Page 11 of A Wolf in Duke's Clothing

As the Omega of the pack, her duty was in many ways the polar opposite of his: her strength lay in her ability to soothe rather than incite and to manage the sometimes volatile reactions of a miscellaneous pack. As the Lowell clan was comprised of all species, not only wolves, her talents were routinely challenged in ways Alfred had never seen before, even in all his travels.

The role, like all those in the upper echelon, was normally held by a male, but O’Mara was unusually deft at her duties. He supposed it only made sense as females were generally considered to be less obtuse when it came to emotions. With a mere breath, with a palliative phrase, his Omega could defuse the worst temper, assuage the deepest grief, and with her signature glamour, could mesmerize even the hardest-headed human into compliance or forgetfulness. In all, her gift created a state of peace and calm that allowed a situation to be manipulated to a swift resolution.

The role of Omega often took a heavy toll on those born with its gifts, and it was no wonder that O’Mara often seemed made of stone. It never failed to flummox Alfred that she had been allowed to leave her homeplace. A pack or clowder or flock with the good fortune to contain a hereditary Omega would hardly fain let them part. Alfred suspected she held secrets, a broken betrothal, perhaps, or something odd to do with her training about which she never spoke. He kept his questions to himself and prayed she never wished to return to Ireland.

Speaking of Ireland—who the hell was Himself? Some feckless Irishman? Had Miss Templeton a betrothed? Alfred wrapped his coat around his mate and drew her closer until her head rested upon his breast. He’d see Himself in hell if that were the case. That would be for Bates to discover; it was not where his own attention was required. All that mattered was that his instincts had proven true, and after having been nothing but thwarted for the last five years, he indulged in a well-deserved wallow in the fruits of his conviction.

Five years. Five years since Miss Templeton had been orphaned and passed between London and Kent like a lost parcel; five years since he’d left the country. He would have departed just before she’d turned twenty: according to lupine lore, he would not have perceived what she was to him until that auspicious birthday. It was not for his genus, this tradition of taking child brides: avera amorismust have maturity before the time came to be claimed. He comforted himself that he likely would not have known her until this very moment in time, and therefore, in truth, no time had been wasted after all.

The coach rattled away from London. Wonderful things, coaches: as well-sprung as was the ducal conveyance, the highways and byways of England were less than properly tended, and a vehicle would shudder upon myriad ruts, causing its passengers to shift about, often into or onto one another. One such rut caused the carriage to rock and thus jostled Miss Templeton even closer against his side; he tightened his arm and discovered the indentation of an unexpectedly small waist, his imagination stirred by the contrast of the luscious hips he found as his hand quested further.

“This dress is doing Her Grace’s figure no favors,” he whispered. “We shall summon a modiste to the Hall and provide her with new clothes.”

“Indeed, Alpha?” O’Mara raised a brow. “As a woman, albeit one who does not follow fashion—”

“Feminine fashion,” Bates interjected.

“—one wonders if that is the best possible course. Such an observation may cause her unhappiness.”

“She is a woman of substance, and I said as much. Why do you wince?”

O’Mara looked everywhere but at Alfred. “Her Grace would, perhaps, take that to mean you find her to be rather more robust than is fashionable, and therefore unappealing.”

“That is madness. She is perfection itself.”

“She is, Alpha,” O’Mara soothed. “Perhaps I can be of service to you and her regarding this topic.”

“Perhaps not.” His eyes smiled. “Did you see how she resisted your quelling?”

“I’ve never seen the like,” Bates said. “And she resisted yours as well.”

“It was impressive,” O’Mara agreed. “It presents an interesting difficulty, however.”

“There are no difficulties,” Alfred growled. Miss Templeton stirred, and he held his breath until she curved farther into his embrace. He lowered his voice once more. “She is mine and fit for the roles of duchess and Alpha female.”

“Undoubtedly,” O’Mara said. “She is strong-willed, fiery, formidable…”

Alfred gazed down on Felicity, peaceful in slumber. “All of which are qualities that may be used against me.”

“Which will be used against you, almost certainly, Alpha. She will challenge you at every turn.” Bates sat forward. “It will be all that O’Mara can do to keep any dissension or distrust from spreading should the pack take against the notion of ahomo plenusas your mate.”

“It will be exactly what I will do, as it is my role,” O’Mara snapped.

Bates turned to her. “Between the tensions of the search and the fear that our Alpha would never find hisvera amorisnor settle for less, you have been stretched to even your prodigious limits.”

“You concern is appreciated,” O’Mara said, “but this is my birthright.”

“Nevertheless—”

“While you will have your work cut out for you,” she said, “trying to divine what her foiled dreams entail.”

Bates bristled. “That will be the work of a moment, I assure you.”

“Enough.” As was correct, his Beta and Omega bared their necks in submission at his stern tone, but he released them from their deference almost immediately. He saw them share a furtive look that promised a thorough discussion of such an unusual occurrence once they could be private; Alfred’s temper more often than not had consequences of a much longer duration. “You both have my complete confidence. In light of this, I need your counsel. There are, of course, certain facts that Her Grace does not possess…”

“And when ought we to lay them in her lap, so to speak?” Bates sat back, and O’Mara took it in turn to lean forward.

“The delicacy of this is unlike anything I’ve ever encountered, Alpha,” she began. “You are blazing a trail that many will follow in years, perhaps even centuries to come. You are the one who has been chosen to take the first human mate on this island, as your mate has been chosen to be the first to fulfill that role.” Alfred felt a wave of thrilled trepidation course through the carriage; Miss Templeton quivered against his side. “It is a responsibility of the highest order,” O’Mara continued, “one which requires patience and tact.”

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