Wolves were nocturnal, weren’t they? They didn’t approach people in broad daylight, just stand and stare, then vanish.

She’d look it up to be sure, but it had been a dog. She was positive now. Belinda hadn’t mentioned anything about neighbors or other cabins. And how odd, Rowan thought now, that she hadn’t even asked about it.

Well, there was a neighbor somewhere, and he had a big, beautiful black dog. She imagined they could all keep out of each other’s way.

*  *  *

The wolf watched from the shadows of the trees. Who was the woman? he wondered. Why was the woman? She moved quickly, a little nervously, tossing glances over her shoulder as she carried things from the car to the cabin.

He’d scented her from half a mile away. Her fears, her excitement, her longings had all come to him. And had brought him to her.

His eyes narrowed with annoyance. His teeth bared in challenge. He’d be damned if he’d take her. Damned if he’d let her change what he was or what he wanted.

Sleek and silent, he turned away and vanished into the thick trees.

*  *  *

Rowan built a fire, delighted when the logs crackled and caught. She unpacked systematically. There wasn’t much, really. Clothes, supplies. Most of the boxes she’d hauled in were filled with books. Books she couldn’t live without, books she’d promised herself she’d make time to read. Books to study, books for pleasure. She’d grown up with a love of reading, of exploring worlds through words. And because of that great love, she often questioned her own dissatisfaction with teaching.

It should have been the right goal, just as her parents always insisted. She embraced learning and had always learned well and quickly. She’d studied, taken her major and then her master’s in education. At twenty-seven, she’d already taught full-time for nearly six years.

She was good at it, she thought now as she sipped tea while standing in front of the blazing fire. She could recognize the strengths and weaknesses of her students, home in on their interests and on how to challenge them.

Yet she dragged her feet on getting her doctorate. She woke each morning vaguely discontented and came home each evening unsatisfied.

Because her heart had never been in it.

When she’d tried to explain that to the people who loved her, they’d been baffled. Her students loved and respected her, the administration at her school valued her. Why wasn’t she pursuing her degree, marrying Alan, completing her nice, tidy life as she should?

Why, indeed? she thought. Because the only answer she had for them, and for herself, was in her heart.

And brooding wasn’t thinking, she reminded herself. She’d go for a walk, get a sense of where she was. She wanted to see the cliffs Belinda had told her of.