The Wolf Prince (6 page)

“We’ll check your blood count. That might tell us something. Do you swim a lot?”

“I swam this morning.”

“You may have swimmer’s ear.” He went to the other side of the desk again and picked up the phone. “Yes, Marcia, see if I have some samples of eardrops for ringing in the ears. When you come to my office, bring the things to draw some blood. I’ll need a complete workup.”

He walked back to Surlock. “She’ll be here in a moment. After she draws your blood, you’re free to go, but I’ll want to see you next week. You are planning on sticking around?”

“I have nowhere to go.” He realized how true his words were. He felt completely hollow on the inside.

“Don’t worry, son. Your memory will all come back. Give it time. When you get to my age you learn to enjoy life and not worry so much about tomorrow.”

The nurse came in a few moments later. Before the doctor left, he told Marcia to make an appointment for the following week. The woman took one look at Surlock and visibly swallowed.

Surlock wasn’t too sure what she was about to do. She put a band around his arm, then came toward him with a needle. But when she inserted it, she did so expertly, causing only a small prick of pain.

“Sorry if I hurt you,” she said. Her gaze flitted to his face, then quickly dropped. “Are you a relative of Miss Spencer?” She loosened the band and put a white ball on his wound, taping it down.

“No.” He remembered the job he was supposed to do. “We’re dating.” She looked crushed by the information. He wondered why. He had met some very strange people this day. “Are we done?” he asked.

“Yes,” she sighed.

Darcy was in the waiting area. She looked up when he walked into the room. A smile spread across her face.

“Are you finished?” she asked.

“We’re supposed to return next week.”

“Here’s your appointment card.” The receptionist handed it to them from her place behind a desk. “Take care.” She grinned at Surlock.

He noticed Darcy didn’t seem pleased by the attention he was getting from the female staff. That might work in his favor.

On the drive back to the estate, she was unusually quiet. “I told the nurse we were dating,” he announced.

Her head whipped toward him. “Why would you do that?”

Again, she confused him. “I thought that was what you wanted.”

Comprehension showed on her face. “Oh, yes, I forgot. That was fine.”

“If I’m going to pretend to be your boyfriend, then I should know more about you.” Yes, he had an ulterior motive. But he did want to know more about her. She was interesting, and he was lonely. He felt empty not having memories. She helped to fill the void inside him.

“You’re right, you do need more information. My mother will definitely grill you.” She was thoughtful for a moment. “I’m twenty-five.”

“What do you do all day?”

“You mean my job?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t have one.”

“But to earn money to buy all the things one would want, a person needs a job. Is this not correct?”

“My parents have a lot of money, so I don’t have to work.” She shifted in her seat.

“So, you do nothing all day.”

“No! I do lots of things. I go to charity functions and … and …” Her shoulders dropped.

Again, he felt sorry he’d caused her to feel bad. “There is something you want to do, though,” he guessed.

She glanced across the seat. Her gaze returned to the road. “I
want work as a P.I.,” she said as if telling him a big secret. “I have all the training. I took some college courses, but then I took classes outside of college so I could get licensed.”

“What’s a P.I.?”

“A private investigator. I want to find things or people who are lost. I’m good at hunting.”

He closed his eyes against the blinding pain that shot through his head. He could see himself hunting, going after game in the night. Hunting, watching, attacking. But it felt more as if he were in another body. The humming grew more intense. He grabbed his head, groaning.

“Surlock, what’s wrong?” The car slowed, crunched across gravel, then stopped.

The pain was easing, but he kept his eyes closed, his hands holding his head. “I saw something. Hunting. But not me. I was someone else. Then the humming in my head. It’s confusing.”

She pulled his head against her chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault,” he managed to tell her.

“Shh, don’t talk. Just keep your eyes closed and try to relax.”

He took a deep breath, and caught the exotic aroma of the scent she wore. The pain stopped, but was replaced with a different kind of hurt. She absently kissed the top of his head, smoothed her fingers across his forehead. He tilted his head until he could see her face. She hesitated, then lowered her lips to his in a gentle kiss.

At least, he was pretty sure she meant it to be gentle, but as soon as her tongue stroked his, she awakened something inside him. Something he couldn’t control. Or maybe he just didn’t want to control it. He cupped the back of her head, bringing her closer. The humming quieted.

He slid his hand under her top, under her bra, and grazed his thumb over her nipple. She moaned, surrendering to his touch, pressing closer.

The blast from a car horn broke them apart. Someone called out for them to “get a room,” which was ridiculous. He was quite happy where he was.

“I’m sorry,” she stuttered as she straightened her clothes.

“Why?” Surlock groaned in frustration.

Her face was infused with a rosy tint. “Because I didn’t mean for my comforting to go quite that far.”

“I liked it.” He reached toward her, but she quickly pulled away so he let his hand drop to the seat.

“That’s the problem. So did I, and I know nothing about you.” She started the car, then backed out into the road. She continued toward her family’s estate.

“Sometimes you can know everything there is to know about a person and not know them at all,” he told her.

She pulled up to the iron gates and pushed a button inside the car. The gates swung open and she drove to the house.

“I still don’t know anything about you. How can I pretend to be your boyfriend?”

“I’ll make a list.”

“I don’t want a list. That won’t work. We’ll need to spend time together if we are to convince anyone. And we’ll have to convince the staff first.”

She cast a wary look in his direction before returning her gaze to the road. “You’re right.”

“And I want to know more about this P.I. business. My mind is lost. Maybe you can help me find it.”

And maybe she could explain the incredible pull he felt toward her. It was almost as though there was some kind of connection between them. He had a feeling Darcy might be part of the reason why he was here.

A
drenaline rushed through Darcy as she stepped outside. She needed to figure out what her first step would be to discover who Surlock was, and why he’d been running around the woods naked.

Deep in thought, she wandered aimlessly down the path that wound through the garden at the side of the house. Still, she couldn’t stop the flutter of excitement that swept through her. Her skills would be put to the test. Someone had offered her a job.

She chewed her bottom lip. Of course, she had been the one who caused Surlock’s amnesia, so it was only right that she should be the one who helped restore it. And she would. She would discover Surlock’s identity, solve the mystery and soothe her guilty conscience.

Darcy truly did love her mother, but having a real job was like a dream come true. Maybe this was fate. She was achieving her goal, grabbing the brass ring as it went by. She hugged her middle, barely able to keep a shout of joy from escaping past her lips. She could do this. She only had to piece everything together. Like one big puzzle.

Doubt suddenly reared its ugly head, and her excitement plummeted. But what if she couldn’t do this? All this time she’d
told herself she wanted to be a P.I., but what if finding out who Surlock was or where he came from proved to be too difficult? What if she was only fooling herself, using her mother as an excuse so that Darcy wouldn’t have to face the fact she might be a failure.

“You look deep in thought,” Surlock said as he came up beside her. He glanced around. “It’s nice out here.” He leaned forward and brought one of the delicate pink flowers to his nose. “It smells nice. What is it?”

“I’m not sure about that particular flower. Ralph takes care of the garden, so you would have to ask him. I know some of the names, but mostly I just enjoy their smell and how pretty they are.” She tilted her head and looked up at him. “Most men would never admit they liked flowers.”

“Why?” he asked.

Again with the whys. She shrugged. “Too feminine, I guess.”

“But you enjoy this place.” He waved his arm in front of him.

“I find solace out here.” She strolled farther down the pea gravel path. He walked beside her. “Dad had the fountain put in because Mother loves the water. They have a beach house on the coast, too.” She was rambling, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. How could she tell Surlock that she might not discover anything about him?

“Your father must earn a lot of money.”

Startled, she looked at him, but didn’t see the usual calculating gleam. That was another thing about her boyfriends: Most of them liked the idea that her parents were wealthy. Did Surlock fit into that category?

She continued to study him for a moment, then dismissed that idea. Surlock had stated it more as a fact, rather than anything else. She breathed a sigh of relief, then wondered why she should care. Okay, so maybe she was attracted to him just a little—or a lot.

“Dad has his own business,” she told him. “That, and my
parents inherited from their parents. They’ve also made wise investments over the years.”

“But you’re not happy?”

She stopped at a bench and sat on the flowered cushion. Surlock chose a chair angled slightly toward the bench. Wisteria grew thick over the arbor, creating a shady canopy. In the spring, large, grapelike clusters of flowers would hang from the branches.

“I have everything I could ever want,” she finally told him. And she did. Her parents had always given her anything she desired.

“That’s not what I asked. Sometimes material possessions can only give short-term gratification.”

She studied him. “Maybe you’re a monk.”

“A monk?”

“Yes, a priest. They don’t put much stock in worldly goods, but rather in life.” She brushed strands of loose hair behind her ear and shifted to a more comfortable position on the cushions.

He nodded. “Then maybe that is who I am.”

“They’re also celibate.” When he didn’t seem to recognize the word, she explained, “They have taken a vow of chastity. No sex.”

Good Lord, could she have knocked a monk out cold? Maybe he’d been on a pilgrimage, giving up all worldly possessions, including his clothes. She was pretty sure lusting after a priest would get her a ticket to hell.

Surlock’s eyes widened. “Why would they do something so crazy as to give up mating?”

“Because of their religious beliefs,” she explained. Okay, he probably wasn’t a monk. Thank God.

“I’m not a monk.” He squared his shoulders and sat straighter.

“No, I didn’t really think you were.” Not the way he kissed. But who was he? “Let me see your hands.”

He stuck them out and she took one. It was warm. His heat
quickly transferred to her body. He had strong hands. Darcy could almost feel them caressing her, stroking.

She cleared her throat and her thoughts. She was here to help him, not pounce on his body. It was a sexy body, though.

She ran her hands over his, trying to act like a professional. They were a little rough in places, but the nails were manicured, smooth. His other hand was the same.

“You weren’t raised by wolves,” she murmured.

“Why would you think that?”

When she looked up, she forgot what he had asked. For a moment, she lost herself in his warm whiskey eyes. The gold flecks sparkled in the sunlight. Very unusual. She mentally shook her head.

What had he asked? Oh, yes, why she would think he was raised by wolves. “Because you were with a wolf. At least, there was one in the area when you stepped out from behind the tree. You also look sort of rugged.” In a very sexy way. “You didn’t have any clothes on, either, and you ate with your hands, and you growl at people.”

His eyebrows drew together. “Because you were eating with your hands.” His frown darkened. “I don’t growl at people.”

“The doctor? The tailor?”

“I don’t like being probed, nor did I like the way the tailor measured. Maybe I did growl a few times,” he conceded.

She chuckled. “You can see how I might come to that conclusion,” she said. “All the facts pointed in that direction.”

“What changed your mind?”

“You play the piano beautifully. If you had been raised by wolves, you wouldn’t have learned how to play. Besides, your nails are manicured, and it looks like a professional did them.” She let go of his hands and leaned back against the bench.

“But I still don’t have a clue to who I am.”

“You remember nothing?” When he hesitated, she knew he wasn’t telling her something. She leaned forward, willing him to meet her gaze, and he did, eventually. “How can I discover who
you are or where you come from, if you don’t tell me everything?”

“It’s not that I have anything solid. It’s more like a feeling.”

“What?” Still, he didn’t say anything. “It won’t go any further than me.”

He clasped his hands. “I think there’s someone I’m supposed to protect.”

“And?”

“I’m supposed to keep my identity a secret. But I can’t continue from day to day not knowing who I am.”

She sat forward again. “Wow, that sounds very James Bond.”

His eyes widened. “You have already discovered my identity? Is that who I am? This James Bond?”

“I’m sorry,” she quickly told him. “James Bond is a fictional spy, but there are people like him—secret agents. Maybe that’s what you are.”

She studied him for a moment. It actually did make sense. He had the build, the muscles. That was probably why he remembered that he would need to keep his identity a secret. She was pretty sure secret agents had that drilled into them. And, he’d said he needed to protect someone. Definitely secret-agent stuff.