Doctor Wolf (The Collegium Book 4) (2 page)

“Ah.” Liz slipped her shoes back on, taking the few seconds in which her hair hid her face to compose her expression and think of an answer. There was the truth, and then, there was the whole truth. What she needed to do was satisfy Carson with a fraction of it. “The game is ‘Marry Liz’ and I’m actually trying
not
to play it.”

He sat down on the window seat beside her. Their shoulders brushed, but neither moved away. “I don’t want to marry you, so why am I involved?”

“
Because
you don’t want to marry me.”

“I think, maybe, I need to have grown up with sisters to understand that statement.”

She laughed and bumped his shoulder. “Not you. You’re a smart guy.”

“So, Brandon wants to marry you?”

“Among other things.”

“He wants to be the Beo Pack’s next alpha,” Carson said.

She smiled wryly. “I said you were smart.”

He didn’t fall down, overwhelmed by her praise. “And the three musical geniuses downstairs?”

“They were serenading me.”

“I thought they were torturing you into submission.”

“That, too.” She laughed. “They’re mundanes, not weres, but I’m still a prize for them.” She leaned back, felt the cold glass through the silk of her dress, and jerked forward.

Carson picked up a folded afghan, shook it out, and wrapped it around her.

She lost all desire to laugh. The gesture of caring was too poignant, and he’d done it so naturally; not to impress, but to protect. She hugged the afghan to her, its mohair weave soft against her skin. “I’m wealthy, Carson. Insanely so. There’s family money and my inheritance from Great-Aunt Georgie. She left me the house in Eaton Square and all her investments. Playing the stock market was her hobby, and she excelled at it. She was also a feminist and approved of me becoming a doctor. We used to have some great chats about books and anatomy.”

“I knew you were wealthy,” he said quietly, as if he’d picked up on her subdued mood. “It’s not a new thing.”

“No,” she agreed. “But a few things have happened in the were community that have stirred things up. I’ve not heard Grandfather discuss stepping aside to make way for a new alpha, but he is getting old. To me he’s ageless. He’s just there, as reliable as a rock. You know.”

Carson nodded. “He’s a good alpha. He provides certainty. He’s an honorable man and people trust his judgement.”

“I’m proud to be his granddaughter.” She sighed. “But because I am his granddaughter, how I act might influence who the pack chooses as the next alpha. I don’t want to upset things. There are three men who’ve made it clear they’d like to be the next alpha. Two are married and the third—”

“Is Brandon Moffatt.”

“Yes.” She wriggled around so that she could sit in the corner of the window seat, one shoulder against the glass and one against the wall. “Brandon is divorced. He has two daughters he’s devoted to and he’d be a good mate.”

“For you?” Carson didn’t look at her.

She studied his profile.

He wasn’t conventionally handsome. His nose was just a nose, his mouth wide and full, his chin square. And he was too big, not massively broad, but basketballer tall. Intimidating for some women. Challenging for others.

“I don’t know,” Liz answered helplessly. She didn’t feel the tug of attraction to Brandon that she felt to Carson, but Carson wasn’t pack. He showed no intention of settling in England and Liz knew herself. Her family and pack were vital to her. Marrying Brandon would give her that, but at what price?

The decision was too important to rush into. She needed time. But Brandon was piling on the pressure simply by making his interest in her obvious.

If she said “no” to him, many in the Beo Pack would take her private decision as a public rejection of Brandon’s suitability to be alpha—and that wouldn’t be fair to him or the pack.

If she said “yes”…but she wasn’t ready to settle for sensible.

“Steve, my brother, has made everything worse,” she complained.

That brought Carson’s attention swinging back to her. He stared at her with those gorgeous dark eyes.

She fancied she could almost see his wolf in that gaze, a wild proud arrogance that wasn’t part of the easy-going man. She stopped herself leaning towards him, but couldn’t help drawing in his scent. It was masculine and clean with a hint of woodland; appropriate to his botanist career.

“What has Steve done?” he asked.

“Become Suzerain.”

“Oh that.”

She giggled. “Yeah, that little old thing.”

His smile was rueful. “I just meant I’d heard the news that Steve was Suzerain.”

The Suzerainty was the seat of the were community’s ultimate judgement. Being pack alpha mightn’t be mystical, but the Suzerainty was. As Suzerain, Steve had the power and responsibility to judge major offences committed by weres. His marshals collected the evidence and the culprits, and then he sat in judgement and, in the worst cases, delivered the punishment.

For years, Liz and Steve’s paternal grandfather, a leopard-were, had been the Suzerain, living in the Suzerain’s fort in Alexandria, Egypt, and bearing the weight of the role he’d been born to. However, just over a month ago, Steve had acceded to the role. More than that, he’d done so with a non-were mate by his side. Fay Olwen, Steve’s fiancée, had come as a shock to the were community.

But his family loved her!

Some of Liz’s tension fled as she thought of Fay.

The woman was dynamite, almost literally. Fay could blow up the world around her with a spell and a moment’s thought. She was one of the most powerful mages alive. Weres had always secretly despised and ignored magic, smugly aware that a quirk of their were-nature meant that magic couldn’t affect them directly. Fay had shown them that magic didn’t have to affect them directly, only alter the world around them, for it to tease and disconcert them. All weres now trod warily around Fay, which was a huge bonus for Steve.

As Suzerain, Steve needed a partner strong enough to handle who he was and the demands on him. Fay gave him that and more. His mate loved him.

Liz was happy for her brother, but his abrupt ascension to the position of Suzerain had focused weres’ attention on her. More specifically, it had focused the attention of single, male weres. Her connection to the former and current Suzerains made her a prize.

She bumped her head against the window glass in a show of frustration. “Some men want to be brother-in-law to the Suzerain. I’m their means to make that happen, and my money and social position are bonuses. Their interest in me has caught the attention of non-weres, and now, mundanes like those three serenading me in the music room, are in hot pursuit as well. The competitive instinct, I guess.”

The timing couldn’t be worse—and not simply because of the complications with selecting her grandfather’s successor as alpha of the Beo Pack. Liz had a secret, and to keep it, she needed a low profile. She certainly didn’t want anyone watching her comings and goings, or visiting her Eaton Square home.

“They’re a nuisance,” Carson said. “But if you just keep saying no…” He trailed off as she shook her head. His voice hardened. “Has anyone refused to take no for an answer?”

She smiled slightly, warmed by his concern and anger. “No. No one’s pushed things physically. I just don’t like feeling pursued.”

He was silent; silent long enough to make Liz aware of a strain in the atmosphere. “You can’t hide behind me,” he said finally. “When you kissed me in the drawing room you wanted to send Brandon a message, that you were involved with me and so couldn’t be involved with him.”

“Him or anyone.” She didn’t bother denying it. “Carson, you’re not pack. If I ask someone who is pack to pretend to be in a relationship with me, everything gets complicated. But you’ll be returning to America. You won’t have to live with any fall-out. I just need a relationship to hide behind for a couple of months, until the alpha succession is decided.”
And my secret moves out.
She crossed the fingers of her left hand, which Carson couldn’t see. An omission wasn’t a lie, not technically.

“You have non-wolf-were friends. You could ask one of them—” He broke off as she shook her head. “Why not?”

“Even with a fake relationship, my partner has to be someone strong enough that Brandon and others would respect my choice. You have that strength.” For all that he was packless, Carson had the feel of an alpha. He downplayed it, but it was there.

And she was woman enough to acknowledge that his strength attracted her. She’d grown up in a family of strong personalities and she required a partner who could match her own.

Not that a relationship with Carson would be real, she reminded herself. If he was still around in three months, maybe then…

“We wouldn’t have to do anything together,” she said. “I realize you’re busy.”

“With writing my book.”

Liz hesitated. That was what Carson told everyone he was doing—writing up his botanical adventures in the Carpathian Mountains. “Sure. Your book.”

He frowned at her. “What does that tone mean?”

“It means I’m positive you’re doing something else, not just writing a book, and I think Grandfather is involved, but…it’s none of my business.” Nonetheless, she looked at him hopefully. She liked to solve mysteries. That relentless curiosity made her a good doctor, but maybe not such a good prospect as a fake girlfriend. She added, quickly. “I’m simply saying that pretending to be my boyfriend wouldn’t take any time out of your day.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I can’t do it.”

Can’t
. Interesting. Not
won’t
. “Are you in a relationship?”

He hesitated and she got the sense that he was considering a lie. Then he shook his head, again. “No.”

“So who would it hurt?” She stood and the afghan slid from her shoulders.

His gaze skimmed her body.

“We’re attracted to one another,” she said softly.

“Which would only make things more difficult. I’m sorry, Liz. I can’t help you.” He walked out.

She watched the door close behind him before stooping for the afghan, folding it neatly and replacing it on the window seat. Her fingers lingered on the warm wool.

She ought to let things go. She ought to let Carson go.

He hadn’t denied his attraction to her—after that kiss behind the curtains, they’d have both known any denial was a lie—but he wasn’t about to become involved with her, not even as a pretense.

Heaven knew, she had enough problems of her own, but the taut readiness of his big body, and his wolf’s prowling presence, ensnared her. She had the sense that he fought wanting her, and that had her hooked.

What secret did Carson Erving hide?

The party had hit its peak and was now unravelling with gestures a little freer, voices louder, the dancing slower and the conversations ranging widely.

Despite the long shift Liz had worked the previous night, her were-nature meant she still had energy to enjoy the party, and to watch, wolf-wary, for possible pursuit. She shimmied a fraction as she hummed along with a classic rock ballad. The tribute band was making the best of the ballroom’s excellent acoustics. Unfortunately, they masked some other noises.

Something other wolf-weres were willing to take advantage of.

“Happy witching hour, Liz.” Brandon approached stealthily from the terrace that wrapped around from the drawing room.

Damn
.
Cornered
. She ceased jiving and hastily smoothed the chagrin from her expression before she turned to face him. She mightn’t have noticed his approach, but others would have. They’d be alert for clues as to how her family thought of him, from how she treated him.

And she liked him.

Brandon was smart. He’d parlayed his ex-wife’s modest inheritance into a fortune in five years, establishing his whole family in comfort. Of course, the flipside to that was that he’d then divorced her. But who knew the stresses and strains in a relationship? And he maintained a big role in his children’s lives, which was attractive. He obviously doted on his two little girls.

“Jayde’s hernia operation went well. I wanted to thank you for recommending Dr. Matera.” Brandon swiped through his phone, then angled the screen for Liz to see.

She melted. “Adorable.” The photo was of his five-year-old daughter in a hospital bed, dressed as a fairy, face-paint and all, and smiling hugely. “I’m so glad the operation went well.”

He stood close and if the difference in their heights, given her high heels, bothered him, it didn’t show. “I’ve promised Jayde a treat when she’s fully recovered. The circus. She and Isabelle are wildly excited. I’d like you to come with us.”

“Brandon…”

“I have a hidden motive.” He had an unexpectedly crooked smile. “Two little girls. Having a woman with me to help with toilet breaks would be great.”

He was very smart. His daughters were irresistibly cute and Liz loved children. She also loved the circus, especially clowns. Somehow, Brandon had designed the perfect lure.

Too perfect, perhaps? Instead of feeling flattered, Liz felt trapped. She glanced around. Carson was on the far side of the ballroom, propped against the wall like some improbable wallflower—and standing next to him was her grandfather. Her gaze narrowed. What were those two discussing? And Carson had no right to scowl at her. He’d just told her he wouldn’t save her from Brandon or anyone else. So she would do what she had to.

In fact, Carson’s scowl almost made her say “yes” to Brandon. Fortunately, her gaze travelled on and snagged on her uncle, and he too was watching her, but sardonically. No wonder he and his wife, Natalie, got along so well: they shared a twisted sense of humor. But Uncle Phil provided her with an excuse to escape.

“I’m sorry, Brandon. I can’t afford to run away to the circus, right now. Work is too busy and I can’t guarantee my shift times. Kisses and cuddles to Jayde and Isabelle. I have to catch my uncle.” She wriggled away through the crowd.

Whew
. Her departure was abrupt, but not excessively so. Nothing that would influence those pack members undecided as to who would make the best alpha.

Brandon lacked her grandfather’s presence, but then, he was four decades younger. Perhaps that sense of rock solid reliability came with age?

On the other hand, Carson was only a bit older than her and he was about as yielding as a granite outcrop, albeit one who hid his obstinacy beneath Southern charm.

Uncle Phil greeted her with a quick hug—touch was important among weres—and a kiss to the forehead. He took the opportunity to murmur, “Brandon is not happy. Carson, on the other hand, has just turned back to give his full attention to Dad, so I’m assuming he’s relieved by your refusal of whatever Brandon tempted you with.”

“What are Grandfather and Carson up to?” she asked.

“Solving world hunger, betting on the gee-gees.” Phil shrugged.

“Gee-gees? Really, Uncle Phil?”

He grinned at her. Phil claimed to be a poet, but was actually an extremely busy and competent business manager for the Beo Trust. But he did love to play with words. “You know I don’t keep track of Dad’s interests. No one man could.”

Father and son had worked out a way to get along despite their two strong personalities long before Liz was born. But that policy of non-interference wouldn’t satisfy her curiosity.

“Did Grandfather fund Carson’s trek through the Carpathian Mountains?”

“No idea.”

“He’s renting a house from Grandfather in Brentford.”

“Well, Carson’s your boyfriend, not mine. Why don’t you ask him?” And that was Uncle Phil at his most tormenting.

Liz frowned disapproval and disappointment at him, and received laughter and a hug in return, before being swept into a wider conversation with the people around them on the likelihood of an unseasonably warm autumn.

She let the very British topic of the weather flow over her.

Across the room Carson appeared to have forgotten all about her. He was listening intently to her grandfather before responding with a short comment.

Grandfather clapped him on the back and strode away in the direction of the hall.

Carson looked after the old man with a wry, respectful smile before glancing around. His gaze locked with Liz’s stare. Then shifted.

Liz turned, curious what had caught his attention.

Brandon was just exiting to the hall. In a few steps, he’d catch up with her grandfather.

“You need to run,” Phil said quietly.

Startled, she looked at her uncle.

His words were almost sub-vocal, meant for her alone. “Too much work, not enough wolf.”

Oh. Not
flee
, but exercise her wolf form. She hadn’t had time lately. When she wasn’t working…but Phil didn’t need to know about that. “The hospital’s low on staff. We’ve been hit by a gastro bug.”

“Spare me the details!”

Liz grinned. “I will. And you’re right. I’m itchy in my skin. I think I’ll go.”

“Good idea.”

“Your idea,” she pointed out.

“My ideas are always good.”

“Liar.” Natalie arrived and hugged her husband’s arm. “Remember the solar-powered car—in England!”

“Good-night.” Liz kissed them both and left them to their squabble. The group around them were paying attention and happy to add to Natalie’s list of Phil’s wilder ideas.

“Whimsical conceits,” Phil said. “A poet…”

Liz looked around.

Carson had disappeared.

She shrugged and made her way to the hall. She’d like to say her good-byes to Grandfather even if it meant encountering Brandon again.

Grandfather caught her cautious appraisal of the hall. “Brandon’s just gone, and I scare all the other fellows. You’re safe. Come and give me a hug.”

She did so, reassured as always by her larger-than-life grandfather. He wasn’t exaggerating, either. Most people were in awe of him.

He walked her out to her car.

“Grandfather?”

“Hmm?”

“What are you scheming with Carson?”

“Scheming, is it?” The old man scowled down at her, mock-fierce, before the humor broke through. “I thought it was you that was playing games with the boy. Roughly two dozen people have mentioned something about a curtain to me.”

“Never listen to idle gossip,” Liz repeated one of his favorite maxims back to him.

Only as she drove out the imposing gates did she realize how successfully Grandfather had avoided answering her.

He had to know that wouldn’t stop her curiosity.