Part 35 (2/2)

Concentrating on keeping her seat, Anne called, ”Can we go to the moors? Ride across them bareback in the moonlight as I dreamed I would do?” She glanced at him.

He shook his head. ”Not tonight, la.s.s. You need more practice before you dare that.”

Who knew if Anne would have the courage to sneak from the house again and slip away with the new stable master? She could

come to her senses at any time. Revert to her old ways of being good and chaste and totally boring. Her aunt could suddenly decide the country was too uneventful for her and demand they all pack up and leave for London. Tonight might be the only chance Anne had to realize her dream.

”I'm going,” she decided. ”Stay behind if you want. In fact, go back to the stable, so if I'm discovered or something happens to me, you won't be held accountable.”

Having issued her orders, Anne turned Storm toward the path that would eventually lead her to the moors.

”Come back here, Anne,” Merrick ordered. ”I said you weren't ready yet.”

Anne nearly obeyed simply out of habit. The need to rebel had taken root inside of her now and she wasn't sure she wanted to staunch it. Who was he to command her anyway? Merrick wouldn't tell on her, since he'd been a party to helping her tonight.

Not unless he wanted to lose his position.

Already knowing him a good deal better than she should, Anne wouldn't put it past him to come after her and drag her from the horse's back. Anne kneed the animal into a gallop. Behind her, she heard Merrick swear rather loudly.

The path was easy to follow due to the bright moonlight s.h.i.+ning down from above... at least until Anne was deep in the woods. She heard the pounding of hooves behind her and knew Merrick followed. Anne also knew that he would easily catch her if she stayed to the path. In a split-second decision, she reined Storm off the path.

Because Anne had a good sense of direction, she thought she could make her way easily to the moors. What she didn't antic.i.p.ate was the difficulty of maneuvering a horse through the thicker forage or the log in her path she saw too late. Jumping on horseback was a good deal more difficult when the horse wore no saddle. Anne lost her balance and fell.

The fall jarred her to the teeth. The breath had been knocked from her and once she could breathe again, she sat up, trying to determine whether she'd been hurt. She moved her legs back and forth, her arms; nothing was broken. As Storm had been taught, the mare had come to a halt with no one guiding her by the reins. Anne slowly rose from the ground, her bottom still stinging as she moved toward the mare.

Suddenly Storm's head came up. The mare snorted, then her eyes rolled back in her head, and she s.h.i.+ed, taking off through the woods as though the hounds of h.e.l.l chased her. Anne wanted to cry. She should have listened to Merrick. He had been right. She wasn't ready to attempt what she had. Now she was afoot, lost in the woods, and alone. Or was she?

The hairs on the back of her neck p.r.i.c.kled. She had a feeling she was being watched. What had frightened Storm? The horse didn't usually shy easily. Glancing around, Anne noticed how much darker it was at night when the trees overhead blocked out the moonlight. She had trouble distinguis.h.i.+ng shapes. She also had trouble telling direction. Where was the path? If she moved in that direction, surely she'd come across Merrick in search of her.

She took a step, but movement from the corner of her eye had her wheeling to the right. Anne squinted into the shadows. Another shape joined the first. And then another. Wolves. Her blood turned to ice. So, the legend was true. There still were wolves roaming parts of England.

Anne dared not take her eyes off the still shadows, wondering how much longer they would remain still. She needed a weapon. Glancing down, she tried to make out the shape of a branch, a rock, anything she might use in her defense. A shadow had moved closer when she glanced back up. Anne swallowed hard.

”Don't move.”

The instruction was no more than a whisper; then she felt Merrick's heat at her back. Her knees nearly buckled with relief. A shadow crept closer. Eyes glittered in the darkness. Her heart rose in her throat. Merrick stepped in front of her, blocking out the danger, protecting her from her own foolishness, perhaps with his life.

The shadows continued to move in until they were surrounded. Frightened, Anne slid her arms around Merrick's waist and pressed her face against his back. His heart thudded beneath her ear, strong, steady, but not racing wildly the way hers did at the moment. Silence echoed around her; then very soft, very low, she heard a growl. It resounded not from the beasts of the night but from the man who stood before her against them.

Gooseflesh rose on her arms. Anne didn't know whether to release her grip around Merrick's waist and run or hold tighter to him. She closed her eyes and prayed. How long she stood clinging to him, she did not know. It seemed like an eternity.

”It's all right now, la.s.s. They've gone.”

Anne opened her eyes, although the darkness that surrounded them was much like having them closed had been. She didn't see anything in the shadows, but that didn't mean there was nothing there.

”Are you certain?” she whispered. ”How do you know?”

”Because I know,” he answered, turning to face her. ”They've gone and taken their scents with them. They were only curious to begin with. Curious to know what kind of fool walks alone in the woods at night.”

A touch of embarra.s.sment mingled with her fear. He was right; she was a fool. Anne might have considered herself boring the day before, but she hadn't considered herself foolish until tonight.

”I'm sorry. You were right,” she admitted. ”I shouldn't have gone off on my own. It was foolish and dangerous.”

He didn't respond, and when she glanced up at him, Anne gasped. His shadow stood tall and dark against the night, but his eyes glittered like those of the beasts of the forest.

”Your eyes,” she whispered. ”They glow in the dark like the eyes of an animal.”

He glanced away from her, as if to s.h.i.+eld her from the sight. Anne recalled the low growl he'd issued while she had clung to him in fear. And his scent, the one she smelled on him now. The one that overpowered fear and confusion and attracted her to him even when common sense said she should run away. There was something very strange about Merrick. But perhaps it was only hysteria that made her think so.

”Merrick?” she whispered. ”Who are you? I mean, really?”

Chapter Five.

It was a question Merrick had asked himself many times in the past. Who or what? He knew he was different from other men. He did not understand why. He'd been able to read the wolves' thoughts or, rather, sense what they were feeling. He had warned them off and they had gone, no doubt as frightened of the strange human as humans would be if they knew the whole truth about him.

”I'm just a man like any other,” he lied. ”I simply have some rather odd abilities.”

One of those abilities allowed him to see her expression in the darkness. For a moment she had been frightened of him; now her brow wrinkled and natural curiosity took over.

”What sort of abilities?”

The path Merrick walked was a dangerous one. He shouldn't have told her as much as he had. And yet he wanted to tell her. Why would he? It was bad enough that so much already stood between them. Their stations in life. Why would he want to broaden the gap? Maybe to put distance between them. Maybe to simply see her reaction.

”I can see in the dark,” he answered. ”I see your face. Last night in the stable, I saw you as clearly as if it were daylight, standing in your underwear, rolling your stockings down your shapely legs. Your chemise had a red silk rose sewed to the front of it.”

Her eyes widened. She took an unconscious step back from him, and Merrick tried to ignore how much that affected him. ”How could you know that?” she asked. ”How could you see that clearly in the darkness? It is impossible.”

He wished it were impossible. Merrick felt her withdrawing from him. Even if her mind told her it was impossible, her conscience had begun to fear him. It was what he'd wanted, to put distance between them. But it didn't feel like what he wanted at all. No, if he was honest with himself, he'd admit he wanted her back in his arms. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to do more than kiss her.

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