Chapter
Twenty-one
Birkie appeared at her elbow, arms folded. “Okay,
something’s seriously wrong here. Carlton Fuller’s herd is sick
because he was too cheap to vaccinate again, and you spent fifteen
minutes explaining to him how that ‘doesn’t make good economic
sense’ instead of kicking his sorry ass from here to Winnipeg.
Why?”
“Because it doesn’t make sense from a
business standpoint. If he—”
“I know that. What I want to know
is—why isn’t he dead?
Jillian looked baffled. “Well, I
thought I’d try an educational approach . . .” She trailed off at
her friend’s expression.
“You, my dear, have either had a
complete breakdown from overwork or you’ve finally gotten some
serious nookie. Which is it?”
“Do we have to
call it nookie?”
“We can call it whatever you like as
long as you tell me about it.”
“I’m not going to give you a
play-by-play.”
“I’ll settle for details on events
leading up to and immediately following. Your apartment after
closing, I’ll bring the chocolate.”
“Deal.”
He was the world’s biggest idiot. What
on earth had made him think that he was in control, even for a
moment? The plan had been just to keep an eye on Jillian, satisfy
himself with checking in on her at the clinic. Briefly, always
briefly. Just long enough to assure himself—and the wolf
within—that she was fine, that she was safe. And yeah, he could
admit he looked forward to catching a glimpse of her or hearing her
voice, sometimes watching her work or maybe saying hello. But that
was all the contact he had permitted himself, all he had planned
for. Not for one moment had James anticipated that she would show
up at the farm.
Still, he could have avoided trouble if
only he hadn’t taken her riding, definitely if he had turned them
back to the farm instead of heading down to the damn river, and
most of all, if he’d just avoided looking in those big green eyes
of hers. Sensible precautions that if taken, would have prevented
what happened last night. Wouldn’t they?
No. No, it would have
only delayed the inevitable. The truth of that resonated
uncomfortably within him. If he was honest with himself, he had
never been in control, not since the first time he’d met her as a
man, and certainly not since the first encounter he’d had with her
as a wolf. Which meant he should have known, should have seen it
coming. After all, he had admitted to himself long ago that he was
attracted to Jillian. It was natural, it was normal, to be
attracted. Even natural and normal to act on that
attraction.
Like last night?
Well, hell, he wasn’t dead and it had been a long time since he’d
been with a woman. He’d spent most of the morning trying to tell
himself that was all it was. Except it wasn’t all, not by a long
shot, and he knew it. James couldn’t even pretend that the wolf had
anything to do with it, because his alter ego had all but
disappeared after that first kiss. His mind had disappeared then
too. Perhaps he could plead insanity. After all, he was still
reeling from that kiss, even after everything that had followed.
Jillian had looked up at him with those big sea green eyes and that
faery face and it had been like a hard kick to the stomach. All the
air had left his lungs, and James felt himself swimming in those
eyes. Swimming and the water was oh, so deep. He had had to kiss her, had to more than he had to breathe. But
she’d beaten him to it. She had fisted her hands in his hair and
pulled his face to hers. There and then he drowned.
Small wonder his heart had galloped on
ahead of his brain and developed feelings, strong ones. As much as
he was struggling to rationalize the whole situation, his own words
mocked him: That’s the whole damn problem with
being human. You always end up feeling things you don’t want to
feel. Only that was a lie too. He’d said things, thought
things, felt things—and as much as he had told himself he didn’t
want to, he did. Very much.
He threw the spade he was carrying
across the yard, launching it like a javelin with such force that
the blade stuck into the barn wall about fifteen feet off the
ground. He left it there and stalked away, wishing he could Change
and race away into the forest.
Jesus Murphy! He
had to get a grip. So what if he had
feelings for her? He couldn’t let that matter. All that mattered
was what would be best for Jillian, how best to keep her safe. A
relationship was completely out of the question. She was human and
he had to remember that. Associating with a Changeling would only
endanger her. What little contact she had now was probably too
much. Sooner or later someone would notice. And Jillian would
pay.
Bad enough that she was already going
to be hurt—he’d be stupid to think that last night hadn’t meant
something to her too—but at least she’d be alive. She was sure to
hate him too, and rightfully so. Because not only could he never
see her again, he couldn’t even explain why.
She’d missed lunch again. Jillian
finished with the goat in the corral and headed back into the
clinic. She had just cut through the waiting room on her way to the
kitchen when she spotted the large bouquet on Birkie’s
desk.
“These just came for you, hon.” Her
friend waggled her brows. “Pretty impressive choice of flowers
too.”
Jillian stared at them. She recognized
the roses—but what roses. The large blooms
were exquisite, creamy white and long-stemmed. But they were
interspersed with tall plumes of tiny bell-like flowers, also
white. And those shiny green leaves—“Is that holly?”
“It certainly is. Holly and white
heather. Both of them symbolize a pledge of protection and
defense.”
“What?”
“It’s the language of flowers, hon.
Different flowers mean different things. This is a very strong
message, a double message of protection.”
“Protection of what?”
“Well, you of course. And the white
roses, now those are just plain classy.”
“Are they protecting me
too?”
“No, silly. I’m going to have to loan
you one of my books. White roses are always more powerful than red
ones, you know. The white ones mean ‘love
always’ or ‘pure love.’ Like I said,
very classy, very unique. Aren’t you going to read the card? Let me
tell you, it took a pile of restraint to keep from running it out
to you in the corral.”
Jillian fingered the small envelope,
noted it was sealed, and tucked it in her pocket. “I think I’ll
read this privately first,” she said and laughed when Birkie looked
disappointed. “If it’s G-rated, maybe I’ll share.”
“Oh, all right. Can I at least keep the
flowers on my desk a while?”
“Of course. They’d be wasted sitting in
my apartment all afternoon. I’ll come and get them at closing
time.”
A pledge of
protection. That seemed a little medieval, but maybe James
was just trying to be romantic. Or maybe he didn’t know any more
about the so-called language of flowers than she did. But the white
roses. . . . Those were romantic in any language. Jillian hurried
to the lunchroom, hoping for a few more moments between patients.
She tried to open the envelope in a civilized fashion but in the
end, she ripped it. The picture on the face of the card was simple,
trees in a forest. She smiled, thinking of when she’d last been in
a forest . . . then she opened it and her smile disappeared. She
was still standing there staring at what James had written when
Birkie came in to announce the next patient. Jillian handed her the
card without a word and headed to the examining room.
Jillian. You’re a
beautiful woman but it would be best if we didn’t see each other
anymore. I’m sorry.
“Well, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Best,
he says. Best for who?” Birkie shook her
head, blinked hard until her eyes cleared. “Isn’t that just like a
man? Trying so hard to protect the one you love that it ends up
hurting both of you.” She sighed and stashed the flowers in the
supply room until closing. Then she quietly took them to the
dumpster and dropped them in.
James was drill-seeding the back
quarter section of land. Most farmers used herbicides to kill off
all existing plants before putting in a crop, but there would be no
chemicals used on Macleod land. He’d studied the latest techniques
and decided to go with a no-tillage policy as well. That meant
seeding the fields without plowing them, leaving the existing plant
cover to hoard moisture and shelter topsoil from the powerful west
winds. It would take time, plenty of it, but James was determined
to steer the farm to organic production.
It would take a lot of work too, but
that was fine with him. In fact, the more work, the better. Right
now, work was the only thing keeping him sane. Usually the land was
soothing to his spirit, the soil enlivening. But not now and not
for the last three weeks. Even from the cab of the tall tractor, he
should have been able to feel a unique closeness to the earth but
lately he’d just felt empty, hollowed out and aching. The deep
peace and satisfaction he usually found in green and growing things
was missing, and in its place was desolation.
James told himself repeatedly that he’d
done the right thing by walking out of Jillian’s life. He should
never have let things go so far in the first place. Should never
have kissed her, should never have held her—but he couldn’t seem to
bring himself to regret it. God, that night together, tangled on
the forest floor. Whenever he closed his eyes he still heard her
heart hammering behind her teacup breasts, still saw downy curls
glinting gold between her slim legs.
Everything had changed. She had changed. He had looked at her with human eyes
for the first time while she slept in her apartment. That little
frown on her fine features had immediately evoked a storybook
picture of a cranky faery. But that night in the forest, the
cuteness disappeared. The silvered light had revealed something
downright ethereal, profound. Even regal. Not Tinkerbell but
Titania herself. It was in the angles of Jillian’s face, in her sea
green eyes, in her wild cap of hair. In her narrow frame that
seemed far too small to hold the blazing passions that drove her.
In her skin that was so much fairer than even his own, so amazingly
soft over compact muscle. Every night in his dreams he ran his
hands over her body, delighting in the lines of it, the colors and
textures, even as he breathed in the enticing scent of her, as his
heart thrilled to the sound of her voice, her laughter. And every
morning he had to remind himself that for Jillian’s sake the dream
had to remain a dream.
The sun was down, but the darkness
didn’t matter to James. The tractor had powerful headlights and his
night vision was acute. He could easily finish this field tonight.
Maybe the one on the south side as well. Whatever would keep him
busy enough to stay awake was fine with him. James just didn’t feel
up to having another dream of any kind. Besides, when he was awake,
it was easier to control the wolf within. Relatively easier. Since
James had ended things with Jillian, the wolf had been increasingly
surly, miserable, short-tempered and likely to snap at anyone.
Just like my human self. He didn’t know how
long he could keep a leash on the wolf, knew that it would find its
way back to Jillian sooner or later. Maybe he should leave town.
The wolf would have a tough time interfering with Jillian’s life if
James was in, say, outer Mongolia.
When the fuel gauge beeped a warning,
he geared down and brought the tractor to a standstill, switched
off the seeder. There was a fuel tank and a pump on the back of his
truck, but he’d left it parked under the trees on the far side of
the field. That was okay, he could use the walk. Maybe it would
clear his head.
Stars were appearing and he could just
see the full moon above the trees. It was glowing yellow like a
Japanese lantern, but it would lose color as it climbed. James
rubbed his hands over his face and opened the cab door of the
tractor, let the breeze pour through, scented the air, let himself
breathe deeply and rest, relax, just for a moment—
—suddenly he was the
wolf, racing through a shadowy forest under a velvet sky bright
with stars. He had to go faster, had to reach her, had to help her.
Followed the river until it flowed through a city, until game
trails gave way to manmade trails. Followed them until he caught
the scent of violence and fear, hate and hopelessness. Followed
until he caught sight of the upraised pipe. Of the brutal hands
that held it. Of the man intent on destroying the life that
fluttered in the slight figure crumpled on the ground beneath
him.
The Change overtook him without
warning. James cried out in shock and surprise, then his human
voice was strangled off abruptly by the shift in form. His human
mind had time for a only single thought as he leapt down from the
tractor. Jillian. He had to get to
Jillian.
The great wolf ran full out across the
field, belly close to the ground, claws digging into the clay soil,
tail a white plume touched with the moon’s golden
light.