Page 61 of Master Wolf

He met her eyes. “I know what you’re trying to do,” he said. “But you can’t buy your way out of what happened.”

She reared back as though struck. “I am not trying to buy my—”

“Or—I don’t know—compensateme? Is that it?”

Marguerite fell silent in what looked very like an admission of whatever it was Wynne was accusing her of.

Wynne passed a hand over his face in a weary gesture. He was no longer the bright-eyed man Drew had first laid eyes on this evening. It was as though this conversation had drained every bit of energy from him.

“I told you I understood your decision,” he said slowly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not aggrieved by it, and I won’t accept one of your consolation prizes so you can feel better about it.”

Marguerite stood abruptly, her chair tumbling back behind her with the swiftness of the movement.

“And what about Lindsay?” she demanded. “You said you could scry for him with this grimoire. Is he to simply forego that chance?”

“Give the grimoire to Lindsay if you like,” Wynne said flatly. “If he asks me to consult it, I will. But for myself, I want nothing else to do with it.” And with that pronouncement, Wynne strode to the door.

“Where are you going?” Marguerite cried.

“Away from here,” Wynne said grimly and left, slamming the door behind him.

Drew glanced between Francis and Lindsay. Neither of them seemed surprised by what had just taken place. Clearly he had missed something during his latest absence.

Marguerite had her eyes closed tightly now and was rubbing her forehead. Abruptly, with a sound of suppressed frustration, she whirled on her heel and disappeared through the door after Wynne.

The remaining three men all looked at one another, dismayed.

“Should we…” Lindsay trailed off uncertainly.

Francis got to his feet. “I’ll speak to her. Dissuade her from going after him.”

Lindsay subsided, visibly relieved. “Thank you. I think Wynne is best left to his own devices tonight. He is still—very sore.”

Francis nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”

Once he had gone, the dining room felt both empty and very silent.

Drew said, hesitantly, “I take it something happened between Wynne and Marguerite?”

Lindsay gave a humourless laugh. “Yes,somethingdid.” He sighed heavily, letting his head fall back, gazing up at the shadows playing over the ceiling. “But Wynne is mortal, and Marguerite cannot contemplate the pain of losing someone she loves again.” He glanced up. “So she refuses to take matters any further with him.”

“Well,” Drew said carefully. “I can understand that. Some circumstances… cannot be overcome.”

Lindsay was quiet for a few beats. Seeming to absorb that. Then he said, “She should not have encouraged him. She gave him hope. That was cruel.”

Drew found himself somewhat uncharacteristically leaping to her defence. “Sometimes, in the heat of moment, people make poor choices. It doesn’t mean they intend to be cruel.”

“Are we still talking about Marguerite and Wynne? Or are we talking about all those times that you’ve fucked me and then disappeared the next morning?” Lindsay enquired acidly. He raised his head and met Drew’s flustered gaze directly.

“Lindsay—” It came out on a sigh, helpless and melancholy.

Lindsay gave a hollow chuckle. “Lindsay…” he mocked, adopting Drew’s tone.

For the longest time, they sat, staring at one another. Then Lindsay slowly rose to his feet and walked around the table till he stood in front of Drew.

“The worst part is, I still want you,” he said, his eyes burning with resentment. “So badly that, at this point, I don’t even care that you’ll vanish tomorrow.”

Drew said nothing, watching him dry-mouthed, heart pounding.