He knew what he had done. Perhaps it had been inevitable, from the time he’d touched her nakedness in the wood. Perhaps long before that.
But only today had his reason deserted him entirely. Not when Cassidy all but declared her love, nor afterward when she defied him over the footman and threatened to leave. Even then he’d been able to keep his head. He had been returning John Dodd to confinement, unable to concentrate on what still must be done, when Telford brought him word that Quentin had been seen driving off with her.
Braden never clearly understood what came over him. It was wolf and yet not wolf, for he had never thought to Change. Somehow he found himself in the stable saddling his fastest mount, ignoring the attempts of the groom to help.
He rode recklessly, trusting Kinmont Willie to carry him past the obstacles he couldn’t see. He followed scent alone until he found the carriage, and Cassidy.
Quentin had disappeared. There was no one to remind Braden of duty or necessity. He touched Cassidy, and he was lost. Lost beyond recovery.
His vows to take no second mate, to dispense with passion, to devote all his energies to leadership of the Cause and accept that he would never beget loup-garou heirs… all that was abolished by this one act.
His grand scheme for Cassidy and Quentin was finished forever. He had failed again, just as his grandfather had failed in his plans for him and Milena. But Grandfather would never have blamed himself. He knew who was at fault.
Traitor, he would say now. Weakling. He would refuse to see any mitigating circumstances.
But Braden saw them. By all the standards of the loup-garou and of the Cause, Cassidy was imperfect. She could not Change. And he was yet more deeply flawed, a far greater disappointment to his grandfather’s mission.
Perhaps in the realm of deepest instinct he had known that they were alike. That they belonged together. The wolf had conquered the man and his logic, no matter how hard he had tried to control it.
It seemed impossible to believe that he had actually considered letting her go.
He stroked her shoulder, struggling with the long-unfamiliar tenderness and awe that held him as surely as her body had done. Was it possible, in spite of everything, that passion and caring would not destroy what remained of his value to the Cause? Could he dare to trust his heart again—and trust a woman with that heart? Could he guard Cassidy from the difficulties life with him must inevitably bring? Could he trust himself?
Perhaps that was the lesson Cassidy was trying to teach him—that there was something in himself worth trusting.
Now she lay beside him, soft and warm. She’d given herself to him like the most precious gift, the only one she had to bestow. And she would be loyal with all her soul. She would never betray him.
He felt… content. It was more than satiety after years of abstinence. More than the satisfaction of possession.
But some things hadn’t changed. Some facts remained unassailable, and no wishing would make them otherwise.
“Braden?” Cassidy splayed her fingers on his chest, drawing close.
He allowed himself to savor the thick softness of her hair tumbled about her shoulders. She nuzzled his chest. “I’m so happy,” she said.
If he could have made her happy for eternity, he would have given his life, his soul—everything but the Cause—to make it so. But one thought nagged at his contentment.
“Why did you go away with Quentin?”
She made a face. “He said he had something to show me.”
“Show you?”
“Something about you. But he wasn’t telling the truth.” Her mouth quirked at the corner. “He said you wanted me to marry him, after all—”
“Did you wish to?”
She sat up and glared at him. “That is a very silly question,” she said. “I like Quentin. I consider him a friend. But I couldn’t marry him.”
Braden closed his eyes. “He’s so much a coward that he left you alone—”
“I wasn’t hurt. It wasn’t his fault. He was only doing what he thought you expected him to do.”