Read Online A Wolf In Wolf's Clothing by Deborah MacGillivray - Free Book Online Page B

sense of Fate. In his life, henever questioned the ebb and flow of the cosmos, never debated metaphysical questions. He was a materialistic person who thrived in the here and now. Never once had he asked the meaning of life, never once wondered if he could fall in love. But—
    Shattering Trev’s thoughts, Alec Beechcroft spoke. “Have you known Raven long, Sinclair?”
    Trev turned to take the measure of the man who’d once been married to Raven, who’d been too dim-witted to realize his fortune. He rarely wasted time on someone so dense, but he warmed to dressing this man down. There was a discordant note about the fellow. Trev had never understood how fingernails on a blackboard could make others cringe, yet he was getting the same effect now from Beechcroft.
    Oh, Alec was handsome, but then Trev would expect nothing less of a man who could attract Raven. But he already showed signs of aging. Also, Trev pegged him as so vain that he would count every hair he found on his comb and spend more time before the mirror worrying about wrinkles than his wife did; he likely paid a small fortune on products to minimize the march of time. Trev stared at Alec, not disguising the mix of arrogance, condescension and loathing he evoked.
    “Not long,” he finally replied.
    Taking umbrage at Trev’s tone, and the other man took a step closer. “Precisely where did you meet?”
    “Alec, really!” Raven snapped. “My love life is hardly your concern. Isn’t that right, Ellen? As for everyone else…well…” She paused just long enough for Trev to fear she was about to give away the game. “Sorry to spring this on you, but…it came up rather suddenly.”
    Trevelyn fought back admiration. She wasn’t comfortable lying, but she also had no intention of giving Beechcroft any satisfaction.
    Curling her hand around Trev’s upper arm, Raven flashed the group a dazzling smile. “Now, if you’ll excuseus, I want to show Trevelyn the items up for auction. Perhaps something will take his fancy and he’ll bid.” She winked at her brother. “I know that’ll make Cian happy.” She then led Trev around the edge of the milling crowd toward the room arranged with the items displayed for auction.
    She smiled and nodded at the guests they strolled past, all eyes upon them, the stares lingering, envious. Trev knew they were a striking couple. Even so, he could tell Raven was unnerved by all the attention and struggling to pretend otherwise. He wanted to shatter her control. Yes, the Big Bad Wolf had come knocking, and there was no more hiding within the cocoon she had spun around her.
    “I wish to thank you, Mr. Sinclair,” she began as they entered the large display alcove.
    He corrected, “Trev or Trevelyn—whichever you prefer.”
    She stopped before a huge rocking horse, dropped her hand and turned to face him. “The question, I suppose, is which do you prefer?”
    “Trev is what most people call me,” he temporized.
    Raven bestowed upon him a sphinxlike smile. “That’s not precisely the answer to my question.”
    “Are you always so precise?” Trev watched Raven place her hand on the black mane of the rocking horse and slowly stroke its length. He swallowed hard, surprised how his whole body tensed at the sensual grace of such a casual gesture. Her hands weren’t small or delicate, weren’t beautiful hands, but instead showed signs of use. They didn’t belong to the image of a pampered granddaughter of Sean Montgomerie, which had lived in his mind for this past year. They were strong hands he could almost feel moving over him.
    “There’s…comfort in being precise.” She was still stroking the horse, using it as a magician’s misdirection with her inquiry. “So, how do you like to be addressed?”
    While he’d rather Raven were touching him, Trev found contentment in studying her, soaking up the small nuances of being with her and the magic of the night. “Most people tend to shorten names, so Trev works.