In Regency-era England, Constance is powerless to change her social status or find romance no matter how lonely she might be or how much her family might depend on her. But when she's locked in a werewolf Lord's bedroom on a full moon night, she'll...
Hugh tore through the countryside, his paws eating up the distance, his mind razor focused.
He had felt her fear just before Owen had shown up. He wasn't sure how he knew it, but he was certain it was her. Now he felt it again, a plea he didn't see in his mind as a word but as a shape, the feeling behind it. He ran faster, his wolf's body thrilling to be let loose to be pushed this hard.
He smelled stew, and a cook fire as he raced by a cottage. Heard the skittish sound of farm animals as they sensed him nearby and then they were behind him, the rain rolling off his pelt, the sound of his paws hammering the ground, war drums in his ears.
Miles disappeared, one feeling pushing him on; he was running out of time.
He knew he was getting close to Greyfield Keep because of the unnatural quiet in the forest surrounding it; the way the castle clawed its way into the sky, obscuring the moon. He slowed. There was a smell of blood so faint he would have missed it in human form. It wasn't hers or the boy's. It was old but freshly spilled. His hackles rose.
Keeping in the shadows, he padded toward the fortress, wondering how he was going to get in. Built against a cliff, sheer stone walls rising around it and an actual portcullis fortifying the entrance. Even in human form, he couldn't pick his way in.
He paced, his muzzle in the air, then stopped. There was another scent in the air. He drew closer, following his nose. The trail didn't belong to the one he longed for. In fact, it was one he didn't trust. Carefully, he made his way to the cliff, following a small deer trail along the precipice on the back side of the castle. He would have missed it if he hadn't had the scent to follow. Halfway around the giant fortress, he found an overgrown garden where several buttresses came together, ivy creeping up the stone.
The scent was stronger here, and in one place, the ivy listed back and forth. A small wooden door was open behind it. He was wary. Would Baines go through such trouble to capture Constance and then forget to close a door? Perhaps a servant had left it open by accident, but more likely it was a trap. He listened and pointed his nose in toward the castle. He didn't hear or smell anyone nearby. If it was a trap, it was an unmanned one.
He considered shifting, but the feeling of desperation was stronger now. He didn't want to take the time to dress in the clothes Carlson had packed along with the lock pick. Plus, he needed his wolf-sharpened senses.
He slipped into the castle on silent paws.
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The door to the chapel opened, and Constance turned to see Mary take her place next to Edward. The priest seemed to be winding down, though she really couldn't be sure. She was still having trouble breathing, each inhale rattling through her constricted airways. Baines repeated something in Latin and Constance could feel the jaws of the trap drawing closed.
The doors crashed open; the priest fumbling to a stop. She fell over as Baines leapt up beside her, pulling his sword free. She rolled onto her feet, watching as Edward stood with his own weapon and several servants rushed from different ends of the chapel, all armed with silver cudgels.
Finally, her eyes landed on him.
He was magnificent, black with a brindled chest and his gold eyes searching for her. She could feel his growl rumble through the floor and a sob of relief tore out of her chest.
Baines lunged toward her, but she threw herself back out of his reach. The wolf snarled, and everyone froze.
While their eyes were on the wolf, Constance shot toward Simon, who was already edging away from the servant.
"Kill him!" Baines shouted, as the servants regained their courage and advanced.
Constance grabbed Simon's hand and sprinted down the aisle. Edward leapt over a pew to intercept her, but Hugh was already there, throwing his massive form at Edward, sending her cousin sprawling to the floor. The wolf snarled a warning as he ran to meet Constance.
He stopped beside her and hunched down, his hackles raised, his eyes on Baines and the armed men drawing closer. She pushed Simon onto Hugh's back, then swung herself up behind her brother. She dug her knees into the wolf's side and grabbed his fur, her arms on either side of Simon.
Baines got to them first, swinging wildly, a look in his eye that scared Constance more than anything she'd yet seen. Hugh jumped onto a pew back, just out of range of Baines's blade. Constance nearly fell off, but she dug her knees in and gripped his fur even tighter. He leapt from pew to pew; the benches falling under his weight like ancient dominos. She felt the wolf's muscles ripple under her as he jumped over the head of a servant and dashed into the hall.
Constance looked behind her to see the men running after them and a chapel in ruins. And then they were pelting through the castle. He didn't slow once carrying them through unused rooms and narrow halls, the sounds of pursuit fading.
"There's no way out of here. Hunt them down!" She heard Baines shriek, his voice getting further away.
And then they were through a door and in a garden, rain hitting her face.
She sucked in a lungful of air, then another and another. The wolf ran into the forest and she and Simon hunkered down to avoid getting hit by low-hanging branches. His massive paws were quiet as they sped through the underbrush, and Constance could breathe.
