Free Spirit of the Wolf by Loree Lough Page A

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    At least, t hat's what he'd believed...until Bess.
    Pretty and petite, she could have used her gender and diminutive size as a shelter from hard work. Instead, she challenged her curvy little body to perform chores that would have given full-bodied men pause. She didn't flutter her long, thick lashes and giggle to gain attention. Rather, Bess let the importance of what she had to say command the notice it deserved. He'd seen plenty of girls leap onto chair seats or hide behind their boyfriends at the sight of a field mouse. Not Bess ! She'd grab a broom or a mop and chase the furry critter outside with a stern warning that if she cau ght sight of its wooly little behind in her kitchen again, it'd end up flatter than a griddlecake.
    She laughed easily and ate heartily. And the only time he'd ever seen her cry had been the night of Matt's accident. Even then, she'd been embarrassed that he'd witnessed her tears, and apologized profusely for them, as though they'd been a symbol of some great character flaw.
    When he pulled her near that night, he'd wanted to say something to soothe her ragged nerves. Wanted to assure her that her brother would be all right. Wanted to promise nothing bad would ever touch her life again, not if he had anything to say about it. But, frustrated by his inability to express what he felt, Chance could only hold her tighter, hoping to let her know with his actions that he'd be there for her any time she needed him. At least until he had to hit the trail again.
    Then she ’d melted against him, her tears dampening his shirt and moving him as nothing ever had. Before, she’d seemed so strong and secure , so sure of herself . H er moment of vulnerability touched him deeply. That's why he'd kissed her, he told himself later.
    But deep in his he art, the truth lived...and grew: He'd kissed her because it’s what he’d wanted to do since the first time he set eyes on her.
    She was a remarkable woman, all right. She'd been mother and father to Matt and Mark. She'd kept Foggy Bottom running, almost single-handedly. She'd done all the womanly chores anyone could have expected of her, plus a few most tried to foist on their menfolk. Beautiful and talented and honest, she'd somehow remained untouched by life's viciousness.
    Bess was sweeter than any woman he'd ever known. She made him feel smart and important, decent and good . He liked the way he felt around her.
    Liked the way she felt in his arms, too, because while other women had made him feel virile, he'd never before felt wanted; others had made him feel lust, and Bess made him feel loved . If he didn't have a death sentence hanging over his head, he'd ask her to marry him, right now!
    Hard as it was to admit, it had been a bad idea to take her in his arms, an even bigger mistake to kiss her. Because now that he'd had a taste of what real love could feel like, it would be hard, real hard, to leave it behind.

Chapter Six
     
    Micah ordered Chance to accompany Bess on the ride into Baltimore, despite her insistence that she'd safely made the trip on her own plenty of times. "The bigger that city gets," Micah said, his voice uncharacteristically stern, "the more dangerous it gets. You'll take Chance with you or you won't go at all."
    This glimpse of the old Micah, strong and in-charge, gave Bess such a feeling of hope that she stifled any further protestations.
    At first, she seemed content to ride quietly alongside Chance . But less than ten minutes into their five-hour journey, she said, "I really don't understand Pa's attitude. I've gone to Baltimore dozens of times, all by myself. It's insulting, that's what it is, the way he made me take a chaperon along."
    "He's just looking out for you, Bess," Chance said without taking his eyes from the road. "Can't say as I blame him. If you were my —“
    "Well, I'm not your daughter," she interrupted.
    He looked at her, a wry smile sparkling in his blue eyes. "I was about to say," he continued calmly,