Page 2 of Wolf's Keep

“That they are.”

“That’s strange. Why not use iron? Like the chain. It’s stronger. Something to do with the status of the prisoner, maybe?”

“Maybe.” Conner’s gaze dipped to the bag of croissants. “It seems a bit redundant to lock someone down here and then chain them to the wall as well. Whoever they put in here, they were really afraid of him, or they were making sure he didn’t get out. Or both.”

Greg reached for Erin’s croissants.

Laughing, she tucked them behind her back. “You can buy your own pastries. Both of you. These are mine.”

“Wait a minute. What’s this?” Greg snatched her clipboard from her and held it up, displaying her drawing.

“Is that a drawing of d’Louncrais?” Connor whistled. “Hot stuff.”

Let the ground open up and swallow me now.

“It’s good, Erin.” Greg gave her a cheeky grin. “He looks just as I imagined him. I think this is the best drawing you’ve done so far. I liked the one you did of the little girl in front of the château, and that cafe scene, too, but this is so lifelike. Such attention to detail. Right down to the expression in his eyes. You’ve captured a sense of authority and self-confidence.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty impressed with himself.” Erin snatched the clipboard back. She should have trashed the drawing the minute she’d finished it. What had possessed her to leave it on her clipboard?

Greg chuckled, the sound echoing around the cell. “Well, the man had everything to be arrogant about. Few chevaliers amassed the wealth and influence he did.” Greg smirked, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “He’s good-looking, too.”

Erin blushed. Great. Her fascination with the handsome chevalier was now revealed for all to see.

Connor snorted. “Fat lot of good any of that did him once he ended up down here.”

Erin glanced up at Greg’s smiling face, catching him studying her. Her gaze dropped back to her clipboard.

“Ifthe bones belong to him.”

“True,” said Greg. “All right, time for a shower and then dinner.”

“Sounds good to me. See you, Erin.” Connor hefted his backpack over his shoulder and headed up the narrow steps.

“So, Erin.” Greg tucked his kit under his arm. “Blue moon tonight. You want to watch it rise over the Loire River with me? I’ll have a magnificent view from my balcony. We’ll open a bottle of wine…”

“Um, sure.” Erin shrugged. The prospect wasn’t unappealing. A diversion from her usual routine of going over her notes before bed.

She liked Greg, admired his work ethic and his dedication. His passion for history rivaled hers. They had a lot in common—a good working relationship and an easy camaraderie on site—dare she say they were friends—and he was a genuinely nice guy. As men went, he ticked all the right boxes, and the view from his balcony would be stunning. The illuminated Pont Du Langeais bridging the Loire River made for a postcard-perfect sight on any night, but the added hue of a full moon would make it almost magical.

“Okay then.” He smiled.

He had a pleasant smile.

“I’ll see you later.”

As Greg ascended the steps, brown eyes beckoned from her clipboard, drawing her attention. Erin scowled down at the sexy chevalier. The man was too good-looking for words. According to her drawing.

“Don’t forget what I said about blue moons,” called Greg over his shoulder.

“I won’t.”

Blue moons. Pfft!All day Greg had regaled her with the folklore surrounding blue moons. How the superstitious perceived them as a portent of new beginnings. How Wiccans believed they could amplify things. She stared up the stairwell, the shuffle of Greg’s footsteps retreating. Was he hoping for a romantic evening?

Her gaze dipped to her clipboard. Greg was no Gaharet d’Louncrais.

She cast a baleful eye over her sketch, and tossed her clipboard to the ground, out of her way. The minute she got back to the hotel, she’d bin that thing. Screw it up and chuck it in the trash.Promise? Maybe. Okay, probably not.

She huffed out a breath, knelt beside the skeleton. Opening her kit, she chose a brush, turned her back on that damned drawing and got to work.

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