A Wolf In Wolf's Clothing (18 page)

Trev glared at the weird creature. “No, Atticus, I am not a turkey.”

Raven sniggered. “That’s up for debate at the moment. Anyone running around half naked and wearing no shoes on a chilly, damp morning might be considered to have the sense of a turkey. How did you cut your foot—other than being a bloody fool out dashing about shoeless?”

“Four,” he muttered.

Raven blinked in confusion. “Four what?”

“Fourth time someone has called me a fool this morning.” Seeking to distract her he said, “I’m not sure what I cut my foot on. I stepped on something coming out of the barn—”

“Barn!” she gasped. “Oh, Trevelyn, we have to rush you to hospital. You’ll need a tetanus shot immediately.”

“Shot!” He shook his head, horrified.

She patted his arm as she rose. “Sorry, there’s no way around it. You need a tetanus shot. You’ve likely had a vaccination at some point in your life, but it may have expired. You shouldn’t take any chances. The doctor may give you a second one called tetanus-immune globulin. They did when I jabbed myself on a rusty nail.”

“Globulin?” Spots appeared before his eyes.

“Here, let me wrap the foot and then I’ll call Colford and get someone to come drive us. I cannot get the MGB around that black monster of yours, which isn’t going anywhere with four flats.”

Trevelyn recalled the tarot card he’d dropped on the greenhouse floor: The Fool. Seems he
had
blithely stepped off that cliff.

“So what do you think?” Paganne asked later that morning as she parked her bum atop the high wall. She kicked the heels of her Wellies against the stone side, and excitement flashed in her eyes.

Raven barely spared her sister a glance. Her mind was running through the possibilities of the enormous task of converting this deconsecrated church into a studio for Brishen, who was walking around it with Trevelyn at that very moment. “With a little imagination it could be perfect. But, in a week?”

“Don’t be obtuse. Not the church, silly. The
man.”
Paganne gnawed on her lower lip, awaiting an answer. When none came she said, “He was there at the cottage yesterday morning when Brishen and the twins delivered the fortune-teller booth. And then at dawn, Colford gets a
one ringy dingy, two ringy dingy
saying that you urgently require someone to drive you and Mr. Tall, Dark and Incredibly Sexy to hospital. Whatever were you doing that sent Trev to emergency?”

“I’m not entirely sure.” And Raven wasn’t. Trevelyn had answered some questions as to why he’d been out in the mist, half dressed and with no shoes, yet she had a sense he wasn’t telling her everything. “Someone was prowling around the cottage at dawn, and he tried to catch whoever it was. The person ran into the barn, Trevelyn went in after them and ended up cutting his foot on a piece of glass. I had to rush him to emergency. They gave him two shots and put four stitches in the wound. Poor baby, the instant he saw the needles he nearly passed out.”

Paganne’s laugh was musical. “Oh, that’s funny! Willing to leap buildings in a single bound to run down evildoers—in his bare feet no less—and yet, faced with a long, pointy object he breaks out in a cold sweat. I love it! I simply love it! The man seemed too damn perfect. I don’t trust perfect men because they generally aren’t. Now that he has a flaw, I’ll cut him some slack.”

“More than one. You’re forgetting he mentioned he has an allergy to Pye and Chester. The doctor prescribed pills and a nasal steroid, but he’s afraid it will come to more needles if those fail to work.” Raven chuckled.

“Trevelyn Sinclair is so handsome it makes your teeth hurt, rich, and totally wrapped up in you. I really could hate him. I admit it, I’m jealous. But I like how he is with you—how he’s trying to help Brishen. Oh,
we
have the money to set Brishen up with a studio, help Magda and Katrina. But will they accept
our
aid? Don’t waste your breath with an answer. You know Brishen’s spiel, ‘We Roma take care of ourselves.’ I have my fingers crossed he’ll accept Trev’s helping hand with the studio. This break could mean so much for him, if only he doesn’t allow his pride to get in the way.”

“I’m hoping he listens to reason this time,” Raven agreed. She bent over and picked up a weed and began to pluck its petals.
He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me…
Not wanting to know, she flung it away.

“‘He loves me’ was the answer,” Paganne smugly informed her. “I counted the petals.”

Raven flashed her sister a glare. “Brat. You were always too clever by half.”

“Merely an interested bystander. I won’t ask if you are falling for him. That he made it to your bed tells me everything. I just don’t want you hurt,” Paganne stated.

“I’ve hidden from the world since the divorce. I’m risking a lot on this toss of the dice, but…” Raven shrugged, not sure how to explain. “Being with Trevelyn feels right.”

“You want to talk about the painting? I’ve seen it, you
know. I didn’t believe you knew Trevelyn Sinclair before he magically appeared at your elbow at the gala. Only, last night I recalled the painting. It’s him, isn’t it? So, you have known him longer and have been keeping mum.” Paganne rocked on the wall, waiting for an answer.

“My, aren’t you nosy this morning?” Raven arched a brow, letting her little sister know that she’d crossed a line.

“Very well, I shall keep my mouthy mouth shut. I’m just hoping Trev can get through to Brishen. His carvings are brilliant, and he wants this so bad. Magda needs to be in a true home this winter. She’s getting too old for her traveling ways. Part of him knows this. Part doesn’t want to admit she’s gotten weaker. He thinks he can hold time at bay by ignoring what’s before his eyes. He’s so damn proud.” Paganne’s eyes followed Brishen with both love and sadness.

“He’s a good man, Paganne. I think he’d give up his Roma ways if you’d have him,” Raven said.

Paganne wriggled her shoulders and gave a small kick with the side of her foot. “You’re one to talk. He was yours for the taking. So why didn’t
you
take him?”

“I love Brishen, but as a brother. Deep down I knew that, and I think he knew it, too. In the long run we would’ve ended up unhappy,” Raven replied.

Her sister gave a nod. “So why should it be different for me? It could be—if he only looked at me the way Trev does you. Sadly, that’s the reason in a nutshell. I know someday some lucky woman will breeze into his life and Brishen will look at her in that special way. I didn’t want to be married to him when that happens, even if he is too honorable to ever leave me.
Especially
then.”

Raven squeezed her sister’s thigh in comfort, seeing the tear glittering in Paganne’s eye.

The tear she was struggling to fight.

“As I said, you’re too clever by half. Did I ever tell you that I am proud to be your sister?”

That brought a smile to Paganne’s face. “No. I recall
something along the lines of being called ‘you dingy bilge rat,’ and a few other choice terms.”

“Ah, that was when you cut my hair. I asked you to take off a couple inches, get rid of the split ends, and you turned me into David Bowie. I had to go to school looking like that!”

Paganne chuckled. “You were rather angry.”

“I had a right. I’d been scalped.”

“The ends were split worse than you thought—but it was still fun.” She gave an impish grin, then a small push and dropped down to her feet. “Let’s go see if your Trevelyn has magic enough to soothe our proud Gypsy. They haven’t resorted to squatting. When men squat and talk it gets serious. I can’t see how they can stand to do that for so long.”

Trevelyn and Brishen turned as they approached. Handsome, confident men. Alpha males in the purest form. Raven’s heart squeezed at the sight of Trevelyn. Yeah, she was falling for him. Falling hard. Everything was moving too fast, but for once she embraced that danger and hoped in the end she’d be a winner.

“Notice those laserlike glances of appraisal? The ‘we Tarzan, you Jane’ sort of stares? Men!” Paganne sighed, putting a hand to her heart. “It should be illegal for these two to stand next to each other. It’s not safe for a woman’s hormones.”

Raven found the men’s expressions hard to read, so she spoke to all three. “At least Brishen isn’t gesturing with his hands. When he gets his dander up, he really uses his hands to state his case. Thus, I am guessing you’re at least listening to Trevelyn, eh?”

Brishen gave her his inscrutable Roma stare. “We are discussing things.”

“So, discuss aloud.” Paganne put her hand on Brishen’s shoulder and rubbed lightly. “Then we highly intelligent females shall tell you what you need to do.”

“Highly intelligent females?” Brishen laughed. He turned
to Trev and informed him, “They call them the meddling Montgomeries—a label well-earned, you will learn.”

Paganne poked Brishen in the ribs with her finger. “Stop stalling and tell us. We are dying of curiosity.”

Trev stepped closer to Raven. He was using a cane they’d given him at the hospital to keep weight off the ball of his foot for a couple days. “I really think this place has possibilities. The others would serve, but this one has more room and comes with the house attached.” He nodded in the direction of the large cottage to the far side. “That was the parsonage. It’s part of the property. The price is reasonable. I can set it up for Brishen to either freehold or lease. Whatever he wants.”

“The house comes with it?” Paganne asked, delighted. “Oh, Brishen, that would mean—”

Brishen turned to her with a silencing stare. “Don’t pressure me, Paganne. This is a big step. Even if I say yes, there’s no way to get this place presentable to impress the art people in a week.”

“But it doesn’t have to be perfect, Brishen,” Raven said. “You can tell them you’re in the middle of relocating—which is the truth. Skylar and Phelan can help. You know Paganne and I will. And think what wonders your Roma can do in a week.”

Brishen’s vivid blue eyes examined the outside of the building and then shifted almost unwillingly to the parsonage. Raven knew him well enough to see he was tempted, also recognized the house was tipping the scales. It would be perfect for Magda and Katrina.

“But, a church?” he said. “Somehow that seems casting fate to the wind.”

“It’s not a church along longer—hasn’t been for a long time. Nearly thirty years. It’s already seen a theatre troop using it. I’m sorry about pressing you for a decision, but a bookstore owner is hot for the lease. We have to move quickly.” Trevelyn reached out for Raven’s hand, pulling her close and saying, “Talk to your friend. The price is
very reasonable. I’m more than willing to underwrite this venture in whatever manner his stubborn pride will allow.”

Raven loved that Trevelyn had wanted to touch her; she’d wished to embrace a lover’s familiarity but wasn’t sure Trev would approve. Some men didn’t. That he’d initiated the contact made it all the more special. When she glanced up, meeting his eyes, she loved what she saw there. Maybe risk-taking wasn’t such a scary prospect after all.

“Steeple Hill Studio,” Paganne announced. “I think you’re a fool, Brishen Sagari, if you don’t jump at this chance. Pride is all we have sometimes, but don’t allow that to stand in the way of bringing your dream into reality. You’ve planned for this, worked for it.”

He looked miserable. “A week?”

“I can get workers in here today,” Trev spoke up. “I’ll ring the real estate agent and get my associate working on the bank, et cetera. From what they said, immediate possession wouldn’t be a problem.”

“We can do it. I’ll ring my brothers and they can drive by the caravan to let your family know what’s happening.” Paganne was already pulling the cell phone from her purse. She punched a button and put it to her ear. After a moment she said, “Damn it, Raven. I’m getting static. Walk away.”

Raven laughed. “Sorry. Why don’t you movers and shakers make your calls? I’ll dash over to the restaurant and get sandwiches for us. Trevelyn and I missed breakfast because of the trip to hospital. I’m positively famished. We were just going to fix a bite of something when the agent called about this property.”

“Yeah, some food would be in order. Sounds like a plan.” Trev nodded, winking at Brishen. “Give up the fight, Sagari, there’s no opposing these two ladies.”

The Gypsy sucked in a deep breath and held it. Finally,
he exhaled. “Steeple Hill Studio it is. Let’s make magic happen.”

Paganne jumped for joy and hugged him. “Oh, I know this is going to work!” Still bouncing, she turned and hugged Trevelyn. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’m still not convinced my sister met you in a candy store, but I don’t care at the moment. You may have her and do all sorts of wicked things to her—provided you promise not to break her heart.”

“Paganne, I swear you act like you were plucked from a neep patch,” Raven scolded, buffeting her sister on the back of her head.

Paganne’s shoulder lifted and dropped with sangfroid. “I’m a meddling Montgomerie, what can I say? Go fetch food. Lots and lots of food. I’m suddenly ravenous, and we have a lot to do—and your witchy chemistry is messing up my cell.”

Trev offered to Raven, “Want me to come with you?”

“Thank you for helping Brishen.” She stood on tippy toes and kissed his cheek. “Stay. You don’t need to be dashing about with those stitches in your foot. I promise not to be long.”

The little bell at the restaurant tingled overhead as Raven pushed through the front door. All eyes turned to the newcomer, assessing her. She met their stares with a pleasant smile, and moved to the counter where she could place her takeaway order. A couple of men nodded in recognition.

The delicious smells from lunch wafted in the air, causing her stomach to grumble. It made her realize how hungry she was. Since Trev had come into her life, food kept taking a backseat. Oh, well, she was living on love.

That thought stopped her. Yes, she was falling in
love
with Trevelyn Sinclair. Loving Mr. Big Bad Wolf. It scared her. Petrified her. Only, what she’d told Paganne was the truth. Being with Trev felt
right.

“They say wolves mate for life,” she said lowly to herself. “Perhaps I can tame this one.”

Her attention was drawn to the far side of the room where a couple sat in a booth; she wasn’t sure why. The lunch crowd was starting to trickle in, so the dining area was nearly half full. Why this booth attracted her attention, she couldn’t say. Only, some sort of animalistic instinct kicked in. A fey sense of warning, as loud as bells clanging in her brain.

She tilted her head for a clearer view. Every booth had high-backed seats that rose to form a barrier, affording each table privacy. She could only see the tops of the heads of the two people sitting there. The one farthest away and facing forward was a man. Facing him was a blonde.

“Curious,” she muttered, fighting an odd feeling it was Alec and someone other than his wife.

“What would you like to order?” a waitress asked, distracting Raven’s attention from the couple.

“Let’s see. Enough for four very hungry people—two of them men,” she replied, looking at the menu. “How about six hamburgers with everything, and chips. Four large colas.”

The waitress replied that it would be a couple minutes, but already Raven had rotated her focus back to the booth. The man was gesturing with his hand, finger pointed. She’d seen Alec do that very thing many times. He leaned forward on the table to say something to the woman, and his face came into full view. At the same instant, he spotted Raven. His expression hardened. He spoke to his companion then straightened up, took out his wallet and tossed some bills onto the table.