"Oh, but I've seen him nearly every day since I came. He's gorgeous, and doesn't seem as wary of people as you'd expect. He came into the clearing right before the storm tonight. And sometimes I hear him calling, or it seems I do. Haven't you?"

"I'm closer to the sea," he told her. "That's what I listen to. A wolf is a wild thing, Rowan, as I'm sure your book has told you. And a rogue, one who runs alone, the wildest of all."

"I wouldn't want to tame him. I'd say we're just curious about each other at this point." She glanced toward the window, wondered if the wolf had found a warm dry place for the night. "They don't hunt for sport," she added, absently tossing her braid behind her back. "Or out of viciousness. They hunt to feed. Most often they live in packs, families. Protect their young, and-" She broke off, jumping a little when lightning flashed bright and close.

"Nature's a violent thing. It only tolerates the rest of us. Nature can be generous or ruthless." He put the book aside. "You have to have a care how you deal with it, and you'll never understand it."

Their knees were brushing, their bodies close. She caught the scent of him, sharply male, almost animal, and absolutely dangerous. His lips curved in a smile as he nodded. "Exactly so," he murmured, then set his glass aside and rose. "I'll start the generator for you. You'll be happier with some electricity."

"Yes, I suppose you're right." She got to her feet, wondering why her heart was pounding. It had nothing to do with the storm raging outside now, and everything to do with the one so suddenly brewing inside her. "Thank you for helping."

"It's not a problem." He wasn't going to let it be a problem. "It'll only be a moment." Briefly, lightly, his fingers danced over the back of her hand. "It was good wine," he murmured, and walked out to the kitchen.

It took her ten long seconds to get her breath back, to lower the hand she'd pressed to her cheek and follow him. Just as she stepped into the kitchen, the lights flashed on, making her yelp. Even as she laughed at herself, she wondered how the man moved so fast. The kitchen was empty, her lights were on, and it was as if he'd never been there.

She pulled open the back door and winced when the wind and rain lashed at her. Shivering a little, she leaned out. "Liam?" But there was nothing but the rain and the dark. "Don't go," she murmured, leaning on the doorjamb as the rain soaked her shirt. "Please don't leave me alone."

The next burst of lightning shot the forest into bright relief. And gleamed off the coat of the wolf that stood in the driving rain at the foot of the steps.

"God." She fumbled on the wall for the light switch, flicked it and had the floodlights pouring on. He was still there, his coat gleaming with wet, his eyes patiently watching. She moistened her lips, took a slow step back. "You should come in out of the rain."

A thrill sprinted up her spine as he leaped gracefully onto the porch. She didn't realize she was holding her breath until his damp fur brushed her leg as he walked inside, and she released it with a shiver.

"Well." Trembling a little, she turned so they watched each other. "There's a wolf in the house. An incredibly handsome wolf," she murmured and found herself not thinking twice about shutting the door and closing them inside together. "Urn, I'm going to go in-" She gestured vaguely. "There. It's warm. You can-"

She broke off, charmed and baffled when he simply swung around and stalked through the doorway. She followed to see him walk to the fire, settle himself then look back at her as if waiting.

"Smart, aren't you?" she murmured. "Very smart." As she approached cautiously, his gaze never left her face. She lowered herself to the ottoman. "Do you belong to anyone?" She lifted her hand, her fingers itching to touch. She waited for a growl, a snarl, a warning, and when none came she lightly laid her hand on his head. "No, you wouldn't belong to anyone but yourself. That's how it is for the brave and the beautiful."

When her ringers stroked down to his neck, rubbing gently, his eyes narrowed. She thought she recognized pleasure in them and smiled a little. "You like that? Me, too. Touching's as good as being touched, and no one's really touched me for so long. But you don't want to hear the story of my life. It's not very interesting. Yours would be," she mused. "I bet you'd have fascinating tales to tell."

He smelled of the forest, of the rain. Of animal. And oddly, of something- familiar. She grew bolder, running her hands down his back, over his flanks, back to his head. "You'll dry here by the fire," she began, then her hand paused in midstroke, her brows drew together.

"He wasn't wet," she said quietly. "He came through the rain, but he wasn't wet. Was he?" Puzzled, she stared out the dark window. Liam's hair was as black as the wolfs fur, but it hadn't gleamed with rain or damp. Had it?

"How could that be? Even if he'd driven over he had to get from a car to the door, and-"

She trailed off when the wolf moved closer, when his handsome head nuzzled her thigh. With a murmur of pleasure, she began to stroke him again, grinning when the rumble in his throat reminded her of a very human, very male sound of approval.

"Maybe you're lonely, too."

And she sat with him while the storm shifted out to sea, the thunder quieted, and the whips of rain and wind turned to soft patters.

It didn't surprise her that he walked through the house with her. Somehow it seemed perfectly natural that he would accompany her as she blew out candles, switched off lights. He climbed the stairs with her and sat by her side as she lighted the bedroom fire.

"I love it here," she murmured, sitting back on her heels to watch the flames catch. "Even when I'm lonely, like I was tonight, it feels right being here. As if I've always needed to come to this place."

She turned her head, smiled a little. They were eye to eye now, deep blue to dark gold. Reaching out she skimmed her hand under his powerful jaw, rubbing the silky line of his throat. "No one would believe me. No one I know would believe me if I told them I was in a cabin in Oregon talking to a big, black, gorgeous wolf. And maybe I'm just dreaming. I do a lot of that," she added as she rose. "Maybe everyone's right and I do too much dreaming."