Page 37 of Master Wolf
Lindsay groaned, and caught Drew’s mouth with his own, sucking sweetly for a moment then pressing their mouths more firmly together.
Drew gave a muffled groan of his own, breathing in Lindsay. His scent engulfed Drew fully, wonderful and overwhelming all at once. And God, but his lips were warm and supple against Drew’s and he was so eager in Drew’s arms, almost whimpering now, as Drew took control, sliding his tongue into Lindsay’s mouth.
Drew felt drenched by him, his every sense brimming over with the scents and sounds and tastes of Lindsay. It was only when he felt his beast begin to rear inside him, that he tore his mouth free, framing Lindsay’s face with his hands and staring into his eyes as he gasped in an effort to regain his breath.
Lindsay whispered urgently, “Come to Ghent with me. Please?” And for an instant, all Drew could think wasYes, yes I will go anywhere with you.
And then the door flew open and a feminine voice said, “Lindsay, Blaireau informs me that you—Oh!”
The woman’s scent burst over Drew all at once. Violets and astonishment and…oh Christ, she was a wolf!With mounting alarm, he realised he was about to meet Marguerite de Carcassonne.
He turned around to find himself looking at a dainty beauty. Her blue gown was trimmed with blond lace and the blue cap artfully arranged over her dark curls was decorated with a very large red ostrich feather. Red, white and blue. A luxurious nod to the new Republic, he inferred, remembering Lindsay’s reference topatriotic emblems.
“Monsieur Nicol, I presume?” she said tartly.
The waves of power emanating from her were unmistakable and he found he could not meet her gaze, so he bowed, saying, “Yes, Madame de Carcassonne.”
When he straightened, Lindsay had moved past him to greet her.
“I do not like this feather, Mim,” he said lightly, as he bussed her cheeks and nuzzled into the dark cloud of her hair. “This red is very lurid.”
“You know you are not permitted to call me that absurd name,” she said crossly. “AndIknowyouare only doing it to distract me.” She turned her gaze back to Drew. “And so, Mr. Nicol, we meet at last. I have been waiting some time for your visit—as has your mate.” She glanced speakingly at Lindsay.
“Marguerite,” Lindsay said, his tone warning. “Do not—”
“It’s all right,” Drew said. “I should have come before now to pay my respects to you, madame. My apologies I did not do so before. I have had some… difficulties gaining control of my wolf which have made travel impossible before now.”
“Well, what are you to expect when you stay away from your mate?” she replied tartly. “How do you think you are to learn how to manage your beast without him?”
“Francis has—”
“Francis is not your mate!” she snapped. “His beast cannot settle yours when it is agitated or make your shift easier.”
As Drew’s face warmed under her angry gaze and his beast cringed at her disapproval, his human mind considered her words. Would Lindsay’s presence really have made his first years as a wolf any easier? Or would it just have indoctrinated him more effectively?
Lindsay interrupted. “Marguerite, there is something I—” But she spoke over him.
“And what about Lindsay?” she demanded of Drew. “You are not the only one who has struggled, these last few years, you know. He has suffered a great deal from your separation. Do you have any idea how hard it is for a maker to be estranged from his own made wolf?”
“Marguerite,” Lindsay tried again, his tone agonised. “Listen—”
She ignored him, her gaze still intent on Drew, who felt as though her words were flaying his flesh from his bones.
“Francis should not have indulged your nonsense,” she said. “It was a foolish mistake and—and anyway, whereisFrancis?”
“That is what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Lindsay said in an exasperated tone. “He is with Duncan. That is what Drew has come to tell us.”
“What?” she cried, her gaze flickering between them.
Lindsay told her the rest quickly, with Drew filling in details when called upon to do so.
Drew’s scolding was forgotten after that as Marguerite became all business, summoning Blaireau to the parlour to begin making arrangements for Lindsay’s and Wynne Wildsmith’s swift departure. She sat herself down at the escritoire by the window and pulled out a sheaf of paper while Blaireau pulled up a chair beside her.
“Go and get ready,” she told Lindsay as she dipped her pen in the inkpot. “And pack lightly. All the papers you need will be ready in an hour.”
Lindsay nodded and left, and Drew, unsure what else to do, followed him.
When the parlour door closed behind them, Lindsay turned. They stood facing one another in the corridor and it seemed to Drew that Lindsay’s words from earlier still hung between them, waiting for Drew’s answer.