Heart of the wolf (17 page)

"Aren't you hungry?"

Sarah shook her head, afraid to look up. Wolf read her eyes and face too easily.

"Are your feet bothering you?"

"Yes." It was a white lie, Sarah told herself as she pushed the plate away. If she didn't get out of the kitchen, she was going to tell Wolf about the call. Desperation fueling her, she got up and moved around the table, careful not to engage Wolf's gaze.

"Sarah?"

"I'm okay!" she flared, and left the kitchen.

Scowling, Wolf looked toward the living room. Finally, he returned his attention to the food on his plate. He'd had a long day out in the field, walking along the many local trout streams, and he was more tired than usual. Part of it was due to lack of sleep last night, but the bigger part was from worrying about Sarah's safety all day. He saw Sarah limping down the hall toward her bedroom. She was probably going to soak her feet. He'd wrap them later, before she went to bed.

"
Dammit
," he growled. Sarah had made a wonderful dinner, but his emotions were in tatters. Just being around Sarah made him achingly aware of how much he wanted her—on all levels. Wolf had given the situation with Sarah a hard, realistic look today.

Pushing his plate away, Wolf got up. The chair scraped back, further testing his already taut nerves. Maybe kitchen duty would help take the edge off him. In some ways, he thought, this was going to be the longest week of his life; in other ways, he had never felt as content. There was no explanation for it. He'd never before looked forward to such small, seemingly meaningless things in his life. But now, the thought of Sarah eating, pushing her spun-gold hair behind her ear, sharing her winsome smile with Skeet or just moving with unconscious grace, made him appreciate living as never before.

All evening Sarah worried that the phone might ring again. She took an early bath, pulled on her cotton nightgown and robe and hobbled back out to the living room. Wolf was sitting on the couch watching television when she came and sat down next to him.

"I'm kind of tired. Would you mind wrapping my feet? I think I'm going to bed early." She handed him two Ace bandages.

Wolf nodded and eased out of his sprawled position on the couch. He could see that Sarah was tired from the darkness beneath her blue eyes. As he knelt down at her feet, he looked up at her. "You never said how your day was."

She shrugged and leaned against the couch, her arms around herself. "I got some stones faceted. That was good." At least that wasn't a lie. Her skin tingled as he gently grazed the skin of her foot.

"They look a lot better tonight."

"I threw the crutches away," she muttered.

Wolf grinned as he placed the heel of her foot across his thigh. "Maybe walking on them increased the circulation and helped reduce the swelling."

Sarah watched, fascinated, as Wolf's large, scarred hands carefully wrapped her feet. She never felt pain when he touched her—only a simmering heat that taunted her like the threat of a thunderstorm on a hot summer day. "You mean you aren't going to chew me out for not using those crutches?"

"Am I your keeper?"

She shrugged and made a wiry face. "No woman should be kept."

"I agree."

"You're really different from the guys I've known," Sarah said. "Why is that?"

The pleasure of touching Sarah was humbling to Wolf. Her feet were delicate, despite their swollen condition. "Must be my Cherokee heritage," he teased. "Women are treated as equals in my tribe."

"Will miracles never cease? At least there's somewhere on this earth where we're not maligned or mistreated."

"Now, don't waste your anger on me. I'm treating you like an equal." Wolf tried not to smile, but he saw the laughter dancing in Sarah's eyes. He liked making her happy.

"You're too smart for your own good, Harding."

"Yeah, I know. But my mother taught me when I was knee-high to a cricket that women were just as strong, bright and resourceful as any man." He captured her other foot and inspected it closely. What would it be like to simply run his hand the length of her slender leg? Instantly he blocked the molten thought and began wrapping her foot.

"I think I'm lucky," Sarah admitted. "Dad showed me how to change tires and put oil in the old pickup, and taught me mechanical things. Mom taught me how to sew, cook and clean."

"There's no reason a woman shouldn't be taught those things."

"Well," she said unhappily, "there are plenty of men who think we're nothing but housekeepers."

Wolf's laughter boomed through the living room. He sat back, his hands on his thighs, and held her mutinous gaze. His breath jammed in his chest as she began to laugh with him, her husky voice as refreshing as clear, clean water. With a shake of his head, he studied her.

"Were you always this rebellious?" he teased.

Sarah felt heat rushing to her face and knew she was blushing—again. "I don't see it as being rebellious. I see life as one of justice for everyone."

"Yet you willingly made dinner for us tonight."

"That's because you asked," she said pointedly. "You didn't expect it of me."

"I think
,
" he said lightly, "what you're really telling me is that, you don't want to be taken advantage of."

Sarah's eyes widened as she held his warm gray gaze. "You understand."

Wolf smiled a little. "I like your courage, Sarah Thatcher. You've got brains and a backbone. You keep fighting for what's rightfully yours. Every step you take opens up doors for other women who might not have your strength, conviction or courage. You're doing a good thing."

"
Y'eah
,
and it could get me killed," she muttered, more to herself than him.

A pang went through Wolf's heart and rattled his conscience. "I guess," he began in a low tone, "that the Great Spirit puts tests in front of us to make us stronger."

Sarah wrinkled her nose. "Right now I don't feel very strong."
Just scared.
Scared to death.
She ached to confide in Wolf, to tell him about the phone call.
But why?
To involve him and, perhaps, make him a target, too?
No, he was too fine a man, a man who reveled in her independent nature.

Without thinking, Sarah reached out, covering Wolf's hand with hers. "You're so very special, Wolf. I just hope you know that." Reluctantly she removed her hand as she saw the startled look on Wolf's face, and the stormy quality of his eyes. "Good night," she whispered sadly. "I'll see you in the morning. . . ."

You
're dead.

Sarah jerked awake, screaming. Breathing hard, she hunched over in the bed and buried her face in her hands. She was shaking badly, and the cry was still echoing in her brain. Perspiration dampened her gown, which clung to her.

"Sarah?" Wolf hesitated fractionally at the door.

The darkness was relieved only by the streetlight outside the curtained window. Sarah gasped at the sound of Wolf's thick, sleep-ridden voice. Before she could raise her head, she felt his callused hand slide across her shoulders in a protective gesture.

"Honey, what is it?" Wolf's heart was pounding unrelentingly in his chest. His mercenary instincts had taken over when Sarah's scream had jolted him out of his sleep. His eyes
slitted
, adrenaline pumping into his bloodstream, all his senses screamingly alert, he checked out the room, the window, the door to the master bathroom.
Nothing.
He glanced down at Sarah. It had been a nightmare
    

Without thinking, Wolf sat down on the bed next to her, and pulled her into his arms. She was trembling badly, and she pressed her face to his chest, sobbing for breath.

"It's okay. . . ." He tunneled his fingers through her mussed hair. "You're safe, Sarah. You're safe. . . ." Wolf shut his eyes, feeling her begin to cry, although she made no sound. It hurt to think that she couldn't even give voice to whatever nightmare had been stalking her.

Leaning down, blindly following instinct, Wolf grazed her temple with a kiss, gently massaging her neck and her tensed shoulders with his hand. "Go ahead and cry, honey," he whispered raggedly.

Sarah's hands curled into small fists, and she let herself sob, the sound echoing in the room. Just the touch of Wolf's hand, soothing her, allowed the trauma to be given a life of its own in strangled,
hiccuping
sounds that came from deep within her. She was safe.
Safe for the first time in a long time.
Wolf was holding her, rocking her, and she felt more like a hurt child than a woman. He was her protector, keeping her safe when the nightmare had stripped her of her defenses, leaving her nakedly vulnerable to the world that wanted her dead.

Dead.

Wolf whispered words of support near her ear, and Sarah surrendered completely to him.
To his arms.
To his voice.
To the warm strength of his body that surrounded her. Her world dissolved in a rush of hot, blinding tears, of animal sounds jagging up through her and making her throat raw, releasing so much that she'd tried to sup
press for so long. Only Wolf's voice and the tender touch of his hands upon her existed.

Gradually, with each stroke of Wolf's hand across her hair and down her back, Sarah's inner focus began to lessen. Her peripheral awareness began to return, and as the last sob rattled through her, she unclenched her hand and spread her fingers against the soft, thick hair sprinkled across Wolf's chest. Somewhere in her muddled senses, Sarah felt his muscles tense beneath her tentative exploration, and she felt his arms draw her even more tightly against him.

Wolf leaned down, seeing Sarah's cheeks shining with spent tears in the grayish light. Her glistening lips were parted, pulled into a tortured line of anguish. He smoothed the tangle of blond hair away from her cheek and tamed it behind her delicate ear. With his fingers, he began to dry her cheeks and brush the tears from her lower lip. She sniffed and pressed her face against his chest.

A tender smile pulled at Wolf's mouth. He wanted nothing more than this moment. He was vibrantly aware of Sarah's body, meeting his,
fitting
against his. Her skin was warm and damp from her weeping, and her fingers now tangled in the hair on his chest. The minutes fled by, and Wolf agonized, not wanting the embrace ever to end. He could smell the fragrance of her recently washed hair, the scent of lilacs filling his nostrils.

More than anything, Wolf was aware of the aching contact wherever their bodies touched. Sarah's knee- length cotton gown was a thin barrier between them. Luckily, he'd found a pair of pajama bottoms and started wearing them since she'd been staying with him. Wolf smiled a little when Sarah licked her lower lip,
then
raised a hand to wipe away the beads of tears still clinging to her lashes.

He cleared his throat. "Better?" His voice was thick and unsteady, betraying how much her tears affected him. Wolf was no stranger to tears. He'd shed more than he would ever have thought possible. And he'd once watched the woman he'd loved cry even as she rejected his embrace. With a sigh, Wolf realized that Sarah had allowed him the privilege of holding her while she wept. Whether or not she would ever realize it, the act was a healing one for him.