Page 74 of Unwilling Wolf

“She isn’t my mate!” Garret roared. “Fuck!” he gripped his hands in his hair. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

Eliza was stunned at how cruel he was being. “You don’t have to do this, Garret,” she told him softly. To Lenny, she said, “I want to go home.”

Lenny held Garret’s gaze for two seconds, and then she headed for the scared horses that had damn near pulled their line off the tree. “I’ll get our horses.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Dearest Uncle,

I fear I am so impatient for you to come and visit me! I want you to see my new life here. I wonder if you would even recognize me now, though it has only been a short time since we’ve seen each other. It feels like a lifetime though, because so much has happened. It isn’t glamorous here, and we do without modern conveniences to be sure, but I’m happy in most areas of my life. I shall be attending a dance later today. I am filled with excitement, yet anxious. I still stick out here, and Garret was an eligible and sought-after suitor. I fear one scorned female in particular could prove to be a cruel and relentless creature, but hopefully I am overreacting. Or if I’m lucky, she won’t even be at the dance.

Lenny, the woman I wrote you of, has become a dear and welcome friend. I don’t think I would have survived thus far without her, as she is determined to make me tough and able. I baked my first loaf of bread just the other day. Are you impressed with me, Uncle? Well, hold your applause until I tell you, I have learned to make pies. And yes, they are even edible! If you promise to visit I shall learn to make cobbler, as I know it to be your favorite. I daresay I will shamelessly bribe you with treaties until you show up on the train.

It would do you good to see me thrive here, dear Uncle. I know you worry so over things out of your immediate control, but this is where I’m supposed to be. I feel it to be true in the very fiber of my being.

I’m home.

Eliza Shaw

Eliza finished the letter to her Uncle Frederick, fortuitously leaving out the parts which would worry him deeply. Cactuses, werewolves, unwilling husbands, injury—the worrisome events that seemed to pass for the everyday around the Lazy S. Her uncle’s worry wouldn’t solve her problems. She would simply have to learn to adjust to such ways of life if it meant she could be happy in between. The extremes would simply have to become her normal.

She had slept through the entire day and part of the night. She’d written her letter by candlelight as it was now full darkness outside. Relief at the probability she wouldn’t have to talk to Garret soothed her.

Unable to sleep more, she readied herself with the intention of taking a bath, as it was a few hours yet before dawn would break on the horizon. A quick check of the furniture near the fireplace told her Garret was asleep in his bedroom, leaving her the privacy of her thoughts and a hot bath.

She found solace in the mindless work that went into filling the tub. Her unfortunate adventures of the night before had left her filthy, sore, and exhausted, and she had to look fresh and clean for the barn-raising later in the day. If for no other reason than to prove to herself and Garret the trauma she had endured had not broken her as he likely expected.

She and Lenny had spent hours picking the tiny cactus needles from her skin, and she still had patches that felt like there were some left. Perhaps the warm water would loosen them.

In the bath, she ran her hands over every inch of her skin and picked at the little needles that were left.

After the warm bath, she dressed and let her hair hang loosely around her shoulders to dry in the morning air. She would make four pies, and hope at least one came out with the desired amount of attractiveness and flavor. She would take the best-looking one, though if they all turned out well, she would likely bring all four to the dance.

Garret’s bedroom door squeaked as it was opened, but she did her best to ignore it. His apparent desperation to rid himself of her was much too much for this morning.

Carrying a bucket of fresh water for his washbasin, he disappeared into his bedroom without sparing a word for her. Just as well. She was much too upset to be baited so early. The results would be entirely unattractive, to be sure.

His emergence into the kitchen to heat water for his bath had her retreating to the safety and solitude of her room. It was ridiculous, but she couldn’t help but be wounded by his apparent aloofness toward her after being so cruel to her last night. How did one understand a man such as he? Garret was hot and cold and hot again in an almost continual fashion. Clearly the man fought some barely-restrained battle within himself, but she couldn’t even pretend to understand what it was about this time, and he didn’t seem willing to enlighten her.

She had always been confident in reading people. With him, her feet barely touched the ground most of the time—her emotions free to be pulled and pushed where he saw fit. So maddening, that someone so indifferent could have such control over her feelings. If she could rip the adoration she carried for him from her body, she would do it with little remorse.

Oh, such melancholy thoughts! She would have to get a grip on her impassioned state. Such internal turmoil was foreign to one who took such pride in a happy demeanor. She would simply have to ignore him like he ignored her.

A firm knock came at the front door, announcing a visitor’s arrival.

“Eliza, can you get that?” Garret called.

The beautiful green dress she had chosen was only halfway laced up. Irritating man. What could he possibly be so busy with, that he couldn’t answer the door?

With a growl, she flung open the door, holding her dress closed as best she could, and stepped into Garret’s doorway to ask him just that. She pulled up short, startled to see him shaving in front of the small mirror over his washbasin. His shirt lay on the bed, most definitely not on him, and his casual trousers hung loosely around his muscular, tapered waist. The defined muscles in his back tensed and flexed as he worked. His firm physique wasn’t what captured her attention though.

He'd been shot.

There was a bullet wound straight through his side, and a huge exit wound on his back. Across his back and neck, there were half-healed claw and bite marks. A couple places were still bleeding.

“You’re hurt,” she uttered, shocked.

“I’ve had worse,” he said hoarsely.

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