Page 59 of Wolf's Prize

Aimon nodded. “We all do. He is our alpha. We must submit to his will for the good of the pack.”

The hairs on the back of Kathryn’s neck bristled, and her wolf rose to the surface. Josephine danced beneath her, unsettled.

Aimon swiveled in his saddle and stared at her, his nostrils flaring. “Kathryn, control your wolf.”

The command in his voice rippled across her mind. Her wolf growled, in tune with Kathryn’s resistance to allowing, nay swearing, to let yet another man have the right to make decisions on her behalf. Would she ever have a say in her own life?

Aimon vaulted from his saddle and grasped Josephine’s bridle. “Kathryn, you must take control. As well trained as she is, the mare will not stand for you shifting.”

Inhaling deep breaths of pine and oak, Kathryn forced her wolf to recede, a sullen, prowling presence in her mind.

Aimon relaxed his hold on the reins. “All will be well, Kathryn.” He patted her knee. “Gaharet is a good and fair alpha. Come. Talk to him. See for yourself.”

She stared at Aimon, wanting to trust him. Aimon remounted and set off again at a trot. Kathryn sat unmoving, watching his retreating back. Josephine nickered, not wanting to be left behind. She gathered her reins. She would talk to Gaharet. He was, after all, her cousin. He had not seemed so bad at the family gatherings she had attended as a child. Tall and lanky, full of mischief, but not unfriendly. Not at all obnoxious like Jean-Luc Cadieux.

She kicked Josephine into a trot and followed Aimon along the trail. Where would this new life take her? She could not turn back. Not now her wolf knew the taste of freedom. Her life had changed again, through no fault of her own, no conscious decision she had made. Mayhap this time, it would lead to a better, happier path. One which, she hoped, would include Aimon by her side.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Lothair eyed the man seated in his chambers. Again. His third visit in as many days. “Did something slip your mind when last we spoke?”

Lance Vautour smiled, deference feigned in the bowing of his head. Lothair curbed his disdain. The man sought to replace Gaharet as his council, yet he would never be the man Gaharet was. Too willing to flatter him with pretty words, telling him what he wanted to hear, not what needed to be said.

As one of his men, that suited Lothair fine. As an advisor, Lothair had no use for him. Gaharet had never hesitated to give his opinion, or to disagree with him. He had always spoken his mind, and Lothair had relied on his advice. Not so with Lance.

“Mon Seigneur Comte, I wish to speak to you about a rather delicate matter.”

Lothair smiled. “Go on.” Lance’s attempts to maneuver into his confidence were entertaining.

Lance cleared his throat. “I…hmm… I find it is long past the time where perhaps I should consider taking a wife.”

Lothair raised an eyebrow and leaned forward in his chair. Interesting indeed. “Marriage can be quite an advantageous pursuit. You have a young lady in mind?”

“I do. As you say, marriage can be advantageous. I would think such a union as I am about to propose would serve many, including you.”

“Mm. How so?”

“You have my allegiance. Without question. If I were to marry Kathryn Beauchene, I would secure not only the largest estate in your county, but also the surety of Gaharet’s vassals.”

Well, well, well. His plan was producing results. Lothair leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Gaharet’s vassals will fall in line, regardless, and they will soon reinvest themselves to me. Have you not assured me of this yourself?”

“I have, and they will, but the d’Louncrais estate was the seat of the pack’s power. Do you not wish for it to stay with someone you can trust, rather than it fall in the hands of some ambitious, status climbing family?”

Lothair resisted a smirk. Unlike Lance’s own? Lance came not from a long lineage of titled chevaliers.

“Tell me, Lance. Why would I wish to give the pack back its power? Its wealth?”

“Because I can guarantee that power and wealth will remain under your absolute control. Through me.”

“Hmm, but what of your alpha? Ulrik?”

The corners of Lance’s mouth dipped, but the expression in his eyes never changed. The chevalier’s regret only ran skin deep. Did Lance think he could fool him? He who had survived his childhood because he could read people and sense their deepest, darkest intentions? Lance overestimated his abilities.

“I fear Ulrik is lost to us. He has always been hot tempered and impulsive, but of late he has fought against the restrictions of the pack and been at odds with Gaharet. At odds with the world.”

Lothair tapped his finger against his chin. In this, Lance spoke true. Ulrik had ever been a thorn in his side. In more recent years, his discontent had grown. More worrisome, Ulrik had ceased trying to hide it. Not a barrel of wine existed in the county he had not drunk from, and nary a woman of Langeais, of common or noble birth, had he not bedded. Had his behavior created dissension among the pack? Enough they would leave him to rot? And yet… Ulrik knew of Gaharet’s survival, while Lance did not.

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