Wolf Shadow (35 page)

Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed his cheek, then took his
hand and they left the hotel.

Chance paused on the boardwalk, his glance sweeping up one
side of the street and down the other.

“Is something wrong?” Teressa asked.

“I don’t know. I have a feeling we’re being watched.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Teressa glanced up and down the street. The boardwalk was
crowded as usual. Well-dressed women could be seen browsing in shop windows or
standing in the shade, visiting. Several young boys were rolling hoops down the
alley across the street, there were a number of men hurrying to and fro. A man
in a straw hat was unloading crates from a large wagon.

“I don’t see any one who seems to be watching us,” she said,
alarmed by Wolf’s tone. “Do you?”

He shook his head. “No. It’s just a feeling.” A feeling that
had saved his life on more than one occasion. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

He lifted her onto Smoke’s back, took up the reins, and
swung up behind her. Clucking to the mare, he rode away from the hotel, a
furious itching between his shoulder blades.

They made good time back to the Witherspoon house.
Dismounting, Chance lifted Teressa from the saddle. He glanced up and down the
street; seeing no one, he drew her into his arms and gave her a quick kiss. “I
love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you more.”

“Impossible.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll see you
tomorrow,” he promised.

She nodded. Lifting the hem of her skirt, she turned and
hurried up the path to the house.

Cynthia was waiting for her in the front parlor. “Well,” she
said, putting aside the book she had been reading. “I don’t have to ask if you
had a good time.”

Teressa felt her cheeks grow hot. “What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s written all over your face. You’re practically
glowing.” Cynthia patted the seat beside her. “Come here and tell me
everything.”

Teressa sat down beside her friend and folded her hands in
her lap.

“So, tell me,” Cynthia urged, “what did you do? Where did
you go?”

“We spent the whole day in a hotel room.”

“A hotel!” Cynthia exclaimed, looking mortified. “What were
you thinking? What if your parents find out?”

Teressa shrugged as if it didn’t matter, although the very
thought filled her with dread. “I don’t care. I love him, Cyn. I love him so
much it hurts.”

“What was it like? Weren’t you embarrassed? Was he gentle?
Did you see him without…well, you know…naked?”

“Cynthia!” Teressa stared at her friend in shock.

“He’s very handsome.” Cynthia tugged on Teressa’s sleeve.
“Come on, ‘fess up, Tessa. What was it like? I’ve always heard it’s painful the
first time. Was it?”

“It wasn’t the first time, and it was wonderful, Cyn. You
can’t imagine.”

Cynthia stared at her wide-eyed. “You’ve done it before?
With him?”

“Of course with him!” Teressa closed her eyes a moment, then
smiled at her friend. “He asked me to marry him.”

“Marry him!” Cynthia squealed. “But he’s…”

She broke off as Teressa’s eyes narrowed ominously. “He’s
what?”

“He’s gorgeous, Tess, but he
is
part Indian. And it
doesn’t look like he has much money. And you said he lives on a ranch.” She
said the last with an aggrieved expression. “A ranch, Tess. Is that what you
want?”

“I’d live in a mud hut with him if he asked me to.”

Cynthia blinked at her. “I think you mean that.”

“I do.”

Cynthia stared at her in disbelief. “But Tess, have you
thought about what you’d be giving up? And what about your parents? You know
they’ll never approve.”

“I know. We’re going to talk to them tomorrow after church.
If they won’t give us their blessing…” She shrugged. “We’re going to run away.”

“On, Tessa, that would be so romantic, but are you sure you
know what you’re doing?”

“I’m sure. I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”

* * * * *

Some of Tessa’s courage faltered when Mason arrived to take
her home. It was easy to be brave with Wolf and with Cynthia, but alone in the
carriage, doubts assailed her. Her father was accustomed to having things his
way; as far as he was concerned, his way was the only way! She didn’t want to
argue with him. Even though she hadn’t lived under his roof for ten years, she
remembered how much she had loved him when she was a little girl. She still
loved him, even though, at times, he seemed stricter and more rigid than she
recalled. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, nor did she want to spend the
rest of her life in San Francisco. She missed Wolf. She missed his ranch, the
vast countryside uncluttered by buildings and people, the vast blue sky, the
quiet nights.

She sat up straight and squared her shoulders. She was a big
girl now, old enough to make her own decisions, old enough to choose her own
husband and decide where and how she would live.

Smiling faintly, she gazed out the carriage window.
Everything would work out somehow. It just had to.

* * * * *

As it turned out, she was the one who was late for dinner.
Hart gave her a disapproving look when he opened the door.

“Your parents are already at dinner, Miss,” he said.

“Thank you, Hart.” Removing her hat, Tessa handed it to him,
then hurried into the dining room.

Her father pulled his watch from his pocket, looked at it,
then looked up at her, one brow arched.

Teressa slid into her chair, unfolded her napkin and placed
it across her lap. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Rosalia picked up the tiny silver bell beside her plate and
rang it. Moments later, Mrs. Rochefort set a plate before Teressa.

“How is Cynthia?” Rosalia asked.

“She’s well.”

Her father’s gaze locked with hers. “Did you have a pleasant
day together?”

Something in her father’s tone made Teressa suddenly uneasy.
“Yes, of course.”

“Just the two of you?”

Teressa nodded. “Her parents are out of town, you know,
visiting Cyn’s brother in Sacramento.”

“Alfred is doing very well, I hear,” Rosalia remarked.

“Yes,” Teressa said. “Cynthia said they’re going to make him
a partner in the law firm.”

“Alfred is a good man,” her father remarked. “A credit to
his family.”

“Yes, indeed,” Teressa agreed. She was relieved when her
father changed the subject.

Keeping her gaze on her plate, she paid little attention to
her parents’ conversation. She had a horrible feeling that her father knew
where she had spent the day, but that was impossible. Wasn’t it?

She excused herself from the table as soon as the meal was
over. Upstairs, in her room, she paced the floor. Wolf had remarked that he
felt as though they were being watched. Had someone seen her coming out of the
hotel with Wolf and reported it to her father? The very idea was appalling.

Going to the window, she stared into the distance. Surely,
if her father suspected something, he would have remarked on it at dinner. Patience
was one virtue her father lacked. When he was upset, everyone knew it.

Taking a deep breath, she told herself there was nothing to
worry about.

She was still telling herself that when she went to bed that
night.

* * * * *

After saying goodbye to Teressa, Chance left Smoke at the
livery, then stopped in the hotel dining room for dinner. Sitting there, eating
fried steak and potatoes, he couldn’t help smiling as his thoughts turned
toward Teressa and the day they had spent together. She was everything he had
ever dreamed of and never hoped to have. Warm, caring, giving, with more
passion than any woman he had ever known. It was incredible that she loved him,
that she was willing to give up a life of ease and refinement to marry him. He
only hoped that, after a month or two of living on the ranch, she wouldn’t
regret it.

Leaving the dining room, he stood on the boardwalk for a few
minutes and then made his way to the saloon across the street. It didn’t take
long to find a vacant place at one of the poker tables and he settled back in
his chair, glad to have a way to pass the next few hours.

The men at the table were all strangers to each other, which
kept small talk at a minimum, which suited Chance just fine. He won several
hands and bought a round of drinks.

He had just picked up a fresh hand when he felt that warning
tingle on the back of his neck. He tossed a dollar into the pot, put his cards
face down on the table, then glanced toward the bar, as if he were looking for
the bartender. His gaze moved over the faces of those standing at the rail. No
one seemed to be paying him any attention; none of the men avoided his glance
but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched.

He lost the next two hands, threw in the third and left the
saloon. He ducked into the doorway of the building at the end of the boardwalk,
listening for the sound of footsteps following him, laughed softly when he
heard nothing.

Emerging from the shadows, he started across the street.

The faint creak of a footfall behind him was his only
warning. He started to turn when white hot pain exploded across the back of his
head and then the world went black.

* * * * *

“So, Tess, what are your plans for the day?” Edward asked as
they sat down to lunch on Sunday afternoon.

She unfolded her napkin, then folded it again. “I’m
expecting company.”

“Company?” Rosalia asked. “Is Cynthia coming over? Why didn’t
she come home with us after church?”

“It’s not Cynthia.”

“Did you invite this mysterious person to lunch?” her mother
asked. “Should we wait?”

“No.”

Rosalia rang the bell; a few moments later, Marie served the
afternoon meal.

“So,” her father said, “who is this mysterious guest?”

Teressa glanced from her mother to her father. “Mr. McCloud.”

Her father lifted one brow. “Indeed?”

“Yes. He’s here, in San Francisco.”

“How do you know that?” her mother asked.

“I…I saw him on the street the other day, when I went to
Cynthia’s, and I asked him to come over today after church. I knew you’d both
want to see him again,” she said, her words running together in her haste to
get them out. “After all, if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be here now.”

“Yes, of course,” Edward said. “We owe him a great deal.”

Teressa breathed a sigh of relief that they hadn’t
questioned her further. Soon. He would be here soon. A million butterflies
seemed to be racing around her stomach at the thought of telling her parents she
planned to marry Wolf Shadow. She pushed her food around on her plate, too
nervous to eat.

“Was the meal not to your liking, Miss Teressa?” Marie asked
when she came in to see if anything else was needed. “Shall I ask Mrs.
Rochefort to prepare you something else?”

“No, thank you, Marie. I’m just not very hungry.”

With a nod, the maid left the room.

Rosalia placed her napkin on the table and Edward
immediately rose to pull her chair out for her.

Teressa rose also. Excusing herself, she hurried up to her
room to freshen up. Wolf would be here soon.

She was downstairs, sitting in the front parlor, when the
clock chimed the half-hour. Her excitement grew as the minutes passed.

Five minutes.

Ten.

Fifteen.

Rising, she walked to the window, drew back the curtains,
and peered outside. No sign of a tall man on a bay horse.

Where was he?

Two o’clock came and went.

Her father strolled into the parlor. He stopped at the
hearth and withdrew a cigar from a box on the mantel. He cut off the end,
struck a match, lit the cigar.

“He’s late,” Teressa remarked inanely.

“Perhaps he was detained,” her father said. “Or perhaps he
was called back to his ranch on business.”

“He would have told me.”

“Indeed?” Her father’s gaze bored into her, hard and
unblinking. “Why would he do that?”

“Because it would have been the polite thing to do, since he
knew I was expecting him.”

She flinched as the clock struck the quarter hour.

“Polite. Yes, though I do not recall Mr. McCloud as being
particularly polite. Do you?”

“He was always kind to me.”

“He is not coming, Teressa,” Edward said.

She looked up at her father, her heart pounding, a sudden
sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. “What have you done to him?”

“I?” He puffed on his cigar, then shook his head. “I have
done nothing to him.”

Teressa stared at her father and knew, in that instant, that
he was lying to her.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chance groaned softly as he opened his eyes to blackness as
thick as the grave. What had happened? And where the hell was he?

His head throbbed with every breath. The floor beneath him
seemed to be moving and he closed his eyes again. When he tried to lift his
hand to explore the back of his head, he discovered his arms were bound behind
his back; his feet were tied at his ankles. The familiar weight of his Colt was
missing.

Dammit.

Ignoring the pounding in his head, he opened his eyes again.
He couldn’t see a thing except for a narrow strip of light beneath what he
assumed was a door. There didn’t seem to be any windows.

The air was filled with the sharp tangy scent of the ocean;
he could hear the faint lapping of waves, the creak of timbers. Fear spiraled
through him when he realized he was on a ship.

Cursing softly, he closed his eyes again. It didn’t take a
genius to figure out who was behind this. It was obvious that Bryant had
somehow learned of his meeting with Teressa. There remained only the question
of what Bryant’s next move would be.

Chance wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. He never
would have guessed her old man would go this far to keep them apart.