To Catch a Wolf (51 page)

with serious harm. The servants took her part against me. I had no choice but to allow

her to leave. Of course I contacted the police immediately, but

your sister is not well,

Mr. Munroe. You must believe I would never have willingly let her go.”

"She attacked you? Athena?" He laughed. "You're lying.”

She flushed. "You are distraught. You know she is able to walk. Her strength is greater

than it appears. She was determined to go after her lover—the murderer Morgan Holt.”

A fresh swell of exclamations followed, but Niall's wild glance imposed silence once

more. He loomed over Cecily. "He has not come here?”

"Here?" Cecily shuddered. "But I thought you—" She bit her lip. "I warned you about

him. You said that you would deal with him yourself!”

He seized her upper arms and shook her. "If anything has happened to my sister—”

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"But nothing has, Niall," a hoarse voice said from across the room. "Not in the way you

mean.”

Cecily felt her knees begin to buckle. A figure draped in oversized trousers and shirt

walked down the open path the crowd had made for Niall's entrance. Athena's approach

was not nearly so violent, but every eye turned to her and the silence became even

more profound.

Athena's face was white, her hair a rat's nest, her breathing ragged. But she stood

before her brother as if she were the taller and more powerful, capable of felling him

with a single blow.

"Athena!" Caitlin exclaimed.

"Athena," Niall stammered. "You are

Where have you been?”

His attempt to regain control of the situation failed miserably. Athena stared up at him,

unblinking.

"Did you kill my mother?”

Niall's mouth fell open. She showed him no mercy. "I know you were responsible for her

disappearance just after I was born. Did you kill her?”

Cecily had never seen Niall turn white as he did now. "Athena, what are you doing?”

"I am seeking the truth." She smiled, a look that sent a chill down Cecily's spine. "It's too

late to worry about my reputation now, isn't it? I am sure that Cecily has told everyone

what they didn't already know." The smile vanished. "Tell me.”

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"Athena

you don't understand." He looked about as if for support and found only one

gaze that would meet his. Caitlin Hughes stepped up beside him. It was a measure of

how far he had fallen that he seemed to take comfort in her presence.

"I did not kill her," he said in a firmer voice. "I drove her away. I had to. She was ruining

our father's life, and she would have ruined yours. I tried to save you.”

"To save me," she whispered, "or yourself? Are you that afraid of me?”

Niall's face darkened in fury. "Who told you about your mother?" he demanded. He

swung on Caitlin. "Was it you?”

"No." Athena glanced at Caitlin with a remote gentleness in her eyes. "Morgan told me.

You thought he was dead, didn't you? You believed you'd killed him. But you didn't

succeed, Niall. He deceived you. And I found him.”

The expression on Niall's face transformed from consternation to contempt in a handful

of seconds. "You

you have been with him, haven't you? Turning against your own

family, your own kind

Lying with him like any whore, just like your mother—”

A blur of motion was all Cecily saw before Niall crashed onto his back on the ballroom

floor. The blur resolved into another man, barefoot and wearing only a calf-length

greatcoat. He stood over his fallen victim with teeth bared and eyes ablaze.

Morgan Holt. Morgan Holt had come. Those terrible eyes turned from Niall, rested

briefly on Athena, and fixed unerringly upon Cecily.

With a mindless shriek, Cecily turned and fled.

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Athena watched her go, feeling nothing, just as she suffered no regret or

embarrassment under the horrified and titillated stares of those she had once called

friends. All the emotions that had driven her for the past hours—rage, confusion,

terror—had deserted her; it was as if she stood at the eye of a tornado, hearing it howl

about her while she remained untouched.

It was a way of protecting herself from hurt, just as she had made a fortress of her

lameness and the chair that restricted her freedom. From the chair she had watched the

world go by, seeking to affect it while remaining unaffected, a serene goddess of mercy

and charity who had forgotten what it was to be human.

She had run to Denver to demand the truth of Niall, and all the while she had been

running away from the truth of her heart. The truth she was still afraid to feel. Because

of her weakness Niall lay sprawled on the polished floor, waiting for a mortal blow. As

Morgan waited to give it.

Morgan had followed her. She should have known he would. She should have known

he'd endanger himself to protect her from her brother

and take his revenge.

He had looked at Athena but once since she had entered the room—met her gaze like a

stranger, as emotionless as she. The man she had loved was gone, replaced by a

coldblooded killer. And only she could stop him.

She, and Caitlin. The equestrienne knelt beside Niall at the same instant Athena placed

herself between Morgan and her brother.

"You cannot hurt him, Morgan," Athena said. "You know you can't.”

The stranger's merciless eyes hardly touched upon hers. "He will destroy you, as he

destroyed your mother.”

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"He did not kill my mother," she said. "He drove her away, but he says he didn't kill her. I

believe him.”

Though she had not lifted her voice, Morgan flinched as if she had struck him. The

frightening, alien mask dropped away, replaced by naked pain. Pain that cut through her

own detachment and left her raw and defenseless.

"You believe him," Morgan said. He looked down at Niall and took a step back, his

muscles loosening from their posture of threat. "You still trust him.”

"Yes, Athena. You must trust me." Niall got to his knees, his attention on Morgan. "I

know the truth about this man. He is a convict and a murderer." He raised his voice to

reach the farthest corners of the ballroom. "Morgan Holt killed his own father.”

A collective gasp rose from the onlookers. Several women appeared on the verge of

swooning, and no few of the men looked about for possible weapons. Athena ignored

them all. Morgan's anguished eyes had become her world.

"It is true," he said, speaking only to her. "I killed my father. I served nine years in

prison. And I would have murdered your brother to protect you." He held up his hands

and turned them palm up, flexing his fingers into fists. "Maybe he speaks the truth. I am

a killer at heart. You were right to leave me.”

Like a dam bursting under the weight of a raging spring flood, her heart gave way.

Everything she had been holding inside, every doubt, every unbearable image was

dislodged by the deluge until she was scoured clean and bright and new.

"No," she said. "I was wrong. I said I would listen, and trust you, but I was deceiving

myself." She glanced at Niall with profound sorrow. "I came after my brother because I

couldn't face the one who mattered most. Niall was an enemy I could conquer. My

feelings for you were not. I was afraid that Niall was right, and that I had loved a

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murderer. I would rather have lost you forever than find such a crippling flaw within

myself.”

Morgan shook his head. "The only flaw is in me.”

Athena held out her hand. Morgan gazed at it, unmoving. She kept her hand in place,

fingers extended, offering him the forgiveness he refused to permit himself.

"I will tell you what I believe," she said. "I believe that whatever crime you committed

was done only because you had no other choice. I believe that you paid in full for your

mistakes. I believe that there is great good in you, Morgan Holt, and someone must

make you see it.”

"You're the only one who can," Caitlin said, restraining Niall with a hand on his shoulder.

She gave him an apologetic glance and lifted her voice to address the crowd. "Morgan

has had two chances to kill Mr. Munroe, and he could easily have escaped. But it was

Niall who left Morgan for dead in the mountains. Morgan chose to feign death rather

than be forced to kill his enemy.”

"As he was forced to kill his father.”

Athena turned toward the cultured tenor voice, recognizing it at once. Very little had the

power to shock her now, and all she felt was gratitude and heartfelt joy as Ulysses

Marcus Aurelius Wakefield and Harry French walked into the ballroom.

A distant part of her mind acknowledged how out of place they seemed in this glittering

company—Harry in his loud waistcoat and red jacket, Ulysses a golden-haired

mannequin of a Southern gentleman. But they were her family as these wealthy,

distinguished people could never be. They were showmen, professional charlatans, and

yet they were the most honest of all. She loved them only a little less than she loved

Morgan. And they were here to save him.

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Ulysses paused in the center of the room, standing as tall as his stature permitted. He

did not wear the protective robes and anonymity of the Little Professor. He was entirely

exposed to the fascinated distaste of those who should have been his peers, and

Athena knew how difficult it must have been for the gentle man who had been cast out

of his own elite world.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said. "I see that Mr. French and I have arrived at a most

propitious moment. We are members of French's Fantastic Family Circus, who have

recently been in the employ of Miss Athena Munroe." He executed a bow in her

direction. "I am Ulysses Marcus Aurelius Wakefield, and the gentleman beside me is

Harold B. French. We have observed the events that have recently occurred involving

Miss Munroe, Mr. Munroe, and Mr. Holt. It is now necessary to clarify statements that

the latter two gentlemen have made with regard to Mr. Holt's more distant past.”

Morgan took a sharp step toward Ulysses. "No.”

Ulysses lowered his gaze. "I regret breaking a confidence, my dear friend, but it must be

done.”

Turning her back on Niall, Athena went to stand beside Morgan. She took his hand in

hers. The tendons below his knuckles stood out like steel cords. She held him all the

more tightly.

"It is true," Ulysses said, "that Morgan Holt committed patricide, a most heinous crime

among civilized peoples. Mr. Holt was tried and convicted and spent many years in

prison. If it had not been for a single witness in his favor, he would have been

sentenced to death. He neither defended himself nor attempted to escape, though he

had many opportunities to do so during his incarceration." He met Morgan's gaze again.

"I made it my business to learn all I could of the circumstances of this affair. I know the

truth behind the tragedy.”

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The ballroom might as well have been empty in its absolute silence. Heads topped by

gleaming tiaras and meticulously pomaded hair turned from Ulysses to Morgan.

He stared at the floor and closed his eyes. His protest was so soft that Athena felt rather

than heard it.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Ulysses said, "Morgan Holt's father left his wife, son, and

daughter in California to seek a fortune in mining when Morgan was but a lad of

thirteen. He promised to return but did not. His family was compelled to fend for itself

with no source of income, until Morgan determined to go after his father and bring him

home.

"He was fourteen when he left his mother and sister. I will not relate all the tribulations

that he was forced to overcome in his journey, or how his childhood was lost before he

attained the age of fifteen years. But when he reached Colorado Territory and found his

father at last, he had learned how to hate.”

"Morgan," Athena murmured, resting her forehead on his shoulder. "Oh, my love.”

"The claim his father had staked in the mountains was poor," Ulysses went on, "but

Aaron Holt would not give it up. He refused to return to his family, no matter how his son

tried to persuade him. His lust for wealth was greater than his love. And so he and his