A Wolf In Wolf's Clothing by Deborah MacGillivray Page A

mechanical Gypsy with an expression of puzzlement and perhaps a little apprehension. That struck Trev as a dichotomy when compared with her pride and insistence that the clockwork doll wasn’t for sale.
    “Want your fortune told?” he asked, handing over the clutch.
    “No!” Belying how loudly she’d replied, she quickly donned a look of indifference. “I had it told earlier. Silly nonsense.”
    “Perhaps you should try again. Your fortune might’ve changed since meeting me.” It hurt to see her so wounded. So vulnerable. Raven Montgomerie need a knight champion to protect her from the ugliness of this world, and Trev wanted to be that—for as long as he could.
    She looked at him as if weighing her decision. “Or perhaps it hasn’t.”
    “That’s supposed to mean…?”
    “Nothing.” She shrugged. “Perchance it’s best not to see the future, especially if we’re powerless to change or shape it.”
    Ignoring her, he reached into his pocket and took out a coin. They both watched the mechanical Gypsy rock side to side, and then her eyes closed. The huge crystal ball shimmered with a bluish fog, causing Trev to ponder how that effect was achieved. A bulb inside the base of the globe could account for the blue tone, but he had no idea how the mist was created.
    Raven’s hand shot out to snatch the card, as if she were afraid for him to see. Giving a playful grin, he beat her to it and held it out of her reach.
    “Tut—my coin, my card,” he joked. His brow quirked when the tarot card was once again The Lovers. Same as he’d drawn before. Only, the fortune on the reverse wasn’t the same. “‘Beware of the wolf in sheep’s clothing,’” he read aloud.
    Raven paled. Their eyes locked for a moment, and then she said, “I told you my twin brothers stacked the deck. You got that card before.”
    “The same card, but the fortune was different.” Trev was surprised when all further color seemed to drain from her already wan face. Reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket, he pulled out the first card and read it. “‘The lamb often proves stronger than the wolf.’”
    Raven stared at him. Oh boy, she recognized him as a wolf—he could see that thought reflected in her golden-brown eyes. Well, there’d been no disguising that fact, he realized. And when she said nothing, he placed her red velvet cloak about her shoulders.
    Something was causing a lump in the collar. Trying to smooth it down, he gently tugged on the material until it was free and then lifted the obstruction to cover Raven’s head.
    “How about that, Red? You even have a hood.”

Chapter Eight
    Raven watched the ease with which Trevelyn handled his sleek black roadster. At one with the expensive car, he deftly guided it through the stormy night, almost defying gravity. Shifting gears and spinning the wheel, he easily took the curves down the winding road to Colford Hall. She was used to puttering around in her dilapidated MGB, and now it felt as if she were sailing along in a jet—flying low, as her mum used to call it.
    Looking over at the handsome man who set her pulse to pounding, she thought, All the better to crash and burn. Though in this instance she meant it figuratively.
    The notion might be silly, provoked by the Gypsy’s cards and the references to Trevelyn being a wolf, but there was something intensely feral about this man. Oh, he was a wolf all right. A rogue alpha male on the hunt.
    That’s what terrified her. For some reason he had targeted her, and she hadn’t the first clue why. Alec was a bloody bastard, but he was right about one thing: Trevelyn Sinclair could have any woman he wanted. So why did he want her? Rattled, Raven turned to stare out into the night, only to be haunted by his reflection on the rain-streaked window.
    Women didn’t often run across men like Trevelyn Sinclair; she had never pinpointed the reason, but it seemed that, as the world increased technologically, the more men lost that