"I'm imposing dreadfully," she said softly as he strode on.

He couldn't tell her how wonderful she felt in his arms but, carried away by his emotions, he blurted, "I'd do anything to help you."

Though she didn't reply he thought she nestled closer against him. He hoped it wasn't his imagination.

Because he knew the rear gate would be open, he brought her into the grounds that way, entering the house through the back door into the kitchen where Mima was talking to Belinda, the cook. Both women stared at him. Mima frowned. "Miss Wainwright's hurt her left ankle," Wolf said. Within minutes, Mima had Linden settled into a chair with her boot off and was kneeling beside her, examining the injured ankle.

"No bones broken," Mima muttered as she manipulated the ankle. "No swelling, so it can't be sprained." She looked up at Linden. "You say your horse threw you?"

Linden nodded.

"I can't see where you're hurt much at all." Mima's words were a challenge.

"My ankle does feel better," Linden said, reaching for her boot. She glanced at Wolf. "I'm sorry to have caused trouble."

Puzzled and angry at Mima's attitude, he leaped to Linden's defense. "Miss Wainwright obviously twisted her ankle," he told Mima. "I'm taking her into Thompsonville in the buggy."

Mima shrugged and rose to her feet. "The sooner the better." She walked away without another word.

Twenty minutes later Wolf and Linden sat side by side in the buggy on their way to town. Linden, who hadn't spoken since he'd helped her from the house, laid a hand on his sleeve.

"I'm so very grateful to you," she said.

It was as well he held the reins in both hands, tempted as he was to cover her hand with his. He wished the ride into Thompsonville were longer; he couldn't bear to think of their time together ending.

"I've never met a man quite like you," she went on. "You're like no one else!" he told her.

Her smile and the warmth of her hand through his sleeve encouraged him to go on. "I want to--I mean I wish I could see you again."

"Ah, but that might prove to be a problem. You understand that it's not proper for me to invite you to visit me at the inn and, as for your house--" She allowed her words to trail off.

Wolf's heart sank. He couldn't invite her to Volek House. Not with his grandfather's prohibition about admitting strangers. He was already in enough trouble with Grandfather.

"Don't look so downcast," Linden told him. "We'll find a way to meet."

He turned to her. "But how?"

She shrugged. "I can ride, can't I? I assume the stupid horse came back to the livery stable and I'll make certain to request a more trustworthy mount next time."

Next time. The words thrummed in his blood.

"There's always the pine grove," she murmured, soft as the wind in the boughs. "We met there once, why not again? To give my ankle a chance to heal we'll make it in two days time." She leaned closer and touched her lips to his cheek in a fleeting caress. "That's for your brave rescue."

Though she didn't come as close to him again for the rest of the ride, Wolf floated on air. He knew she must be older than he--at least in her twenties--and he suspected she was acquainted with far more polished men. But Linden liked him; she wanted to see him again.

Unlike those at Volek House, here was a pretty and exciting woman who didn't scold him or snub him. The way she looked at him and her praise made him feel ten feet tall. And she'd kissed him. Only on the cheek, but one kiss could lead to another. Especially in the pine grove where they'd be alone.

Wolf didn't know how he'd manage to get through the hours until he saw her again.

When he returned home, he half expected another lecture from his grandfather--this time about bringing a stranger into their midst. He meant to defend himself--Linden had been lost and injured, after all. Grandfather, though, wasn't waiting for him.

"I didn't tell Sergei," Mima advised Wolf later, "but bring that woman here again and I surely will. If you ask me, she was putting on a show of being hurt for just that reason--to get inside Volek House."

How could she say such a thing about poor Linden? Annoyed as Mima made him, Wolf held his tongue, not wanting to argue with her.

"I suppose you didn't even notice how she talks," Mima went on. "She's a foreigner."

"Visiting from Switzerland," Wolf said in triumph. Mima seemed to think he was still a know-nothing ten year old. Thinking it over when he was alone, Wolf decided he'd confess to Grandfather that he'd found an injured woman in the woods and given her a ride back to Thompsonville in the buggy. There was no need to mention she'd actually been inside the house--what difference did that make?

When he got around to making his confession, Wolf thought that Grandfather seemed distracted, giving only half an ear to what he said.

"--and so I left her at the inn," Wolf finished.

His grandfather nodded. "That should be the end of the matter, then."

It wasn't a question but guilt roiled inside Wolf because he had no intention of admitting he'd arranged to meet Linden again in the pine grove. He hated to keep secrets from Grandfather but it was his own business who he associated with off the grounds.

Relieved that he hadn't upset Grandfather, Wolf hugged his secret to himself for the next two days. The fact that he'd soon be seeing Linden enabled him to endure Cecelia's pointed snubs and Guy's chilliness without difficulty. What did he care how they acted? Spending most of the day out of the house helping Jose or wandering into the woods meant he was mostly alone anyway.

When the morning of their meeting day dawned, Wolf remembered they'd set no time. Not that it mattered--he meant to go to the grove early and wait. He wished he could take enough food along for a picnic but, if he did, Mima was certain to find out and ask questions. He didn't want to arouse any suspicions.

After leaving the house, he detoured through the orange grove, admiring, as always, the contrast of the bright orange fruit against the glossy green of the leaves. He picked a couple of ripe oranges from one of the trees and, as he left the grove and strode toward the pines, he practiced different ways of presenting the oranges to her.

"I wish they were made of gold."

Much as he meant it, the words sounded foolish in his own ears.

"My heart goes with them."

Even worse.

Wolf finally decided he'd simply hand the fruit to her without comment.

If she came.

When he'd begun to doubt she might not come, he didn't know. True, Linden had praised him--even kissed him. And she was the one who'd suggested the pine grove. But what if her friends had arrived? Would she remember she was to meet him? Would she care whether or not she did?

The morning, fair and bracing, stretched on endlessly. A dozen times he told himself he was going to leave, all the while knowing he'd stay until dark before giving up.

It was past noon when he heard a horse's hoofs. Wolf, sprawled under a pine, sprang to his feet. A handsome bay appeared between the trees with Linden riding sidesaddle. Wolf drew in his breath as he saw her. He thought of the two oranges and winced inwardly. They were far too humble a gift for the elegantly garbed woman who rode toward him.

"Mr. Volek!" she cried as she reined in the bay. "I feared you might not be here!"

She dismounted by sliding off into his arms. "You smell of roses," he said involuntarily, holding her a moment longer than necessary.

Linden wrinkled her nose. "And horse, too, I've no doubt."

"But I like the scent of horses!"

She smiled and patted him on the cheek with her gloved fingers. "I've brought a surprise in the saddle bags," she said.

Her surprise was a striped blanket to sit on and a small picnic hamper crammed with food. As he spread the blanket, Linden noticed his oranges underneath the pine and exclaimed over them.

"I adore oranges! How wonderfully thoughtful."

"Picked ripe from our grove," he said, pleased that she appreciated his simple gift.

He tethered the bay and stood watching her as she knelt on the blanket setting out the food. He wasn't one to notice women's clothes in detail but she looked so pretty in hers that he paid more attention than usual. Today her riding habit was golden-brown and the jacket was trimmed with a darker brown velvet collar and cuffs. She wore a soft felt hat with a moderate brim. Yellow roses decorated the band. "Come sit beside me," she suggested, patting the blanket.

He obeyed eagerly. Linden peeled off her gloves, revealing soft white hands. She removed her hat and set it aside with the gloves.

"I've even brought wine," she said, holding up a green bottle. "And, yes, I remembered a corkscrew. Would you like to open it or shall I?"

Wolf, who'd never opened a bottle of wine in his life, said, "I'd rather watch you do it. I like to watch you." Actually, he'd never had more than a glass or two of wine in his life--and that recently. Grandfather didn't drink anything intoxicating himself--as a shifter he didn't dare--and hadn't had wine served with meals until the Kelloggs arrived.

"You'll quite turn my head," Linden protested.

After she'd opened the bottle and poured a small amount of the almost clear wine poured into one of two small stemmed glasses, she offered the glass to Wolf. Recalling how Guy sniffed before he tasted his first glass of wine with dinner, Wolf imitated the actions.

"A good year," he said, copying Guy's words. At least Linden wouldn't think he knew nothing at all.

She smiled and poured herself a glass, then offered Wolf a plate of sliced cheese. He took some of everything she offered, hardly aware of what it was or how it tasted, so intent was he on Linden herself. Though he didn't remember drinking it, by the time they'd finished eating, the wine bottle was empty. Linden cleared the blanket of picnic remnants.

He felt wonderful, better than he'd ever felt before. "Linden," he said. "Linden. Your name is beautiful. Like you."

"I shall take that as an invitation to call you Wolf," she said, edging closer to him and taking his hand. She held it between both of hers. "You're so strong," she murmured, looking up at him with admiring brown eyes. "So much stronger than I. I adore strong men."

Bemused, he lowered his head until their lips met. Then she was in his arms, clinging to him, returning his kisses, arousing him beyond his ability to control himself. Though he wasn't clear how it happened, eventually she lay on the blanket, undressed to the waist, while he caressed her bared breasts.

"Oh, Wolf," she whispered, her breath warm in his ear, "I want all of you."

God knows he wanted her! But when he tried to raise her skirts, she pushed away his hand.

"Not here," she murmured. "It's not right, out in the open like this. I can't.

I won't."

"No one will see us," he said hoarsely, urgently, afire with need.

"I'm afraid," she said piteously. "If we were in your room, in your bed--" Her words trailed off as she inched her fingers along his thigh until they touched his rock hard prick, inflaming him. "Oh, Wolf, Wolf," she whispered. "How desperately I want you to take me. But not here. Properly. In your bed."

"Linden, please--"

"No." She pulled free of him, sitting up and turning her back as she put her clothes in order.

He tried to find a more comfortable position but his continuing need made it difficult. "Your room at the inn?" he suggested.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Never! Everyone would know! This is our secret, yours and mine. I couldn't bear it if the whole world discovered what we mean to one another."

Exactly what he'd told himself. It was their secret. He had to have her--but how? Was it possible to smuggle her into Volek House? He started to shake his head, paused. Not in the daylight, no. But at night?

"I've never felt for any man what I feel for you," she said softly, turning to him. "More than anything, I want to show you how much you mean to me."

More than anything, he wanted her to show him.

"I can't ask you into the house," he said slowly. "My grandfather forbids visitors. He'd know if I broke his rule. I'd have to--" Wolf paused, looking at her. Even for Linden, did he dare defy Grandfather's taboo?

"You'd have to what?" she prompted, stroking his arm with her soft fingers.

"I'd have to sneak you in at night," he blurted, afraid she'd take offense.

She looked at him solemnly. "I'm not used to being unwelcome. I'd thought to be invited to your house as a guest."

"I'm sorry. Maybe if Grandfather knew you--" Wolf stopped again. Whether his grandfather met her or not, she was still a stranger. "I can't explain," he said finally. "Poor darling Wolf. I should be angry with you but how can I be?" She brushed her lips over his, pulling back before he could put his arms around her. "I can't help feeling insulted, though. Why, I've been a guest in some of the finest homes in Switzerland!" She sighed. "Perhaps we just weren't meant to belong to one another."

"We were, we are!" Wolf spoke fervently. "Please don't give up. You don't know how badly I need you in my bed tonight."

She pouted. "But so clandestine!"

Wolf grasped her hands in his. "That'll make it all the more exciting."

"Do you think so?" She still seemed doubtful.

He brought her hands to his lips, aching to hold her, to kiss her mouth instead of her hands, but knowing she wouldn't let him. Tonight, in his bed, she would. She'd let him do anything he wanted then. If he could get her there.

"You're very convincing," she murmured. "How can I resist you?"

"Don't. Just trust me."

"I suppose I must."

His heart leaped. He'd demolished the first barrier. Now all he had to do was perfect a plan to slip her into the grounds, into the house and into his bed without anyone discovering what he was doing. Then, of course, out again before morning. Naturally, he'd see her safely to the Thompsonville inn afterwards. But why concern himself with the afterwards when he hadn't yet possessed her? His need to make her his mounted by the minute.

"I'm not at all certain I should go along with this," she said.

Wolf stood, drew her up and held her loosely in his arms. "I'm certain."

She gazed into his eyes. "I want you to know I've never done anything remotely like this in my entire life."

He believed her. Not an elegant lady like Linden. He only hoped she wouldn't change her mind and ride off before nightfall.

"I think you've cast some sort of spell over me," she murmured.

If only he could! As it was, he considered himself the luckiest man in the world.

"I've never before met a man who lived in a castle," she told him, easing from his arms. "Your house must have hundreds of rooms."

"Not that many."