Isabelle’s victory was precarious at best, and well she knew it. “Thank you, my lord. I am most grateful for your kind courtesy.”
They understood each other, for the time being. Lord Greyburn turned away and spoke to the butler, who summoned a footman. Another maid appeared to conduct Isabelle down the hall and to the stairs that led to the bedchambers on. the second and third floors. The house was very fine, but it had the feel of a place often left vacant. Hollow, somehow, and very cold.
She followed the maid to a door at the end of the third-floor hallway. Cassidy opened the door before the maid could knock, and she grabbed Isabelle’s hand and pulled her inside.
The room was plainly furnished but comfortable enough. A steaming jug of water stood beside the wash-stand, clean towels were laid out, and someone had located a soft cambric nightgown for Cassidy’s use. The maid waited quietly until Isabelle nodded dismissal, then the girl bobbed a curtsy and left them alone.
“Can you believe it, Isabelle?” Cassidy said. “I’m here. I’m actually here.” She all but danced across to the bed, fingered the nightgown with its lace trim and spotless white fabric, and grinned.
Isabelle sat in the chair nearest the bed. “I may know what to believe if you’ll tell me how you came to be here.”
Cassidy sobered, but the sparkle remained in her eyes. “I know I shouldn’t have run off without you…”
“In the middle of the night—” Isabelle added.
“But I felt someone calling me, and…”
Isabelle listened to Cassidy’s breakneck explanation with growing wonder and forgot her intended remonstration. Clearly there was yet another facet of the loup-garou nature she knew nothing about. Werewolves… calling to one another, without voices. Even without conscious awareness, apparently, for Cassidy claimed that Lord Greyburn had been surprised to see her.
Surprised… and pleased. If so, Lord Greyburn had a peculiar way of expressing pleasure. Nevertheless, he had already made a place for Cassidy here—almost too easily—whatever his motives might be.
There was no question of Cassidy’s happiness.
“You remember what we talked about in San Francisco,” Cassidy said with a wistful earnestness. “I always knew I’d have to search for the kin who could show me how to be like my mother. Now I’ll learn everything she wasn’t able to teach me.” She leaned forward on the edge of the bed. “I could never explain the reason why I finally left the ranch. Something in here”—she touched her breast—”told me it was time to go. And now I know it was real. It was meant to happen.” She closed her eyes. “The first time I saw his face, I thought he was exactly like Blake’s poem about the Tyger. He’s everything I ever dreamed of becoming. And he wants me, Isabelle. He wants me.”
Isabelle kept her expression carefully neutral. Had it happened so quickly, then? Had the girl already developed an infatuation for this forbidding and austere man—who wasn’t even human?
He was dangerous, and Isabelle had no doubt that he could hurt Cassidy deeply with no effort at all. What did the earl of Greyburn intend for his innocent cousin?
Cassidy wouldn’t listen to warnings now. She was among her own. She was sure she’d found her home.
And therein lay the danger. With the earl of Greyburn as her teacher, what might she become?
The late storm began quietly, with a spattering of raindrops on the library window. Braden sat stiffly in his chair facing the fire, stabbing at the embers with a poker. A damp, chill wind forced its way through the tiniest gaps in the walls like a housebreaker bent on plunder. When the rain began to beat out a punishing rhythm and the first crash of thunder rattled the glass, he thrust so hard that a charred log toppled over with an angry crack.
The glare of lightning didn’t reach him, but he felt it, streaking through his bones and speeding the motion of his heart. White light filled his head. He threw down the poker and stood up too rapidly, pushing the chair into the table beside it.
The next sound he heard was the crash of something fragile hitting the floor. One of Rowena’s delicate figurines, no doubt.