Page 71 of The Agent and the Outlaw
“No,Comtesse, there is still no change in his state. Please stop asking me. As soon as something happens, I will come inform you!” Van Helsing waved me off, exasperated.
“Charlotte,chérie, come and have a bite to eat. You’re wasting away,” Daphne ordered, pulling me toward the dinner table.
“I already told you—I’m not hungry. I want to go upstairs and sit with Antoine,” I muttered petulantly, sounding very much like a spoiled child.
“Absolutely not,” Van Helsing said. “You will disrupt his rest and the healing process.”
“This is a fine domestic mutiny on New Year’s Eve,” I grumbled. “And in my own home, too!”
“It’s for your own good,” Van Helsing chastised. “And yes, do as the duchess says—have a bite to eat. There’s meat on the table for you.”
I sat, scowling, but pulled the plate in front of me. It had been two weeks since the night in the manor house, and every hour had felt like one hundred.
When Antoine had fallen into unconsciousness, I’d transformed back into my wolf form and carried him to my home. I tended his wounds as best as I could, then took off to bring Van Helsing here. She had no doubt been considerably perplexed by an aggressive werewolf trying to explain a somewhat complicated situation to her through barks and growls, but she eventually got my meaning well enough to get on my back and ride with me back to my château. Once there, she gave him the same tender care she had me, shooing me from the room while Antoine teetered on the precipice of mortality.
I paced the halls, driving her to the brink of madness before she finally convinced me to bring Daphne and Étienne here to keep me company. I’d done so and was immensely grateful for the comfort of family and the distraction, but truthfully, all I wanted was to crawl into bed with Antoine and hold him while his blood fever raged.
In the last few days, the fever had broken, but he had yet to wake. Van Helsing continued to minister to him most carefully, and she had proclaimed him to be in recovery but would give me no more information than that.
Blessedly, Daphne had helped me tidy things up for the Order. The damning letters Antoine had gone to retrieve were smeared with thegénéral’sblood, but fortunately, still legible. They outlined his corruption in detail and were more than enough evidence to put this grim matter to rest and prove Antoine the hero I already knew him to be. We presented the evidence to both the Order and the king, along with our account of the events that had led to the deaths of thebêtes de sangand thegénéral.Naturally, the truth was hidden from the rest of the court and the people of France—what an embarrassment for the king!—and an official rumor was whispered in the right circles at court.The général had taken ill in Menorca and died during the evacuation of French forces from the island. Such a tragedy!
The Order had suggested a posthumous award for Antoine’s bravery and loyalty, but I wouldn’t hear of it.Posthumous, my foot.He still clung to life—perhaps by the tips of his fingers, but he would make a full recovery. I would see to it. If the devil came to claim him, he would have to go through me first.
I finished the meat in front of me, and Charles came in to set down a plate of asparagus. I smiled, remembering my promise to Antoine.
Étienne saw the dish and wrinkled his nose. “Honestly, Charlotte, why do you bother with other food? If meat is enough to sustain you, isn’t that rather superfluous?”
“Oh, I don’t know,mon amour,” Daphne smiled, eyeing him from beneath her lashes. “Food can be about more than sustenance. It can be about pleasure, too.”
Étienne turned a heated gaze on her, and I half expected them to make love right there at the dinner table. He turned back to me, however, and grinned.
“Apologies, dear Charlotte. Sometimes I forget there are worldly pleasures other than my soon-to-be wife.”
I stuck my tongue out at him and drenched the vegetable in a lovely lemon cream sauce. I was halfway through the plate when my supernatural hearing picked up movement from upstairs.Antoine!Quicker than quick, I rushed upstairs and into his chambers.
He sat up in bed, blinking blearily at me. A slow smile spread across his face. My heart stuttered and, rather embarrassingly, I choked out a sob. Immediately, his smile faltered.
“Charlotte,” he said softly. “Please, don’t cry. It’s all right. I’m all right.”
I ran to the bed and launched myself at him, burying my face in his chest. He stroked my back and whispered soothing things to me until I was finally able to compose myself. I tilted my tear-streaked face up at him and kissed him, then slapped him on the shoulder.
“Don’t—you—ever—scare me like that again,” I wailed. “You are not permitted to die unlessIsay so! Do you understand me?”
He chuckled and nuzzled my throat. “I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll make sure I’ve cleared it with you.”
“There won’t be a next time,” I grumbled. “How do you feel?”
“Hungry,” he said. “Restless.”
“Do you feel like a werewolf?”
“I don’t know. What do werewolves feel like?”
I grinned. “Hungry and restless.”
“Then yes.”
Van Helsing entered the room carrying a plate of meat and her doctor’s valise. She moved me to the side and unwrapped Antoine’s bandages, gently palpating the places where his injuries had been. As I hoped, his skin was unblemished, and he looked as if he’d never been at death’s door. The doctor performed a thorough examination and handed him the plate of meat, which he devoured and declared to be the best thing he’d ever eaten. Van Helsing nodded to me, confirming my suspicions.
