Page 28 of A Wolf's Treasure
He frowned. “O’ course I was thinking o’ ye. I was in th’ middle o’ telling Cedric aboot th’ wolves. Ye were there. And I was tryin’ tae tell it like ye weren’t. So, I had tae think o’ ye so I wouldn’t speak o’ ye.” Somehow, that made much more sense in his head.
“But someone read your mind.” She smiled a secretive smile.
He released his breath. “Aye.”
“Let me guess. Prince Nada, princely prince of the ‘good’ Faeries.” She made air quotes, then rolled her eyes and took another long drink, set her empty glass on the bar, and flagged down the bartender for another.
Duncan watched all of this distractedly. “Why does yer da think yer dead?” he blurted.
“Because I was.”
He suppressed the need to cross himself. Was this a ghost he was speaking to? But no, that couldn’t be true. A ghost wouldn’t have filled his arms the way she had when they’d danced just a few minutes ago. However, to be certain, he reached out and touch her arm where it lay on the bar, just to reassure himself she was still warm flesh and blood.
His fingers tingled as they connected with her bare skin, and reluctantly, he pulled them away. The same thing had happened when he’d taken her hand to dance. Like something inside of her was trying to connect with something inside of him. He didn’t know what it was, or what to think about it. This had never happened to him before, not with any female he’d ever been around. And he was often around females.
She looked down at her drink as she stirred it. “So, what did my father say when he pulled me from your head?”
Duncan shook himself, refocusing on their conversation with effort. Her tone was deceptively casual, but he had a gut feeling she wasn’t as unaffected as she was trying to let on. “He was surprised you’re alive, and…” He drifted off, not knowing how to tell her that her own father wasn’t happy to find out she was still breathing.
She cocked her head, studying him until his face burned with the lies he was tempted to utter. But then she said, “It’s okay, wolf. You can tell me the truth. Actually, I prefer it. It’s always good to know where one stands, and there’s no love lost between the male who sired me and myself.” She brought her drink up to her lips. “Trust me,” she muttered right before she took a sip.
Duncan searched her face and saw nothing but honesty in her expression this time. “He said…” He stopped. He couldn’t say it out loud. “Och. Dinna make me say it, lass.” Grabbing the beer he’d just realized was by his elbow, he took a long swallow.
“He wasn’t happy that I’d come back from the dead, was he?” She lifted her chin, her voice strong, as though she didn’t care in the least what the prince thought.
But Duncan could see the sadness beneath the brave façade. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, lass.” And then he forced himself to tell her. “He wants tae send ye back tae th’ grave. So as no’ tae mess up his plans.”
There was no reaction to his words other than a brief pause when she lowered her eyes before she raised them back to his. “And what plans are those?”
“Tae have Duana mated tae my alpha, and for her tae be next in line tae take th’ crown.”
“Duana? The princess?”
“Aye.”
She turned her head, watching the dancers in the mirror behind the bar. “Well, he won’t be getting that wish, Duncan.”
“I sincerely hope not, Ryanne.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes as he let her stew on all he had just told her. And the longer he sat there, the angrier he became. How could anyone want to kill their own child? Their own flesh and blood?
He would have to be a psychotic bastard. Worse than any of them had presumed. If Duncan were ever so lucky to have such a miracle bestowed upon him, if he ever sired a bairn, nothing and no one would ever get close enough to that babe to cause them any harm. No matter how old they were.
“Did you find out who the wolves were that chased us?” she asked after a time.
“Aye. They belong to a pack from Scotland.”
She turned to look at him, one side of her mouth quirked up with amusement. “Thomas’s pack?”
“Aye, that would be th’ one.” He watched her go back to watching the dancers. “Ye dinna seem concerned.”
“I’m not,” she said.
“Ye ken this pack?”
“I do.”
“Why are they after ye?”
