Page 82 of Wolf's Prize

Gaharet cocked his head at her, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. “Is that what you truly wish, Kathryn?”

“Maybe.” She dropped her gaze.Was it?“No.”

“Then go. Claim your mate.”

Kathryn took a few steps forward, expecting Gaharet to change his mind at any moment and call her back. When he did not, she increased her pace until she was running toward the forest. Why he did not stop her, she could not begin to fathom. Nor did she care.

“Stay down wind, Kathryn, and tread lightly,” he called after her. “They will not know you are coming.”

So that was how he had caught her by surprise. Heeding his words, she slipped into the forest. Too many people had made decisions on her behalf. She would not let them make this one without her.

“I hope you know what you are doing.”

Gaharet eyed the man who stepped from the shadows of the wall. “I know my men, Farren. I know the best way, the right way, to handle them. She is the only one they will listen to.”

“This is my daughter’s safety we are talking about here. How can you be so sure?”

“You know nothing of our kind, Farren.” He softened his lips into a hint of a smile, taking the sting out of his words. “Werewolves mate for life. And the female’s agreement to mate is paramount. The male can chase her, woo her and try to impress her, but it is the female who does the choosing.” Gaharet shrugged. “That is our law, here, now, as it has been for centuries. Neither Lance nor Godfrey can take that away from her. And the others will defend her right to choose. I guarantee it.”

Farren grunted. “I pray you are right.”

“Come. Let us adjourn to the hall and avail ourselves of Anne’s chamomile brew. It will calm your nerves.”

As Gaharet turned away, a hint of a scent, so familiar and yet lost to him so long ago, tickled his nose. He halted and scanned the darkness. He lifted his nose to the breeze, searching for it again. Nothing but pine, oak, damp earth and the whiff of wood smoke from the keep.

“Gaharet? Is something wrong?”

He shook his head and followed Farren through the gate. “A memory, nothing more.” Wishing it were otherwise was foolish. D’Artagnon was long gone from this life.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Heeding Gaharet’s words, Kathryn shifted her path to stay downwind and picked her way through the forest with care. She avoided the four horses tethered nearby and stopped short of the clearing. Five large men stared at each other, arguing, the clearing awash with tension and the faint reddish glow of moonlight giving their faces an eerie cast. Hiding behind the trunk of a large tree, she opened up her senses.

The first thing to hit her was the unmistakable scent of sex. Kathryn pressed her hands to her heated cheeks.L’enfer. How can I face them now?Every one of them could not fail to be aware of the intimacy she had shared with Aimon. That she had lain with a man outside the sanctity of marriage.

She turned, took two steps back toward the keep, then halted. People had talked about her before, whispered snide comments when she had walked into a room. Was she prepared to let a little embarrassment stop her from having a say in her future?

Kathryn spun around. No, she would not. She returned to the large oak and crouched behind it. Again, she opened up her senses and pushed past the lingering evidence of her and Aimon’s tryst. A mixture of anger, confusion and curiosity, all underscored with the musky scent of wolf, wafted from Gaharet’s vassals.

Her gaze shifted from one man to the next. Which one had attacked her? Would she be able to tell? Would she feel a pull toward the man who had made her, turned her, as Gaharet had suggested? Could it be Lance? With his back to her, he gave nothing away. Or Godfrey? Anger radiated from the chevalier. It was not the hulking twins. Gaharet had already established that. They looked on, more curious than riled, exchanging an occasional look between them. They intimidated her still, but she sensed no threat from them. And Aimon, shoulders stiff, legs parted in a wide stance, he withstood the assault of their words as one would a gale force wind.

“And what of the tasks set for you?” Godfrey glared at Aimon. “Or were you so enamored of Kathryn they did not once cross your mind? Our pack verges on the brink of extinction, Lothair has Ulrik chained beneath Langeais Keep, we have a rogue wolf in our midst, and you…” Godfrey huffed out a breath. “What have you been doing? Bedding theonlyfemale werewolf.”

Heat returned to Kathryn’s face. Aimon snarled. How uncouth of Godfrey to mention it. And in such base terms.

“I completed my tasks.” Aimon’s voice was little more than a growl.

“Did you give them the same attention you gave Kathryn? Did you doggedly pursue them as Edmond and Aubert did Renaud? Have you spent every waking moment chasing down leads, burying yourself in useless information as I did?”

“I went to the clearing. I visited the witch’s cottage.”

“What did you find, Aimon?” asked Lance, cutting off further accusations from Godfrey.

Kathryn held her breath. Would the others sense a lie?

Aimon paused, breathing deeply, as though containing the anger that swirled around him proved difficult. “It was as we thought. Gaharet was in the clearing. As was Erin. And Ulrik. Lothair and Renaud, too, with the keep guard and some mercenaries.”

Kathryn let out her breath, long and slow. Aimon’s words, chosen with care, rang of truth.

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