Beloved Wolf (7 page)

This ocean could be angry, turning gray and menacing, whitecaps forming well out to sea, hurling itself against the rocks in a fury. This ocean could be calm, gentle. Welcoming. No matter the weather, the season, this ocean was a promise. A promise that it would always be here, steadily doing its job, making its moves, holding firm against time and man and bending only to the phases of the moon.

He looked up at the sky, a wide, nearly cloudless sky, bluer than blue, with a bright yellow sun that had already begun its daily slide toward the horizon, as it had somehow gone past four o'clock, the day slipping away from him.

He'd never brought anyone here to this place. Not even Sophie. Especially not Sophie, at least not when they'd both been younger. It had been the one place he could go without her following, his one safe haven from her chatter, her persistence, his own awareness of her as she'd grown up. It had been the place where he hid his amused affection, his flattered ego at the way she pursued him, his love for his “little sister” that had turned into something much deeper, much more dangerous.

Gulls circled overhead, laughing at him, their piercing cries mocking him because he felt he was safe here. He wasn't safe here, he wasn't safe anywhere. Not anymore, and probably not for a long, long time.

He loved Sophie Colton. Loved her, adored her, desired her, wanted and needed her more than he did air to breathe, food to eat. He'd loved her for so long, denied that love for so long, but he had to face facts now.

He loved her. He'd made love to her. Wildly, recklessly, irresponsibly.

And there was no going back.

“No going back,” he said into the wind that swirled up from the water, “and not much in front of you except Sophie's face as she left you last night. Sophie's pinched mouth. Sophie's eyes, that hid from you as she dressed, limped away without looking
back. And what did you do? Nothing. What did you say? Nothing. Oh, yeah, James. You've blown it. You've blown it big this time.”

 

Sophie stood at the very top of the cliff, the long grass waving against her bare legs, leaning heavily on her cane after the long walk from the road. She shouldn't have driven the car; her knee wasn't up to working the pedals, and she'd nearly come to grief once she'd given up and begun to work the gas and brake with her left foot.

But she had to come, she had to see…and she'd been right. River sat on the rocks, down at the beach. He sat so still, like some sort of living statue, his back to her, to the world, as he searched the endless horizon for answers to questions only he knew.

She'd known about this place forever, had followed River there several times, but she had never climbed down the rocky path, never interrupted his solitude. She didn't know why, because she'd seemed to make it her personal mission to invade every area of his life ever since he first came to live with them on the ranch. But even a younger, more impulsive Sophie had somehow known that this was a special place, a private place.

River's special, private place.

What was he thinking now? What questions was he asking of the sun, the sea? Was he thinking about leaving the ranch, leaving her? Was he kicking himself for what had happened between them last night? Did he blame himself?

Or did he blame her?

At lunch, her dad had informed her that he'd set up a three-days-a-week physical therapy session for her in Prosperino, and that River would be driving her into town for the sessions, the first of which was already scheduled for the following day. She'd protested, said she could drive herself to town on her own, but to no avail.

Is that why she'd driven the car? No, it wasn't. Because, if all she'd wanted to do was prove that she could drive, she could have driven anywhere. But she hadn't driven anywhere, she'd driven straight here, where she instinctively knew River would be, sitting beside the ocean, thinking his thoughts.

“Don't go, Riv,” she whispered under her breath. “I was going to go, run away yet again. But I can't. I have to stay this time. I have to face what's going on with Mom, with Dad. I have to stay for Emily, for all of us. And I have to stay for you, even if you don't want me, even if you regret what we did. I have to stay, Riv, and so do you. We have to know what happens next, don't we, Riv? What happens to us, if there even is an us. We have to know.”

R
and Colton picked up the small pile of papers, tapped them against the table to arrange them, then placed them back inside his briefcase. “So, that's it. I don't know how I forgot to bring these papers with me yesterday. Oh, well. Another day, another tree sacrificed in the almighty name of multiple copies. Did you ever notice? We're in the computer age, or so we say, and yet sometimes it seems like all computers have done is make it easier to print out more paper. Right, Dad? Dad? Are you okay?”

Joe Colton lifted his head and looked at his oldest son. “What? Oh yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Rand? Did you know that Drake has been seeing Maya? Inez is pretty upset about it.”

“Drake and Maya? Really?”

“Really, although nobody is supposed to know. Of
course, everyone does, we're just not talking about it.”

“The elephant in the living room. We've had a lot of elephants around here,” Rand said, nodding his head as he snapped his briefcase closed and set it on the patio beside his chair. “But what's the problem, anyway? I thought Inez liked my little brother.”

Joe took a sip of lemonade, then held the chilled glass between his hands. “She does. So does Marco. But they worry about their daughter and don't want to see her hurt. Being a navy SEAL is not exactly a nine-to-five job, you know. Or as safe as, say, being a lawyer.”

“Oh, I don't know about that,” Rand said, grinning. “Being a lawyer can be mighty dangerous. Just think of all the paper cuts.”

Joe smiled, shook his head. “You're not helping, Rand. And seriously, do you think I should speak to Drake?”

“What does Mom— Well, never mind about that,” Rand said quickly. “But no, I don't think you should say anything. Drake and Maya are both adults. They'll do what they want to do, no matter what anyone says.”

Joe put down the glass, leaned back in his chair. “That's what I think, too. Okay, on to the next subject. Have you seen Sophie?”

“I did. At lunch yesterday, remember? Seen her, talked to her, and come away worried about her,” Rand told his father. “I guess I'm just not used to seeing her without a smile on her face. Is she going to be all right?”

“They say time heals all wounds,” Joe remarked, sighing.

“And wounds all heels,” Rand agreed, nodding. “Speaking of which, I just got the police report on the mugger this morning, but thought I'd speak to you about it first, before saying anything to Sophie. He fits Sophie's description, except for one thing. He's very dead. Drug overdose. He was found in an alley only six or so blocks from where Sophie got mugged, but it took a while for the police to make the connection.”

“Damn,” Joe said, shaking his head. “I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Sophie may have wanted to face him in court.”

“I doubt it, Dad. This way is best. Another door closed, another reason to feel safer about moving on, getting on with her life. And, speaking of Sophie's life, how's River? Do you think the two of them might get it right this time?”

“I hope so. I asked him to drive her to her physical therapy sessions in Prosperino three days a week, and he didn't say no. That's where they are now. And if that doesn't work, I might try locking the two of them in the same room for a few days, until they finally figure out what the rest of us know. Chet Wallace? What was the child thinking? Although, to be fair, I have the feeling good old Chet was already halfway out the door before Sophie's…incident.”

“At least halfway out the door, probably farther than that,” Rand agreed, but didn't elaborate. “Well,” he said, bracing his hands against the arms of the chair and rising to his feet. “Since she wasn't
at lunch yesterday, and since I have to leave soon, I guess I should go find Mom, say hello.”

“That would be nice,” Joe said, also rising. “She's no doubt on the phone planning the party.”

“It's going to be a real bash, isn't it? Are you okay with that?”

“If it makes your mother happy,” Joe said, following after his son.

 

Twenty feet away, on the other side of some tall bushes, a casement window slowly wound closed and Meredith Colton turned away from the bedroom window, a smile on her face.

It was going to happen. The party was going to happen. Joe was too old, too tired, to fight her on this, on anything.

Still, he was a problem, and he wasn't as easy to manage anymore.

Meredith was certain Sophie's mugging had a lot to do with this new hint of spine she saw in Joe, this reawakening realization of how dissatisfied he was with his life. He might even try to send her away again, as he'd done when she'd first told him about Teddy.

That crack the other night—about her being the mother of children, but not all of them his had been nasty. But when he'd asked her if she was insane, mad? That had been the topper. How dare he question her sanity? If she hadn't been sure before, she was now. And she would do what she had to do, to protect herself, to protect her boys.

She made a mental note to consider Donna Karan for her widow's weeds.

 

“I still don't see why it has to be you,” Sophie said, sitting as close to the passenger door as possible as River drove the SUV toward Prosperino.

“Yes, it was good for me, too,” River replied tightly.

Sophie turned her head, glared at him. Of all the things he could have said, for his first words to her since she'd left him in the stables, he had picked ones sure to incense her. That man was uncanny, knew just what buttons to push. “That's not what I meant, damn it.”

“I know, Soph, but we had to talk about it some time. Or am I supposed to develop some sort of convenient amnesia?”

“It would be nice. Why don't you work on that?” Sophie muttered, sinking lower on her spine as the scenery flashed by on either side of the highway. “Because it's not going to happen again.”

“Oh, absolutely. I've taken a vow of chastity, as a matter of fact. However, if you could stop moving around on that seat and looking so damned sexy, I'd really appreciate it.”

Sophie sat up once more, smoothed her hands over her nylon sweatpants. “Sexy? Like this? All dressed up and ready for physical therapy? You know, Riv, I'm beginning to think you may have some hormonal imbalance that clouds your judgment. Maybe you ought to consider cold showers.”

“Maybe I ought to consider taking you over my
knee, the way I did when you were fifteen, and I caught you snooping around in my room.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “And I told you—I was just trying to find out your shirt size, so I could get you a new shirt for your birthday. And it didn't hurt, by the way.”

River turned to her, grinned. “Did so. It had to. You had such a skinny butt. Not that you do now.”

“Are you insinuating that I'm fat? Well, let me tell you, River James, there is absolutely nothing the matter with my— Oh, forget it! Just drive the damn car, all right?”

River chuckled under his breath. They were both silent for the remainder of the drive, until River parked the SUV, then turned to her before she could get out. “How long, Soph?” he asked, holding on to her forearm.

“How long? How long for what? The therapy? About an hour, I suppose.”

“Okay. But, no, that's not what I meant. How long, Soph, before you can tell?”

Sophie lowered her eyelids, bit her bottom lip. “I don't know. Two weeks or so, I guess. We did a commercial for one of the new tests, and they're supposedly ninety-five percent accurate very early on.” She lifted her head and stared at him. “But that's not going to happen, so you don't have to worry about it, okay?”

He nodded, his eyes shaded by the ever-present cowboy hat, and she escaped from the car, heading toward the rehabilitation center.

It wasn't going to happen? Had she sounded con
vincing? Was he informed enough to realize that she'd said she'd know in about two weeks—and that her admission meant she had been smack in the middle of her cycle, most probably ovulating, when they'd made love?

She should have been going to bed with Chet. If she had been, she'd be on the Pill. Safe. But her sexual encounters had been limited to a one night rite of passage her senior year of college, and a week-long affair three years ago with a guy whose smile reminded her of River. So she hadn't ever stocked up on contraceptives.

Chet really should have pushed her more, tried to take her beyond kisses, a little experimental petting. But he hadn't, and she hadn't considered that a bad thing. To be honest, she still didn't consider that a bad thing.

More of a lucky escape, actually.

However, now she had done the most irresponsible thing imaginable. She'd had unprotected sex, in the middle of her cycle, with the one man who would hunt her down, force her to the altar, even if he hated the ground she walked on.

She stopped at the double glass doors and turned around to watch as River drove out of the parking lot, off to do some errands for Inez before picking her up again and returning her to the ranch.

Sighing, wishing her life less complicated, Sophie pulled open the door and walked inside…then walked outside an hour later, loaded down with papers explaining her home exercises, sore as hell, but minus her cane. Her knee was healed, they'd assured her of
that in San Francisco before the J-brace came off for good, but her muscles had all gone soft, her calf muscle just about gone, and now she had entered the strengthening portion of her physical therapy.

Walking on the treadmill, five minutes on the stepper, time on the mat with John, her therapist, pushing and pulling on her leg, lifting it high, bending it toward her chest until she'd been drenched in perspiration.

She was tired, exhausted, and her leg throbbed like a toothache. She wanted the car, she wanted home, she wanted a long soak in a hot tub—but the SUV was not in sight.

“Damn it, Riv. I told you an hour. How hard could that be?” she muttered, looking around her, watching the traffic come and go at the shopping mall, as the rehabilitation center was attached to the outside of the mall as a convenience to those patients who had to use public transportation.

It was a shame there was no public transportation, running to the ranch, but that would be ridiculous. What was more ridiculous was that Sophie suddenly realized that she was standing with her back touching the brick wall, watching each passerby as if Jack or Jill the Ripper was in the mall crowd somewhere, looking for her.

“This is stupid,” she told herself bracingly, then flinched as three long, lanky and faintly scruffy teenage boys strolled past, clad in shirts and jeans obviously designed for a circus clown on stilts but that had somehow ended up on these fashion dropouts.

The boy closest to her, old enough to try out a
patchy, rather pathetic goatee, turned and winked at her, saying, “Looking good, babe.”

Sophie had to bite her lip to hold back her scream, fight down the urge to run back inside the rehab center and beg for help. Her skin had gone cold and clammy, her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that it actually hurt, and stupid, frightened tears burned behind her eyes.

Crazy. This was crazy. All right, so she hadn't been in public, alone, since the night of the mugging. But was that any reason to go all goofy and paranoid the first time she was out on her own? It was three o'clock in the afternoon, and she was anything but alone in the crowd of mall shoppers. It was daylight, she was safe, and she'd stand here and gut it out or know the reason why!

She deliberately squared her shoulders, stepped away from the brick wall and walked all the way across the wide sidewalk, to a pole support at the curb. Fighting the impulse to grab on to the pole for dear life, she leaned her shoulder against it as casually as possible and directed her attention to the main entrance to the mall some seventy-five yards away, watching mothers and babies, teenagers, seniors—all those safe, innocuous people—enter and leave the mall.

She was all right. She was safe. She could do this.

But when she felt a hand on her arm, she screamed, a short burst of panicked sound, and half jumped out of her skin.

“Whoa, Soph, what's the matter?” River said, let
ting go of her as he pulled her into his arms. “Are you okay?”

Sophie pulled away from him, gave him several quick whacks on the chest. “Don't you
ever
sneak up on me like that again, River James! Where
were
you? I've been waiting for hours!”

River cocked his head, looked down at his watch. “By my calculations, Ms. Colton, ma'am, I'm seven minutes late. My apologies.” Then he used his thumb to tip back his hat, ran his green gaze over her. “You're scared spitless, aren't you, Soph? Look at you—you're pale, you're shaking. Why?”

“It's nothing. Nothing,” Sophie told him, looking toward the parking lot, seeing the SUV with the words Hacienda del Alegria painted on the doors, and headed for it. “Just forget it, okay?”

“I don't think so,” River told her once they were both in the front seat, strapping on their seat belts. “You were scared back there. Don't tell me this was the first time you've been out in public. You went to physical therapy in San Francisco, didn't you?”

Sophie was having trouble securing her seat belt, thanks to the tears blurring her vision. “Yes, I went to PT there, but I never went alone. Dad had hired a nurse. She was with me day and night until I came back to the ranch.”

“Your nurse? Or was that your bodyguard?”

At last the belt snapped into place, and Sophie sat back, kept her eyes front, looking through the windshield, out over the parking lot. “She was my nurse, Riv. Don't read into things, look for stuff that isn't there.”

“I wasn't,” River pointed out, adding, “this one just sort of jumped up and bit me. You're afraid to go back into the world, aren't you, Sophie? Does Joe know? Have you considered talking to anyone about this?”