about her pet. What’s important is that this is the first real sign of interest that we’ve ever noticed.”
Nodding in excitement, Mrs. Teasdale started to push her chair back from the table. “If it’s true, I’d better start to get ready. I’ll get out my recipes for our Miss Cassie’s favourites—”
“She might not come back,” he cautioned. “If she takes up with a pack, they might not allow it.”
She stilled her movements. “I know she’d not be here forever, but surely a visit...?”
“We can only hope, but their ways might not be ours.”
“Hope’s all we’ve had these past three years. What with Miss Matthews always coming around and helping herself to Miss Cassie�
��s things and that Mr. Aldrich meddling with the accounts. It’s a good thing you kept your connections when you retired from the Service.”
“They have proven useful, haven’t they?” Franklin gave a pleased smile. “The two doddering old retainers know more about Cassandra Greyson than all the supposed professionals who are looking for her.”
Mrs. Teasdale nodded. “It’s been a blessing knowing where she is and that she’s safely tucked away from Aldrich’s machinations.”
“Indeed.” He sipped his tea again, enjoying the warm sweetness. “Meredith and Netty were a tad worried earlier this week. Someone else was snooping around, but they’re placing their money on this young fellow being the right one. And if he is, then Miss Cassie will be fine. He’ll take good care of her.”
*****
Bryan stood inside his motel room staring at the young woman cowering near the head of his bed. She was clutching a pillow defensively to her chest and seemed scared out of her wits. He’d hoped she’d be calmer by now, but apparently that wasn’t the case. Why didn’t her wolf sense that he meant her no harm? Was she already going rogue? Losing her grip on sanity? No. She was too young for that, wasn’t she?
Still, her reaction made no sense to him; it wasn’t as if he’d attacked her. The fact that she’d fallen and hit her head was her own fault. In fact, he’d gone out of his way to assist her; bringing her here until she recovered, bringing her food... He glanced down at the coffee and donuts in his hand and set them down along with his keys and cell phone, while searching his mind for a way to make her feel at ease. Perhaps a little humour would help. Tilting his head, he looked at her quizzically before speaking. “Now this is a new one.”
“Wh... What do you mean?” She eyed him warily, her body tensed as if to ward off his advances should he decide to pounce. His wolf rumbled its approval of pouncing, but he mentally shook his head. Explaining his real purpose for seeking her out had to come first. Remember what Ryne said? Business before pleasure. The wolf inside slunk to the ground as it recalled the Alpha’s command.
“Women don’t usually cringe at the sight of me. More often than not I have to beat them away with a stick.” He shoved his hands in his back pockets and grinned at her, letting his amusement reflect in his eyes.
She didn’t return his smile, if anything, she looked even more nervous than before. He felt the grin slip from his face as she pressed herself even tighter against the headboard. Okay, perhaps his choice of humour might not have been in the best of taste, given the circumstances.
Damn, but he was messing this up. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration looking around the room for inspiration and wondering where all his purported common sense had gone. Something about this situation was throwing him off his stride and instead of swaggering through his encounters with Cassandra, he felt like he was stumbling.
Dropping his hand to his side, he took a deep breath. Okay, on to plan ‘B,’ which he was just devising at that very moment. Hmm, soft words and some hand holding to soothe her nerves might be the key.
“I won’t hurt you, you know.” He spoke in low, gentle tones as he stepped closer, then sat down on the edge of the bed. “I just want us to get to know each other better.”
Cassandra gave a squeak and pulled her feet even closer to her body. The scent of fear rippled off her in waves. Fear and—he sniffed carefully—a faint undercurrent of arousal? He blinked rapidly trying to process that fact. They’d just met, and while he wasn’t unaware of his own sex appeal, for her to be turned on by him was extremely curious. Searching for an explanation, the lunar cycle came to mind. Perhaps the nearness of the full moon was affecting her wolf and bringing it into heat. It was spring after all. He mentally rolled his eyes; just what he needed, a sex-starved young she-wolf to keep in line.
Bryan rubbed the back of his neck and eyed her speculatively. Her fear, inexplicable as it was, was bringing out the Beta in him; not the enforcer, but the need to protect and reassure the weaker members of the pack. He reached out his hand in a gesture of comfort, only to be rewarded by her swatting at him.
“Hey!” Jerking his hand back in surprise, he glanced at it. The tip of her nails had caught the skin and the thinnest line of blood was appearing. An instinctive growl rose from his throat, chastising her for her actions. Another Beta characteristic was coming to the fore; demanding respect from the pack members and enforcing the rules, one of which was not striking out at superiors unless you were trying for a coup.
Much to his surprise, given her meek cowering just moments before, instead of showing submission in the face of his reprimand, she shouted at him.
“Don’t you dare growl at me! Take that you filthy beast!” He caught a glimpse of her face, furiously contorted just before she swung the pillow at him.
“What the—!” He blinked in shock as the pillow slammed into his face. As blows went, it wasn’t much—he’d endured far worse in a bar fight—it was just that it caught him by surprise.
Reflexively, he raised his arm to deflect a second blow and saw her dive across the bed. He shot his arm out, managing to grab her ankle, pulling her back towards him. Her nails made a faint scratching sound as she clawed at the bedspread, trying to pull herself across the surface while her free leg kicked back at him. It caught him in the stomach and his grip loosened as the air whooshed from his lungs. The little hellcat!
In that brief moment Cassandra reached the end of the bed. Pivoting around, her feet hit the floor and she was almost completely upright by the time he lunged across the mattress. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he yanked her against his chest, intent in holding her in a bear hug. With impressive speed she reacted to his move, jerking her head backwards. If he hadn’t anticipated her actions and swung his head to the side, she’d likely have broken his nose with her move. Some part of his mind registered the fact that whoever had taught her to fight, had done a damned fine job. Unfortunately, that meant he had his work cut out, trying to subdue her without causing any actual injury.
“Oh!” An infuriated scream came from her throat as he tightened his grip and she realized her head butting had been unsuccessful.
Arms and legs flailing, she repeatedly tried to strike out at him. He was glad that his early command about not shifting form was still stuck in her wolf’s mind. If they were struggling as wolves right now, their growls and snarls would have caused suspicion in the mind of anyone passing by the room. As it was, the thumping of the bed against the wall combined with the grunts and heavy breathing would lead a passerby to suspect rather rambunctious sex was taking place, not a fight.
In the end, despite her efforts, his superior strength and weight won out. He lay on top of her, his arms and legs wrapped around hers, their bodies pressed together from chest to thigh. They were both breathing heavily and he could feel her breath against his face, smell the sweat that had gathered on her skin. As close as they were, he was staring right into her eyes; incredibly deep green pools with thick dark lashes.
If the circumstances had been different it might have been rather sexy to have her pinned beneath him after subduing her. Crap! No point in lying to himself. It was incredibly sexy and it was turning him on, even if he was mad at her.
And she was interested as well; the faint musky scent of her arousal hung in the air around them, stirring his instincts even further. She probably wasn’t aware of the fact, but she’d pushed her hips up towards him. Her wolf was instinctively offering itself to him and for a moment his own self control slipped too. Grinding his hips against her shot a thrill of heated lust up and down his spine and a rumble rose in his chest.
Gritting his teeth, he fought against his desire, trying to channel the emotional energy elsewhere. He inhaled deeply and let his temper rise to the surface instead. This young wolf was insubordinate and disrespectful, challenging his authority, attacking her superior. Some of the blows she’d landed with her elbows and knees had really hurt! A spot on his inner thigh throbbed from her unsu
ccessful attempt at kneeing him in the groin.
Deciding it was time to lay down the law, he glared at her, rumbling a warning. “That’s enough, pup. Stand down or face the consequences.” The tone he used, and the words themselves, should have had her cowering. For a moment their eyes locked and he waited for her to drop her gaze in acknowledgement of his position.
The faintest flicker of indecision could be seen in her eyes, then she squared her jaw...and spat in his face!
His wolf surged to the surface and he bared his teeth, his fingers tightening on her arms as an angry growl rose in his throat. She was treading on thin ice now, and her next move would determine her fate. If she didn’t change her attitude, he’d tie her up and ship her to Canada so fast her head would spin!
Cassandra froze and he knew she was seeing the animal in him lurking behind his eyes. A frightened whimper escaped her and she paled, seeming to shrink into herself, her straining muscles relaxing as if admitting defeat. Good. She needed to learn who was boss. While he was willing to cut her some slack, there were limits.
He waited a moment, keeping his gaze steady, letting her know he wasn’t pleased and he wasn’t backing down. She flicked a glance at him, but quickly looked away, remaining limp and passive beneath him. Gradually, he eased his grip while continually monitoring her response. There was no indication that she planned another aggressive move, so he slowly sat up all the while watching her carefully in case she made a sudden move. Her sudden acquiescence seemed suspicious, but when there was not so much as a twitch, he finally relented and leaned back on his heels, though he still straddled her hips.
Using the sleeve of his shirt, he wiped the spit from his face and grimaced. “That was really rude, you know. Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to spit at people?”
She didn’t answer, but he was sure he saw a flash of regret in her eyes before she hid it with a defiant thrust of her chin. Oh, she was feisty one, he thought to himself, forcing a smile of appreciation. But, even though he liked some spirit in his women, she’d have to learn respect if she was going to survive in the pack; Ryne wouldn’t put up with that sort of crap. Deciding to capitalize on the situation, he pressed his point, keeping his voice deep and implacable.