Page 50 of Master Wolf

“Mr. Niven,” he said. “It is good to see you back. Your delightful wife has been entertaining us while you were gone.”

“So I see,” Drew said silkily. “Well, she’s very good at that.”

Begg’s colour did deepen then and Drew surmised that he’d been enjoying the flirtation thoroughly.

“I was just about to invite Monsieur Begg and Monsieur Bainbridge to dine with us on Friday evening,” Marguerite said. “That would be pleasant, do you not think?”

Drew smiled blandly. “Oh, excessively.”

Marguerite turned back to Begg, laying a possessive little hand on his portly arm. “I do ’ope you will come? Our cook isexcellente. Not French, unfortunately, but very good. I am sure you will enjoy our table.Willyou come?”

Begg cast a glance Drew’s way. Finding no discouragement there, he smiled at Marguerite. “I should very much like to, thank you, madame.”

“And you, Monsieur Bainbridge?” Marguerite sounded rather less enthused about Bainbridge, which was probably the right approach, seeing as how Bainbridge hadn’t quite relaxed all evening.

Bainbridge paused, but when he finally spoke, it was to say, “Thank you. I would be delighted.”

They spent another quarter hour in idle chitchat, till Begg finally blundered to his feet.

“I’m afraid it’s time I was on my way,” he said, bowing in Marguerite’s direction, then offering a small nod to Drew.

Marguerite rose too. She fluttered around Begg like a butterfly in her ravishing gown, promising him all sorts of French delicacies when he came for dinner.

Begg smiled at her indulgently, while Bainbridge—and Drew—watched in silence.

“I will see you on Friday evening then, madame,” Begg said, at last. He nodded at Drew affably. “Niven.”

“We look forward to it,” Drew replied.

“I shall say good night too,” Bainbridge said, executing a brief bow which Drew returned.

After the two men had left, Marguerite decided it would be prudent to wait a little while before they departed themselves. They ate some more supper—since they would be shifting soon—and danced the last set together before leaving the Assembly Rooms.

“Well,” Marguerite said in the carriage on the way home. “That was an interesting evening. Monsieur Begg was very amicable, was he not?”

“He was very amicable to you,” Drew agreed.

Marguerite laughed. “Perhaps we should arrange a little scene, what do you think? You could catch me with him in a compromising position?”

“And I would—do what?” Drew asked. “Call him out?”

“But of course! I would be very upset, of course, and would tell him he must let you buy the skeleton to persuade you to withdraw your challenge. It is perfect, yes?”

Drew laughed, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears. “Perfect.”

He felt Marguerite’s eyes on him, watchful and curious.

After a while she said, “Would you like to run with me tonight? Or do you prefer to run alone?” A slight smile played about her lips and her dark eyes seemed to glow a little in the darkness.

For the last decade, Drew had lived the life of a lone wolf and thought himself contented. But here, now, in this full moon, Marguerite’s offer shimmered with the golden promise of pack and companionship. Things he’d rejected, over and over, and that now sounded powerfully necessary.

His wolf was beside itself with longing and joy and for once he didn’t have the heart to deny it.

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll run with you.”

* * *

Within half an hourof arriving at Rankeillor Street, Drew and Marguerite had shifted and bounded off into the night. Soon they were running through the dense darkness of the King’s Park, the scents of heather and gorse rich in the air.