Wandering Off the Path Page 5

  In the distance, two wolves howled deep within the forest. Their mournful cries filled the night sky and vibrated into the hollows of her heart.

  Chapter Five

  Abigail slipped Wolf’s arm from around her waist, escaping his large body spread across the mattress. She eased from the bed, and stared back at him. His legs and arms were stretched across the expanse with masculine ease, giving her a satisfying picture as she fled the sheets.

  She dropped to the floor, her entire body aching from new use as she bent. She sifted through the clothing discarded beside the bed to find her own garments. Grasping her chemise, she shook it to remove the wrinkles, and she slipped the linen over her head, pushing her arms into the sleeves.

  She had no idea how long she and Wolf had stayed in bed—though darkness still peeked through the cracks in the door, the movement of time was unperceivable. Their lovemaking had been so overwhelming, she was sure it should have taken several nights wrapped around each other to experience so much. Yet, in her mind, it had moved so quickly that it appeared as only a few minutes, whirling through her memory in a blur of sensation too intense to contain.

  She brushed against the hood of her scarlet cloak on her way out of the bedroom door. She bent to pick up the thick fabric then pulled the crimson cloth over her shoulders. Sliding open the door, she slipped from the chamber as soundlessly as possible.

  Unease settled over her as Abigail moved through the living area. The fire she’d built still glowed in the main room, dull creaks and pops emanating from the hearth. She shifted about the familiar setting in the flickering light searching for food, suddenly ravenous.

  The numbness she normally awoke with—a sense of incompleteness and despondency—was replaced with a fluttering deep in her stomach, an unease she couldn’t shake. When Wolf had been touching her she hadn’t considered what would happen next. It hadn’t mattered. But now she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Would Wolf leave her, abandoning her like a wilted flower? Do I want him to stay?

  Abigail found the basket she’d brought from market. The supplies she had intended to share with her grandmother. The rewards for their diligent efforts spinning wool for the local gentry tempted her from the table. At the empty roll of her stomach, she repressed any concern over how her grandmother would respond to Abigail consuming the supplies without her. They looked too good to resist.

  She had to keep thinking as though her grandmother were going to come home any moment. Because the alternative was too difficult to imagine. Abigail wasn’t sure she could survive it. She had no interest in trying, until she had to.

  She pulled a large knife from the kitchen block then severed the apple cake into eight equal pieces. She picked up the closest wedge and crammed the moist cake into her mouth. Small crumbs fell from her lips to gather upon her breast. She swept them delicately from her, gasping when she unintentionally brushed her still-raw nipples.

  Why had she allowed him to treat her so? Surely she would never have tolerated such handling from anyone else. She hadn’t only permitted him to use her, she’d enjoyed it. The memories of his callous use of her body caused her to shake with exhilaration.

  She grabbed two clay cups and set them on the table. She pulled the cork from the wine bottle and poured a generous helping of the rich ruby liquid into each cup, placing the other on the table for Wolf to enjoy later. She brought the cup to her lips and gulped down the rich drink, washing the remaining cake down her throat.

  Abigail gathered the rest of the foodstuffs she could find. When Wolf woke, his stomach would probably rumble twice as long as her tummy had. He didn’t seem like the type of man who’d be denied any of his hungers. A shiver raced up her spine at the idea of fulfilling any of his appetites.

  Everywhere she looked, she found traces of Wolf. Traces she might never be able to erase. She’d thought one memory might be enough, to save for the rest of her life, to return to whenever she needed to remember truly living, but she was starting to see it differently. One moment with Wolf was nowhere near enough.

  Distracted, she didn’t notice Wolf stumble into the room until his large yawn alerted her to his presence. She turned towards him to ask him what he’d like to eat, but the sight of him stole all the air from her lungs.

  He stood before her completely bare. His torso was stretched, his back arched, his fists rubbing the last dregs of slumber from his eyes. Thick hair covered his chest and under his arms. She trailed her gaze down his body, following the path of salt and pepper down to his groin.

  Wolf was even more imposing naked than he was clothed. She heated, remembering those large, thick arms wrapped around her, holding her down as she screamed. Her body tingled. It would take only moments before her defences would yield to the assault she was already longing for him to mount.

  She swallowed. Her heart beat out a pattern of possession, Wolf’s domination thumping with each throb. Even as a frail old woman she was sure she’d remember how it had felt to be with him, the commanding look in his eyes as he’d approached her on the woodland path.

  “Hungry?” Her voice shook. Wolf, not acknowledging the change, approached the small feast she’d prepared.

  “Yes,” he growled, surveying the table with the same ravenous expression he’d used upon her naked body.

  Abigail shook her head. What a fool I am! If only she could decide what she wanted, getting it would be far easier. She shouldn’t want to be treated roughly, she shouldn’t allow Wolf to do so, but how could she fight his touch when he’d given her more satisfaction than she’d ever dreamt of?

  Beside her, Wolf scooped two pieces of the apple cake into his mouth, appearing to swallow them whole. Aware of his gaze, she turned to find his eyes upon her. The twin irises like two distinctive spots of fire, assessing her body, her expression, while silently seeking more.

  Wolf sliced two thin wedges of cheese from the wheel. His gaze fixed on her. The space on the bench next to Wolf’s powerful body looked so inviting. Her knees urged her to collapse beside him. She fought it, unsure what such intimate contact might cause her to feel.

  As if understanding her unease, Wolf clasped the edge of her cloak and tugged the fabric with enough force to draw her down to the bench. His hot thigh pressed up against hers. Her eyes dropped to his strong hands holding her. Hands that could tempt, tease and sweetly torment her all night. She connected with the golden depth of his eyes as she dropped to the seat. His stare implored her, searching for some sign in her eyes, for more than she wanted to divulge. And as much as she wanted to look away from him, she couldn’t.

  Wolf would always challenge for more. Every time she created a line, when she walked away from him, told him to leave, he pushed past it, finding his way across it. The idea of fighting his attempts, or giving him exactly what he wanted, excited her. He’d tempted her, until she was willing give him anything he wanted for another taste of what he’d already revealed to her.

  With the tip of his forefinger, Wolf pushed one of the cheese slices towards her. Hardly aware of her actions, she picked up the piece and nibbled at the end. Not out of hunger, for as soon as he’d appeared from the bedroom her stomach had twisted into knots too tight to even consider food, but to occupy herself in the silent room.

  She should throw him from her home and life, along with the confusing emotions he engendered. But she had no intention of doing so. She couldn’t force him away any more than she’d been able to resist his initial seductions.

  Wolf watched Abigail nibble at the cheese, and he wished it was his own flesh she applied those white teeth to. Absentmindedly, he rubbed the fading bite marks on his chest and his groin tightened. He wanted her again, needed her again. This gnawing in his gut almost demanded he pick her up and take her back to the bedroom. His stomach now partially full, he had other hungers to satisfy.

  Abigail’s downcast gaze and trembling fingers told him she wouldn’t be as interested in his needs. Her head was tilted away from him, the firelight glowing
across her hair and smooth cheek. He fought the yearning to growl at her for turning away from him—he hated her obscured expression. The desire to know her thoughts multiplied each second he couldn’t read her amber eyes. But he needed to be more skilful, more precise this time.

  Wolf wrung his hands together. Her soft fragrance tempted him. He had to know whether Abigail was okay, even if she was tossing him out of the door, or crying into her hands. If he’d injured her, either mentally or physically, he’d beat himself to a bloody pulp. He never wanted to be the source of someone else’s pain again. Not after what had happened to the last woman to enter his life.

  “Are you all right?” Wolf infused as much softness into his words as possible. He didn’t possess a lot of softness—there hadn’t been much need for it in the forest. But when she looked up at him with those doe eyes, he wanted her to trust him. She brought out the man he used to be. The man with a family, the man with a future, the man who cared for others.

  Abigail nodded, lifting her head up to meet his gaze. “I’m worried about my grandmother. She’s never been gone this long.”

  His chest lightened, his fears somewhat alleviated. Yet his need for her grew.

  He forced himself to chomp into a ripe autumn apple, to occupy his hands, teeth and tongue. Her sweet smell managed to overpower the aroma of the fresh fruit, more intoxicating than the apple. He gripped the fruit tightly in his fingers to keep from pulling her to him, sliding her legs around his hips and cushioning his cock between her silky thighs.

  Most tempting of all was her kiss. He wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted to kiss a woman so much in his life. He clutched the fruit, his fingers biting into the thick red skin to stop himself from dragging her mouth to his instead. He could so easily push her down on this bench and be once again thrusting into her lush body until she was moaning beneath him.

  He concentrated on her, taking another bite of the juicy fruit, forcing down the concern clogging his throat with the food. The crunch of his bite echoed through the still room.

  She couldn’t want any of that now. He’d taken advantage of her, he’d used her. He’d pushed her to do more than any sweet maiden should ever endure. She shouldn’t allow him to even touch her again with such intimacy. He wouldn’t blame her.

  “Is there anyone else that could search for her? Do you have any other family she might have gone to?”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s just the two of us. She’s my whole family.” She looked pale, fragile and alone beside him. As alone as he was. His chest tightened with the urge to protect her, to keep her safe, to make sure she’d never be alone and sad again.

  “My parents died in our home. The cabin was accidentally set ablaze by an overturned candle. I came here to live with my grandma and grandpa after that. But he died a few years back from a fever. We’ve been on our own ever since,” Abigail continued without prompting. She twisted her fingers together nervously. Dark fears encroached on her eyes like clouds over the moon. He wanted to reach out and touch her, to smooth his fingers down her cheek, to calm the nervous fumbling of her fingers. But it had been so long since he’d been affectionate with anyone he didn’t know if he was even capable of bestowing such comfort.

  “I don’t know where she could be, or what might have happened to her. Much can happen in the wood,” she blurted.

  “Yes,” he returned, looking up to find her soft eyes staring at him, with a surprising empathy. She must have sensed something in his words, in his tone, but she didn’t ask.

  Wolf turned away from her, the vulnerability of her sweet amber gaze meeting his own too much to take. He picked up his cup and drowned the entire portion in one gulp, the wine burning down his throat. He’d given up all that when he’d found his family’s cold bodies. After the men who had intended to kill him had beaten his wife and daughter to death, and believed they’d left him to the same fate. He’d vowed he’d never again be the catalyst of someone else’s harm, and with Abigail’s open loving heart and trusting nature, she’d be all too easy to hurt.

  Abigail curved her hand around his cheek, gently redirecting his expression to meet her eyes. Her gaze captured him, unwilling to allow him to hide behind sadness, fear or rage.

  “I can see the sadness in you, too.” She combed her fingers through his hair, pushing the strands away from his face. “Did you lose someone as well?”

  When he didn’t respond, she pulled back slightly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” Her words dripped with genuine concern as she apologised, her head cast down.

  Wolf couldn’t remember the last time someone had been concerned about offending him, since anyone had shown interest in how he’d become the animal he was, instead of writing him off as the big, bad Wolf. He deserved what he got. His family had suffered far greater than he had. He’d created his own fate and no weak-hearted maid could change that, no matter if she should want to. Yet the simple gesture made him want to show her all of him, even the darkness.

  “My family…” he continued, not acknowledging her concern, but rewarding her affection. Pain stabbed at his ribs. His lungs burned with his struggle to breathe against the ache. He hated talking about his family. He hated being reminded of all the pain he’d brought them for nothing, all the damage he’d caused because he was too young and stupid to know better. “They were taken from me. It was my fault they were harmed, my fault they were put in danger’s path.” His voice filled with anger and regret. “After they were gone, darkness overtook me. The woods were the only place that would accept me.”

  She stretched her other arm around him, brushing his back, soothing his aching spirit with each caress. There’d been too little comfort in his life. He shouldn’t place that burden on her, of soothing a man as troubled as he, but it felt too good in her arms to pull away.

  He leaned into her touch, allowing her further access. He didn’t want her to ever let go. He couldn’t ask for so much. Certainly not when he had nothing to give in return.

  “Is that why you followed me? You saw the same darkness in me.” Her words quivered with a fine tremor of fear.

  He looked up, surprised. He searched her eyes, gauging the seriousness of her question. Her head dropped timidly, her fingers tightened anxiously in the folds of her crimson cloak. Not because of him, as it should have been, but directed towards herself.

  The realisation astonished him—she couldn’t truly believe that. No darkness hollowed her heart. This woman, who wanted to comfort a stranger, who offered him understanding, compassion and sympathy, didn’t have any evil fibre within her.

  Not like he did. Not like he always would. She was better than he’d ever be. Better than he’d ever been.

  “Abigail.” He used his fiercest tone to command her attention. “You’re not dark. You’re full of light, innocence and sweetness. That’s what lured me to speak to you, to tempt you off the path. But it’s not what brought me here.”

  Abigail’s mouth quirked, as if a question hovered on the tip of her tongue, but he stopped her with a glare. He wouldn’t let her interrupt, not before he’d said all he needed to, not before he’d told her the full truth. “It was your curiosity that drove me here. The spark inside you that quests for more. The open and searching desire to know the world beyond what you’ve been given. You have no idea how rare such desire is.”

  Silence followed his words. Wolf helped himself to another piece of cake, giving Abigail the freedom to ponder his words, to absorb the truth. If he could make her believe, maybe he could find a way to stay, if only for a little while longer.

  Could curiosity be enough to attract a man like Wolf? Could it be enough to keep him?

  Wolf made no motion to speak, and Abigail didn’t press him, enjoying the stillness between them. The silence was comforting. She wished it could stay like this, she and Wolf basking in this relaxed quiet together. It was the most content with herself she could remember being in a long time. Despite the fear for her grandmother, her life was perfect.


  Softly, in the background, she heard the foreign sound of horse hooves pounding against the frozen ground. At first she ignored it, unsure where the noise came from. There hadn’t been horses here since her grandfather’s death. And few visitors travelled close enough to be heard from their small cabin. Besides Hunter.

  But the pounding continued to get louder, closer, until the truth assailed her, hitting her as hard as the hooves beat upon the packed earth. The sounds slowed, forcing her to rise from the bench to meet Wolf’s quizzical look. She stepped to the door, opening it only a crack to keep as much of the warmth inside as possible, but enough to confirm her suspicions in a familiar chestnut mare.

  “Hunter,” she declared under her breath. Damn Hunter and his need to be her saviour. Couldn’t he wait to check on her until tomorrow?

  Wolf looked to her, startled, confusion knitting his brows. She slapped her hand over her mouth at another man’s name escaping her throat. She met his gaze, not sure what emotions lingered in their depths. Was it possible she saw concern there, maybe even jealousy?

  Abigail suppressed the urge to curse as her common, everyday life protruded into the exhilarating existence she’d created with Wolf. She’d enjoyed her reprieve from her quiet reality and wasn’t ready to return to it.

  For a moment she considered pretending to not be home. She could tempt Wolf into the bedroom and keep him there long past Hunter’s departure. But her absence would incite Hunter to further action, his concern for her would be too great to ignore any possibility she might be in distress.

  From her earliest childhood she remembered Hunter caring for her, helping her find her way home when she got lost, or preventing her from eating the poisonous berries she found upon the path. Only two years older, Hunter had always acted as her protector, but his role had only intensified as they’d aged, as her curiosity and ability to find such danger had increased. She could imagine Hunter doing almost anything to keep her safe. If he found she was missing, she wouldn’t be surprised if he gathered together a hefty search party to find her.