TO CATCH A WOLF By Susan Krinard

Athena remembered Mr. Durant as a nervous, efficient, but generally kind older man who had competently handled the large parties her father had given when she was a child. Prominent men and women had come from Denver to talk business or simply relax away from the city’s summer heat, but that had been many years ago. Evidently Mr. Durant was out of practice.

“Don’t worry, Harry. I will speak to him myself this evening.”

“I am sure that he will be quite upset to have missed you—I believe he is consulting with the foreman about a shortage of provisions.” Harry pushed her chair away from the door, and Athena was very much aware of Morgan gathering up the baggage and trailing along behind.

“You did not bring your maid, my dear?” Harry went on. “I know there are several young women here to clean and cook and whatnot. Perhaps one of them might attend you—”

“That will not be necessary,” Athena said, wishing that she had eyes in the back of her head. “I should be staying for just a few days, and I will need only occasional assistance.”

“Quite so, quite so. Nevertheless, I will see if I can locate a girl for you so that you may refresh yourself. Caitlin is sleeping at the moment, but when she wakes—” He paused halfway across the room and gazed at the great oak staircase in dismay. “Oh dear. How extraordinarily foolish of me. Your rooms are on the second floor, are they not?”

“I haven’t been to Long Park many times in the past several years. Niall had meant to have an elevator installed, but it seemed unnecessary…” And he always carried me. But he isn’t here. Mr. Durant isn’t strong enough, and neither is Harry. That leaves—

“Morgan, if I may impose upon you once again,” Harry said.

Athena held her breath. Morgan stalked up beside them, bent over Athena, and lifted her into his arms. It was not the first time he had held her so, but since the kiss—since her fantasy of walking—the act was charged with almost unbearable excitement.

And shame for her pitiful expectations.

Morgan mounted the stairs, unspeaking, while Harry puffed along at a much slower pace. “To the right,” she whispered when they reached the landing. Morgan carried her to the room she indicated, balanced her weight on one arm, and used his free hand to open the door.

The room’s furnishings and decorations were the frothy, unsophisticated selections of a young girl, unchanged since before the accident. Morgan hesitated when he saw the white, lace-canopied bed, and then gently set her down upon it.

She stared up at him. He stared back. The room grew very warm despite the empty fireplace. Huffing like a bellows, Harry appeared in the doorway.

“Morgan,” he said between breaths. “The bags—”

Morgan backed away and fled the room. Athena pressed her hands to her face, wishing for a handful of snow to cool her flush.

“There, there, my dear girl. What is the matter?”

She tried to gather herself into a more dignified position on the bed and smiled at Harry, inviting him to sit in the delicate wicker chair at her dressing table. He closed the door, gave the chair a dubious glance and sat down cautiously. The chair creaked, but held.

“I suppose I am tired, that is all,” she said. “The driver I hired was quite competent, but the wagon was not comfortable, I fear.”

“Your brother does not know you have come.”

“No. He’s away, and I made the decision on my own.” Best not to elaborate on that point; sharing such worries with Harry did neither of them any good. And there was something else that she could no longer keep to herself. “Harry… is Morgan… is he upset that I have come?”

Harry leaned forward, eliciting a groan from the chair, and clasped his hands between his knees. “My dear child,” he said with uncharacteristic gravity, “How can you ask such a question?”

“He… I…” She turned her face aside. “I have never spoken of this to anyone. It feels very strange… wrong—”

“No, no. Never say so.” Harry placed his hand over his heart. “I am honored beyond words that you choose to speak to me as you would to your own father. You see, I have regarded you as something of my daughter from the day we met. And Morgan is like the son I never had.”

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *