Page 18 of The Wolf and his Witch

Chapter Eight

Annabelle sipped her wine, her meal sitting heavy in her stomach. She’d not missed Gabriel’s interest when she’d introduced Isobella. Nor his gaze returning unerringly to her sister throughout the meal. Unlike the heat in his eyes when he looked at her, there was…concern and…awe. What was up with that? Did she even want to know? Or was she seeing things that weren’t there, because having Gabriel here was messing with her state of mind? She wasn’t normally the jealous type.

And Dutton… Annabelle pursed her lips. How the hell had he known about this meeting? Now more than ever, she was glad she’d kept the book a secret, even from Aunt Marjory. She’d have to move it and find somewhere more secure. Maybe she could take it back to Rarity. One book among many, it would be easy to conceal.

“You’ll need to practice your French,” said Gabriel. “They speak an older, mostly forgotten dialect, but you’ll be able to understand them well enough.”

“My French is a little rusty,” admitted Annabelle.

“I can help you,” offered Isobella.

Annabelle’s eyebrows shot up. “You speak French?”

Isobella grinned. “The French teacher at Flintridge Sacred Heart was cute. French was one of my best subjects.”

Gabriel beamed at Isobella. “Excellent. That will save a lot of time.”

Really?Annabelle would refresh her French no faster with Isobella than if Gabriel taught her.

“And we’ll need to get some clothes made for you, clothes that will help you blend in,” said Gabriel, his focus, again, not on Annabelle, but Isobella.

Her chest tightened and her stomach churned. No, she wasn’t imagining things at all. With one look at Isobella, had he moved on already? If the man could walk away from her on Christmas Eve, it wasn’t a stretch to imagine a pretty face could distract him.

“One of our coven is a seamstress,” interjected Annabelle, trying to draw Gabriel’s gaze. Isobella didn’t need any more heartache. Andshedidn’t need to have her ex-lover stopping by for a tryst with her sister while she slept in the next room. “She can make anything we ask her to.”

Dutton smirked. Annabelle shot him a look that promised she’d disembowel him at the earliest opportunity.

“Good. That’s a start then.” Gabriel leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed.

Beneath the table, a foot brushed against hers. Annabelle tensed. Dutton’s? Gabriel’s attention swiveled to her, and a lazy, sexy grin curled at the corners of his full lips. Kissable lips. She knew what he was capable of with that mouth.

She jerked her foot away and took a gulp of wine, anything to douse the fire that was building in her body. Gabriel lifted his nose and sniffed the air. His grin bloomed into a knowing smile, and Annabelle’s cheeks heated. He dipped his gaze down her body, a not-so-subtle slide from her face to her breasts. Her nipples peaked, and she squirmed in her seat.

Damn it.Sheshould’veworn a bra. She’d thought only to taunt Gabriel, but now, seeing his gaze fixate on her breasts…she was the one in trouble.

Annabelle glared at him. He let out a low chuckle, and that made her squirm in her seat even more.

His chest heaved, his nostrils flared and his grin slipped. He abruptly stood. “I think we’ve done enough tonight.” He signaled the server and settled the bill.

Relieved, Annabelle slid from her seat, and they all collected their coats and scarves before heading to the lobby. She had much to think about. Gabriel had given them a lot of information about what she could expect in the tenth century. As grim as it sounded, she was still going. Annabelle couldn’t let her family down.

At the elevators, Gabriel halted and pressed the button. He took Isobella’s hand and something twisted in Annabelle’s chest. They even looked alike. Similar coloring, that same dark curly hair. If Annabelle didn’t know otherwise, it would be easy to mistake them as siblings.

“It was an honor meeting you, Isobella. I would like to spend more time getting to know you, but if that opportunity does not arise before our time is up, thenvoyager en toute securitie.”

Anabelle frowned. Her Frenchwasa little rusty, but she thought he’d said safe travels.What an odd thing to say.

Gabriel squared off with the Kings’ pride and joy. “Dutton.”

Dutton nodded, his face pinched tighter than a cat’s asshole.

The elevator doors opened, and Gabriel beckoned out the operator. “Would you be so kind as to organize a cab each for Miss Rodriguez and Mr. King, please?”

“Of course, Mr. Montagne.”

Before Annabelle could wonder at her exclusion, Gabriel dipped, grasped her by her thighs, flung her over his shoulder and stepped into the elevator. The closing doors cut off Annabelle’s squawk, leaving her with a brief glimpse of Isobella’s surprise and Dutton’s outrage. Gabriel reached out, swiped his pass key and stabbed two buttons on the panel.

The penthouse?

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