Riding the Red Ch. 01

The vast, dark room housed two men. It was an old fashioned library, with an old fashioned fireplace, in an old-fashioned house. Everything in the room, from the leather-bound first editions, to the thick velvet draperies, to the huge cherry-wood desk, spoke of old money, tradition, and rules that should never be broken. The elder of the men, broad and imposing, with silver hair, stood in front of the fireplace, staring stone-facedly into the flames. The younger stood behind him, towering over his elder, though he didn't have nearly as much muscle. He moved, standing beside the older gentleman, to stare into the flames.

"Anything it takes?" he queried.

"Anything it takes."

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Adrienne Blanchard ran for the ringing phone.

"'Allo?" she said, breathlessly.

"Well, hello!" laughed her mother. "I thought that you would never pick up the phone!"

Adrienne slipped into the comfortable Franglish that her family had spoken since her childhood. "Desole Maman, but I just came back from class. Midterms are fast approaching and I've been living at the library for the past few days."

"C'est bien, Princesse. I knew that they were coming. As a matter of fact, you should have received a package from us."

"Oui!" giggled Adrienne. "It came in the mail today and I was waiting until I got back home to open it."

"No time like the present," her mom said.

"Un moment," Adrienne responded as she grabbed her keys and began slitting the tape on the box. Gasping, she looked happily at the treasures inside. "Maman!"

"I know, I know. I hope that you like it."

"Oh, Maman!" Her eyes roved over all of her best loved treats. Nutella, raspberry Pims, almond butter, Hob Nobs, Mint Milanos, cashew butter, and her mother's cinnamon hot-chocolate mix, oatmeal-black walnut-currant biscuits, and homemade granola. She dug through the box and confusion crossed her face. Under the first layer of delightful comestibles was a second layer of shortbread biscuits, tins of chamomile, earl grey, and peppermint tea, water crackers, and homemade cream scones. "Umm..."

"Ah, I see that you've reached the second layer. Isn't that a lot of food for une petit etudiante?"

"Ouais..." Adrienne said, suspiciously. "And you know that I've never cared for anything in the second layer..."

"Curieuse. Do you know anyone who might enjoy them?"

"The only person that likes all these things is—Mom!"

"Quoi?" her mother innocently asked.

"Grandmaman."

"What about her?"

"You want me to deliver these things to Grandmaman."

"Alors," her mother said, comfortably, "Don't you love your grandmere?"

"You know that I do! It's just that midterms are just around the corner and I have no extra time, and—"

"Elle est malade, Addie."

"Oh. Is she—"

"She'll be fine. It was pneumonia, but they caught it in time and you know that your Grandmaman is a tough old salt. She's back at home, resting, but she's still feeling under the weather. She would really enjoy a visit from her favourite grand-child."

"I'm her only grand-child."

"Thus making you all the more unique."

"All right, all right!" Adrienne conceded.

"Hyperbolic flattery will get you everywhere. I was going to go to the movies with friends this evening, but I can drop by her house, instead."

"Tu es une bonne fille."

"That's why you love me."

"Mmm," her mother chuckled. "Quelle heure est-il, la?" Adrienne attended L'Universite d'Orleans, where she was double-majoring in ancient language and ancient civilizations. As the daughter of a French diplomat and an American international lawyer, she was an extremely poised girl, who decided early in life that she wanted to study in her father's patrie, or homeland. Her parents, on the other hand, were currently living in Seattle.

"Five o'clock."

"Well, then be quick about it. It's probably getting dark, isn't it?"

"It's not too bad," Adrienne said, elliptically.

"You know that I don't like you alone in the woods after dark." Adrienne's grandmere lived within walking distance of the school, but there was a wooded area, that Adrienne had to cut through to arrive without taking a ridiculous amount of time.

"Maman, I'll be fine," Adrienne gently chided.

Her mother sighed. "It's October. C'est frais, la. Wear that red cape that she gave you. That will cheer her."

"I will," Adrienne promised.

"Adrienne—," her mother started.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Just..." A deep sigh.

"Qu'est ce que c'est? Quelle est la probleme?"

A short silence followed. Finally, her mother spoke. "You haven't heard anything from your grandfather, have you?"

"No, ma'am. I haven't seen him in years. Why do you ask? Has he called you?"

"Non, non. Pas de raison, Pretty. I haven't heard from Father since the last time that you saw him. Just remember not to talk to any etrangers, d'accord?"

"Mom, I'm 20. You've been telling me that since I was 6. When will you think that it has finally stuck?"

"Je ne sais pas, Princesse," her mother said, sadly. "Well, on with you. I'll talk to you soon."

"Je t'aime, Maman."

"I love you more, mon bebe."

**************************************************

Standing within the shadows of a grove, a tall, rangy man boldly watched a particular open window with predatory concentration. He was dressed well, in a tailored grey wool three-piece suit, charcoal shirt, and silver silk tie. A thick tumble of shining chestnut curls flopped charmingly and rather boyishly just above his whiskey eyes. His jaw was firm and there was a taut muscle ticking in his lean cheek, just under his blade-sharp cheekbones. Suddenly he lifted his face in the air, closed his eyes, and leisurely sniffed. With a very slow, very white grin, he sauntered away from the dorms and melted into the shadows of the woods.

*************************************************

After a quick shower, Adrienne donned a full black lambs-wool skirt that went down to her ankles, white stockings, and her black, patent leather T-strap Mary Janes. A billowy, long-sleeved white shirt with a drawstring neck and tight cuffs, and black wool vest finished her ensemble. Her mother was right. It was getting chilly and besides, Grandmaman would be pleased to see her in the clothes that she had made and bought for her last birthday, although perhaps she might be slightly scandalized to know that she was wearing stockings instead of sensible sweater tights. Adrienne liked her stockings and garters, though. She found old-fashioned undergarments charming and she enjoyed wearing them far more than modern under things. On second thought, Grandmaman would probably approve. She was an artistic, feisty woman, with blackberry eyes and a quick, red smile. There were rumours that her family tree held the "Romani stain" and, given her Grandmaman's clever wit, unsettling insight, and penchant for colourful baubles and rich fabrics, Adrienne could believe it.

She had put up her hair so that it wouldn't become wet in the shower and now she unpinned it, letting the curly, shining, coffee mass fall down her back, to her waist. Her silver eyes roved over her dresser until she located her red velvet ribbon, which she tied around her head, Alice-style, to hold back her thick curls. She put the treats for her grandmother in her wicker basket and closed the lid. Donning the crimson velvet cape made for her on her 16th birthday by her doting grandmother, she picked up the basket and swept out of the room.

**************************************************

She had been walking through the woods for awhile when the gloaming descended. Late-season fireflies floated around her head and the changing leaves along with a soft mist that was rising from the ground, made it seem as if she were walking into Fairyland. Looking behind her, she saw the last brilliant rays of the sun, illuminating the nacreous clouds with deeply saturated shades of gold, pink, and carmine. Ahead of her was a full moon on the rise, in a purplish-blue evening sky. She paused to enjoy a moment of solitude, contemplating the beauty of nature.

In the silence, she heard a twig snap. She stilled, straining all her senses to ascertain what was out there. Hearing nothing, she began to walk, only to hear a rustle to her right. She looked around, but saw nothing. Peering into the deepening twilight, she listened, but the whisper of the wind blowing in the leaves was all that she heard. Just as she was about to continue on her way, she heard another rustle on her other side and spun to see what was there. Nothing. Lifting her face, she scented the breeze. A spicy scent drifted teasingly past her nose and then faded. Setting her jaw, she shook her head, thinking that it was probably a deer or small mammal. It was just like her to let her imagination get the best of her. She had walked these woods countless times and had been completely safe.

Suddenly, she heard a wolf howl in the distance. She looked disbelievingly toward the sound. Another howl rent the night air, this one slightly closer. She put down her head and briskly trotted along the path. In the distance, she could hear the sounds of leaves crunching underfoot as something came closer. She bit her lip and looked behind her. In the darkness, she could see grey shapes far behind her, melting from shadow to shadow and gaining. With a gasp, she began to jog. The sounds of pursuit suddenly crashed into her ears as she hitched up her skirts and ran. How many were there? She had counted at least three, but there could be more. As she ran, she clutched the basket to her chest, as if the love that her mother had put into it could keep her safe. Soon, she began to develop a stitch in her side. She was still a good mile away from her Grandmaman's house and was tiring fast. She spared a glance behind her to find three large wolves loping silently behind her on the path. She couldn't help it; she screamed. Turning her head, she saw a huge wolf leap in front of her. Reflexively, she swung the basket and slapped the wolf across the face so hard that it fell sideways, blocking the path.

She ran off the path, leaping over fallen trees and jumping small streams. She could hear the wolves gaining on her and she heard the snap of teeth as one of them grabbed for the hem of her cape. She looked back to see if that had all caught up to her when she ran into a wall. Terrified, she spun around only to discover that the wall was a very tall man, looking down at her with amusement in his eyes. "Help me!" she cried, "Wolves!"

"Wolves?" he queried softly.

"Yes!" she sobbed, trying to pull him and run.

"Where are these wolves?" He gently asked.

"We have to run! They're right behind me!"

"There's nothing behind you, child."

Adrienne spun only to discover that he was right. The wolves that had been pursuing her had vanished as mysteriously as they had appeared. "But, there were wolves," she said, incredulously. "Three of them. I don't understand."

"Shhh. It's dark. It's cold and you were alone in the woods. That's enough to frighten anyone into thinking that they see something menacing."

"I wasn't hallucinating!" she exclaimed, insulted. "I know what I saw! I'm not child; I'm not telling some fairy tale!"

"Alright," he said, pacifyingly. "In any case, they're gone for the moment. Which leads me to the question...what's a little girl like you doing in a wild wood like this?"

Adrienne blinked slowly up at him, realizing that she was still clutching herself to his body. He had his arms around her waist and she could feel the tensile strength running through them and, considering the fact that she was pressed so closely to it, through the rest of his sinewy body under his perfectly tailored grey suit. She let go of him and he immediately dropped his arms while she backed up to a comfortable distance. "I'm not a little girl," she challenged.

"Mmm, no, I guess you aren't," he said, his eyes raking in her appearance from her head to her feet. He grinned. "You're obviously a very big girl."

"I'm not a girl at all—I'm 20 years old."

A light seemed to shine from the depths of his golden eyes. "Ah, 20? Not a child, then, but a woman grown." He leaned casually against the trunk of a tree and put his hands in his pockets.

Adrienne narrowed her eyes and raked her eyes over him as thoroughly as he had her. He was tall, about 6'4" to her 5'7". Though his clothes were elegant and finely made, his hair looked as if it needed a good combing and haircut and his lean cheeks were stubbled with a chestnut 5 o'clock shadow. His thick, straight, dark brows perched above large, fine, golden eyes, the shade of the sun shining through a bottle of good Irish whiskey. These eyes were framed by thick, almost feminine coffee-coloured lashes. His wide, mobile mouth contrasted sharply with the deep lines etched around its sides. His face was a disturbing study in contrasts, the gentle coral mouth and golden eyes surrounded by hard, masculine planes and topped with his almost impertinently curled, floppy ringlets.

His body, on the other hand, was nothing but male. Not only was he tall, but the suit did little to hide a sleekly muscled frame. Wide shoulders, flat chest and stomach, narrow hips and long, long legs led her to believe that, despite the fineness of his suit, this man was no stranger to physicality. His lazy stance against the tree was belied by an underlying hum of muscles prepared for anything, like a wolf crouched for a leap.

"Enjoying the view, lady?" he caressingly asked.

Blushing, she straightened and speared him with a haughty look. He continued to smile insouciantly, then straightening, he stalked over to her. Her first instinct was to back up, but she stiffened her spine and held her ground.

Smiling at her, he said, "I'll tell you what. Why don't you let me walk you to your destination? It has been awhile since I had the opportunity to escort a pretty young lady anywhere and you would do me an honour to agree."

Tilting her head, she looked up at him suspiciously. Though it would be a good idea to have him walk with her to her grandmother's house, there was something about him that unsettled her. He leaned over her, resting an arm on a branch above her head. Her nostrils flared as she caught that same spicy scent that she had smelled before the wolves chased her. "No. Thank you," she said, primly. "I don't have much farther to go and I'm sure that I'll be fine.

"Oh? What about the wolves?"

"You were probably right. It was just my overactive imagination playing tricks on me."

He grinned at her. His teeth were very white in the darkness. Very white, very large, and very sharp. She felt her heart rate accelerate. She flushed hotly and she saw his pupils dilate. Licking his lips, he said, "Still, there may be others out to catch a pretty young thing in the woods. "

She watched his nostrils flare slightly as he leaned toward her and she was embarrassed to feel her nipples stiffening against the fabric of her shirt. "I...um, I..."

"Yes?"

"I don't even..." she cast about wildly for an excuse. "I don't even know your name, sir."

Straightening, he tilted his head and fixed her with a wry smile. Holding out his hand, he waited until she had placed hers in his much larger one. "Rolfe. Lucas Rolfe." He took her hand and, instead of shaking it, bowed and brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist. She felt a sharp jolt in her belly and an insistent heat beginning to glow in places further south. Looking up into her eyes, he softly queried, "What's yours?"

"Adrienne," she said, breathlessly.

He reached out and toyed with one of her curls. "Dark one," he said, quietly.

"Famous wolf," she countered.

"Well," he said, "now that we know one another's names, we are no longer strangers and you will let me accompany you."

Adrienne usually had a quick tongue, but around this arrogant, distracting man, she found herself as tongue tied as the school girl she proclaimed herself not to be. Still, despite his good looks, everything in her was screaming that he was the devil in a Sunday suit. She shook her head. "No. It's not that far. I can make it alone." He frowned at her, straightened and then shrugged.

"It is your decision." Smiling charmingly, he added, "If you need me, just...scream my name."

She backed away from him, her eyes holding his. Holding her hand to her chest, she put one foot behind the other and his smiled widened. Suddenly, her foot caught in a small depression in the ground. She threw out her arms to catch herself, but struck her head against one of the fallen trees. The last thing that she saw was Lucas striding toward her and picking her up as if she weighed nothing. Then, the world went fluttery and finally, dark.