TO CATCH A WOLF By Susan Krinard

“She went to warn Morgan,” Caitlin said behind him. “She must have, knowing how much you hated him. Lord, if she made it to the mountains—”

“She could be anywhere. Lost…” Or with him. Niall stumbled toward the door.

“You can’t go back to the mountains now,” Caitlin said, grasping his arm. He tried to shake her off, but her grip was sure and fearless. “You’re exhausted, and you would not know where to look. She will find Morgan if he hasn’t found her first.”

“If you are right, and he is alive.” Niall stopped at the door, leaning his head against the paneled wood. “He may have her now.”

“Then you have a chance to do right, Niall. Let them go. Let them live the life they were meant to have.”

Niall ignored her, icy panic racing through his veins. “Cecily,” he said, biting off the name. He snatched his coat from the stand where the new butler had hung it and threw it around his shoulders. He didn’t bother to question the servant further, but strode down the hall and to the rear door facing the carriage house. Caitlin’s footsteps drummed at his heels.

He harnessed one of the horses to the fastest buggy and swung into the seat. Caitlin climbed up beside him. With a grunt he lashed the chestnut out of the carriage house, down the lane and into the street.

In a matter of minutes he had reached Eighteenth and Larimer. The carriages of ballgoers made the streets almost as congested as they were during the business day, and as he neared the Windsor every available space was occupied by a conveyance. He drew the buggy as close to the Windsor as possible and tied the horse to a lamppost.

“You have no part in this,” he told Caitlin. “Stay here.” She shook her head, jaw set. He jumped down from the seat and started for the Windsor at a furious pace, not looking behind to see if she followed.

Only two hours into the ball, Cecily reflected, and everything was utterly perfect.

She gracefully deflected a compliment from one of Denver’s leading dowagers and waved her fan with an elegant tilt of her wrist. The Windsor ballroom was crowded from end to end with Denver’s elite and visiting dignitaries, many of them people that bitch Athena would never have thought to invite. The orchestra played sparkling melodies to delight every ear, and the refreshments in the adjoining room had been created by some of the city’s most skilled chefs. This was Cecily’s triumph, and hers alone.

As long as Athena and her brother did not spoil it. Cecily glanced about the mirrored chamber for the hundredth time. It was sheer foolishness to think that the bitch would return after her escape four days ago. Doubtless she had either perished in the mountains or found her lover and run off with him—if she had miraculously managed to reach him before Niall.

Nevertheless, Cecily had circulated sly rumors about the reasons for Athena’s sudden disappearance. When she had told a few choice gossips that Athena was able to walk—that she had doubtless been deceiving society for years—she had spiced the narrative with the hushed, embarrassed account of how the girl had run mad and attacked her like a wild beast, threatening her very life.

How ready were the bored matrons and misses of Denver to believe such a lurid tale, especially when Cecily encouraged speculation that Athena had manipulated them into making excessive contributions for pity’s sake. Cecily showed them the substantial bruise on her arm where Athena had grabbed her. She expressed compassion for the young woman who had fallen prey to bad elements and her own weak nature. A little truth here, a bit of exaggeration there, and she had laid the groundwork to explain Athena’s violent deterioration.

Cecily had alerted the police, of course, and told them that Miss Munroe had declared her intent to travel into the mountains alone. If they had found the girl, Cecily would be seen as having done her duty, and Niall could not fault her. Any accusations Athena might make could be explained as resulting from her lunacy; Cecily had every confidence of victory in a contest of wits. But the police had not found Athena, nor had anyone been able to contact her brother because of the bitter storm. It was a tragedy indeed.

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