Page 73 of Wolf's Return
“You did not…?”
Lothair grimaced. “Seems like no one’s secrets stay buried forever. Not even mine.”
“My family is alive?” Ulrik spluttered, lunging toward Lothair.
D’Artagnon caught him and held him back. Attacking Lothair would not be wise.
The comte threw up his hands. “So now you know. I made a deal with Jacques d’Louncrais to spare your family. And nowIknow there is another pack of werewolves in Rus. I wonder, is there, perhaps, a third pack in Bretaigne?”
Ulrik struggled against him. “You let me think…”
Lothair got to his feet and sauntered over to stand before Ulrik, unfazed by Ulrik’s snarling. “I let you believe what I wanted you to believe. What I wantedeveryoneto believe.”
Ulrik fought against D’Artagnon’s hold and he tightened his grip.
“I made a mistake.” Lothair pulled a sour face, as though admitting he was not infallible left a foul taste in his mouth. “Introducing that tax was stupid. I was young, inexperienced and too trusting of my father’s advisers. But once it was done, I could not change it. Repealing it would have made me look indecisive. Would have left me open to challenges from other comtes. Letting you go unpunished for your hand in the uprising would have made me seem weak. Ruling a county is no simple matter, Ulrik. It is much easier when everyone thinks you are a monster.”
Ulrik’s face turned a mottled red. Rebekah glared at Lothair with a fury that could topple mountains.
“Enough,” said Gaharet. “We are all weary. Let us leave this for another time when we will not make hasty decisions we will come to regret.” He gave Ulrik a stern look. “We will rest and convene again in the morn. After we have buried Tumas.”
Ulrik looked as though he would argue, but Gaharet growled at him, and Ulrik clamped his mouth shut. He shook him off, and D’Artagnon let him go.
“Gascon,” Gaharet called over his steward. “See that Lothair’s men are settled and prepare a chamber for Lothair.”
“Give him mine,” said D’Artagnon. “I am not staying.” His neck prickled with the heat of Constance’s regard. He smiled at his mate. “Constance and I are returning to the farmer’s cottage.”
The concern in her eyes faded, and she smiled back.
Gaharet nodded. “Very well. Gascon, show Lothair to D’Artagnon’s chamber.”
Lothair waved him off. “I must return to Langeais. This county will not rule itself.” He beckoned his man over. “Let us rally the men,Capitaine. We ride for Langeais.”
D’Artagnon tracked Lothair’s retreat from the hall.
“There is more to that man than I once thought,” said Gaharet. “The days ahead may prove interesting indeed.” He turned to D’Artagnon. “Will you return on the morn?”
Constance’s blue-green gaze fixed on him. It would all depend on what Constance was willing to settle for.
“She loves you, D’Artagnon. Everyone can see that.”
“I cannot give her the life she wants.”
“Are you certain of that?” His brother rested a hand on his shoulder. “Forget about Lance for now, and our talks on the morrow. Go. Make things right with your mate.”
D’Artagnon nodded. If she rejected what he had to offer… He could only hope she would not. For he could no longer imagine a way forward if she were not in his life.
* * * *
Faucher clenched his fists and with considerable effort, throttled his rage. It was all he could do not to add to Touissant’s battered face. He had had her. The d’Louncrais’ witch. Right there in the storerooms below the chapel, and the aumônier had let them go. Letbothwitches go.
Worse.From his talk with the gate guards, he had more than the d’Louncrais to contend with. He had Lothair, Comte Anjou.
“Argh!” He released his rage on the altar, scattering the heavy cross, the candlesticks and the chalices across the nave.
“Have I come at a bad time, Your Grace?”
There in the doorway, resplendent in a gown of deep red and gold, stood Comtesse Marguerite. He straightened, his chest heaving, and got his temper under control.
