Page 39 of Wolf’s Return (The Wolves of Langeais #4)

The ride back to the keep passed in a blur.

Aimon pushed the horses hard, forcing Constance to focus on holding on to the horse, leaving her little time to dwell on her thoughts.

The bailey bustled with activity as they rode up the hill to the keep—stable hands bringing out horses and groomsmen rushing around to saddle them.

In the hall, the scene was no less chaotic.

Servants rushed about doing Constance knew not what, with Gascon and Anne directing them.

Erin, Kathryn and Bek helped Seigneurs Gaharet, Farren and Ulrik into their armor.

Another two huge men, twins, already armored, stood with them planning strategy.

After the quiet of the cottage, the noise, the busyness, the people—too many people—grated against the frayed edges of her emotions.

Constance stood in the doorway, tempted to run and return to the forest hut. Or perhaps back to her own humble cottage, where memories of D’Artagnon would not assault her bruised heart.

Seigneur Gaharet raised his head as Aimon rushed over. “Good. You have returned.” He peered over Aimon’s shoulder at Constance and beyond to the empty doorway. “Where is D’Artagnon?”

Aimon pressed his lips together. “When I got there, he was in human form.” Aimon shook his head. “But once I told him we knew who the traitor was, he shifted back. He has gone after Lance on his own.”

“ Merde. ”

Seigneur Gaharet’s dark gaze met hers. She saw no judgment there, only pity.

He turned to his men. “We ride out now for the Vautour estate. I will not have D’Artagnon face this threat alone.

Anne, Gascon, I leave it to you to see to it our mates are safe.

Organize the men to man the walls. And lower the portcullis when we leave.

Lance will not know we are coming for him.

He is most likely lying low with Eveque Faucher hunting him, but I will not take unnecessary risks. ”

Constance’s blood chilled. Eveque Faucher? Was he the priest of her vision?

Erin, lacing up Seigneur Gaharet’s vambrace, scrunched up her face. “If Lance is lying low, then he probably won’t remain at his estate, will he?”

“No, you are right, Erin,” admitted Seigneur Gaharet. “But where would he go? Where would he hide?”

Ulrik pulled his hauberk over his head and growled. “I know where he will be. There is a pleasure house in Langeais…” He avoided looking at his mate, his expression uncharacteristically bashful.

Bek crossed her arms over her chest, quirked an eyebrow and tapped her foot on the floor. “Go on.”

“I have not left your side since we met, Rebekah, but…” Ulrik sighed. “It is a place I once frequented. A lot. Before I met you. I have seen Lance there many a time over the years.”

Bek appeared mollified.

“I know the place,” said Seigneur Gaharet.

“Those women keep more secrets than the priests taking confessional. It is the perfect place to hide.” He strapped his sword to his waist. “We ride to Langeais. If we are lucky, it will take D’Artagnon some time to track Lance from his estate to Langeais.

If he has gone wolf, let us hope he will not risk entering the village. ”

Some of the tightness loosened in Constance’s chest. She forced her emotions to calm so she could bring forth her second sight.

To be of some help. Could she get a clear vision of D’Artagnon?

Of Seigneur Gaharet finding him before he confronted Lance?

A sense, a knowing D’Artagnon would survive?

Her gift, her curse, remained stubbornly silent.

“You know, the house you talk of has a back entrance.”

The hall fell silent, and all eyes turned to a boy Constance had not noticed before. The boy picked up a goblet, his eyes gleaming as he admired the inset gems.

One of the twins cuffed him across his head. “Put the cup down, lad. I did not bring you here to steal the dinnerware. I have already paid out more coin than I intended.” He shook his head. “Donation to the chapel, indeed. You should not have gotten caught.”

The boy scowled, then offered the big man an impish grin.

“Tell us what you know of this house,” said the twin.

The boy shrugged. “I know it is more than a pleasure house.” He put the cup back on the table and picked up an elaborately carved knife.

The twin snatched the knife out of the boy’s fingers and tossed it on the table. “Explain.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed. “What is worth to you?”

The twin growled. An uncharacteristic wave of frustration surged through Constance’s chest. They did not have time to waste. D’Artagnon was on his way to confront the enemy. Alone. Could they not hurry? Move faster?

The boy shrugged. “A person has to eat.”

“They do, indeed,” said Seigneur Gaharet. “We will compensate you well for your troubles, boy. A position on one of our estates? Edmond?”

The twin nodded.

The boy raised his eyebrows. “Like a stable hand, or kitchen boy or something?”

“Or something,” growled Edmond.

The boy flicked shrewd eyes around the group. “Did you say this D’Artagnon has gone… wolf ?” The boy tapped a finger to his chin. “Mm, I do recall Eveque Faucher—”

Edmond raised an eyebrow at him. “The eveque who was going to cut off your ears? I will not offer again, boy. A position on our estate, a place to sleep and plenty of food to eat, or you can see how much money you can squeeze out of the eveque. If you keep your ears.”

Vulnerability flashed across the boy’s face, then he raised his chin. “And a blanket and a warm coat? Winter is coming, you know.”

Constance took a step toward the boy, then halted. It was not her place, but must they stand around talking? Bargaining with the boy? Give him what he wanted. She silently pleaded for Seigneur Gaharet to take his men and hurry after his brother. D’Artagnon needed him.

Seigneur Gaharet sliced his hand through the air. “Enough.” The hall fell silent. “You will accept Edmond’s offer and help us, or I will shake the answer out of you. Make your choice.”

Constance did not believe Seigneur Gaharet would harm the boy, but in the face of an alpha losing patience, the boy’s courage would surely crumble. It was a good offer—a place on an estate. The boy would be foolish not to accept.

The boy gave an elaborate bow. “Remi at your service.”

“Good,” said Seigneur Gaharet. “Now tell us about this pleasure house and its back entrance.”

“Of course. The madam takes advantage of her location against the village wall. For a few coins, she will provide an escape route over it, should you find a need to leave in a hurry. You know, for those who cannot leave through the gate.”

Edmond fisted his hands on his hips. “How is that supposed to help us?”

Remi rolled his eyes. “The route works both ways. If you want to get back into the village unseen, you only have to know how it works and have a few coins in your purse.” He picked up the bejeweled goblet again.

“A few coins should not be a problem for any of you, and I know how to get you through.”

Seigneur Gaharet snatched the goblet from his hands and placed it on the table. “It looks like you are going to prove very useful after all.” He turned to the old cook. “Anne, do you have the armor, sword and clothes for D’Artagnon I requested?”

“Already in a pack on a spare horse, Gaharet.”

“Excellent. We ride for Langeais. Ulrik, Aimon, you go through the gate and approach the pleasure house from the front door. The rest of us and Remi will approach from outside the walls. D’Artagnon has a head start on us. Let us hope we get to Lance before he does.”

With a thud of boots and a clinking of steel, the men left the hall.

As he passed her, Seigneur Gaharet halted. “I will find him, Constance. I will bring him back to you. That I promise you.” With a gentle squeeze of her arm, he followed his men.

Constance stared after his retreating back, his broad shoulders and dark hair so like his brother’s.

And when, if, D’Artagnon returned? What then?

The grand hall mocked her and her shoulders sagged.

She was no Genevieve. Nor an Erin. The Black Wolf had made his choice, and once again, it was not her.

A gentle hand touched her shoulder, and she turned to meet Erin’s sympathetic gaze. “Gaharet will find him, Constance. He wants his brother back as much as you want your mate.”

Constance choked on the lump in her throat. “I cannot be D’Artagnon’s mate.”

“Really?” Erin’s face expressed her doubt. “Are you sure about that?”

It was tempting to believe the certainty in Erin’s voice. “Wishing it so does not make it real.” She sighed. “I have done what Seigneur Gaharet called me here to do. I should return home.”

Though the thought of returning to her lonely hut in the forest only deepened her misery.

“I’ve seen the way he followed you around, the way he looked at you,” said Erin. “He was so protective of you. He might have been a wolf, but it was pretty hard to miss.”

Kathryn and Bek gathered around her, nodding.

“Gaharet believes it,” said Erin. “And he’s not been wrong yet.”

Constance shook her head. “You do not understand. Monsieur D’Artagnon is a black wolf.

Descended from a long line of black wolves.

From the original black wolf. Strong wolves with strong mates.

I am not like any of the mates of the black wolves of the past. Nor am I like either of you. There is nothing special about me.”

“Special? Me?” Bek chortled. “I worked in an alehouse. A lousy one at that.”

“I”—Kathryn tapped her chest—“was the subject of gossip at court for my unladylike behavior.”

Erin held up her hands. “Don’t look at me as though I’m anything grand. I may have been an archeologist, but my own mother didn’t consider me high on her list of priorities. If anything, Constance, you are more special than all of us.”

Bek and Kathryn nodded their agreement.

What was Erin talking about?

Erin laid a hand on Constance’s grimoire.

“Constance, you are the keeper of all this knowledge. You know the lore of the Langeais wolves better than anyone. And you are a healer. A good one. In the future, healers are some of the highest paid professionals. You have the gift of foresight, and I bet you are a powerful witch in your own right.”

“But—”

“There’s no but about it, Constance. We all see it in you. And so does D’Artagnon, even if he won’t admit it yet.”

“No. You are wrong. D’Artagnon has no room in his heart for me. If he did he…” She stared at the doorway. “He would have chosen me.”

Erin heaved out a sigh. “He has gone to face Lance on his own to protect Gaharet, hasn’t he?

” She rolled her eyes. “Men. If only they would talk about what they’re thinking, we could disabuse them of their stupid notions and set things right.

” Erin gently guided her to a seat by the fire.

“You are not alone in this, Constance. We’ve all come up against a stubborn wolf that can’t see what’s right in front of his nose.

” She pointed at Bek. “Ulrik believed Bek wouldn’t want him because of his past.” She shifted her finger to Kathryn.

“Aimon thought other wolves would be a better mate for Kathryn because he was only three years turned. And me? Gaharet was willing to sacrifice his own happiness because he believed it served his pack best. All of them were wrong.”

When Erin explained it like that… Now that she thought about it, Alexandre had fled from Genevieve, not wishing her to suffer the turning. Maybe…

Bek sat down beside her. “Erin’s right, Constance. D’Artagnon’s no different to all our mates.”

“Give him a chance to get it right,” said Erin. “At least wait until the men return.”

“If he does not come to his senses, we can always enlist Anne’s help,” suggested Kathryn. “She helped me force Aimon’s hand.”

“She tried to force Gaharet’s, too. In fact, I suspect,” Erin chuckled, “Anne’s meddling was the real reason you and D’Artagnon went to the farmer’s cottage. She has been rather eloquent about the benefits of a certain pond with a waterfall of late.”

Constance flushed.

“By the look on your face, I’d say it worked, too, just as Anne planned it.”

Constance put a hand to her hot cheek.

“I have fond memories of that pond,” said Bek.

“What are you saying about me meddling?” Anne plonked a plate of food down on the table behind them. “I only ever give things a little nudge in the right direction.”

Erin’s smile was full of fondness. “Of course, Anne. Things wouldn’t have worked out so well if you hadn’t.”

Anne snorted. “Balderdash. Those boys know their mates when they see them, if it does take a while for them to acknowledge what they are feeling. All I do is hasten things along a bit.”

Constance still had her doubts. “But—”

Anne fisted her hands on her hips. “Now you listen to what old Anne has to say, child. D’Artagnon is no different from his brother.

Or Ulrik and Aimon. Or many other wolves who have taken a mate.

The wolf inside knows. So do I, and there is no doubt in my mind you are D’Artagnon’s mate.

Make no mistake, he will come back for you. ”

“Told you,” said Erin. To Anne, she said, “Constance was thinking of returning to her home.”

“What? D’Artagnon will expect you to be here when he returns.

And you will be. I aim to see to that. I promised Gaharet I would keep you all safe within these walls.

” Anne smoothed out her apron. “Now, there will be no more talk of leaving. Here, I have brought you a bite to eat. The men are not likely to return until after nightfall. Best we go on about our day as normal as we can.”

From their pinched expressions, neither Bek, Kathryn, nor Erin would find it any easier to view this as a normal day than she would.

She twisted her hands in her lap. She could almost convince herself the fluttering in her stomach was concern for D’Artagnon’s wellbeing, his safety, and not a rekindling of hope.

Her desire to remain rooted in the potential need for her healing skills upon the return of the men.

Almost. She would be here when D’Artagnon returned.

If he returned. Then they would see if Anne was right. Or wrong.