The Eye of the Wolf (10 page)

He sat down next to her, poised
to take notes. “Well, let’s have at it.” He grinned in return to the grin she
flashed him before she bent over the diary and began translating the ancient,
fading French text.

Mikayla tried to translate
clearly, using a strong voice, but inside her heart beat fast and she struggled
to draw a deep breath. For the briefest of moments, it felt as if she had seen
a future, a future she didn’t know could exist. She had seen herself reflected
in the gray sea of Will’s eyes. She had felt as if the world had shifted, as if
two plates had collided. It had been brief, but it had been strong. That moment
had occurred. What did it mean? Where did these emotions and feelings come
from. She knew nothing of romance and love. She also knew she was not part of
Amor. This couldn’t happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Mikayla swallowed as her voice
faltered and took a deep breath. She began a line again hoping it was stronger.
Romance was for the silly and weak-minded. She was neither. Whatever had
happened there had simply been in her imagination, which she knew tended to
work over time. It was the right moment to get back to work and quit pretending
to be something she was not. To quit pretending that her relationship with Will
was more than it was. It was not some fanciful romance. It was not some summer
distraction. He worked for her. There was nothing else. There would never be
anything else.

Mikayla’s voice was cool and
denied her thoughts that raced through her mind and her heart as she read from
the diary of King Malachi. “
Aujourd’hui, je…
” The French was cool, just
like the woman who read it, regardless of the inner turmoil pulling her towards
a destiny that could not be changed once it was created, that could not be
denied once it was determined.

Today, I watched as they laid the first stone in
the fine castle that will sit within the stone fortress of the Secluded City. I
don’t understand my father’s need to build this fortress, this barrier, which
will separate us from the people we rule.

My grandfather, though I never knew him, strongly
believed in being a king of the people, understanding their needs, their wants.
He lived among them in a small house on the beach. He fished with them and
raised his children to be part of their lives. My grandmother was a daughter of
this island, a gift from the local chieftain to my grandfather for the peace
Grandfather thought he would find here when God willed his landing on a distant
shore, far from his native Britain.

It was only after the rebellion
that Grandfather felt the need for some safety, some protective measure from
the barbarians who once inhabited this island. Those barbarians have been gone
during my lifetime, and I am but twenty years old.

My father I do not understand.
He was raised to be one of the people, yet he insists on keeping himself
separate, my brothers and sisters and I separate from the people we will one
day rule. He refuses to allow us to walk along the shore. We are not allowed
outside of the walls without one of the sworn companions of my father, one of
the great knights. These walls are my prison. They will eternally be my prison.
I believe my father fears the people of Amor. I do not understand his fear
since the servants have always been kind to me and my kin, but I see the fear
in his eyes. I hear it in his voice when he commands.

The Secluded City shall be the
greatest palace in all of Europe, my father swears it will be so, but at what
cost?

Will had been watching her for almost an hour. He
had watched her twist a strand of hair around one finger over and over. He
couldn’t figure out why it was so intoxicating to watch her twirl her hair.
Auburn curls twined around delicate fingers was a stronger intoxicant than the
strongest liquor.

The
white rose, with the faint pink edge, he had snatched from the garden was
tucked behind her ear giving her a romantic heroine look. The white was vivid
against her bronze hair and blended with her pale skin, skin that was creamy
with rose hints at the cheeks. Again, when he had tucked it behind her ear, she
had given him that brief glimpse into her soul. It was brief, but what he had
seen had left him breathless. Had left him dizzy with the passion hidden inside
and had created a need, a need he didn’t understand inside of him.

He watched her tap impatiently
on the snazzy laptop computer she had set up on the table in the Hall of
Records. Her fingers flew over the keys with ease, as if she had spent a lot of
time typing on the compact keys. As she typed, Mikayla screwed up her forehead
in concentration. Every so often, she would pause and refer back to King
Malachi’s diary that she was still reading, still translating, run her finger
along a line of text, and then return to her computer and type in something. He
could only imagine what it would feel like to have that same finger trail along
his back. It probably would be close to heaven or to hell, depending on what
came with that action.

Will shook his head. He had to
get those thoughts out of his head. There was no way anything was going to
happen. He just couldn’t remember ever being so mesmerized by anyone ever
before. She literally took his breath away, and fascinated him beyond
comprehension. He wanted to know every thought, every feeling. He wanted to
know her. Mikayla kept herself to herself. He had tried to engage her in
conversation about her life, her interests, her favorite movie, but she didn’t
answer. She was aloof, some might have even said cold, but he had seen a fire
in her eyes. He had heard her laugh. He had seen her dance in the waves of the
ocean. She was passionate about history and the past. He knew that if she could
be passionate about one thing, there must be more burning beneath her cool,
reserved exterior. Will had rarely heard her laugh in the week that he had been
working with her on the research since they had found the diary. He knew that
when she did laugh, it was a musical sound that warmed the air around her and
made others want to be near her. It had been a rare experience to hear that and
feel that warmth. She kept herself apart from others, but she immersed herself
in her work, whole-heartedly.

Will had noticed the mild
indentation on her left ring finger before. He also had noted the fading tan
line. He wondered about the man that had let her get away. Perhaps he hadn’t
appreciated her for who she was, nor had he understood that there was passion
beneath the fragile wall. Perhaps this man, whomever he was, hadn’t understood
the need to coax that passion out with gentleness and need.  Definitely
that man had been a fool. It never occurred to him that perhaps Mikayla was the
fool.

Will looked at her head, bent
over the keyboard and book, her fingers flying. Her curls were restrained in a
messy ponytail. She was adorable. His fingers flexed on the book he held on his
lap. Will felt anger inside at the man who had pushed her away. He had
obviously hurt her and that was why she kept to herself and didn’t let others
in.

“Did you love him?”

Mikayla slowly lifted her head
and looked at Will sitting across the room from her. He was sitting on the
stone floor of the Hall of Records with his back against a book rack stacked
full of dusty volumes of all sorts of interesting and not-so-interesting facts
about Amor. A large record book of births, marriages, and deaths rested against
his knees. His sandy hair hung over one eye and his gray eyes held hers. The
expression was soft, concerned, but there was something else there too.

“Excuse me?” Mikayla asked,
trying to make her tone imperious.

“I said, did you love him?”
Will repeated slowly. He locked eyes across the room with her and watched as a
wall came down over her blue eyes, though he could see her eyes still, he
couldn’t see what she was thinking or feeling. The shift both startled and
amazed him.

“Who?” Mikayla looked back at
the computer she had been typing on. The text she had been reading was
translating for her. It had been a difficult old French that she had never seen
before. She hadn’t understood a word of it. Normally, she would have skipped
over it, but something told her it was important. Of course, her not
understanding the text might have had nothing to do with the age of it but have
had everything to do with Will’s presence. Whenever he was around, her entire
senses were flooded with him, his smell, his look, everything about him. It was
unnerving to say the least.

“Who?” He stood from his place
near the book stacks and crossed the room in easy strides to the table. He sat
astride the chair directly across from her. He stooped slightly so he could see
her face. Then, he lightly tapped her left ring finger. “Him, that’s who!”

Mikayla glanced briefly at her
hand and then pulled it under the table. “I don’t know what you’re talking
about.”

“C’mon, Mikayla, who was he?
Did you love him?” Will let out an exasperated breath.

Mikayla looked him in the eye.
“I don’t know.” She turned back to her computer and tried to read the
translation, but she could tell he was still staring at her. She sighed and
closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, they were bright with
emotion he had known was there but hadn’t seen before. “I thought I loved him,
but it just wasn’t meant to be. We were too different. My career was more
important to me than being his wife.” She looked him in the eye. “Satisfied?”

“Not really, but it’ll have to
do for now.” He rubbed his finger across the spot where the engagement ring
used to sit. Will looked at his tanned hand over her small, delicate, white
one. Gently, he linked their fingers. He drew their hands up. Her hand carried
the faint scent of vanilla he had experienced the first time he had met her. It
flooded his senses until there was no other scent in that musty room except for
her. He brushed her knuckles with his lips, so softly she barely felt the kiss.
A tingle ran through his arm.

Mikayla watched him in fascination
and knew that her breath was shallow and her heart raced. Her hand tingled at
his touch. Her mind went blank when he looked at her from across the table. She
felt tension knot in her stomach, a warm, spreading tension that spread through
her limbs. She had never felt this tension before. It was a new, interesting,
exciting, scary experience.

Will gently brushed her
knuckles and the spot where her engagement ring should have been with a whisper
of a kiss. He kept his eyes on her the entire time. He was amazed at the many
different emotions that crossed her face and played in her eyes. Softly, he
spoke, “He’s a fool, whomever he is.”

Mikayla jerked her hand back at
his voice. She looked back down at her computer and tried to clear her head,
tried to think of something to say. Her face was flushed and her heart rate
raced. She wanted, no, needed to focus on the task at hand. To be driven to be
the best. Focused yet, she couldn’t think of anything to say. Her mind was
blank except for the sensations Will had created simply by holding her hand.
But it hadn’t been a simple experience of holding hands, it had been an erotic,
sensuous experience. She closed her eyes and willed her pulse to slow. “Did you
ever think that maybe I was the fool?” She opened her eyes and stared across at
him. Her eyes were bland again, the fire dampened; the chill returned.

Will grinned across the table
at her. He had known it was there. He had seen the heat in her eyes. They had
changed from a bright, sky blue to a deep midnight blue, deep enough to get
lost in, if a person allowed it. He took a deep breath and willed his own pulse
to slow. He didn’t know what had come over him. Will had conquered women
before: models, actresses, princesses, but none of them had raised his temperature
or his pulse like she had by just holding her hand. None of them had flooded
his senses, took over his thoughts until there was just her. He hadn’t slept
peacefully in two weeks. Every time he closed his eyes, she was there.  It
was intriguing and just a little frightening. Not frightening enough for him to
back away, especially from the challenge this cool American created, probably
without realizing she was doing it.

Will scooted his chair back and
grabbed the book he hand been reading off of the floor. “If I find something of
value in the next five minutes, can we go outside and get some sun? It is an
absolutely beautiful day today.”

Mikayla glanced up from the
translation. “We have work to do.”

Will leaned on the table. “Like
I said, if I find something of incredible value in the next five minutes, can
we go do something else? There must be something else that needs to be done.
After all, you are researching a monarchy that has been in place, without
interruption, for 900 years! I really don’t think anything is going to change
if you take a day off now and then.”

Mikayla leaned back in her
chair. She had to admit she was tired of sitting in the dusty museum day-in and
day-out. She hadn’t really seen anything other than the city streets in the
evening, the museum, and her house in almost two weeks. She was itching to get
out of the museum. “All right…if you find something of incredible value.”

Will nodded his head. He
flipped through the pages of the large book he had been reading previously.
Mikayla sat back and watched, her translation of an island legend forgotten
momentarily. He chewed on a finger as he flipped pages randomly.