Heart of the wolf (23 page)

Sometime during the night—and Wolf sure as hell didn't know when—she had left her side of the bed, turned over and curled up in almost a fetal position
against him. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the small form covered with the crinkled white nightgown that had ridden up on her thighs during the night. Her face looked peaceful, her lips parted in sleep, fine strands of blond hair lying against her cheek.

Without thinking, Wolf barely touched her soft skin as he slipped his finger beneath the silky strands and pushed them back off her face. How serene Sarah looked. An explosion of joy rocked through him as he savored the fact that she was touching him. His heart started a hard, powerful thudding. Her hand was warm against him, as was her moist, shallow breath. Unconsciously his breath seemed to be synchronized with hers as she slept trustingly beside him.

Shifting all his awakening awareness to her, Wolf could feel the cool silk of her hair against him where her brow met the wall of his chest. Her position was endearing, telling him that Sarah probably had little experience with men. Her long, coltish legs were tucked up tightly against her body, not touching him at all. Her position was that of a child seeking safety.

Still, Wolf lay there trembling inwardly, grateful that Sarah trusted him that much—even on an unconscious level. In sleep, people showed their true selves, he believed. If she didn't trust him, she wouldn't have found her way into his arms. Savoring Sarah, Wolf closed his eyes tight as tears sprang to them. His mouth moved into a tight line as he fought back the sudden and unexpected deluge of emotion throbbing through him.

A few tears leaked out from beneath Wolf's lashes, making warm tracks down the sides of his face. Sarah didn't see him as a miserable failure, even though he'd admitted the truth of his past. What kind of forgiving heart lay in her breast, that she could grant him that kind of understanding—that she hadn't judged him? He still judged himself harshly—but, at the same time, he savored Sarah's reaction to him. For the first time in a year, hope entwined his heart. Hope for a future—if he could protect Sarah.
If he could keep her safe.

Slowly, because he didn't want to awaken Sarah, Wolf lifted his arm from where it rested against his body. He didn't need to open his eyes to know where Sarah lay. He carefully placed his arm across her shoulders.

A sound, like a softened groan, issued from Wolf as his arm rested around Sarah's shoulders.
The moment brought exquisite pain from the past, yet simultaneously was freeing to Wolf. Sarah lay sleeping against him, and he absorbed her into him, silently promising her he'd keep her safe—even if he had to give his life to do it.

Sarah awoke slowly. Morning sounds filtered into her awakening consciousness, and she forced her eyes open. Sunlight poured through the sheers at the window, illuminating the bedroom. What time was it? Groggily she raised her head from the mattress, seeing her pillow, as always, on the floor. It was 9:00 a.m.! She'd overslept. The bed was empty, Wolf's larger-than-life presence gone.

Turning over onto her back, Sarah closed her eyes. What crazy dreams she'd had last night! Dreams of Wolf holding her so gently that she'd wanted to cry. Lifting her hand, Sarah realized with a start that her cheeks contained dried tears. Where did dreams end and reality begin? Had she really been in Wolf's arms last night?

Sarah
lay
there, her gaze on the plaster ceiling as she absorbed fragments of memories, dreams, from last night. Unconsciously she slid her arm across the bed to where Wolf had slept. The sheet was cool to her touch, but a slight depression still existed where he'd lain. Her heart did funny leaps as she felt her way through the possibility that Wolf had held her as she slept. A part of her was disappointed. If he'd held her, he could have gone one step further and kissed her. And then she'd have awakened, and Sarah knew, in the dreamy state between wakefulness and sleep, she would have made love with Wolf.

The thought was as startling as it was heated. With a tremulous sigh, Sarah closed her eyes. Yes, she wanted to love Wolf. The man had had so much taken away from him.
So much.
She knew instinctively that she could heal some part of him by loving him. Making love was a simple act that could do so much to heal—or to rend apart. Sarah knew that from bitter experience. Her disastrous relationship with Philip had taught her that she didn't have what was necessary to make a relationship work.

Wolf's love of Maria was something she could understand—that special, fierce emotion that overlapped each day's
activities, that
gave each hour a special meaning. Opening her eyes, Sarah rolled to her side and tucked her hands beneath her cheek. She stared at Wolf's pillow, which had been punched and shaped to cradle his head.

Worry over how Wolf was this morning after the beating made her get up. Pushing her hair off her face, she brought her legs across the mattress and rested her toes on the carpeted floor. Outside the closed bedroom door, she could hear Wolf moving around.

Concerned, she quickly got dressed and brushed her hair. She ignored the crutches in the corner. Today she would walk a lot more on her still tender feet, she decided. She could no longer afford the luxury of remaining crippled. Wolf was in as much danger as she was, and he needed to know she was strong and reliable. Besides, sapphires needed to be dug, faceted and readied for
Kirt
Wagner, her distributor, by the end of the month. Without the needed money, Sarah knew, she wouldn't be able to make her mother's nursing-home payment. And that just couldn't happen.

She opened the door and discovered Skeet there to greet her. She smiled and patted the dog's broad head. He turned and trotted alongside her as she moved down the hall. Sarah found Wolf in the kitchen, making breakfast. The smell of ham was heavenly. She stood at the entrance watching him cook.

"Morning," Wolf said. He'd awakened a half hour earlier. Now he turned to see Sarah standing uncertainly, her blond hair framing her face and shoulders. Today she'd dressed in well-worn jeans and a green tank top, leaving her feet bare. Her blue eyes looked warm and serene, in sharp contrast to how he felt inside this morning. Getting to hold Sarah had been a double-edged sword, Wolf thought, arousing other, more sensual feelings of longing to plague his wounded heart.

Sarah smiled sleepily and said, "Hi. . ." She moved slowly toward the gas stove, where Wolf stood, turning the ham in the skillet. "I overslept."

Wolf tore his gaze from hers. The sweetness of her innocent smile, the care in her azure eyes,
damn
near un- glued him. It took everything he had to stop himself from putting down the fork, letting go of the skillet and sweeping Sarah uncompromisingly into his arms.

Scowling, he forced himself to pay attention to the frying meat. "That makes two of us."

"Yes. . ." Sarah looked at her watch. "It's almost nine-thirty. How are you feeling?"

Wolf tendered
her a
slight smile. His face was still puffy, and one corner of his mouth hurt like hell. "I've
missed something by not seeing you this time of morning, *' he admitted huskily. When Sarah tilted her head, not understanding his comment, Wolf added, "You look pretty,"

Heat suffused Sarah's face, and she quickly avoided his burning look. Had Wolf really held her last night? His voice was low and vibrating, like the earthy growl of an animal. Her heart suddenly pounding, she turned and moved to the opposite counter. His compliment had shaken her. It was as if he could look into her heart and mind and know that she wanted to kiss him, to love him.

"Thank you," she whispered, reaching for two plates from the cupboard. Bui to love Wolf meant to trust him, to give everything she felt to him. And Sarah couldn't do that—the danger to them was too real. What if Wolf was killed? Sarah hated herself for thinking it, for allowing
herself
to feel, even for a moment, the terrible pain it created in her heart. Somehow she was just going
io
have to deny her feelings toward Wolf. Grasping at another topic, she said, "You still didn't tell me how you're feeling."

Wolf's mouth curved again. "How do I look?" he asked dryly.

"Like hell."

"Well, that's about how I feel."

Sarah placed the plates on the table and got out the flatware. "Your face is a mass of bruises, Wolf. Shouldn't you go to the doctor? You've got to be in a lot of pain."

"I'm okay. I called in and told my boss I was taking the day off. I want
io
do some checking around for those three men." The pain of longing he felt for Sarah at that moment was far greater than the pain from the beating
he'd received the night before. He wondered distractedly if Sarah realized how much he wanted her.

After placing two paper napkins beside their plates, Sarah went over and poured them each a cup of coffee. "Are you going to report this to Sheriff Noonan?"

"Yes, I will," Wolf assured her. He saw the fear darken her eyes. "Stop worrying."

"How can I?"

"Because I can take care of myself, that's why." Although not very well, it was obvious, Wolf thought, feeling a deep, cutting doubt that he could keep Sarah safe. He motioned for her to sit down. "How do you want your eggs?"

Eating was the last thing on Sarah's mind. Something had changed between them, something that was now translucent, like a fine blue sapphire revealing its true shimmer in sunlight after merely glowing in indoor light. Sarah stood several seconds longer than necessary, caught in the burning intensity of his gaze.

Wolf saw the look, and his mouth went dry. She was as hungry for him as he was for her. The realization was startling, lush. Never had Wolf wanted a woman more than he did Sarah. Had she known that he was holding her last night? Could that explain the subtle change in her attitude toward him? He was afraid to ask.
Afraid of finding that the answer was only some silly dream of his scarred heart.

"
Wh
-
what?"

"Eggs," he repeated gruffly. "How do you want them?"

"Uh. . .
scrambled, please." Sarah quickly turned away, her cheeks burning like fire. Shakily she placed the plate of ham on the table and sat down. What was going on? One moment she'd glanced at him, only to find herself gently snared in his fierce dark eyes, eyes that spoke a silent language of need for her. Rubbing her face, Sarah wondered if it was her overactive imagination. It had to be! But the dream, the exquisite memory of his arm around her, drifted back to her as she sat there, her heart slowly coming back to a normal beat.

Fighting to overcome her powerful feelings toward Wolf, she croaked out, "You know Noonan won't help you. Reporting this will be a mistake."

"Maybe.
Maybe not.
I want the report, Sarah. When I catch those men and bring them up on charges, Noonan isn't going to be able to sweep it under the rug like he's done in the past."

Her eyes widened considerably. "You're going after them?"

"Yes." Wolf had scrambled six eggs. Sliding half onto her plate and half onto his, he set the skillet back on the stove.

She watched as he sat down and gave her a slice of toast. "You're walking on Noonan's territory. He won't take kindly to you investigating," she warned.