Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

THE LARGE BRANCH CONNECTED with its target perfectly.

In fact, Cecelia would never have believed her aim was so good if she had not seen it with her own eyes. Watching the great animal flinch and drop before her was unbelievable! She had actually struck the thing right upon its forehead. Who knew she had it in her? If only William could have been there to witness it. He would never believe she had knocked such a big beast down now.

Her crowing and general self-congratulations did not last too long, though, for almost immediately the wolf began to moan and move about.

She grabbed the branch from where it had ricocheted, ready to flee or attack if she had to.

She did not have to.

For in that moment, the beast's groans began to take on a different sound altogether. They were almost human, and it was several seconds before Cecelia realized he was actually speaking.

"I am sorry. Did you say something to me?" she asked, still unsure if she was imagining more than she was willing to admit.

"Yes," he grunted.

Cecelia quickly crouched for the attack. "Did you just say, 'Yes?'"

"Of course I did."

Stunned, she could not help asking, "Did you just say, 'Of course, I—'"

"Yes! Look." The beast rolled over onto his hind legs and gingerly sat up as he spoke. "I know this may be a novel concept for you, but, yes, I am speaking and, yes, you can hear me."

Stepping back, she stumbled over a small boulder next to the water and caught herself just in time. "I—I do not believe it."

"Well, it is the truth." He stretched his paws and leaned back a bit with a look of submission. "I'm not sure what else I should do to convince you otherwise, except speak. Though, considering your reaction, I feel it may not be the best way."

Cecelia slowly lowered herself to the rock, the green-striped gown gracefully puddling around her. "But how?"

"How can I talk?" The wolf rubbed his head against his front legs. "Well, it was much easier to communicate coherently before I was nearly clubbed to death."

A surprised chuckle escaped her lips. "It was a branch, barely a stick, and it only hit you once."

"With quite some force, let me tell you."

"Yes, well, what did you expect, sneaking up behind me like that?"

Alexander grumbled. "I did not suppose you to be so accurate, certainly." He rubbed his head on his front legs again, looking as though he were attempting to receive a tad bit more sympathy from her.

Sympathy did not come from Cecelia's corner. She was too elated and bewildered by the night's events to fully comprehend what was happening or to remember her manners. "I know! I could not believe it myself! And then to watch you fall like that was mind-boggling."

The wolf did not miss the excited glimmer in her eyes, nor the fact that he had never seen the girl look prettier. "Or mind-bashing," he moaned in response before lying on his stomach upon the ground. "Either way you would like to look at it, it hurt."

She leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees. "It looked like it was extremely painful."

Alexander's deep, rumbling chuckle was foreign to his ears. He was not sure when he had last laughed out loud, but he was positive he'd never had the opportunity as a beast. "Honestly, I would be more eager to answer that question if I thought you were asking out of sympathy and not crooning with delight."

Cecelia laughed with him. "I am sorry. I should be more empathetic, should I not?"

"Definitely."

She arched an eyebrow and grinned while smoothing down her dress. "Yes, but how do I know this is not just a ploy to catch me off my guard so you can strike?"

If Alexander could have rolled his eyes, he would have. Instead, he settled for a pathetic sigh and lowered his head to his paws. "Believe me, my dear Miss Hammerstein-Smythe, had I wanted to kill you I would have done it long before you became aware of my presence."

Her smile fell, and her face paled even more in the glow of the moonlight. "Who are you?"

"What?" He raised his head, tilting it to the side. He could smell fear in the air. "What is wrong? What have I said?"

"How do you know my name?" Her skirts rustled as she stood up and began to inch away, her fist tightly clutching the branch. "Who are you?"

He would have cursed aloud if he had not been in front of a female. "I am not here to harm you. I was thirsty and needed a respite, but then I came across a beautiful girl weeping—please do not ask more, for I cannot tell you what you require of me. It is forbidden." He remained lowered to the ground so as not to frighten her further. "All you need to know is that I am a friend, and I would like to help."

Cecelia shook her head. Her emotions were too raw from earlier, and trust was not a feeling she was willing to entertain at the moment. If she had learned one thing within the past several hours, she should never depend upon her instincts, for they would prove to be most undoubtedly wrong.

Her only hope was now to remove herself from the wolf as quickly as possible. Praying he stayed put and did not attempt to follow her, Cecelia curtsied and thanked the odd creature. "Your inquiries are most graciously received, but I must be gone now. It is very late and I am afraid if I stayed out much longer, I would be missed."

Alexander knew any hope of detaining her had passed. She was too distressed, and a sudden move on his part would only alarm her more. He pretended indifference and laid his head upon his paws again. "Very well, you should leave then. It was nice meeting you."

When she turned to go, he called out one last request. "However, if you would like a listening ear, I come into these woods every night. Leave a small token—perhaps a rose from your mother's garden—upon that stone you were sitting on, and I will be sure to stay and wait for you."

***

CECELIA NEVER EXPECTED TO see the wolf again. Her own world was centered on pleasing her mother and attempting to make the most of her crushed existence after Lord Willington. The last thing she needed was to create clandestine meetings with a beast in which she poured her remorseful little heart out and wept even more.

Instead, she focused on writing formal apologies to all the guests invited to the nonexistent engagement ball and holding her head up high when those who wished to gossip about her came as morning callers. Their purpose was to glean information to spread around the village under the guise of consoling and pitying. It was indeed a sad reality for Cecelia, but there was no hope for it. Nothing would bring him back, and what is done is done. She had to make do as best she could and suffer through it as many a young lady had before her, and many a young lady were destined to after her as well, for she was sure handsome young men would never cease to break hearts.

However, after a few trying weeks and a couple of days in particular when her mother proved to be too much of a nuisance—inviting William's friends over as particular dinner guests to court her forlorn daughter—Cecelia had had enough.

She needed help, advice—something. Someone who could be on her side, someone who would listen to her and not judge or gossip or snicker...she needed a friend. And it was not until after Lord Willington left and after the world divided itself from her that she realized she truly did not have any friend, someone who was there just for her. She was lonely and uncomfortable with the feeling.

Growing up, she had always been well liked and the object of frivolous gossip. Now it would seem she was only the object of gossip, and not the frivolous kind. Without her father around as a buffer to make her laugh and poke fun of herself as he used to, there were only her own thoughts to contemplate and peruse.

Many times a day, she would be drawn back to the memory of the peculiar conversation with the wolf in the forest. Her memory would naturally settle on them both chuckling at one another. How she loved his soft wit and wry sarcasm. There was something strangely magnetic about the beast that drew her thoughts toward him far more often than she was comfortable with. And yet, once she was away and had examined the incident with him more fully, she did believe truly—not just with jaded instincts—but truly believed that she could trust him. That was, perhaps, what worried her most and kept her away from him. Until now.

With shaking hands, she placed a delicate pink rose upon the small boulder she had been sitting on the night she had met the wolf. The sparkling sunlight broke through the leaves of the trees surrounding the brook and caressed the flower, causing it to glow upon the dark stone. It was beautiful, and looked to be a good omen of things to come.

Cecelia hurried back toward the house. Her mother had invited another of her brother's friends to dinner and she would have to change soon. She would have naturally dreaded the evening, but the promise of tonight, with the hope of a new friend, altered everything.

She wondered if he would really come.