White Nights by Susan Edwards Page B

of despair. Standing abruptly, he shoved the past back into the hollow shell of his heart.
    But it was too late to stop the flow of need, of longing. Being around Jessie and Coralie made him realize just what had been taken from him. Hell, he might have been a grandfather by now if Lady Fate had looked kinder upon him and his. Though it was pointless, he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of woman his own daughter would have become had she lived. And his other child. Would it have been a son or another daughter?
    No one had known Annabelle had been with child, not even Wolf. And he had been with him that fateful day when they’d returned to Rook’s cabin and found his wife and daughter dead, murdered. It was cold consolation that he and Wolf had tracked the bandits responsible and taken care of them. Nothing could bring back his family.
    Ah, he’d missed out on so much. Regret for what he had no control over bowed his shoulders. He stabbed a hunk of meat and added it to the growing mound on the cut board. For years, he’d closed himself off from as much contact with humanity as he could get away with, never allowing himself to care or be cared for—with the exception of Wolf. And he’d succeeded—until now.
    Hell, he’d done it this time all right. He glanced around the camp, his gaze lingering on each and every person. There wasn’t a single person in this wagon party he hadn’t come to care for. They were family, this group of emigrants. Across the way, Alison and Lara Macauley chased one another, their childish giggles wresting a smile from his gruff features and intensifying his anguish. He shook his head. “Must be gittin’ old and senile.” He attacked the antelope carcass with a vengeance born of desperation.
    A soft nose pressed into his side. He glanced down to see a black-and-tan dog staring up at him, her soulful brown eyes soft, intent on him, as if sensing the sadness in his heart. “Ah, Sadie, lass, what’s come over me? Past is past.”
    The dog belonged to Jessie and her brothers. She whined, then stuck her nose in the air, sniffing. Rook grinned, the gloom in his heart lifting. “Hungry, are ya?” He eyed her swollen belly. “I expect so seein’ how that rascal wolf got you pregnant.” On cue, a large white wolf joined them. Wahoska licked Sadie’s muzzle, then growled low in his throat, as if demanding food for his hungry mate.
    Grumbling about randy young men, newlyweds and old wolves who had nothing better to do than make more work for him, Rook grabbed two fresh, meaty bones he’d set aside. “Here, this ought to hold the pair of you until after supper’s fixed.” The dog and wolf grabbed their treats and ran beneath the wagon to gnaw in delight.
    Behind him he heard steps, then Coralie’s voice. “I’m back. Lars will be by shortly and so will Eirica. Mrs. De Santis—”
    Without looking at her, afraid she’d see the inner turmoil he battled, Rook growled low in his throat at the mention of that woman’s name. He sliced off a large slab. “Take this ta her. Don’t want her coming ’ro—” His voice faltered when he saw two pair of legs encased in baggy trousers come to a halt before him. He straightened, embarrassed to see the woman in question standing beside Coralie along with her elder grandson, Dante. She smiled smugly.
    “This should do for ya, Mrs. De Santis.”
    “Si.” She took it and passed it to Dante who carried it back to their wagon.
    Coralie cleared her throat and glanced nervously from Sofia to Rook. “Sofia, uh, has offered to help us tonight.”
    Rook sat back on his heels, pulled on his white beard and glared at Sofia from beneath lowered white brows. He took stock of her glittering brown eyes, the haughty tilt of her nose and a bulging sack of God knew what foreign spices and food she clutched in her right hand. His hackles rose.
    “Help? Hah.” He graced her with his best don’t-mess-with-me frown. It sent grown men running but had no effect