Free Wolver's Gold (The Wolvers) by Jacqueline Rhoades

had possessed her to lose her temper with that silly fool? He'd been a thorn in her side since he sat behind her in school and regularly trapped her pigtail between his desk and her seat so she made a fool of herself every time she was called upon to rise. She hadn't lost her temper like that with Jack since she was twelve.
    And now this. She'd not only bitten the Second of her pack, Bitten! She'd threatened to testify against him. The shaking worsened and she lowered her head to her hands. She felt a warm hand at her upper back.
    "You got anything other than ice tea around here?" Mr. McCall asked.
    "Um, lemonade, I think. No. Eustace had that with his supper." Her brain wasn't functioning very well. It was difficult to think. Um, coffee?" she said. Yes, coffee was a drink and she was pretty sure they had some. She looked up into eyes dancing with humor. He was laughing at her.
    "I was thinking of something a little stronger," he said, his mouth steady and straight despite his dancing eyes.
    "Oh." She frowned, not understanding his meaning and then she did. "Oh! What a fool you must think me, Mr. McCall. Of course. Papa keeps a bottle in his office. I'll go get it."
    He'd rescued her, for heaven's sake, and she hadn't thanked him or offered him any hospitality. She started to rise, but his hand on her shoulder stopped her.
    "You're shaken, but no fool, Miss Kincaid," he answered gently, but firmly. "You sit. Tell me where he keeps it and I'll go get it."
    Well, she couldn't very well tell him that, now could she? Her father kept his liquor in the safe and as chivalrous as McCall's actions were, she couldn't very well give him, a stranger, the combination. Hospitality, her call of duty, quickly cleared the cobwebs befuddling her mind.
    "I'm quite all right, Mr. McCall," she told him, sounding more prim than she meant it to. "I'll fetch it. The gentleman's lounge might be more comfortable for you. You're welcome to take your refreshment in there or I can bring a tray up to your room."
    "No, Miss Kincaid, the kitchen will be fine. I shall await your return with baited breath."
    He was mocking her, but what else could she expect. He'd only seen her at her very worst; with Jack Coogan, her father, and now Barnabas Holt. She nodded and hurried from the room in search of whatever strong refreshment her father might have locked away.
    When she returned, bottle in hand, he was coming through the back door with her laundry basket filled with the dirtied cloths. He looked at her and grinned.
    "If you use a tub and a washboard, you're on your own, but if you have an honest-to-God electric washer, point me to it and I'll throw these in for you. Better get them washed before the dirt dries."
    "Oh, no, Mr. McCall, you mustn't. It wouldn't be right. Please, sit down. Have your drink with my blessings. I'm exceedingly grateful for your…"
    He glanced to his left. "Never mind, I see it. Stay," he said to the dog who had followed him in. The dog sat.
    "No! Mr. McCall, I cannot allow you to…" The bottle tilted dangerously as she placed it on the table and she bobbled it back and forth with her still shaking hands.
    "Damnit, woman, get off your fucking high horse and sit your ass down. I didn't ask your permission and I know how to use a goddamned washing machine." When she didn't move, he pointed to the chair and said, "Sit!" and then, quite sharply to the dog, "Guard."
    The dog stood and stared at Rachel. Since it had already shown her its teeth once tonight, she thought it best to do as she was told and sit. Mr. McCall could not, however, stop her from thinking. No one had ever used such words to her before . She'd heard them, of course. Visitors and tourists, wolver and human, used them regularly, but they were outsiders, not pack.
    She was offended by them and would have told him so if not for the fact that he'd done her a great service. She would, instead, patiently explain to him that no gentleman would use such language in front of the