Once A Wolf (42 page)

him to see what he did not wish to see.

Rowena did. She was his mirror, mercilessly reflecting back upon him the emptiness of what he

thought of as freedom.

"How," he asked, "how will returning to MacLean end the feud?"

She lifted her chin. "I will tell him that you are dead."

Dead. With that one word she told him what greater eloquence could not. She wished to put

him from her life completely. And he couldn't blame her.

What had he given her but pain? When had he ever thought of her welfare and happiness?

"You don't care about anything but this," she'd said by the pool, putting his hand on her breast.

"Once you have this, the rest scarcely matters, does it?"

That was what she believed. He'd gotten what he wanted. But she didn't know how much more

he'd received than he reckoned on.

There was a binding that could occur between two werewolves who were perfectly matched. It

went far beyond what humans knew in marriage. It was said to be unbreakable when sealed by

the act of love. His own mother and father had shared that bond; Adelina was never the same

after Fergus died.

Rowena was the first mujer-loba to share Tomás's bed. He hadn't thought for a moment that

such a link might occur between them.

Once A Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 02

Page 217 of 275

If he allowed his imagination free rein, he could almost picture a future no more substantial

than a dream: Rowena at his side, riding across the plain and back to their secret cañon; living

with him, lying with him every night, keeping him humble with the occasional stringent

observation about his reckless behavior and irreverence.

Rowena as his companion. His mate. His wife. A woman to whom he must be faithful, forsaking

all others, forsaking the feud and the life that had been his since his mother's death.

He imagined himself on bended knee, begging Rowena for her hand. By the rules of her station,

she'd been ruined and could only be saved by honorable marriage. But he remembered one

more thing she'd told him: "… it's only the beast you will win. There is a part of me you can't

touch—-the part that is human."

She didn't feel the binding. She couldn't accept the passion of the wolf—not as an abiding part

of her life, to be enjoyed and cherished. And she wouldn't accept the wolf within him. She

needed the kind of mate he could never be: upright, law-abiding, human. A man who'd offer

her the future she craved. The future she thought she would have had with Cole MacLean.

Tomás had planted doubts in her mind about the man she'd planned to marry. Obviously those

doubts weren't enough. Did she still think that MacLean would take her back without question,

after what had happened in Las Vegas? And here, tonight…

"So you would tell him I'm dead," he said at last. "And of course he will believe you."

"He will if you don't ruin it by contradicting me with your presence. You can have your freedom

and your life, if you leave this country and don't return—"

He stood up. "You'd have me run away to save my own skin. And you—you will walk back into

Cole's life, and he'll accept you with open arms because he loves you so deeply."

She rose to face him. "That is my concern. He will forgive me. I will tell him that I finally

escaped. I'll tell him—"

"That I used my will to make you attack his men, and then give yourself to me?"

She paled. "If necessary. There are surely ways to… conceal the physical alterations. I'll convince

him to take me back to New York immediately. He'll have no reason to suspect that I ever…

cooperated willingly with you."

Because you'll play the remorseful, chastened and deferential female? Because he wants your

influence and connections and money too much to reject you? Do you think your life will be

anything but misery with a man who considers you damaged goods?

He will find out, Rowena. He'll never look at you without being reminded of his deadly enemy.

Once A Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 02

Page 218 of 275

And when you learn that I was right about him, will you sit quietly by and let his wrongdoing go

unopposed? No. You will smash yourself on the rocks of his evil…

Tomás turned his back on her and bowed his head. This was guilt, guilt such as he'd known only

once before, on the day of his mother's death. He knew why he'd spent his life avoiding all such

emotions. Guilt, shame, sorrow, rage, worry, jealousy, devotion… love.

She was his responsibility. He had made it so. She told herself lies to secure her safety from the

wolf within and without. He must be the rational one now.

"I am sorry, dulzura," he said. "I cannot allow you to return to him. He is mine to deal with. I

think it would be best for both of us if I see you to a safe place from which you can make your

journey east."

"Is that your command?" she said, her voice shaking. "Will you use force to make me go away

as you once did to capture me, simply so that you can continue seeking your revenge? Isn't

what you've done enough?"

No. It was not enough. He saw his path as clearly as if a shaft of sunlight had broken through a

mantle of clouds to point his way.

The wolf in him understood the needs of survival.

Rowena's survival. Useless to even try to explain what he knew: that Cole would have control

over her as long as he lived—over her mind and spirit and heart—that a MacLean did not

forgive. Her single hope of happiness lay in her return to New York, where the Lady of Fire and

the wolf had no place.

And she must go alone.

Rowena had asked if he'd murdered Cole's father. He hadn't answered. For years he'd pushed

the image of Frank MacLean's body from his mind: an old man lying still in the brush because

the son of his enemy had killed him.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. But when he remembered, the sickness came all over

again. He could not kill like Sim, coldly and without remorse. And yet he'd let the MacLeans

build his reputation as a ruthless outlaw who would strike down anyone who stood in his way.

At last he'd earn that reputation.

It's all I can give you, mi rubia. To make certain that you truly are free to create your own

destiny. I know what mine must be.

"You are stronger than you know," he said. "But I am strong enough to make you obey. We will

ride to Trujillo, where I have friends who can see you back to Colorado." He looked toward Las

Vegas, where his enemy waited. "Come."

Once A Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 02

Page 219 of 275

He expected her to argue, but she was more distant now than ever. They rode the miles to

Trujillo as if they'd returned to that very first day when he had taken her from Weylin MacLean.

It was easier so.

Trujillo was dark and silent as they approached the village. Tomás brought them to a stop a

quarter mile away. "We will wait here until just before dawn," he said. "In the meantime, I

suggest that you try to sleep. I'll make sure all is safe."

She dismounted without his help and saw to her horse. He did the same, and then walked a

short distance away to Change. Rowena didn't so much as glance in his direction.

He ran from her, driven by all the helpless anger his human body could not express. He ceased

to think, even in the way of a wolf in a territory not his own. Only after he'd run several miles

did he remember that he must not leave Rowena alone.

By then it was too late.

Eighteen

If it weren't for Weylin's perfect night-vision, he would never have seen the wolf as it ran across

the desert plain below. From his viewpoint at the top of the low mesa where he rested his

mount, the animal was little more than a blur to the southeast.

It might have been an ordinary wolf. A few canny beasts still avoided the hunters traps and

bullets, but most of the survivors lived in the mountains, where they were harder to catch.

This wolf made no attempt at concealment. It glided over the ground at a pace too swift for any

normal animal, headed north toward the town of Trujillo.

Weylin knew who it must be.

His newly bought horse shied at his sharp movement in the saddle. He quieted the mare as best

he could, but his heart raced with the knowledge that the long hunt was at an end.

El Lobo had finally miscalculated. This was close to the old Randall land, now the MacLeans',

and Randall had made the mistake of returning at the worst possible time. For him.

Weylin calculated Randall's speed and the best way of intercepting him. The chance would

come but once. There was a deep arroyo in Randall's path he'd have to cross if he held to his

course, and Weylin was slightly north of him. If he descended from the mesa at an angle

heading east, he should reach a certain sheltered place of brush and rock where he'd be able to

intercept Randall with little risk of being seen or scented.

Once A Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 02

Page 220 of 275

He set the horse at a good speed down the slope, grateful that he'd bought a sturdy mount

with strong wind and firm muscle. While the mare ran, he uncoiled the rawhide rope hung from

his saddle.

Luck was with him. The moon gave just enough light to ease the mare's way, and she put her

heart into the run. He came to his destination ahead of Randall and brought her to a stop.

This was it. He checked the lariat once more. The rope wouldn't be strong enough to hold

Randall for long, but he didn't need much time. Just a few moments to get El Lobo at a

disadvantage, and then…

He all but pricked his ears as he heard the faint scrabbling of paws on stone and earth. His mare

raised her head and quivered.

The wolf burst from the arroyo. Weylin swung the rope with a precision born of years of

practice. The loop came down over Randall's head just as he whirled to face the unexpected

threat. His lunge nearly ripped the rope from Weylin's hand.

Instead of fighting the pull, he snatched his rifle and leaped from the mare's back. Randall

snapped at the rope, twisting this way and that, muscles straining and hair on end. Weylin

dropped the rope and took aim.

Randall froze. The noose was about his neck, but he could have severed it with another bite. He

might even have risked attack, since there was a good chance he could survive a bullet

anywhere but in the heart or brain.

He did not attack. He simply stood, watching Weylin, ears cocked sideways and tail low in a

stance that wasn't quite submission. It was as if he'd made a conscious decision not to fight.

Or it was a trick.

Weylin held the rifle steady. "I will shoot you if you resist," he said. "I'd rather bring you in

alive."

Randall opened his mouth in a silent laugh and performed a bow over lowered forelegs.

"Don't waste your shenanigans on me," Weylin said. "I'm taking you back to Las Vegas, but I'm

not bringing in a wolf. I don't think you want me to, either."

Dropping onto his haunches, Randall used teeth and paws to dislodge the rope from around his

neck. Under Weylin's pointed gaze, he Changed. He shook himself, dark hair falling into his

eyes. Weylin could have sworn he was smiling.

"Do you plan on bringing a naked man into Las Vegas?" Randall asked.

Once A Wolf – 19th Century Werewolf 02

Page 221 of 275

Weylin was sorely provoked to wipe that smile from the outlaw's face, preferably with his rifle

butt. The thought of facing Randall down, wolf to wolf, was even more tempting. But he knew

how to control his anger—and he had come too far in the name of law to abuse it now.

"It'd be what you deserve," he said.

Randall's eyes glinted in the moonlight. "You don't happen to have an extra pair of trousers?"

Weylin reached behind his saddle and unrolled the spare clothes he'd bought at the same time

as the mare. He threw diem within Randall's reach. "You can wear these."

Randall shook out the shirt and trousers, tugged them on, and gave Weylin an elegant half-bow.

"Gracias," he said.

"Don't thank me," Weylin said. He kept the rifle trained on Randall and drew a pair of handcuffs

from his saddlebags.

"Put these on," he said, tossing them to the outlaw.

Randall hesitated, then slowly fastened them over his wrists.

"I know damned well that you can break those," Weylin said. "But by the time you do, you'll be

dead. Understand?"

"Perfectly."

"What have you done with Lady Rowena?"

"Ah, yes. That was the last time we met." He held his bound hands up in front of him. "I believe

your final words were of tracking me down, come hell or high water. How does it feel to know

you've won?"

Weylin stared at him. This was all too easy. Why had Randall made such a token resistance

when so much was at stake?

It didn't matter. He had won. After all this time—after the humiliation of Rowena's capture,