To Catch a Wolf (35 page)

abused our hospitality and stolen property from Long Park—you can be sure I'd be

believed where people like them are concerned. Just as decent folk will believe that you

were seduced by the confidence games of Harry French and his followers.”

"You would lie—”

"I'd do more than lie. I learned many tricks running our father's businesses. It would be

easy to make sure the circus can never return to Colorado. They might have to travel

some distance to find winter quarters, with the weather getting bad.”

Athena shook her head, but he went on relentlessly. "That's not all, Athena. I still have

control of your bank accounts. Our father left it to my judgment when I should let you

have charge of them. I don't think you'll ever be ready to manage your own

inheritance

unless you prove to me that you can live the quiet, reasonable life of any

decent woman.”

Athena saw where he was leading. "Niall, you can't punish innocent people because of

what I—”

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"So many depend on your charities," he went on, ignoring her. "All those young

mothers. The orphans. The unemployed men. What would they do if your contributions

were suddenly cut off? Oh, you've talked plenty of others into giving, but a word in the

ears of husbands and fathers would stop up that source as well. You know the women,

but I know the men. They'd be glad not to have the burden of philanthropic obligations."

He sighed. "And then there's your famous Winter Ball. Less than two weeks away now,

isn't it? Everyone will be there, ready to compliment you on your fine work. It would be a

shame if you were unable to continue with it, and someone else took the credit.”

The ball, which Athena had left in Cecily's hands, expecting to return well before the

date. The ball that she had schemed and struggled to make the finest charity event of

the year, the pinnacle of all her efforts, the defining element of her place in Denver

society.

And Niall meant to take it from her. She did not doubt that he could. Cecily was

enamored of him; if it came down to it, wouldn't Cecily choose obedience to his will over

friendship for Athena?

A small, cold hand gripped her heart. How had Niall known to come here? It was no

accident. Athena had trusted Cecily to keep her secret, but she had expected to return

to Denver before Niall did. If Niall had discovered his sister's absence and confronted

Cecily, how would it benefit her to defy the man she wanted? And she had not promised

to help. She had said she would "do all I can.”

Niall knew exactly how to strike at his sister. All these years Athena had thought him

oblivious to her work, but now she saw her error. Either he or someone else had been

watching very carefully.

"Miss Hockensmith—Cecily—warned me months ago that you were taking on too

much," Niall said. ''It is perfectly natural that you should be relieved of your burdens and

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given a chance to

recuperate in another city, perhaps with our cousins in New York.

As for Holt—I meant what I said. If he comes near you again, I will kill him. Even

creatures like him can be killed, one way or another.”

The full weight of Niall's threats pushed Athena deep into the chair, paralyzing her will

as the accident had stilled her legs. She could see no way out. If she defied Niall, she

would lose everything—all she had worked for, the funding for her charities, the ball, her

place in Denver

and Morgan's life as well.

"You think you would be happy with Holt," Niall said. "You must decide whether you'll be

happier with him, living as a vagabond and an animal, or among civilized people in your

family home, surrounded by your friends and equals and able to help the less fortunate

to your heart's content.”

He was silent after that. Athena could hear the ticking of a clock somewhere in the

house, the creak of footfalls upstairs, whispered voices in the hall, but Morgan's voice

was not among them.

She let out a shuddering breath. "I need time

time to think about what you have said,"

she whispered. "Niall, if you would only listen—”

"I've done enough of that. You lied to me, Athena, when you promised to remain in

Denver if the circus came to the ranch. I can't trust you again. If you expect to keep

anything of the life you made in Denver—if you have your friends' welfare at heart—you

will have to submit yourself to me and do exactly as I tell you. Any deviation—" He

shrugged. "I can impose punishment at any time.”

Which meant that she would live with an impediment more sure than the one that had

immobilized her legs for so many years. He could command her life completely, and she

had no means of stopping him. Even if she found the courage to Change again, it would

be at too great a cost.

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"Now you can play the martyr with true sincerity," he said, driving the nails deeper.

"Your wicked half brother will keep you prisoner in the dark castle. But you will still have

everything you always did, Athena—and you'll be safe.”

She had enough determination left to sit up straight and look him in the eye. "Let me be

sure that we understand one another. In exchange for my

cooperation

you will

allow the circus to remain for the winter, unmolested, only to depart when the passes

clear in spring. You will not interfere, in any way, with my charities, and will continue to

provide the funds I require to properly maintain them. You will leave Morgan alone.”

"If you never contact him, and he stays away.”

Why was it that Niall's betrayal struck most piercingly in that personal case, instead of in

the matter of the charities and the circus quarters? Was she truly as selfish as he

implied, to consider her happiness

this fragile new happiness she had hardly dared to

imagine

over the welfare of others?

But she had presumed too much without consulting Morgan. Perhaps he would not

regard this as a sacrifice at all. She had decided, in a moment of passion, that she loved

Morgan Holt. But he, and his deepest desires, remained a mystery.

Niall assumed she wanted a life with Morgan. A life. What did that mean? What would

Morgan say if she were to propose such a thing, out of the blue, without a single

sensible plan? Would the future she envisioned have anything to do with the one he

saw for himself?

Would you ever be brave enough to ask him? Would he ever ask you?

"I agree," she said, letting the words tear out of her in a rush before she could consider

the damage they did. "I accept your conditions.”

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"I knew you had not lost all your sense, Athena, or your pride." Niall hesitated. "Did

Holt

did he—”

"He did not ruin me, Niall. But it wouldn't matter if he did, because I will not be saving

myself for anyone else, will I?”

He had no answer for her bitterness. Now that he had won, he almost seemed

ashamed. But the moment passed. He got up from the desk.

"I'll have one of the maids see to your things. You will sleep in my room tonight, and I'll

stay in the parlor. We will return to Denver as soon as possible." He left the room for a

moment, doubtless to make sure the way was clear, and returned to lift her up again.

She lay passively in his arms while he carried her back upstairs and left her on the

plain, masculine bed in his room, locking the door behind him.

The day dragged by. A muffling snow fell outside, creating a womb of white that cast

unreality on everything that had happened. Athena tried not to hear the sounds around

the house, or listen for Morgan's voice. No one came to see her save a maid, with her

bags and fresh linens and water. The maid helped her dress—a belated attempt to

restore her dignity—and then Athena sat in the plain oak chair in a corner and let her

mind go blank.

Night fell. The maid brought her dinner on a tray, and she ignored it. After ten, she

heard the unmistakable wail of a wolf's howl within the ranch boundaries. Her heart

clenched.

Morgan. Was he trying to speak to her? Thank heaven he hadn't come to her. Maybe

she had been right. Maybe he was relieved at the separation, or the others had wisely

talked him out of further confrontation.

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She wished she had the ability to howl back with the eloquence of his powerful voice.

Stay away, Morgan. Please, stay away.

She drifted into a half sleep. Her chin bounced on her chest, and she woke with a start.

Someone was outside the window. Her senses told her that it was after midnight.

Knowing what she would find, she gritted her teeth and planted her feet on the floor.

Pain spiked from heel to knee. She hobbled to the window and pushed back the

curtains.

A black wolf stood hock-deep in snow, gazing up at the window. Frosted breath rose in

a cloud from his muzzle. She had seen him as a wolf twice before

when he had saved

her, and in her dream

but now she realized the full measure of his magnificence. No

ordinary wolf had ever been so big, so thick of coat, so brilliant of eye. Love became a

knot in her chest, struggling to untwine.

He loped toward the wall. Athena lifted the sash on the window. She lost her balance,

grabbed at the nearest furniture, and made her way to the chair. Even if her legs had

been whole and strong, they would not have held her now.

Morgan made no sound as he scaled the wall. A silhouette darkened the gray square of

moonlight. Athena felt a chill of memory, as if she were reliving the past a second

time—the night that Morgan had come to her room in the Denver mansion. Once more

he had found his way to her in spite of all obstacles.

And she had nothing to give him.

The window creaked as it opened wider, just big enough to admit a man. Morgan's dark,

human head appeared in the room, framed by his mane of damp hair. He balanced on

the sill and leaped to the floor.

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It took her an instant to realize that he was naked. He straightened. She stared. She

wished she had drunk some of the water the maid had brought, for her mouth was dry

as cotton.

She had seen him naked before, in the big top, but not so close. Every proportion, every

line of his body was perfect—not too large or muscle-bound, not too slight, but ideally

suited for a life of running and hunting, jumping and adapting to the wild in all its

harshness and beauty. Comparing him to a statue was far too inadequate. His chest

was lightly dusted with dark hair that ran in an arrow to the base of his stomach. She

dared not look there. Yet.

"How

how is Caitlin?" she asked.

"Resting." He shook his head, as if to cast off all outside distractions. "Did Niall hurt

you?”

In his voice was a promise of what he would do if she answered in the affirmative. "He is

my brother," she whispered. "He does

what he thinks is best for me.”

"Do you still believe that?”

The clean, snow-kissed, masculine scent of him displaced all the air in the room. She

could hear the sound of his pulse, just below the skin at the base of his neck where it

met his broad shoulders. And below

all the way past the slender firmness of his waist

and hips

he was vibrantly alive. Alive and wanting her.

"Niall is human," she said, listening to the sound of her voice as if it belonged to another

woman. "How can he understand?”

"Understand what? That you cannot be collared like a dog? That he does not own you?”

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His contempt might as well have been aimed at her. He expected her to spurn the world

she had always known, pretend it didn't matter. In that she had failed. Failed his

expectation, failed herself, and failed him.

She would have preferred any other way, any other time and place, to tell him. But there

was no escaping it. He would stand there, naked to her eyes, his body fluent as his

tongue was not, and hear her make her choice.

Feel nothing. Cut off your senses. Pretend you have no need, no wanting, no heart.

"Morgan," she said, "I am going with Niall, back to Denver. I will never see you again.”

Morgan heard the words. They were clear, precise, dispassionate, as if Athena were