Page 75 of Wolf's Prize

Aimon’s hand tightened around Kathryn’s. He thought his teeth might crack if he clenched his jaw any harder.

Lothair’s eyes gleamed. “As I suspected. You believe either Godfrey or Lance is the traitor. As do I. One of those two men has colluded with that conniving excuse of an archeveque to bring me down. Whoever it is, I will stop them.” He pointed at Kathryn. “And she will help me do it. She is the key.”

Kathryn shrank further behind him, and Aimon longed to comfort her, tell her all would be well, but he could not be certain it would.

“Seeing the two of you—hand in hand as you are now—will test their loyalties. If they are true, they will support you and may even congratulate you. They will see the d’Louncrais estate remaining within the pack, and that will satisfy them. But for the traitor, this setback may force his hand.”

Aimon had to admit, as plans went, it had a good chance of success. It also had a good chance of getting him killed and leaving Kathryn vulnerable. But what choice did he have? With the keep guard on hand, Aimon could well end up in the cell beneath Langeais Keep with Ulrik should he refuse. He would be of no use to Kathryn were that to happen.

“I will meet with them,” he said. “But not here. And I will go alone.”

Lothair shook his head. “No, no, no. Kathryn must be with you.”

“Kathryn will stay here, safe inside this keep. I will tell them about Kathryn. As soon as I am in their presence, they will know anyway. They will catch her scent.”

Lothair’s eyes narrowed. “If that is true, then how is it they did not know of her before now?”

Kathryn sniffed. “I am surprised anyone could smell anything over the stench in Langeais Keep.”

Aimon tensed, but Lothair ignored Kathryn, lost in thought.

“Very well, Aimon. I will grant you this one boon. You will meet Gaharet’s vassals. They will smell Kathryn on you, and you will watch them and gauge their reactions. Then you will report back, not only to Gaharet, but also to me. The time will come when Gaharet is back by my side, but until then, I will know everything he does. And you, Aimon, will be the one to keep me informed.” Lothair smiled at him, and Aimon found his countenance more chilling than he ever had. “And in return, I may let you keep your woman.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Kathryn stood in the hall, staring at the embroidered figures of the battle of Montsoreau, her gaze shifting from one man to the next. Aimon. Godfrey. Lance. Two of them had not done her the courtesy of speaking to her father. Nor had they called upon her to ascertain their compatibility. They had gone directly to Comte Lothair to bargain for her hand in marriage. They were willing to saddle themselves with her sight unseen, with no knowledge of her character, her disposition, and no thought of her wishes, their only thought to obtain the d’Louncrais estate. One of them had betrayed the pack she now belonged to. One of them had killed her aunt and attacked her.

Aimon had come to them. To her. But not for the d’Louncrais estate. He had come because he knew what she was. And what she was, came with inherent advantages.

Her gaze skipped to the other wall hanging of her aunt and uncle’s courtship. Humanscouldbe turned into werewolves if a werewolf chose a mate from beyond the pack. Her uncle had turned her aunt. And Gaharet had turned Erin. Erin’s injury had necessitated her turning, but Gaharet had chosen her as his matebeforeher life was at stake. So Erin said. That could only mean Gaharet had planned on turning her, regardless.

She released a sigh as heavy as the feelings in her heart. Aimon had promised her they would talk, but after the chaos of the comte’s arrival and departure, he had set about sending communications to Edmond, Aubert, Lance and Godfrey, calling them together. Then he had saddled his horse and ridden out of the bailey without a word or a fare-thee-well. She scowled at his embroidered image on the wall hanging. He was making a habit of that.

The familiar scent of her father warned her of his approach.

“An interesting piece, this one.” He stood beside her, taking in the battle scene before them. “Did you and Aimon talk?”

Kathryn shook her head. “He tried first thing this morning, but…”

“Comte Lothair interrupted.”

She gave him a defeated nod.

“I hear he defended your right to be present. Few men would do that.”

Yes, he had, and it had thrilled her no end after his initial rejection of her request to be a part of the conversation. But her triumph had been short-lived.

“Lance and Godfrey have petitioned the comte for my hand in marriage.”

Her father grunted. “What did Aimon have to say about that?”

She met her father’s gaze. “That I had a right to choose who I should wed.”

Her father smiled and patted her on the arm. “He is a good man. He will make you a fine match.”

“But…”

Kathryn turned her attention back to the wall hanging. She reached out and ran her fingers over the fallen embroidered figure, his blue surcoat stained with blood, and his long white-blond hair spread around his head like a halo.

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