Wandering Off the Path (11 page)

“That’s more like it.” He sucked harder, licking, circling, exciting. He pressed a second finger inside her, filling her.

She shrieked, loud and long, filled with satisfaction. Her body convulsed around his fingers, squeezing him. She searched for solid ground in the haze of pleasure clouding her vision.

Wolf’s touch remained constant, keeping her grounded, showing her the way back from bliss to the real world. His fingers remained in her, stilling. He calmed her with comforting licks and soothing kisses.

When her breath had once again returned to normal, he kissed the inside of her thigh. He looked up at her, his gaze dark with hunger.

“Did I pay my debt?” That large evil grin she loved spread across his face.

“I don’t know.” She gasped for breath between words, her heart still pounding. “That was quite a costly garment.”

Wolf growled, dominance radiating through the rumbling sound. “I think I more than covered the damages.” He held her hips to the wall, licking up her body, gathering the sweat still warm on her skin. “In fact, I think I’ve paid extra. We’ll need to continue our bartering to be equal.”

“And what if I don’t bargain with you?”

Wolf licked his lips and she trembled. She had no desire left to fight him. Her breathing sped up even higher as she submitted to her capture, and all the satisfaction that could be gained from being ensnared.

“Then I’ll just have to take it.” His eyes blazed and her pulse increased.

With his nose, he nudged the ripped fabric away from her shoulder and nipped at the curve. She smoothed her hand down his head. The slick, cool brush of his hair against her body kept her nerves buzzing. The dazzling afterglow of her climax embraced her even as sadness coiled coldly in her stomach. Would this be the last time he’d bring her to the pinnacle of pleasure before returning to the forest, leaving her behind to pick up the remaining pieces of her heart?

Sensing her hesitation, Wolf pulled away from her, looking up at her. “Abigail,” he said, his words radiating concern. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. He traced his fingers up her body. He straightened his back to meet her eye line, leaving a gap of cold air between them. His strong arms remained around her, holding her, reminding her how much she meant to him. Accentuating how much she needed him, how much she wanted him, and only making her feel more alone.

His eyes, dark and mournful, brimming with emotion, gazed into hers. “Abigail, I—”

From the doorway, a familiar voice interrupted Wolf’s words and her heart skipped a beat. “This is the most interesting welcome home I’ve ever received.”

Abigail whirled towards the source. The soft tickle of Wolf’s hair along her cheek alerted her that he’d swung his head in the same direction as she.

“Grandmother?”

The petite woman stood framed in the doorway, her silver hair piled on top of her head in a tight bun, her aged face covered with a smile. A twinkle lit her amber eyes, a shade darker than Abigail’s, like maple syrup late in the season.

“Were you expecting someone else, Red?” her grandmother asked, using the pet name she’d given her at birth owing to her bright hair.

Abigail and Wolf stood frozen, staring at the small woman with open-mouthed awe. Wolf was the first to move, dropping his hands from her breasts and stepping back. He folded his hands together behind him, as if he had to stop himself from reaching for her again.

She pulled the tattered edges of her chemise together, attempting to cover her nakedness. The ripped fabric barely covered her breasts, but Abigail hardly noticed. Her grandmother was here. She was fine. She was home. Nothing else mattered, not even being caught with Wolf.

“Grandmother.” She ran towards the small woman, stopping a foot from her to wrap her in a large hug. “You’re all right. I’m so happy you’re home.”

Her grandmother embraced Abigail in turn, rubbing her age-roughened palms along her back in long, comforting strokes. “I’m happy to be home, too”—her voice overflowed with warmth—“but you seem to be doing just fine without me.”

Her cheeks heated, but the million questions fighting for control beat out her embarrassment.

“When Hunter told me I’d better get back here as quick as my ancient legs could carry me, I didn’t know what to expect.”

A sniff of laughter echoed behind her at the mention of her neighbour, but Abigail ignored Wolf. “You saw Hunter?”

“Yes.” Her grandmother’s gaze no longer focused on her, but shifted towards the back of the cabin, where a bare-chested Wolf stood, his gaze shifting back and forth between the two women. His strength softened beneath her grandmother’s attention. “He told me I needed to get back home and see what was going on. He mentioned there’d been a lot of changes around here.” Nodding towards Wolf, she grinned. “Appears he was right.”

Abigail smiled sheepishly, tightening the white fabric to her body. “There’ve been a few changes.”

Abigail cast a glance over her shoulder to the fierce man behind her. Wolf looked like a frightened animal. His movements were shaky. His eyes widened. An uneasy smile covered his face as he shifted his weight beneath the scrutiny of both women.

She extended her hand behind her, reaching out to Wolf, but he made no attempt to accept her grip. His hands remained behind his back. A slight pang stabbed her heart at Wolf’s denial of her warm gesture, but she reasoned he was hesitant to touch her in front of her grandmother. At least, she hoped.

“Grandmother, this is Wolf.” She turned, giving her grandmother a better view of the man in question, while allowing her the opportunity to enquire of him as well.

“Madam,” Wolf responded, nodding his head with respect.

“It’s nice to meet you, son,” her grandmother returned with a smile.

The elderly woman scanned Wolf, inspecting him with the keen understanding that only came with age. The skin around her eyes crinkled as she squinted in concentration.

They stood together in awkward silence, sizing each other up. Abigail’s gaze ricocheted between the two people she loved most in the world, both quiet and stoic. She shifted her weight back and forth on the balls of her feet, waiting for either of them to speak.

Her grandmother’s demanding look could be cutting, turning hard and stern when she wanted. Abigail had been the recipient of such a look many times, faltering and confessing all her sins beneath the strength of her grandmother’s stone stare.

But Wolf was much stronger than she. After many tense minutes, her grandmother’s gaze flicked to Abigail, her resolve bested by the half-naked man before her.

Her grandmother scanned Abigail from head to toe. Beneath her scrutiny Abigail only felt more naked. Gaps of skin escaped between the sides of her damaged chemise. Her entire body shook with fear and cold. If she hadn’t been so frightened by her grandmother’s and Wolf’s interaction, she might have complained about the chill, but her worry blocked out any sensation beyond the tension in the room.

“Come, child.” Her grandmother finally broke the silence, though the words were nowhere near as comforting as Abigail had hoped for. “Let’s get you dressed.”

Her grandmother wrapped her arm around Abigail’s shoulders, pulling her towards the bedroom with more strength than would be expected from a woman of her years. Abigail’s gaze flashed to Wolf, the questions buried within her mind too vulnerable and raw to express. Her lover’s steely stare only incited her anxiety.

A change had occurred. Not just the end of their love play, or the cosy existence they’d created, but something much deeper. Her heart beat out an unsteady rhythm, matching the chaotic thoughts swirling through her mind. She looked pleadingly to Wolf, asking for something she couldn’t put words to, some confidence or reassurance she needed to hear.

As her grandmother opened the bedroom door and stepped inside, Wolf’s gaze dropped to the cabin floor. Cold drenched Abigail without Wolf’s presence beside her.

Her grandmother pulled Abigail into the small room, then slammed the door behind them, the thick wood completely separating her from Wolf.

Her grandmother released her arm, busying herself about the room. Abigail dropped to the unmade bed. Seated within the messy bedsheets, she inwardly cringed, hoping her grandmother didn’t notice the stains and jump to the obvious conclusion. Not that she had much hope in hiding such truths, after what her grandmother had interrupted.

Besides a few conversations detailing the expectations of a dutiful wife, she and her grandmother had never discussed what occurred between men and women within their bedrooms. The mere thought of talking about such matters made her palms sweat and her throat dry up.

Her grandmother threw open the trunk stationed at the foot of the bed. She pulled out a thin white linen chemise, snapping it into the air to remove any remaining wrinkles. The wind of the movement fluffed against Abigail’s cheeks, the strands of hair wavering around her face.

She let out an exasperated sigh. “Will you please say something, Grandmother?”

Her grandmother looked up, shaking the remaining wrinkles from the garment in her hands. “Whatever do you mean?” Her grandmother used the sickeningly sweet tone she employed whenever she wanted Abigail to figure a problem out on her own.

“Grandmother”—she fought the urge to roll her eyes—“you must have something to say about what you witnessed.”

Her grandmother turned back to Abigail, a small smile curving her lips. She handed Abigail the undergarment. The smooth fabric was cool within her trembling grip.

“Darling, I was young once, too. I’m not completely ignorant of passion.”

Her jaw dropped. She hadn’t expected her grandmother to say anything so blatant. She held on to her surprise, preferring it over thinking of her grandmother in such acts, the images of which continued to batter against her mind.

“It’s not what I expected to see when I came home,” her grandmother continued, her grin expanding. “But I understand. You’re young. You were enjoying yourself.”

Abigail tried to swallow, to breathe deeply, but it was impossible. “You aren’t angry?”

Her grandmother’s amber eyes softened. “Did you think I believed you would stay alone forever? That I didn’t know one day you’d bring a man home? Granted, I thought I’d have a few meetings with him before I witnessed any such intimacy between you, but I can’t say it’s that much of a shock, dear.”

“You expected me to bring a man home?” She shifted nervously, her knees knocking. She eased the destroyed chemise off her body, dropping the tattered garment to the sheets.

Her grandmother grabbed the damaged article, drawing the sleeves together and folding the chemise as if it were freshly cleaned and ready to be worn, rather than tattered beyond repair.

“Of course. Why do you think I always insisted you go to market?” She smiled, the knowing smile of someone who’d been there before. “You weren’t going to meet anyone who could make you happy close to home.”

Abigail slipped the new garment over her head in a bunched ring. “Except for Hunter, that is.” She turned towards her grandmother, allowing the fabric to fall down her body, settling to her ankles.

Her grandmother laughed, a small snort of a sound. “I could tell you weren’t interested in Hunter, certainly not in any romantic way.”

She pulled up the hem of her chemise, looking up at her grandmother. “I thought you wanted us to be together?”

“I wanted you to give the poor boy a chance. He’d been sweet on you since you were too young to understand what that meant. But after you pushed him in the creek for trying to kiss you, I knew there was someone else meant for you.”

“How could you know that?” She hardly understood it herself. She recalled many nights she’d spent in this room, wishing she could be interested in Hunter, wishing she could be happy with him, afraid there would never be anything else in life for her. What made her happy—a tortured, wounded man like Wolf—the thought had never occurred to her.

Her grandmother cupped her cheek, smiling affectionately at Abigail. “I know everything about you, Red. I know you have no interest in Hunter, just as I know how much you love the man out there.” She waved towards the bedroom door, then shifted over, sitting down on the bed next to Abigail. A large grin spread across Abigail’s face at the mere mention of Wolf. A sudden warmth grew beneath her breast bone, accompanied by peace and calm.

“You’re just like your mother in that way.” She grabbed Abigail’s hand from off the bed and clasping it within her own.

They rarely spoke of her parents. It was a difficult topic for both of them. Abigail had so many questions but she’d never mustered the courage to ask them. She recollected only a few scattered details about her parents—the exact pitch of her father’s loud, merry laugh and the feel of her mother’s soft hair brushing her face. Her mother had always smelt sweet, like cookies, and her father was never without a smile. She preferred those memories to her last ones, filled with heat, the smell of smoke burning away their home and clogging her throat.

“Your father might not have been the man I’d have picked for my daughter. Bear was such a large man. It frightened your poor grandfather to death the first time Bear arrived with his daughter in tow. But he was one of the sweetest, most giving men I’ve ever met. And the most devoted father. He loved you deeply, Red, you and your mother. I know they would be sorry to miss this.” Her grandmother smoothed a lock of hair back from Abigail’s face, tucking it gingerly behind her ear. “They’d have been so pleased to see their baby fall in love, get married, and have children of her own.”