Before Jessica could answer or protest, Wolfe released her and walked toward the Moran brothers. The music stopped as though cut off by a knife.

«Gentlemen,» Wolfe said with deadly softness, «don’t be fooled by appearances. Lady Jessica forced our marriage by claiming that I had seduced her. I did not. She is as virginal tonight as she was on the instant of herbirth.Yetwe are married. The little nun prefers it that way, for she knows I won’t force her. She believes she can remain forever a spoiled child, playing at marriage, playing at keeping house, playing at being a woman.»

The silence that followed Wolfe’s words was so absolute that the wail of the wind outside was almost shocking in its volume. Wolfe looked fromRafe to Reno and resumed speaking in the same soft, savagely controlled voice.

«Enjoy Jessica’s smile, enjoy her laughter, enjoy her lively conversation, but don’t get your guts in a knot over a spoiled little tease who whimpers during storms and can’t even build a fire — in or out of bed. Wait for the right woman, one like Willow, a woman, not a girl, a woman strong enough to fight by your side if she must, passionate enough to set fire to your soul as well as your body, and generous enough to give you children despite the risk to her own life. Jessica is not that woman.»

Wolfe turned on his heel and stalked to the front door. The cry of the wind increased as the door opened. Without a word or a look at his wife, Tree That Stands Alone vanished into the windy night.

12

Jessica slept more badly than usual that night, for Wolfe’s icy summation of her failures as a Western woman kept echoing in her mind, sliding past all inner barriers, cutting her in ways she couldn’t name. All she could do was endure as she had endured in the past, putting pain and memories behind her, forcing them into parts of her mind she visited her, forcing them into parts of her mind she visited only in nightmares.

But tonight Jessica couldn’t fight as she had fought in the past. Tonight she felt her carefully constructed defenses crumbling like a sand castle beneath a rising tide.

When Wolfe came into the room, undressed silently, and slid beneath the blankets, Jessica was more awake than asleep. The scent of him settled over her, evergreens and fresh snow. His hair radiated the cold wind that writhed over the land.

Lying absolutely still, certain that he sensed her wakefulness, Jessica waited for Wolfe to speak to her. When he simply rolled onto his side with his back to her, she closed her eyes and told herself she was grateful not to hear any more cutting words from Tree That Stands Alone.

But she wasn’t grateful. She would rather have been berated than continue to lie in bed half-dazed with regret and loneliness, listening to the wind’s victorious wail. Shivering with a cold that not even the fur blanket could warm, she waited for sleep to release her. In time, something close to sleep came, but there was no release in it, simply greater vulnerability.

Outside the room, a northern storm descended, fulfilling the harsh promises of the wind. A vast, ice-toothed scythe of sleet sliced horizontally across the land. Pellets of ice hammered over the roof and clawed down windowpanes while the wind screamed in a woman’s voice, describing eternal damnation.

Her mother’s voice.

Terror that was colder than the storm froze Jessica. Neither asleep nor yet awake, she clenched her teeth against the cries locked within her throat. She would not let Wolfe hear her.

…a spoiled little tease who whimpers during storms.

With a soundless cry of despair, Jessica turned her face into the pillow, fighting memories, fighting nightmares, fighting herself. Sensing weakness, the wind howled around her. Its icy fingers pried beneath her control, screaming to her in her mother’s voice.

But it was Wolfe’s words Jessica heard, Wolfe’s words that stripped her to her naked soul.

Wait for the right woman, one like Willow, a woman not a girl…a woman passionate enough to set your soul on fire…generous enough to give you children despite the risk to her own life.

Jessica is not that woman.

The wind screamed triumphantly as memory, nightmare, and storm combined, telling Jessica that she was alone and the wind was everywhere.

The sounds she refused to make shuddered through her tense body. Though she managed to stem her own cries, she could not stem the black tide of memories drowning her, a childhood recalled by her mother’s voice screaming with the wind, incidents she had spent a lifetime hiding from except in nightmares, and those she refused to remember upon awakening.

But Jessica finally was awake now. She was remembering her mother’s screams and her father’s curses, two figures interlocked on the hallway floor in brutal sexual combat.

I won’t remember!

Yet Jessica could not stop remembering.

Abruptly, she knew she could control her cries no longer. There was only one place where she would be free. Outside, in the center of the wind’s violence, where nothing living could hear her scream.

Just as Jessica’s legs slid over the edge of the bed, a powerful arm snaked around her waist and hauled her backward. The contact was unexpected, an extension of her nightmare where her father’s thick arm hooked around her fleeing mother, draging her down to the mating she had fought with every bit of strength in her small body.

Wolfe sensed the wild tension in Jessica the instant before she exploded. He put his free hand over her mouth, shutting off her scream as he bore her down beneath him on the bed. After a flurry of struggle, he overwhelmed her attempts to be free of him. Soon she was helpless, her arms stretched above her head, her wrists locked together in one of Wolfe’s hands, his other hand clamped over her mouth, and his big body pinning her so completely she could barely breathe. Screaming was impossible. So was escape.

«If you think I’m going to let you tiptoe off to have your feelings soothed by one of those fine Moran brothers, you’re crazy,» Wolfe said in a low, savage voice.

At first the words didn’t register through Jessica’s panic. Finally, the simple fact that she was helpless but not being hurt penetrated her fear. It was Wolfe imprisoning her. It was Wolfe speaking to her. Wolfe, whom she had trusted from the first moment she saw him. Wolfe, who would never hurt her as her mother had been hurt. Wolfe, who had been her talisman against nightmare and waking terror. Wolfe, who might hate her, but would never rape her.

With a convulsive shudder, Jessica stopped fighting.

«That’s better, your ladyship. I know my touch repulses you, but that’s too damned bad. You’re the one who wanted to be married, not me.»

Jessica’s eyes widened. She turned her head from side to side, trying to evade Wolfe’s hand over her mouth. After a moment, he lifted his palm. She licked her lips and tried to speak. On the third attempt, words came.

«Being touched by you doesn’t repulse me,» she whispered. «Truly, Wolfe.»

«You lie very sweetly, Sister Jessica, but your body tells me the truth,» Wolfe said sardonically. «You would have screamed and clawed my eyes out if I had let you. Hardly the act of a girl pleased by a man’s touch.»

«You don’t understand. I was remembering and then you grabbed me, and I didn’t know what was memory or nightmare and what was real.»

«Save your lies for the Moran brothers. They believe you’re half the woman you look to be. I know better.»

Wolfe released Jessica and rolled aside as though repelled by the very feel of her skin.

«Wolfe,» she whispered raggedly, reaching out to him. «Wolfe, you’re the only one I’ve ever trusted. Please don’t abandon me to the wind. It will steal my mind as surely as it stole hers.»

The cold trembling of Jessica’s hand on his arm shocked Wolfe almost as much as her words.

«It’s just a storm,» he said roughly.

«No,» Jessica whispered. «It stole her soul. Can’t you hear herscreaming?Listen. It’s the cry of a woman newly damned.»

A chill moved down Wolfe’s spine. The slow shudders that took Jessica’s body were transmitted to him by the cold fingers clinging to his arm. Despite his anger, he could no more turn away from her naked pleas than he could walk out of his own skin. He put his hand over hers, trying to warm her fingers.

«Jessi…it’s just the wind, no more.»

She didn’t hear Wolfe. She heard only the keening cry of her memories. Wide-eyed, motionless but for the trembling she couldn’t control, she lay and listened to the wind, knowing that soon her mother would drag herself from her father’s bed and walk the stone hallways, crying and wailing, her screams rising and falling in awful harmony with the wind.

«Jessi?»

There was no answer but her quick, shallow breaths. Slowly, Wolfe gathered Jessica against his body. Though she was so tense that she was all but rigid, she didn’t fight his embrace. She simply lay against him, quivering like a bowstring drawn to the breaking point. He had felt the same shivering in her once before, when he had held her amid a fragrant haystack while a wild storm hammered all around. She had been crying with fear then.

He found himself wishing that she would weep now.

She didn’t. She simply lay and shuddered at random, finally driven beyond her ability to endure. The knowledge that he had pushed Jessica to the point of breaking brought no triumph to Wolfe. Had he been able, he would have undone every hurtful word. He had never meant to bring her this low.

«It’s all right, elf,» Wolfe said gently. He stroked Jessica’s back, trying to draw some of the tension from her. «Nothing can harm you. I’ll keep you safe.»