Page 61 of Wolf's Keep
Yes, they are my reasons. My only reasons.
“You defend him. Interesting. I have it on good authority he would do more than defend you. He would fight for you.”
Erin’s mouth dropped open. Gaharet would fight for her? Her heart thumped in her chest. And this man would use that, use her to get to Gaharet. No. She could not be the reason he ended up in that cell.
Straightening her shoulders, giving him a haughty look worthy of Manette, she moved to push past him. “This is ridiculous. I’m returning to the women.”
He grabbed hold of her elbow, his grip bruising. “Not so fast, Mademoiselle.”
She struggled against him. “Let. Me. Go. Whatever it is you’re accusing Gaharet of, you’re wrong, and I assure you he will be furious to learn that you are treating me this way.”
“My dear,” he chuckled. “That is what I am counting on.” He dragged her toward the grate.
“Mon Seigneur Comte will hear of this.” She gritted her teeth, resisting her forward trajectory with all her strength.
He threw back his head and laughed. “When he has d’Louncrais in this cell, forced to do his bidding, he willthankme.”
“Forced to… Gaharet already… The comte wants to use witchcraft?” She shook her head, grimacing as his fingers bit deeper into her arm and he pulled her another step closer to the grate.
“Witchcraft? Oh, you ignorant girl.” He yanked her the last step. Leaning down, with his free hand he unlocked the grate with the silver key and hefted it open. “What a nasty surprise it would have been for you on your wedding night when d’Louncrais turned you into one of them. Into a werewolf.”
Sudden clarity knocked the air from Erin’s lungs. The midnight runs. Gaharet’s uncanny sense of hearing and smell. The way his eyes swirled with something dark, something hidden. And the wildness about him, like a beast caged. The room on the top floor with gouges in the back of the door. The words of the amulet’s spell—those who favor moonlit night.And the last line—So no man of their secret learns.
The archeveque’s eyes lit up. “You have seen something?”
“No.” She shook her head. Werewolves were a myth. No more real than… Her heart stuttered… Magic spells and time travel.
“No matter. You will see soon enough.”
The archeveque pulled her to the lip of the narrow stairs. She stumbled, her limbs shaking. Not in the cell. She couldn’t let him lock her in there. Time slowed, all sounds faded but for the thumping of her heart and her ragged breathing. The heel of her boots scraped for purchase on the first narrow step, the archeveque’s forceful grip pushing her forward.
“If attacked, do what you can to get away. Go for the sensitive areas—the nose, the eyes, the groin.”Advice given at a safety-for-women talk she’d attended at uni. She’d thought she’d never need it. Now she did.
Erin spun around, lashing out with her free arm, the heel of her palm connecting with the archeveque’s nose. His head snapped back, blood spurting from his nostrils. She followed up with a solid kick to the groin. He howled, releasing her, dropping to the floor. Erin hitched up her dress, leaped over his body and, without a backward glance, fled the room, racing along the corridor and up a flight of stairs.
She turned left and raced along another corridor. Where should she go? Back to the women? To the hall to find Gaharet? She turned a corner. Where was she? She hesitated at the head of another long corridor, her chest heaving.
Just keep moving, Erin.
She heard voices, and headed in their direction, turning yet another corner and slamming into a wall of hard muscle.
“Erin?”
She looked up. A chevalier. She moved to push past him, but he grabbed her arm.
“What are you doing here?” His raspy voice sent shivers down her spine.
“Let me go.” She glanced over her shoulder. No sign of the archeveque. Yet. “I must find Gaharet d’Louncrais.”
“Erin.” He held her firm by her shoulders. “You should not be here. You should be with the women.”
She didn’t have time for this. She darted another look over her shoulder. There would be reprisals for attacking the archeveque. As soon as he recovered, he would come for her. Or send guards after her. Her and Gaharet. She must warn him.
“I have to get to Gaharet d’Louncrais. It’s important.”
The chevalier’s nostrils flared, and his eyes widened. He grabbed her hand, flipped it palm up and stared at the archeveque’s blood.
“Yours?” His raspy voice deepened into a growl.
