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“You have a very nice smile, Monsieur Kavanagh,” Tally said.
“You have a very nice—” He looked pointedly at her chest. She’d bound her breasts, but he’d seen what lay underneath the wrappings. “You still have to pay a price for my saving your cow, Miss Bernard.”
“She isn’t my cow.”
“Seems everything you touch ends up belonging to you.” His grin vanished. “Why is that, Tally?”
She faltered under his stare. He put his hands on her hair, slid them down to cup her face.
Mon Dieu. It was truly happening. Not like before, when he’d stolen a kiss just to prove his indifference. There was no indifference in him now. And none in her.
“What will you give me, Tally?” he whispered.
She closed her eyes. “Everything.”
Praise for Susan Krinard
THE FOREST LORD
“This story, a mating of Regency romance and old myths, is enchanting, creating a world and characters to dream upon…. The use of fae characters and ways spices up the story, turning a tale of romance between different classes into a different and magical read.”
—Affaire de Coeur
SECRET OF THE WOLF
“With riveting dialogue and passionate characters, Ms. Krinard exemplifies her exceptional knack for creating an extraordinary story of love, strength, courage and compassion.”
—Romantic Times
TO CATCH A WOLF
“[E]ach scene richly paves the way for an explosive, satisfying conclusion.”
—Romantic Times Top Pick
TOUCH OF THE WOLF
“Touch of the Wolf is a mystical, enthralling read, brimming with lyrical prose, powerful emotions, dark secrets and shattering sensuality.”
—Eugenia Riley, bestselling author of Bushwhacked Bride
ONCE A WOLF
“Once again Ms. Krinard brilliantly delivers a gripping romance, turning every emotion inside out to expose all the facets of love. She holds you spellbound with her magic.”
—Rendezvous
To Tame a Wolf
Susan Krinard
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
PROLOGUE
Hat Rock, Texas, 1866
THE OLD DRUNK, Charlie, was the one who came to tell Sim his mother was dead.
Others would have known earlier, of course—the madam of the brothel, Evelyn’s fellow soiled doves…and any number of clients, respectable and less so, who frequented the Rose of Texas. Gossip traveled fast in a whorehouse.
None of them bothered to pass the tragic news to Evelyn’s only son. Charlie came not because he gave a damn about Sim, but because carrying the story made him feel important. More important than a worthless, troublemaking sixteen-year-old tramp.
Sim, standing in the dusty street in front of Hat Rock’s pathetic excuse for a bank, heard Charlie’s slurred speech without emotion. He’d learned to hide his feelings early on, when he figured out that Ma couldn’t be trusted from one moment to the next. Sometimes she cuddled him and called him “my son,” but more often she cursed him as the bane of her life, the burden who had ruined her for the better things she deserved.
Sim clenched his fists and walked out of the cloud of Charlie’s whiskey-soaked breath. He strolled down the center of Main Street, making the carriages and buckboards and horsemen go around him.
Ma was dead. She’d been going at it a long time, riddled with some kind of wasting disease. But she’d kept working, even when only the lowest clients would take her. And Sim had visited the Rose every day to see if she needed anything from her only kin, if she would accept a little of the money he earned or stole in every petty way he had learned in his years on the street.
On his last visit she’d spat at him. He’d wiped the spittle from his cheek and left, though Madame Rose had tried to bribe him with promises of a hot meal and a free ride after. He’d sworn he wouldn’t go back. He’d planned to break his oath this afternoon. He could have said goodbye.
She could have said she loved him.
He laughed, startling some fine lady’s skittish horse. Her male escort, a rich rancher decked out like a pimp, spurred his long-legged eastern gelding in front of Sim and slashed the air with his quirt.
“Get out of the street, you savage,” he snarled.
Sim tilted back the brim of his ragged hat and looked the man in the eye. The man yanked on the reins. “Filthy beggar,” he muttered. “No better than a—”
His horse squealed as a length of heavy rawhide rope slapped down on the animal’s well-bred rump. The beast took off like a shot,
