Page 38 of Wolf's Keep

“Of course I have. But I know my place. It is not for us to interfere.”

Smiling at her brother, Anne handed him a cloth and waved him over to a stack of wet platters. “I am not interfering. I have given the girl a little nudge in the right direction, nothing more. Gaharet deserves some happiness after all he has been through. All I have done is help things along a bit.”

Gascon picked up a platter and began drying it. “What if the girl makes a run for it, tries to leave?”

Anne chuckled. “That girl is not going anywhere, at least not anywhere too far away from Gaharet. Trust me, Gascon.”

“What if she gets lost in the forest?”

“Gaharet will know she is following him long before he leaves the keep. He will not allow anything to happen to her.”

Gascon sighed, slapping his cloth down on the bench and running a hand through his thinning, gray hair. “Have a care, Anne. The d’Louncrais have been very good to our family over the years, in more ways than you could ever know. If you meddle too much, you might find yourself looking for another family to work for.”

“Oh, Gascon,” said Anne. “You think I do not know what Jacques did for me? You think you kept secret from me what really happened all those years ago? You think I believed you and Jacques when you told me that reckless young man I made the mistake of falling in love with died in a freak riding accident?”

Gascon’s face drained of color.

“I knew, even back then, he had betrayed me. Tried blackmailing Jacques with the d’Louncrais’ secret I so stupidly confided to him.”

“Oh, Anne.” Gascon stared at her, his face crestfallen. “We never meant for you to know.”

“Gascon.” Anne stared him down. “I have known since the day he died, when Jacques killed him. Got what he deserved, if you ask me. I know my place, Gascon. It is here, looking after that boy. I owe Jacques that much. And what that boy needs right now is the young woman upstairs, and I aim to see he gets her. Are you going to help me or not? Do I need to go speak to the men manning the gates myself?”

Taking a deep breath, Gascon raised his gaze to the ceiling. “Very well, Anne. We will do this your way. I will talk to the gate guards, but please, no more meddling. I’m sure Seigneur Gaharet is more than capable of securing his own mate.”

* * * *

As the keep settled into taciturn darkness, oil lamps tamped down and the bustle of servants declining, Erin leaned against the door of her room listening for the sound of footsteps telling her Gaharet was on the move. Dressed in the clothes she’d arrived in, a dagger she’d filched from the armory tucked into her belt, she waited. Her plan was simple. Goaded by Anne’s provocation, she would follow Gaharet into the forest.

A meeting in the forest could precipitate the amulet’s use. If others had used it, transporting themselves to Gaharet, they could use it to leave. If he wouldn’t tell her about the amulet, she’d find out for herself. She also had a burning desire to know where he went every night. Could it go some way to explaining how and why he’d ended up in Lothair’s underground cell? Would he be naked? She puffed out a breath.

Focus on the big picture, Erin.

Measured footsteps padded down the corridor, and she tensed, stealing herself to follow him. The footsteps paused right outside her bedchamber, as they did every night. She held her breath, every nerve ending attuned to the presence on the other side of the door. Would he come in? This one time she didn’t want him to. Needed him not to. A shiver ran up her spine.The man could affect her without even being in the same room.Her eyes sought her drawing on the table. Had Anne really seen him looking at her like that?

Closing her eyes, she placed her palm flat against the door, imagined his hand on the other side, his palm to her palm. She swallowed. If he knocked, would she invite him in? Would she take him to her bed? Her nipples pebbled at the image of them entwined, skin to skin, Gaharet touching her body the way his eyes told her he longed to. Erin leaned her flushed face against the smooth timber. She could almost feel the heat of him seeping through the door. She held her breath, her heart pounding. An interminable moment passed.

Footsteps moved away from the door, and Erin let out her breath, not sure if she was relieved or disappointed. She waited another few minutes before opening the door. The hinge squeaked. She cringed, peering into the darkened hall, light spilling out from her chamber. Had he heard it? Her eyes adjusted to the absence of light. No sign of him.

Erin stepped into the corridor, taking extra care to make as little sound as possible. She scurried to the head of the stairs and peered down, glimpsing a dark shape disappearing around the bend. She waited a few tense seconds before following. Plunging after him into darkness, her hands followed the wall, her steps tentative. He had the benefit of familiarity with this keep. Not so Erin. Blind in the darkness, and with a lack of fluorescent lighting, the last thing she needed was to break her neck falling down the stairs.

At the base of the stairwell, his footsteps receded, soft, barely above a whisper, down the second stairway to the kitchen. Erin followed, clinging to the wall. She paused at the door of the now empty kitchen, coals still glowing hot in the fireplace giving Erin blessed light, Anne’s words echoing in her mind.

“Judge him if you must but do it on his own merit.”

All right. What could she make of these strange nightly walks? What conclusion about his character would she draw from his actions this evening?

Opening the door to the courtyard, he turned, and she ducked back into the corridor. Had he seen her? Did she really think she could match the skill of a trained warrior? What would he do if he caught her following him? Would he be angry? She risked a peek around the corner. Stopped in the doorway, he surveyed the kitchen, his gaze sliding past her. Evidently satisfied, he turned away, disappearing out through the door. It took a few moments to rein in her galloping pulse. She gave him enough time to get across the grounds, before pushing off from the wall, slipping through the kitchen and following him out into the cool, night air.

Erin eyed the heavy-hung moon and its generous glow with ambivalence. On the one hand, light was helpful. On the other, a hindrance, spotlighting her against the landscape. Somehow she must cross the courtyard, get through two gates, at least one of which would have a guard, and into the forest. All without being seen by the sharp eyes of the master of the keep.

She raced down the hill to the inner wooden wall, slinking low, and plastered herself against it like a Band-Aid to a scraped knee. Inching along, she racked her brain for a strategy. She hadn’t planned this far ahead, not truly believing she’d make it beyond the keep.

The first gate had no guard. Strange. She continued on through the bailey, weaving from building to building—the stables, the storehouses, the worker’s cottages. With them as cover, she advanced on the main gate and the outer wall, keeping Gaharet at the very edge of her vision. She became a veritable ninja, stealthy and furtive. She grinned at Gaharet’s retreating back, her enjoyment at outwitting him, at this adventure, a little discombobulating.

As he passed through the main gate, Erin scuttled across to the outer wall. She didn’t want to lose him before he reached the forest. A glance inside the gatehouse told her this one also lacked a guard. The man either had confidence that no one would dare attack his keep, or he’d arranged for their absence to conceal his departure. Whatever the case, Erin wasn’t about to register a complaint. She slipped through the gate unnoticed.

Between her and the trees lay a manmade ditch, a bridge over it and another large open area leading up to the tree line. To follow Gaharet, she’d have to cross both. Should Gaharet look back, he couldn’t fail to see her. If there ever was a point of no return, this was it. The cold night air raised goosebumps on her arms. The expectant forest held its breath waiting for her, and the threat of discovery jangled her nerves.

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