Once A Wolf (18 page)

"Ah. Something upon which we can agree."

Bueno. Her spirit was returning. She sat up a bit straighter against the rough brick wall.

Once A Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 02

Page 90 of 275

"It is, however," he said, retrieving the candles at the far end of the cave, "the kind of place that

you might come to like in spite of yourself."

"I think it most doubtful."

"It requires that you open your heart to the ancient music in these rocks. They are the bones of

the earth. We, more than anyone except the original inhabitants, can hear their song."

"We?"

"You know what I mean." He lit a candle and set it down a few feet away from Rowena. The

light splashed across her face, and he could see the marks of strain etched in sharp relief.

He considered the blankets and furs that she'd left where they lay. The blankets seemed the

safest choice, under the circumstances. He chose a colorful Navajo weaving and knelt to offer it.

"Wrap yourself in this," he said.

For once she didn't argue. She settled the heavy cloth about her shoulders, stroking the pattern

with one fine-fingered hand.

"It's beautiful," she murmured.

He grinned, pleased beyond all reason. "The Navajo are the people who live east of these

mountains. They are known for their expert weaving. For a time, a young Navajo woman lived

with us in the canyon. She taught this weaving to others, and then went on her way." He traced

a bright geometrical design with his finger, moving up the length of Rowena's arm. "It was

difficult for her at first. The Navajo believe that all shapeshifters are evil witches. It took much

courage for her to accept me without fear or hatred."

Rowena met his gaze. "Perhaps her people have reason to hate and fear such creatures."

"As much reason as the villagers who attacked Esperanza?"

"Where is she?"

He'd given her too easy an escape from their conversation. "She is well, and you'll see her

tomorrow. But tell me—do you think that all such judgments of evil are just?"

She looked away. "You know I do not. There is no evil in Esperanza."

"Then it's possible that people make mistakes in their judgments, no matter how strongly they

believe."

"Are you suggesting that you've been the victim of such mistakes?" she said with a little of her

old asperity.

Once A Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 02

Page 91 of 275

"Perhaps your greatest fear is that you might become such a victim, Rowena."

She glanced at him sharply. "I shall never be."

Because you're afraid to live fully as what you are. He laughed inwardly at his own

philosophizing. Rowena had many unwonted effects on him, not least of which was this

tendency to reflect too deeply and seriously on affairs of the mind and heart.

Far better to savor the pleasures of the body.

She suddenly seemed to notice his hand on her arm, and flinched without drawing away. He

chose to accept that as progress. He kept his touch feather-light.

"What is it," he asked softly, "that you fear in this place?"

It was yet another sign of change that she didn't flatly deny possessing any fear at all. But

neither did she answer.

"Is it the darkness? I can make more light—"

"It's not the darkness," she said in a very low voice. "I can see as well as you."

An admission. An admission, however small, of her true blood.

As if she realized she'd given him another victory, she donned her haughty mask. "No one

enjoys imprisonment."

"Especially not our kind," he said. "But your brother imprisoned you, didn't he? He, who should

have known best how it would be."

"He… thought he was justified in doing so."

"And you hated him for it."

"No. Yes." She dropped her face in her hands. "Please—"

"He did it so you would marry a man you didn't love. The same man who sought and claimed

you when you thought you had escaped."

"I did not know Cole in England."

"You don't know him now, either."

"I will not listen to your slander."

He sighed. "So it's imprisonment you fear. As I do."

Once A Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 02

Page 92 of 275

"You?"

"My freedom is dear to me. I run as I please, and no man is my master. That is why I won't let

the MacLeans steal it from me."

"Even if death is the alternative?"

"Death," he whispered. He smiled at Rowena. "My mother's people do not speak of the dead."

His distraction succeeded. "Your mother's people?"

"My mother's father was Chihenne Apache. He captured my grandmother in a raid and married

her, according to the ways of his people. When she returned to my great-grandfather, Don

Arturo, with her child, he accepted her. Others would have turned her away. She was much

loved, and so was her daughter."

"Your mother."

"Dona Adelina. A fierce woman, and proud. Much like you."

She did not know how to react. The original Lady Rowena Forster would have seen it as an

insult. But now…

"Who was your father?" she asked.

"His name was Fergus Randall. He was a Scot, from a long line of Scots who came to America

over a hundred years ago. The Randalls settled first in the Carolinas, and then in Kentucky.

Fergus's father established a mercantile house in St. Louis. As a young man, my father was one

of many who came over the Santa Fe Trail to trade with Nuevo Mejico, when it was still under

Mexican rule."

"Is that how he came to meet your mother?"

"Yes. He went into a business partnership with my great-grandfather, Arturo de Ribera Navarro.

And he fell in love with Adelina. Arturo told me that their marriage was one of the life-bonds

that sometimes form between hombres-lobo. They could not be separated, except by death."

Rowena stared down at her clasped hands. She didn't want to be reminded of what she was.

What he was as well.

"Surely… you knew your father."

"When I was a boy. My mother outlived him."

He wondered if he'd tell her the truth if she should ask how his father had died. Would she

believe him? Or would she consider it one more trick to win her good will, to turn her against

Cole MacLean?

Once A Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 02

Page 93 of 275

"The MacLeans are also Scots," she said. "Cole once told me that they settled in the Carolinas."

Was she beginning to understand? "The Scots have long memories, and they are masters of the

ancient feud. The same is true of the people of this land. They do not forget an enemy, just as

they will never betray a friend."

Rowena would not meet his eyes. It was always the truth that most frightened her, the truth

she did not want to see. She did not pursue the subject. "Your mothers father was an Apache. I

have heard that they are among the most ruthless of the Indians in this country—"

"And some say that they only defend the land that has always been theirs, and which was taken

from them after many broken promises." He gave a crooked smile. "My mothers Spanish

ancestors fought the Indians for generations. There was killing and abduction and slavery on

both sides. Yet my mother's mother learned to love her man, and my mother bore the blood of

both, as I do. Which do you find most alarming, Rowena: that I bear the blood of 'savages' or

shapeshifters?"

For the first time in a long while she met his gaze. "Are they not the same?"

"Don't ordinary, civilized men commit atrocities in the name of progress?" he countered. "How

can you find them so much better than those who merely defend their homes— or their right

to live as they were born to live?"

"I was not born to live as a beast," she said hoarsely.

Instead of answering, he picked up the candle and stood, walking to the rear of the cave where

the ancient figures marched across the blackened rock surface. "I discovered this canyon by

accident, while I was… avoiding a pursuer."

"A man of the law, no doubt."

He saluted her. "Once this must have been part of a Spanish land grant, but the owners had

long since abandoned it. It is not easily approached except by a winding path down from the

cliff, so I knew it would be an ideal sanctuary." He brushed the surface of the rock with his

fingertips. "Once it was a home for a native people who have disappeared—the people who

made these paintings. In the time I've lived in this canyon, I have found artifacts they left long

before the coming of the Spanish. They built houses from these caves formed naturally in the

cliffs, and grew crops beside the little river and on the mesas. I think they were a people who

loved life. They knew every day that they might die, like any other animal who shared the

canyon with them."

Rowena's face showed real interest. "And what happened to these people?"

"No one knows, though the other Indians of this region have legends and stories. But they still

speak to us over the ages." He pointed to a crude drawing of an arrow. "They drew what was

important in life. They understood the heart of things." He pointed to another image. "The

Once A Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 02

Page 94 of 275

flute-player. They knew the joy of music. Here is an eagle, and a fish, and one of their gods. The

moon and the sun."

Rowena rose and hesitantly came to join him. "And this?"

"The family. You see the man here, and the woman, and the child."

She didn't look away, though the pictures clearly distinguished male from female without

benefit of covering. "I think family was important to them," he said. "Family and blood." He led

her along the wall. "And the making of new life."

The joined figures he indicated were crude, but Rowena must have guessed what they

portrayed. She froze, staring at them with unwilling fascination.

The male and female figures were drawn as one being, caught in the act of love. Beside them

were other animals engaged in the same activity.

"Maybe it was their way of asking the gods for abundance and many children," he said. "Or

perhaps they simply enjoyed this as much as they did their music."

Rowena breathed out harshly and moved on to the next grouping of figures. These were

animals, safely detached from any others.

"And here are the wolves," Tomás said, following her. "There are many wolf symbols in these

caves."

"Is that supposed to be significant?" she asked tartly.

He moved closer to her, holding the candle behind him so that her face was barely skimmed

with light. "Isn't it, Rowena? " he whispered. "Don't you feel the magic of this place?"

She turned from the cave wall and retreated to safety beside the wall of adobe brick. "I do not

believe in magic."

"But you do. You think you are cursed. Isn't that magic?" He knelt beside her, setting the candle

down. "This is a place of ancient beginnings, Rowena. The earth's heartbeat is just beneath

these rocks. That is what the native people of this land understand. You can hear it, if you wish.

Sometimes I come here just to listen."

Her face grew still, and her eyes held a puzzlement that stripped her of arrogance. "I do not

understand you, Tomás Alejandro Randall."

"Because even outlaws can hear the earth speak?"

"Because they should want to."

Once A Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 02

Page 95 of 275

Impulsively he touched her face. Her skin was velvet under his calloused fingers. "Ah, mi vida.

There is so much of me you could learn, if you desired to. I didn't bring you here to make you a

prisoner. You call the Apache savages, but they do not imprison their enemies. And you are not

my enemy." He stroked her cheek from temple to jawline, feeling her skin quiver in response. "I

wanted to share this place with you, to let you feel it as I do. Here you don't need to be afraid

of what you are. You can't fight it, for it is all around you."

"No," she said. "It's just a cave."

"But you are not just a woman." He lifted his other hand to cup her face. "Stop denying it,

Rowena."

"Why—why are you doing this to me?"

Very gently he leaned toward her. "It is my nature," he said, "just as it is yours."

She didn't resist until his lips skimmed hers. Then her mouth tightened into a rigid line,

forbidding him entrance.

"Release me," she said.

The command was oddly without conviction. He thrust his fingers into her hair. "You are

afraid," he taunted. "You're afraid that if I kiss you, you will become what you most fear. You

will have no control against a ruffian and scoundrel such as I. All your fine ways and discipline

will vanish as if they'd never been." He wouldn't let her look away. "Are you so weak in your

convictions, Rowena? Will you grant me such power?"

"I told you before. You… have no power over—"

He covered her mouth with his, and this time her lips softened in surrender.

She'd intended the kiss to be nothing but defiance.