Page 29 of The Spirit of the Wolf
“You needn’t answer,” she said. “I can tell it sits heavily on you. May I ask what this duty is you must perform?”
Over the light from the crackling flames, his eyes met the burnished embers of hers. For a moment, he did little but behold the loveliness that was hers alone. And then, knowing what he must say, he uttered simply, “I cannot speak of it.”
She held his gaze, saying nothing for so long the quiet noise of the evening began to intrude on them. “It appears,” she said after several instances, “as though neither one of us is as yet able to trust the other with our deepest, most heartfelt secrets.”
He inclined his head slightly. “It may be so. However, perhaps our distrust is natural. We have but met.”
She placed her head to the side, as if by this angle alone she could better study him. “I would say yes and no to this which you said,” she uttered softly, and then, having delivered this peculiar assertion, she turned her attention elsewhere.
He frowned. “I do not understand.”
“No, I don’t expect you do.” She sighed. “I barely grasp it myself.”
Grey Coyote chose to say nothing, though he watched her closely.
In due time, she said, “It is odd. Yesterday I found myself in the charge of a stranger, going Lord only knows where, possibly even captured by him, with only his word to tell me what had happened. And here I am. Though I am not headed in the direction that I must, I yet find I…”
He remained silent. Intent, but silent.
She cleared her throat. “By rights, I should assume the man who did this to me is my enemy.”
He bent his head in agreement.
“But the problem is I don’t think this way at all.” As she lifted her gaze to his, her eyes were big, round. “And it’s this that I find so strange. Although I hardly know you, Mr. Coyote, and although I should fight you and fend you away—perhaps even order you to take me where I please—I…I trust you. Do you know why this is?”
“Maybe.” His voice caught. Annoyed at this obvious show of weakness, he cleared his throat. “It might be that, despite our differences, our hearts speak to one another in the same language. It is possible.”
“Yes, this is within the realm of possibility.” She said the words softly. “Mr. Coyote, what do you mean by ‘our hearts’?”
“Kindness, maybe,” he explained diligently, “or perhaps a sort of sympathy that beckons us to each other. To be guided by one’s heart is different than to be led, and perforce fooled, by one’s head. It is an instinct, a sense. And it is never felt for oneself, alone. It goes in the direction toward another because one feels…something.”
“Well said. Then when you say ‘heart,’ you were not referring to…” She stopped speaking and looked away from him.
But he was curious, and he said, “Referring to…?”
Her face became a dark shade of crimson, which caused his study of her to deepen, and he repeated, “Referring to…”
“Nothing. It is not important.” She sighed, but still she didn’t look at him.
He drew his brows together. Was she also having difficulty because of who he was? Was it possible they were both experiencing a similar rush of feeling?
He swallowed, then remarked, “Of course, you are probably aware of my attraction to you. It is also conceivable that this might concern you, and if it does, be assured I mean you no dishonor.”
Her eyes went wide. “Oh, no, no, I know…” Her voice faded away.
“I have given you my word that you are safe with me. After all, I intend to leave you at the trading post as soon as—”
“Unless I can convince you to take me to St. Louis.” She flashed him a grin.
He raised an eyebrow. “Do you think your suggestion is a wise idea? My taking you to St. Louis?”
“Well, naturally. Why not?”
“Because when two people are alone, male and female, there can build between them an affinity which is hard to break.” Across the smoldering remains of the fire, he scrutinized her features, finding them…pleasing. “What you ask of me could be…difficult for me.”
She was silent. With her attention still focused elsewhere, she asked, “Difficult because of the attraction?”
He nodded.
