Cassidy gathered up the rope and twisted it in her fingers. It gave her too-long idle hands an occupation, practicing knots and roping inoffensive pieces of furniture while her mind went over and over the events of the past two days.
In New Mexico, she’d been good at some things, like working cattle and tracking. At Greyburn, it seemed that no matter how hard she tried, she did everything wrong. Especially where Braden was concerned.
She couldn’t Change, but she’d been sure that learning was only a matter of time—and being with Braden. When he returned to Greyburn, she’d wanted so badly to recreate the perfect union they’d shared in the woods. That was how it was meant to be.
But Braden wasn’t a hero out of a romantic poem or a paragon far above all uncertainty and loneliness. He was hurting, and yet he rejected any help. His words pushed her away, but his body urged her into his arms.
Isabelle’s explanations about men and their instincts kept running through Cassidy’s mind like a herd of stampeding cattle. She’d asked Cassidy if she knew how men and women made children. Until she met Braden, that subject had been very cloudy to Cassidy, something that didn’t have much to do with her life.
Suddenly feeling very warm, Cassidy tossed the rope on the bed and went to the washstand to splash water on her face.
If not for Braden’s kisses, she might still not understand. They had made her feel light as air and hot as fire all at once. Men had wanted Isabelle enough to pay her to do more than kiss them—and not for babies. That… what Isabelle had talked about… was what might have happened if Braden hadn’t left her in the woods.
Isabelle had said it didn’t always have to do with love. But the first time, she had been in love. Lord Leebrook had ruined it for her, ever after, and she’d been blamed.
The rules of society made little sense to Cassidy, and the meaning of “love” was still a muddle of tangled emotions and lines of poetry.
Cassidy went to the small shelf that held her few books brought from America. She thumbed through them one by one. The answers were there, if she could only interpret them. She found a poem by Coleridge:
All thoughts, all passions, all delights
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
All are but ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame.
Braden’s kisses were delights. Love meant wanting to be with someone all the time, in every way.
Cassidy stared at her damp face in the mirror above the washstand. Braden had said that loups-garous mated for life. If two werewolves shared that with each other, they would stay together. Forever.
Milena was dead. Braden had never mentioned her. But it seemed, more and more, that Milena was still here at Greyburn. And Cassidy wasn’t a true loup-garou.
But she wasn’t going to give up. Not now. There had to be away…
“Cassidy?”
Isabelle’s voice, muffled but recognizable, came through the door. Cassidy dried her face and answered, offering Isabelle the chair near the fireplace.
“I’m glad you came,” she said. “I’ve been trapped here since noon.”
“Yes. We are both exiles, are we not?” Isabelle spoke lightly, but her gaze was very grave and steady. Sadness hung about her like an invisible veil, and Cassidy knew its cause. It wasn’t just because nearly everyone at Greyburn despised her. She had lost a person very dear to her, whether he went by the name of Matthew or Matthias. He’d left Isabelle on the hill, and he hadn’t been back since.
“I know how difficult it’s been for you,” Cassidy said, kneeling beside the chair. ” I should never have asked you to stay—”
“No. There is a reason for my being here, if only because I know so much more of life.” She cupped Cassidy’s chin. “I must not let you go on in ignorance of the plans the earl has for you.”
Cassidy’s heart jumped. “Rowena and Quentin told me about Braden’s plans, but they didn’t explain—”
“I doubt they would dare.” She sighed. “Cassidy, you deserve to know that Braden has already settled your future as part of his Cause. He is using arranged marriages to save the werewolfrace from dying out—”