Heart of the wolf (14 page)

"Sarah?" he croaked, frowning. "What's wrong? Are you all right?" He rose to his feet without thinking, wrapping the sheet around his waist.

Sarah's eyes widened, and she sucked in a quick breath as Wolf approached, casting a giant shadow in the gloom of the room. "I'm
fine.
. . fine. . ." He moved with such fluid ease. As Wolf drew near, Sarah could easily see the terrible series of scars on his chest, and the sight made her want to cry. What kind of pain had this man endured?

Wolf halted inches from her. The fine, thin blond hair about her face and shoulders was like a wraith's. He searched her eyes for the real answer, knowing that what she said might cover what she was really feeling. "Bad dreams?" he asked gently.

Sarah hesitated. "No. . .
yes.
. . in a way. . . .I slept for just a little while and then woke up." She managed a sad smile. "I got to thinking about what you said in the kitchen last night. . . ."

"Oh."

The word came out hard and flat. Sarah knew Wolf didn't want to talk about it. "When I get like this, a cup of tea always helps me sleep. I was trying to cross the living room without waking you to get to the kitchen." Unhappily she added, "It didn't work."

Relieved that nothing was seriously wrong, Wolf relaxed. He bunched the sheet around him more securely where it had parted to reveal the length of his hairy thigh. Sarah had a high flush to her cheeks, and he read in her face a mixture of awe, fear and longing that made him acutely sensitive to how he affected her as a man.

"Could you stand some company?" Wolf asked. He wanted to join her but knew better than to push
himself
on her. Let her decide, he thought. He saw the indecision in her eyes turn to surprise.

"Sure, if you want."

He forced a sleepy smile. "Let me get more decent and I'll join you."

Nodding, Sarah suddenly remembered her own thin cotton nightgown. It wasn't sheer, but she felt vulnerable in it and wished for her robe. "I'll be right back. I want to get my robe."

"I'll get it for you," he said easily. "My pants are in the bedroom."

"Okay, I'll make the tea," Sarah said, aware of an oddly breathless quality in her voice.

Wolf padded down the hall to his bedroom, allowing the sheet to drop to the floor once he'd entered. With a scowl, he looked at his bed. The blankets were on the floor, the sheet twisted like a rag. Sarah was more than just a restless sleeper. Aching to hold her, but knowing that wasn't the answer Sarah needed, Wolf crossed to the dresser and put on a pair of jeans. He pulled a clean white T-shirt over his head. Maria had been deathly afraid of him without clothes. His uncovered chest had made her shrink back in terror.

Wolf slammed the door on the flow of memories. But since being around Sarah, he couldn't seem to force his feelings and memories away as easily as he once had. "Damn," he whispered, padding out of the room in his bare feet, Sarah's robe in his hand.

They sat at the darkened table, each holding a cup of steaming-hot tea. Sarah was delighted when Wolf found a lemon in the refrigerator and placed a few slices on a small saucer between them. And instead of sugar he'd offered her sweet clover honey.

"When I was a little girl, my mom would fix me tea with lemon and honey when I was sick," Sarah said in a quiet voice. "I loved it. She always said the lemon had lots of vitamins."

Wolf nodded, his arm resting on the table, his large hand curved around his china cup. "Tea won't fix what happened to you, though, Sarah."

"I suppose not," she responded sadly.

"Tell me something. After those two jerks jumped you, did you go get help?"

"What kind of help? I reported it to Sheriff Noonan— but that's like spitting in the wind."

"An abuse or crisis center of some kind?"

She smiled wryly. "Here in Backwater, U.S.A.?"

"Did you talk to anyone about the assault?"

With a shake of her head, Sarah said, "No, but what good would that do, anyway?"

"Talk's part of the healing process to anyone who's been traumatized."

"I wasn't hurt much. I had a black eye for a week, was
all.
"

"You were a victim," Wolf said. "It makes you start behaving unconsciously to protect yourself from another possible similar situation."

"Oh, my jumpiness and paranoia?"

He smiled. "I like your honesty, Sarah Thatcher. It's one of many good traits you have. Yes, your
hyperalert
state is what I'm talking about."

She turned the teacup around in her hands. "There's nothing wrong with me."

"Oh?"

Sarah eyeballed him.

"Then why did I see fear in your eyes when I got up off the couch and walked toward you a little while ago?"

"Well. . ." Sarah stumbled over her words. "You came out of the shadows. I told you before, at night, shadows look like those two men coming to attack me again. I wasn't reacting to you."

Wolf held her serious gaze. Did he dare hope that was the truth? He had failed miserably before—failed in a way that had cost the person he loved, first her peace of mind, then her life. He couldn't bear to face the pain of the rejection he'd suffered. But, even more, he didn't dare face the possibly life-threatening consequences for

Sarah if he ran. Gruffly he probed Sarah's fear. "Are you very sure of that?"

"Of course I am."

"I don't scare you?"

"No."

He smiled slightly. "Your heart doesn't start pounding when I approach you?"

Sarah lowered her lashes. That was exactly what her heart did, but it certainly wasn't out of fear. It was out of some forbidden, sweet excitement he created within her. "You don't scare me," she assured him.

Wolf couldn't believe the relief he felt at Sarah's admission. Her soft blue
gaze made him want
to reach out and embrace the hell out of her. "I'm glad," he muttered darkly. "I'm no prize, but maybe I can help make a difference in the situation for you. I hope I can. . . ."

Sarah heard the raw pain in Wolf's tone and noted that he refused to meet her gaze. "You're a prize in my eyes," she admitted unsteadily, her emotions overwhelming her. "I don't know what you see in me, and I guess it doesn't really matter. I'm just grateful you're standing between me and
Summers
and his men. I've lived with horrible daily fear this last six months." She managed a painful smile as he raised his head. "You're a shield to me, Wolf."

Wolf turned his cup slowly on its saucer. If he told Sarah the truth, how much she touched him, how she made him feel alive again, she might run. Worse, if Sarah knew the truth of his past, she'd probably want him to leave. Clearing his throat, he said, "I've always had a place in my heart for underdogs.” That should be
non
- threatening enough. Her young face was so young and serious.

"I can use all the help I can get," Sarah
admitted,
a catch in her voice. "If you want to be my guard dog, I'm all for it."

The light, the hope, shining in Sarah's eyes was so endearing, he kept his doubts to himself. Anyway, he wasn't about to make the same mistake with Sarah that he had with Maria—was he? "I'll do anything I can to help you, Sarah," he vowed. "All you have to do is tell me what you want. Communication is the key." This time things just had to be different.

Sarah thrust her hand across the table. "You've got a deal, Ranger Harding. And you've got my thanks. I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

Wolf gripped her hand gently, amazed all over again at how small, yet how strong, Sarah was. "The native Americans have a saying that you need to take to heart."

"What's that?"

"Expect nothing, receive everything."

"Meaning?"

"Don't set expectations. When you do, you set your own limitations and can't move beyond them. When you expect nothing, you become open to more than you ever thought or dreamed possible. It also means
,
receive help in whatever form it comes to you. There's no need to pay it back."

His callused grip was strong without hurting. Sarah wanted to continue to hold Wolf's hand, but didn't dare. He was far too vulnerable, and she was far too fragile emotionally. She mustn't read anything into their unexpected agreement. "No matter what anyone says, Wolf, in my eyes, you're a knight in shining armor," she whispered.

He released her slim fingers. "Honey, I'm a failure in so many ways, I can't even begin to tell you."

Stubbornly Sarah shook her head. "In my heart, you're a winner." She slowly got up, placing the hated crutches beneath her arms. The look in Wolf's eyes was a blend of relief and hope and denial. But that was all right.
By the time this is all over,
Sarah promised him silently,
I'm going to get you to realize just how wonderful a person you really are—faults and all.

The tantalizing odor of bacon frying slowly woke Sarah the next morning. She had shoved both pillows off the bed during her slumber, and the blankets were tangled hopelessly around her legs and body. With a groan, her feet throbbing, she pushed her blond hair out of her face. Lifting her chin, she squinted at the clock on the dresser. It was 7:00 a.m. Wolf had to be to work at eight.

Sitting up, Sarah rubbed her face sleepily, her legs hanging over the side of the bed. The sensation of knowing Wolf was nearby, and the odor of frying bacon, aroused
a homesickness
within her. How much she missed her father and mother! She assimilated those feelings as she sat there. Yet, with Wolf having unexpectedly entered her life, she'd never felt safer or stronger. He gave her strength, she realized as she slowly tested her weight on her feet.

"
Oww
. . ."
She grimaced. Well, pain or no pain, she had to get to the bathroom. Maybe a nice hot bath and a soak for her poor injured feet would help. Reaching for her robe, Sarah shrugged it across her shoulders. She hated being forced to use these crutches. They were symbolic to her, too, and as she gripped them and stood she understood why. All her
Ufe
she'd been independent- confident that she could stand alone to handle anything that came along.