Page 73 of Wolf's Prize

Two of Lothair’s personal guard stood outside the library, another two at the entry to the keep and a further pair guarded access to the corridor.

“Monsieur Aimon and Mademoiselle Kathryn to see Mon Seigneur Comte. As requested.”

A guard moved to block them from entering. “The comte has asked only for Monsieur Aimon, not Mademoiselle Kathryn.”

Kathryn stiffened and the white-hot blaze of her anger filled his senses. If Aimon wished to keep her safe from Lothair, shield her, and he did, then the guard’s decree gave him the opportunity. But keeping things from Kathryn had already worked against him. He slipped his hand into hers.

“Step aside. Mademoiselle Kathryn is with me, and either she is allowed to enter or neither of us will.”

Kathryn gripped his hand tighter. Had he surprised her with his support? Had he made the right decision?

Uncertainty crossed the guard’s face. “Comte Lothair—”

“I will take responsibility if it displeases the comte.”

After a moment’s consideration, and an uncertain glance at his fellow guard who shrugged his indifference, the keep guard stepped aside and allowed them entry.

Comte Lothair lazed in a chair by the brazier, armored and armed, his hand casually resting on the pommel of his sword. His sharp gaze swept over them, coming to rest on their joined hands. Aimon pulled Kathryn behind him, shielding her from Lothair’s astute gaze. He may have conceded to Kathryn being present, but he would still protect her any way he could.

Lothair’s eyebrow quirked up. “Aimon, you were the last person I expected to pay the Beauchenes a visit. You have surprised me. That does not happen very often.”

Aimon remained silent. He suspected he was in enough strife by being here. He did not plan to give Lothair any more reason to add to his punishment. And he was not foolish enough to try to match wits with Lothair.

“I was of the belief,” said Lothair, “that you and I had something in common.”

A snarl formed on Aimon’s lips, but he was quick to hide it, forcing his expression to one of blank incomprehension.

Lothair smirked. “It seems you are learning, Aimon. Politics is a nasty game, and one as honest and loyal as you needs to be careful.”

A chill swept over him, and he clutched Kathryn’s hand tighter.

“We both know Gaharet is not dead. And we both know his betrothed is with him.”

Merde.Hehadgiven himself away. The urge to lick his suddenly dry lips took all his willpower to suppress.

“Gaharet’s other vassals do not know this.” Lothair picked up the poker and thrust it into the brazier, prodding the coals to life. “And you, it seems, are in no great rush to tell them. That makes me wonder why you came here in the first place.” He looked around Aimon, his gaze raking Kathryn up and down again. “I can see why you stayed.” A lascivious glint lit up Lothair’s eyes.

Aimon’s hackles rose and his canines slid down, filling his mouth. But for Kathryn’s gentle touch on his arm, he might have shifted. He forced his breathing to slow and his wolf to recede and focused on Kathryn’s small hand in his in an effort to ground himself.

“I had a plan, Aimon. To flush out whoever Renaud’s informant was. She”—he pointed the poker at Kathryn—“was part of that plan. You almost foiled it.”

Aimon’s mind raced. “Almost?” Had Lothair discovered the traitor?

Lothair grinned and leaned the poker against the wall. “The others took a more direct approach than you. Quite unexpected, really. Instead of consulting Farren, they came straight to me. Petitioned me for Kathryn’s hand in marriage.”

Kathryn gasped, and Aimon struggled to contain his shock. Someone had gone to the comte? More than one. Lothair had said others—plural. Aimon had never considered the possibility. Neither had Gaharet.

“Who?”

His mind weighed his options. Only one held any appeal—escape. He could flee with Kathryn, go into hiding as Gaharet had with Erin. Even as the thought crossed his mind, he discarded it. The choice was not his to make.

“Godfrey and Lance.”

Aimon’s nostrils flared.

“The question is,” said Lothair, eyeing them both, “which one is Renaud’s informant, and which one do I let have Kathryn and”—he waved his hand around, indicating the d’Louncrais keep—“all of this?”

Aimon pulled Kathryn close in behind him. He swallowed the words he wanted to shout. That Kathryn washisand no others. That Lothair should granthimKathryn’s hand in marriage.

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