Taming the Lone Wolff (17 page)

He handed her a tiny black ribbon she had dropped. “You do realize that my brother has never brought a woman here before.”

Winnie shot him a glance. “So I’ve heard.”

“You must have made an impression on him. This is his private space.”

“Your brother is a kind, generous man. I needed a place to hide out, and he offered to bring me here.”

“He went through a bimbo phase in college and shortly after.”

Winnie grinned. “I’ve heard that, too. Trust me. I won’t do anything to harm your baby brother.”

Every ounce of humor disappeared from his face. “It’s you I’m worried about, Winnie. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Everyone keeps telling me that, including Larkin. It’s okay. I get it. We’re just having fun.” She added that last part because surely the Wolffs were smart enough to realize something was going on. His family seemed to know him better than he realized.

Devlyn glanced across the chaos that was the large white tent where Sam’s party would take place. “He takes too much upon himself. Tries to fix things that aren’t his to fix.”

“He told me a little about your childhood. Before the mountain. It hurt me to hear it, but I suppose you realize it’s still fresh on his mind.”

“It is for me and Annalise, too,” he said, his gaze focused on something far away that she couldn’t see. “I don’t think you ever really forget something like that. We’ve grown up. And figured out that few families resemble a Norman Rockwell painting. Annalise and I have been lucky enough to find partners who love us and accept who we are, scars and all.”

“But…”

He shrugged. “But Larkin suffered in different ways than I did. Emotional trauma can be as bad or worse than the physical.”

She was well aware of that. “He’s made a good life for himself.”

“Alone.”

“Yes.”

“So you’re aware of the danger.”

“I could fall in love with him, and he could walk away.”

“Exactly.”

Winnie finished the last of the vases and began filling them with water. “I appreciate your concern, Devlyn—I really do. But I’m not the naive person I may appear to be. I understand Larkin better than you think. So thanks for the warning, but I’m okay.”

He set the chair aside and stood up. “I wish I could be more encouraging. You fit in here on the mountain.”

She arched her back, stretching out the kinks, hands on her hips. “I always knew my relationship with Larkin was a fleeting thing. He envies you all, I think. But not enough to take on the burden of marriage.”

“Marriage isn’t a burden.”

“Maybe not for you.”

“Take care of yourself, and take care of him.”

“What if those two things are mutually exclusive?”

Devlyn flicked her ponytail. “You’re a smart woman. Figure it out.”

Seventeen

L
arkin stood atop a wobbly ladder, winding little white lights around the central tent pole. His stomach pitched when Annalise, below him, accidentally bumped his perch. Heights made him queasy, and he was anxious to get this job done. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Winnie and his brother were getting very chummy.

When he clambered back down to
terra firma
, Annalise beamed at him. “Thanks, bro.”

His baby sister was happy all the time these days. And her sharp-edged tongue had mellowed considerably. It was a disconcerting, but enjoyable change. “You might want to rein in our sibling,” he said. “He seems to be flirting with Winnie.”

“Jealous much?” Annalise snorted. “If Gillian isn’t concerned, why should I be?”

“Forget I mentioned it,” he said grumpily. “Give me another string of lights and help me move this ladder.”

* * *

By dinnertime Larkin was like a cat on hot bricks. The day had turned into one long
pre
-celebration. The entire family converged at the main house after the decorating, and didn’t leave. The children were included at tonight’s meal. Which meant that adult conversation was limited in favor of laughing at the antics of a toddler and an infant.

Little Cammie took her role as older cousin very seriously, and jumped up time and again to retrieve baby spoons, pick up toys and rescue Cheerios before they were ground into the priceless Oriental rug that ran the length and width of the dining room.

Larkin bantered back and forth with his relatives, all the while keeping a covert eye on Winnie. She was holding her own. The semi-organized insanity of a Wolff family meal was not for the faint of heart. But Winnie’s shyness had melted away amid the unselfconscious joie de vivre of the evening’s reunion.

As he surveyed the room, Larkin marveled inwardly at how far they had come as a family. Tragedy had brought them to this place, but love and acceptance kept them here.

He touched Winnie’s knee beneath the Irish linen tablecloth, leaning over to be heard as he whispered in her ear. “Not exactly dinner at a five-star restaurant, is it?”

She smiled at him. “I adore your family,” she said. “I stand by what I said earlier. You’re a very lucky man.”

“They like you.” He wanted to say more than that, but he was still processing the words and feelings in his head.

“I like them, too. I’m so glad you brought me to the mountain.” She was wearing another dress that made him sweat. Tonight’s meal was more casual, and Winnie had chosen her wardrobe accordingly. But the cheerful halter-necked sundress in black-and-white check with appliquéd daisies left a lot of bare skin on display.

He draped an arm across the back of her chair, running his fingers lightly over the nape of her neck. “Are you wearing anything under that outfit?”

She lowered her voice, her attention ostensibly still on the table at large. “Why don’t you find out?”

Her teasing question made him choke. He took a sip of wine, wiped his mouth with his napkin and moved his fingers three inches up her thigh. Winnie’s virtually inaudible whimper hardened his sex instantly.

He’d had some bad ideas in his life, but this one ranked right up there at the top. Even so, to remove his hand from her smooth, bare leg was impossible. Winnie was seated to his left, so he was able to use his right hand to maintain the fiction of eating. Any interest he’d had in food had evaporated long ago.

Gradually, making sure no one could see, he inched his hand upward. A flush broke out on Winnie’s fair cheeks, but she didn’t react otherwise. He found the lacy edge of her panties and grinned, barely moving his lips as he leaned his head toward hers and mouthed in her ear. “I knew it. You’re such a good little girl. No going commando for you.”

Victor Wolff, seated in his usual spot at the head of the table, eyed them with a gimlet stare. “Enough of that, Larkin Wolff. Behave yourself. Quit whispering sweet nothings in Winnie’s ear.”

Larkin straightened abruptly and put both his hands on the table. He felt his own neck heat. For a moment there, he’d thought the old man had X-ray vision.

Winnie was visibly amused at his mortification. “Busted,” she murmured as she leaned down to pick up the napkin that Larkin’s antics had dislodged.

Larkin wiped a hand over his damp forehead. He couldn’t take much more of this. When he glanced at his watch, he saw that it was almost eight-thirty. Dessert was just being served…pound cake with imported strawberries and fresh cream. His favorite.

He shoved his chair from the table and stood up. The big group was so rowdy, he had to shout twice. “Hey. Hey, you crazy people.”

Finally, all heads turned in his direction. He cleared his throat. “Winnie and I have really enjoyed hanging out with everyone today, but I promised her a walk to Wolff Point tonight.”

Winnie looked up at him. “But we—”

He kicked her foot. “So if you’ll excuse us, we’ll say good-night and see everyone in the morning.”

The chorus of goodbyes and teasing innuendos was never-ending. By the time he got Winnie out into the hallway, he was breathing hard.

She tugged on his arm. “What was that all about? You took me to Wolff Point last night. Are we going again?”

In the front hallway, he caught a glimpse of his face in the ornate mirror over the console table. His eyes glittered with feverish intent. Staring down at the woman who had turned his world upside down, he shook his head, reeling from the revelations that came thick and fast.

“No,” he said, his voice blunt and harsh. “I’m going to make love to you.” God help him. And in thirty-six hours he was going to walk away. If he had the strength. Bringing her here had been a mistake. Because he’d now had a vision of how his life
could
be, but the consequences were unthinkable. If he gave in to the lure of Winnie’s pure, sweet tenderness, he’d be committed. Forever. Imagining that responsibility scared him to the point of nausea. He couldn’t love her and fail her. Love her and lose her. He’d rather endure the prospect of a sterile life alone, insulated from pain.

He knew love and he knew loss. His way was better. His way was the only choice.

* * *

Winnie trailed in his wake, propelled by his urgency. Despite the enjoyable family dinner, she was as eager to be alone, just the two of them, as Larkin seemed to be. He didn’t waste time asking questions about location. Edging open her door with his hip, he dragged her inside.

Finally—a lock between them and the outside world—he paused to catch his breath. The hands he ran up and down her arms held a slight tremor. “You were wrong,” he muttered.

“About what?”

Larkin untied the small bow at the back of her neck and pulled the bodice of the dress to her waist. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

When he bent his head and took one of her nipples between his teeth, pleasure sparked through her veins and her knees wobbled. He caught her up against him with one strong arm across her back, kissing her wildly. She sensed a change in him, an urgency that went beyond mere passion.

Breaking free for a moment, she smoothed a hand over his cheek. “Wrong about what?”

“Marital bliss. Turns out it
is
contagious.” His eyes were dark, his expression more so.

“You’re not making sense,” she said, waiting impatiently for him to finish removing her dress.

When she was down to nothing but her French-cut panties, he stopped and stared. “We have to talk.”

Her nipples peaked, aching and hot. “About what?” The ferocity of his molten azure gaze might as well have been a physical caress. The tactile examination ran from her face to her belly and below. She shifted nervously from one foot to the other. Between her legs, her sex dampened, swelled, readied for him.

“I’m confused, but everything is getting clearer.”

Nothing he said made sense. But she understood without words what he wanted. And the erection tenting the front of his slacks reinforced her conclusion.

“One of us is lagging behind.” She was getting better at undressing him, but her fingers fumbled with the buttons at the cuffs of his dress shirt. He finally helped her and removed the rest of his clothing in an impatient one-footed dance.

Winnie clasped her hands between her breasts, trying to keep her heart from punching through her chest. Larkin was the gorgeous one.

He took her hand. “Do you trust me, Winnie? To always tell you the truth?”

“I do.” The sound of the vow made her wince inwardly, but Larkin didn’t seem to notice.

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. “I can’t wait, baby. I’m sorry. We’ll take the edge off and start all over again.” Not bothering to peel back the sumptuous covers, he deposited her on the mattress and came down beside her, pausing only to take care of protection. As he moved between her legs, she arched into his thrust, groaning as he filled her completely. The sense of connection, of utter rightness, stole her breath.

His skin was damp against hers, the muscles in his arms cording as he held his weight on his hands. Moving his hips first lazily, then with more force, he took her further and faster than before. She wanted to savor the moment. To tuck it away and remember it in the days ahead when he would no longer be part of her everyday life.

But there was no time for reflection, no opportunity for even a fleeting rational thought. Larkin had learned what pleased her, and he used the knowledge to advantage. Again and again he drove her to the edge, taking her close, but never letting her fall.

It was agony and perfection. Torture and bliss.

His eyes were closed now, unwittingly shutting her out. With his skin drawn tightly across sharp cheekbones, he breathed harshly, raggedly. He was completely in control, his strength and power present in every thrust.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, driving him deeper still. And then it was upon them…without warning…a spine-numbing, breath-stealing surge of release that left her with no recourse but to grip his slick, powerful shoulders and hold on until the end.

* * *

Larkin was sleeping. And no wonder. The second time he’d taken her, the devil of a man had drawn out the wanting, the claiming, the exquisite joining. He’d moved inside her for what seemed like hours, his hands and lips coaxing her once again to a heated pitch of wanting that made her lose all sense of reason.

Now she lay on her side facing him. She had gone to the bathroom, used the facilities and washed up. He never stirred.

Lightly brushing the hair on his arm, she tried to analyze his words.
You were wrong. Marital bliss is contagious. We need to talk.

A less pragmatic woman might coax herself into believing that Larkin Wolff was leading up to a proposal. But Winifred Bellamy was smarter than that. Throat tight, she glanced at the clock. It was still early…not quite midnight. She wasn’t sleepy. Her head buzzed with unformed thoughts, amorphous daydreams.

She would make Larkin Wolff a good wife. If he wanted one. But that idea was so dangerous, she locked it away rapidly, reaching for her usual steady footing. Life was good. She was blessed in many ways. She didn’t need a man to be complete.

Suddenly, her cell phone on the nightstand buzzed. She had it set to vibrate, but even so, it was loud. Sliding from beneath the covers, she grabbed it up and answered it in a low voice. “Hello…”

* * *

Larkin jerked awake, every sense on high alert. A sharp sound had dragged him out of a deep sleep. Groggy, he glanced around, identified his surroundings as Winnie’s bedroom and sat up. Immediately, he knew what had awakened him. Because it happened a second time. A keening, stricken cry that brought the hair on his arms to attention.

He bounded out of bed, not even taking time to turn on the light, and crouched beside her. She was huddled on her knees in the midst of the carpeted floor, arms wrapped around her waist. Tears streamed down her face as she rocked back and forth.

“Lord, honey. What’s wrong?” He had never seen his strong, unbreakable Winnie like this, and the change shocked him. Gathering her into his arms, he sat cross-legged with her in his lap, cuddling her, stroking her back, smoothing his hand over her hair. “Tell me, Winnie.”

He had a long wait. She seemed unable to stem the outpouring of grief, and his mind raced with possibilities, each one worse than the last.

Her skin was icy, even with his arms wrapped around her.

When she finally spoke, he could barely understand her. Her teeth chattered, and her words were choppy. “Esteban’s father killed his mother and grandmother.”

Larkin reeled, his stomach pitching with nausea. “Dear God. Are you sure? Don’t answer that. Of course you’re sure. Dear God.” His mouth dried as horror congealed everything inside him that had life and breath. “I promised him that he and his mother would be safe. That he didn’t have to be afraid.” Leland
Security.
What an ass he was, thinking he could protect people. What an unmitigated ass. He couldn’t keep anyone safe.

Winnie burrowed her face into his chest, making her speech even further garbled. “Not your fault. She left the property. He killed her first and then himself.” Fresh sobs shook her small frame.

Larkin gathered her up and put her back to bed. He retrieved a wet washcloth from the bathroom and wiped her face gently. She lay on her back, staring dully at the canopy atop the bed. The lovely room was not a fit setting for such raw, unimaginable news.

He felt the old feelings of failure claw at his chest, and had he not been a man, he might have joined Winnie in her cathartic tears. Seeing her pain and being unable to do anything about it destroyed him. “How did she get out?”

Winnie turned her head to stare at him. Light streamed from the bathroom, illuminating the bed. She was pale, too pale, and every freckle stood out in relief against her colorless skin. “The mothers and children aren’t prisoners,” she said huskily. “We have nothing or no one to tell them they can’t leave. They are given extensive counseling and cautioned again and again never to meet alone with an abusive husband or boyfriend. But they want so badly to believe a man can change,
their
man in particular, that they’ll sometimes do anything he asks.”