Page 72 of Feral

“Before she does somethin’ stupid?” he growled.

“She’s got a better head on her shoulders than ya give her credit for. It was you that reopened that old wound,” Gran said with a disapproving frown. “Ya want someone to blame—”

“I know,” Angus snapped and immediately sighed. “I’m sorry. Yer right. It was my fault.”

“No, I shouldn’t have poked. This should be a happy time but instead…Well, nothin’ to be done but go through it.”

Angus nodded, his usually straight posture bowed as if under a great weight.

“Brother,” I said to him, “is there anything I can help with?”

“Yes,” he said, glancing back at Daphne, “tell me how, when ya were supposed to bring back answers to why these disturbances have happened, ya walk in with a mate instead?”

Guilt gnawed at me. He was right, and I hadn’t thought of how it would look when I agreed to the cover story.

“It…it’s a long story. But I do think I have an answer. I got some direction, things to look for.”

“Then do it, before the Campbells get here tomorrow. Nothin’ can go wrong Fraser, you understand? I just barely got the old man to agree to go through with this. If somethin’ happens to Imogen, or if the handfastin’ is disturbed…”

“War.”

He nodded, his frown deep.

“War.”

I glanced at Daphne where she stood behind me and she gave me a slight nod.

“I understand. I’ll get to work on it.”

Angus snorted.

“Between ruttin’ your new mate?”

“Why is everyone so damn obsessed with me beddin’ her?” I growled.

“Because we need everyone focused, brother,” Angus answered, rising from his chair. “And a newly mated Were male is only focused on one thing. Get it out of your system before the handfastin’ and find the artifact. That’s all ya have to do. Think ya can handle it?”

I was taken aback. Angus could be curt and distant, but I’d never known him to be mean.

It must be the stress. Or the artifact.

“Don’t worry about me,” I said, barely able to control the snarl in my voice.

Angus turned and walked toward his study. A moment later, I heard the door slam.

“Don’t be mad at him,” Liam said from where he still sat at the table. “He’s been carryin’ a lot the last couple of weeks.”

“I know, and I was supposed to help.”

“Ya have,” Liam grinned at Daphne, who was chewing on her bottom lip, staring out the window. “Gran was so happy to hear about yer matin’, and while Angus might be irritated right now, it was a good sign to the Campbells that ya were bringing a mate. They figured ya wouldn’t be doing that if things were dire.”

“That’s good to hear. How have ya been?” I couldn’t resist asking.

His smile became tight.

“Hurts more lately. The witch said that the healin’ might be unravelin’. But I’m hopeful. I have a spot on the dig at Hala Sultan Tekke this summer and I intend to make it.”

“On Cyprus?” Daphne asked, whirling around from the window.

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