“They gave her no warning,” Isabelle said. “She can’t do it.”
“She canna’ Change?” Matthias said. He shook his head, a look of pity crossing his face. “Poor, wee bairn.”
Braden had moved away from the servants and his siblings, approaching Cassidy with an impatient, purposeful step. He made a low sound in his throat, an ominous rumble.
Cassidy clutched the robe against her chest and spun on her bare feet. One of the servants gave a muffled exclamation as she ran headlong for the door. Isabelle had just enough time to get out of the way before Cassidy plunged through, sweeping past them.
“Let her go,” Matthias said when Isabelle would have followed. He drew Isabelle from the half-open door. “Best not be seen here now, milady. Becrike, there’ll be fratchin’ tonight, but ye canna meddle. Not with their kind.”
She pulled her arm free. “If Cassidy is in trouble because she couldn’t Change—”
“They’ll nae hurt her,” he said in a strained, flat voice. “Bide a little, my lady. I’ll not abandon the bairn, nae mair than ye will.”
Once again she was struck by his sincerity, though this was only the second time she’d met him. Human he might be, but he understood these Forsters and their ways. And he was allowed to come and go unhindered.
“Thank you,” she said. She offered her hand. “We need friends here. Both of us.”
He covered her hand with his. “We must go.” Moving with swift grace in his heavy clothing, he led her to the front door and out into the night. At the side of the house he paused, lifted her hand to his lips, and kissed it with rough tenderness.
“Bide in patience, milady. You’re nae alone.” He began to slip away, and she caught the edge of his doublet. “Why?” she asked. “Why are you so willing to help us?”
His eyes were warm on hers. “D’ye nae feel the connection between us, milady? We’re bound together, somehow. I kent it the moment I saw ye. ‘Tis a fate I’m nae willin’ to escape.”
And he left her with skin that throbbed where he had touched and a heart beating far too swiftly.
How as it possible that a man, and a stranger, should affect her so deeply? Cassidy was the only other person to reach her heart in many, many years. But it was undeniable that Matthias had done so, against all odds and her firm intentions.
He seemed genuinely concerned about her-—and about Cassidy.
He spoke of a connection, of binding, of fate. Romantic words indeed. But what if he knew Isabelle was no “lady” at all? Would he still smile that sweet smile and promise his protection like a gallant knight content to serve with chaste respect? Or would he turn on her as a creature hopelessly soiled—or worse, look at her with eyes that saw only an object to be used?
No. There was no reason he should find out. They both played a masquerade—he out of an amiable madness, she out of necessity. Whatever Matthias’s motives, they were pure. He was unlike any man she’d known. She could not afford to lose any allies, not when Cassidy was at risk.
Bide in patience, Matthias said. She would take his advice, and be ready when Cassidy needed her.
And if the time came when she must defy the earl of Greyburn for Cassidy’s sake, she dared to believe that she wouldn’t be alone.
Braden ended the initiation ceremony as he always did. He Changed back and made the final pronouncements as if nothing untoward had happened, dismissed the servants to their beds, and allowed Rowena and Quentin to return to their rooms. Not one of them, werewolf or human, dared show surprise or consternation at the dramatic turn of events.
He didn’t allow himself to feel the chill of foreboding until he had dressed and retreated to the sanctuary of his library. Even then he refused to follow that chill to its source, to the unthinkable possibility wailing like a bitter wind in the back of his mind.
No other sound disturbed his solitude. But Braden found himself listening for soft footsteps, the approach of the one person at Greyburn whom he most wished, and dreaded, to meet again.