Jez Morrow - Name of a Wolf, ☂ UPLOADED (Unsorted) ☂, ★ ♂♂ Romance, [G]ay 1
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An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Name of a Wolf
ISBN 9781419919244
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Name of a Wolf Copyright © 2008 Jez Morrow.
Edited by Briana St. James.
Cover art by Dar Albert.
Electronic book Publication December 2008
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales
is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
N
AME OF A
W
OLF
Jez Morrow
Jez Morrow
Chapter One
The outlaws crouched shoulder to shoulder like a pack of wolves behind the brown
reeds, waiting in ambush for Lord Marsh’s carriage to approach the old stone bridge.
A cold wind tore dry leaves from skeletal trees. The blunt-winged shape of an owl
passed over the face of the moon.
Connor picked up the faint sound of hooves approaching—not enough of them and
from the wrong direction to belong to Lord Marsh. Connor growled to his companions,
“Get down.”
The six of them hunkered down into the reeds.
Onto the bridge rode a young heroic figure on a fine white steed. The young rider
did not continue on, but reined in atop the bridge and stayed there.
“Oh now who is this idiot?” Connor stole a glance up the embankment.
The rider was an aristocrat from the look of him. In the moonlight his hair was
black and wavy, tied back in a tail. His dark blue jacket was tailored to show off wide
shoulders, broad chest and a proud, proud back. Kidskin trousers fit snug around his
long exquisitely muscled legs. He really was a beautiful young man. His shirt was a
pure shade of white that only an aristocrat could maintain. Polished silver buckles
glinted on his well-heeled shoes and on the horse’s tack.
Connor muttered low between clenched teeth as if he could will him away, “Move.
Move
.”
The young man turned and turned his unhappy mare, keeping his gaze up the road
by sharp turns of his head. His skin shone very fair in the pale light. He presented a
bold classic profile that had to be a sculptor’s vision of a young god as he glared up the
road again from atop his circling steed.
4
Name of a Wolf
Katie whispered, “Is he looking for
us
?”
Connor shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“It almost seems as if he’s waiting for Lord Marsh,” said Hugh, not wanting to
believe it.
“That would be a bad thing,” said Connor, but he couldn’t deny the apparent truth
of it.
The young man on the bridge kept an angry hand on the reins. The white mare
objected to all the hard turns leading nowhere.
The rider was waiting for the same thing they were and he was in the way.
He is going to get us all shot or hanged
.
The white horse whickered and stamped her hooves.
“His mare has scented us,” said Connor.
From the stand of evergreens well behind them, where the outlaw horses waited,
hidden, Connor’s stallion muttered and pawed a great hoof at the carpet of brown pine
needles. Connor nodded up at the bridge. “We need to get him down from there.”
“Is he armed?” Katie whispered.
“Can’t see,” said Rory.
Connor, who could see in the dark, answered, “Yes. Pistol.”
Connor turned around to crouch low with his back to the embankment, muttering
damnations. He asked up to his companions, “Any others?”
“Can’t
see
,” said Rory. “Connor, get your eyes back up here.”
Connor elbowed back up to the edge of the rise. He searched up the black road.
“Marsh’s carriage is coming.”
In a moment, the ears of the white horse on the bridge went up. The young rider
stood high in his stirrups.
“Our boy is in motion.”
5
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