Defying Destiny (29 page)

Holding her felt right. He wished she

would allow it more often. “It’s obviously

something or you wouldn’t be so upset.

You can tell me anything,” he whispered.

“As a friend, as your doctor.”

She shuddered, and then gasped, “I’m

not pregnant.”

He released her immediately and

stared down at her with his mouth hanging

open. She turned into the corner and

sobbed against the wood-paneled wall,

clinging to it for support. When he

recovered from his initial shock, he

touched her shoulder.

“You wanted…you wanted to be

pregnant?”

“No,” she whispered. “Yes. No! I

don’t know. I thought maybe I was

pregnant after you suggested it. I was

terrified and thrilled at the same time.”

She turned to look at him, her eyes and

nose red. Large tears were welling up in

her eyes and trailing down her cheeks. “I

know I should be grateful, but this morning

when I discovered I couldn’t be with

child, I felt as if my heart had shattered.”

Jared reached into his pocket and

pulled out his handkerchief. He dried her

eyes. She took the cloth from him and

blew her nose.

“You’re still young, Maralee. You

have plenty of time to have children.”

She shook her head. “I don’t have any

business being a mother.”

“That’s not true,” he said. “I’m sure

you’d make a wonderful wife.”

Eyes wide, she looked up at him. He

didn’t regret his slip.

“And mother,” he added.

“You’re too good to me, Jared,” she

said. “It makes it hard for me to keep

rejecting you.”

He smiled, though his heart was

aching. “I can wait. I’ve always been a

patient man.”

She lowered her eyelids, shielding her

remarkable gray eyes from him. “Exact

opposites,” she murmured.

He knew she was thinking about
him

again—the man who’d broken her heart.

The man whose children she wanted to

carry within her womb. Jared wondered

what the man was like. He wondered if

there was any way he could be more like

him so Maralee might be swayed in his

direction. Perhaps he was being too

patient with her. Perhaps he should be a

little bolder. Maybe his hesitance was the

only thing keeping them apart.

“Maralee?” he murmured and she

looked up at him in question.

His gaze drifted to her lips. What

would she do if he kissed her? His heart

thudded wildly at the thought.

“What is it, Jared?”

He leaned closer, his eyes still trained

on her soft lips, his blood pulsing through

his body thick and hot. He closed his eyes

and… drew away with a heavy sigh.
I’m

such a coward
, he thought. He wouldn’t

risk destroying her fragile trust, no matter

how much he wanted to taste her kiss.

“Are you feeling well, otherwise?” he

asked, climbing to his feet. He ran a hand

through his hair and turned to stare down

at his medical bag.

“You worry too much,” she said.

“Allow me to get dressed and I’ll join you

for breakfast.”

He glanced at her and she smiled. He

felt an odd sense of relief at seeing her

tears

had

vanished.

“That

sounds

wonderful. I let everyone think that I come

here to visit you, but I’m really after

Phyllis’s fabulous home-cooked meals.”

“Your secret is out.” She used the wall

for leverage as she climbed to her feet.

His eyes raked down her body, taking

in the swell of her breasts and the curve of

her hip beneath her nightgown. He stared

at her bare feet and trim ankles for a long

moment before he picked up his medical

bag and moved to leave. So lovely. So

lost. It was a combination he could not

resist.

“I’ll wait for you,” he said.
Forever, if

that’s how long it takes.

“I’ll be right down.” She crossed the

room to the chest of drawers where she

began to remove clean clothing.

“Don’t take forever.”

The sky was clear as Maralee glanced out

the

window—clear,

indigo,

and

brightened by the full moon. Although the

blizzard had finally passed, the bitter cold

prevented the snow from melting. It had

drifted to cover the first floor windows of

some buildings. The world was frozen.

Ice covered every surface. Sparkles on the

surface of the snow glittered like earth-

bound stars.

Maralee had already packed most of

her belongings into her knapsack. It sat

upon her bed waiting for her departure the

following morning. As she gazed out the

window, she pulled her leather gauntlets

on over her long-sleeved, white blouse

and secured them around her forearms and

wrists. Turning into the room, she swung

her cloak around her shoulders and tied

the laces beneath her chin. She reached for

the sheathed sword on the dresser and

fastened it to her belt. She pulled the

sword, loving the resonating sound it

made when freed of its sheath. The blade

was sharp and shiny, just how she liked it.

She returned the sword to its sheath and

left her room.

The Smithy’s were already asleep, so

the inn was silent. She took care to tread

lightly so she would not wake them.

Maralee stepped out of the inn’s front

door. She closed the door silently behind

her, not even jangling the welcome bell.

She descended the four steps to stand in

the lane and glanced in either direction.

Breath pluming, exposed flesh stinging

in the biting wind, the lone figure turned

up the fur collar of her cloak and started

through the dark village, heavy boots

trudging through thick snow banks. It was

an uncommonly quiet night. The orb of

white above reflected off the heavy

blanket of snow, giving the town a surreal,

lighted glow even though it was

approaching the midnight hour. It was

quiet now, but Maralee knew that within a

few short moments the Wolves would

arrive and so the huntress watched, and

waited, and kept her sword at ready.

She slowly made her way through the

village, hand resting on the hilt of her

sword, to the place where she had seen

the Wolves emerge from the forest four

weeks before. She had met Nash on that

night, but she shoved thoughts of him

aside. She was getting better at denying

him the chance to rule her life in his

absence. She told herself she didn’t want

him to step out of the shadows. She didn’t

need to hear his deep voice say it was a

dangerous night for a stroll. She wasn’t

longing for the sight of his gorgeous,

crooked smile or the smell of tobacco and

oiled leather. She wasn’t.

She passed a narrow alley situated

between two adjacent houses. A rustle

came from the darkness. She paused and

gazed into the shadows, but saw nothing.

After a moment, she decided she was

hearing things and moved on, continuing

towards the forest.

The howling began deep in the woods.

She was surprised when what seemed like

hundreds of answering howls shattered the

still of the night. A shiver raced down her

spine as the chorus of howls grew closer.

She unsheathed her sword, standing ready

at the crossroad to the forest. She couldn’t

figure out why her heart raced. She wasn’t

afraid. Something felt wrong, but what?

Her hand shook when the first set of

amber eyes emerged from the forest at the

far end of the road. The Wolf growled,

lowering its head in warning. Another

Wolf appeared, followed by another and

another. There were too many for her to

count—more than a hundred of them, in

any case. Something was wrong.

Maralee’s entire body trembled.

Something was wrong.

Her eyes fell on a small Wolf cub near

the front of the enormous pack—a dark

gray pup with a barrette in the shape of a

row of small daisies fastened to the fur

above one ear.

“Carsha,” Maralee realized in a rush

of breath.

These other Wolves, the monsters,

were Nash’s…people.

No, it couldn’t be true. She wouldn’t

allow it to be true. She shook her head in

denial, her hold on her sword slackening.

The Wolves came closer. She couldn’t

move, had no will to fight, even at the cost

of her own life. She couldn’t take her eyes

off Carsha who was growling and snarling

—a madness in her eyes beyond the

child’s ability to control.

Maralee lowered her weapon. The

Wolves skirted around her, flooding into

the wide crossroad, surrounding her,

blocking any escape she might attempt.

She didn’t try to get away. She was trying

to understand.

Why had Nash let her live instead of

avenging his brother’s death? She

wouldn’t have blamed him. She had

slaughtered his brother right in front him.

Nash had known his brother’s death

would leave behind a widow and three

fatherless children. Yet rather than ending

her life, he had locked her in a shed. The

following day, when she had stumbled

upon his village, he had showed her

hospitality, his humanity, his capacity to

love. She’d glimpsed his wildness as

well, but he wasn’t a monster, despite

what she had called him. She had

convinced herself that he was an oddity of

nature, rather than accepting what she had

known in her heart. He was as much a

human as she was. Maybe more.

Unlike her, he wasn’t a murderer

pretending to be a hero.

Surrounded by Nash’s brethren now,

she couldn’t deny it any longer. She was a

murderer. She was a slayer of people.

People who had families, dreams, lives.

People who were much different than she,

yet the same. She killed them without

mercy to fulfill a destiny that was as bleak

as endless winter months. The spring

would never come for her. Nash had been

her solitary spot of bright color, a brilliant

crocus blooming in the snow. She had

discarded him as if plucking him from a

fragile stem, taking one glorious sniff of

his fragrance and tossing him aside to

wither. She had been such a fool.

As she stood there, having so many

untimely epiphanies, she remembered the

two young boys in her dream. The pair she

liked to think of as her and Nash’s sons.

She remembered their words. It was as if

they spoke to her now in the moments

before her inevitable death.

“I have to stop this. I can’t do this

anymore!” she cried into the night.

She tossed her sword far beyond reach

into a snow bank.

The Wolves surged forward as a unit.

She was barely aware of the fangs sinking

into her throat as she fell backwards…

backwards…slowly as if in some dream.

A long, low howl carried into the infinite

darkness, well beyond the moment she

answered the blissful beckoning of

nothingness.

As Nash’s howl carried above the

threatening growls, the Wolves paused.

They turned in his direction, listening. All

Wolves were attentive except the one with

Maralee’s fragile throat in her mouth. His

mother.

Nash had watched Maralee as she

made her way through the village. He had

wanted her to give him a reason to save

her. When she had tossed her sword aside,

he knew she was the woman he thought

she was. The woman he had fallen in love

with, not the murderer fate had destined

her to be. The Wolves had moved more

quickly than he anticipated. His hesitation

might be her end.

Nash moved to stand over Maralee

and his mother. He knew he couldn’t force

Stacia away from Maralee. If Stacia made

any sudden moves, she’d rip out

Maralee’s throat.

Return to the village
, Nash howled.