Page 51 of Captured By the Werewolf Highwaymen

He didn’t answer, but in his silence, she heard the weight of what might be.

Des straightened and looked over her shoulder. She turned to see Gideon stepping into the clearing. He carried a bundle of garments, and a cloth-wrapped parcel sat atop that.

His expression was cautious, but at Clara’s welcoming smile, he answered with his own tentative smile.

“Clothes, for Des,” Gideon said, coming forward. “And food, for you.”

“No food for me?” Des asked. He stood and walked with full comfort in his nudity to take the garments from Gideon.

“You’re a wolf,” Gideon answered. “Go hunt.”

“I’d rather have what’s in that cloth.” Des reached for the parcel, but Gideon shoved his hand away.

“After everything,” Gideon said, “Clara deserves it more.”

Her face seemed to catch fire. Dear God, Des was naked, and they had spent the night together. Gideon also surely possessed the keen senses of a wolf. She was certain she had Des’s scent all over her. Inside her. Surely there was no doubt what they’d been doing. Coming after her talk with Gideon in the glasshouse, and the way they’d flirted, surely he’d think her the worst kind of lightskirt.

Yet Gideon didn’t look at her with reproach. Not even jealousy. He gazed at her tousled hair, her rumpled skirts, her lips which were certainly swollen…and his jaw tightened. With unmistakable arousal.

The heat in her face spread through her body. Her breasts went tight and, between her legs, she seemed to melt. Gideon licked his lips, and she stared at his mouth. He stared openly at her. She couldn’t look away, held in place by a breathless, sudden desire.

How could she want more than one man? Especially after the night she’d spent with Des? That was for the insatiable people in her secret books. Her husband had been right. She was a monster, amoral and voracious. Surely there was something not quite right about her, to have her lover so close by, and to imagine another man’s hands and mouth on her.

He crouched down, close to her, and unwrapped the parcel to reveal a loaf of bread and an apple. When she reached out to take the food from him, their fingers brushed, and a current of lightning traveled through her.

“Think I will go find myself something to eat,” Des said wryly. Dressed now, he vanished into the forest.

Clara tried to focus on the meal that Gideon had brought her. She took a bite of apple.

“My thanks,” she murmured, “for your thoughtfulness. And for protecting me last night. Cyrus…”

Gideon expression dimmed. “The world poisoned him. It broke my heart to see it. But he was going to hurt you, and he’d already almost gotten Hugh killed. He was a danger to all of us, when we can ill-afford to have danger coming from within.”

She set the food aside on the ground. “The story you told me yesterday in the glasshouse…it was about you, as a wolf.”

He nodded. “It’s not an uncommon tale amongst our kind. A frightened boy, the hazard we bring to those close to us. Running, because we haven’t any choice. Constant fear.”

“Solitary.”

“Solitude is something we have in common,” he murmured.

“We did.” She gave him a small smile. “Since you came into my home⁠—”

“Captured it,” he corrected, with a curve of his lips.

“The circumstances weren’t ideal,” she allowed. “Yet since then, the thing that marked my life—loneliness—has gone. With you and Des and Hugh, I’m not so lonely anymore.”

She couldn’t stop the shyness in her voice, and she glanced at him through her lashes.

“Nor I.” Gideon still wore a gentle smile. “These past two days, I’ve been…at peace. Because of you.”

Her brows rose. “I’ve done nothing.”

“You gave us, gave me, a place of rest. You listened. And you wouldn’t have spent last night with Des, I wouldn’t smell him on you, if you were afraid or horrified.”

A blush stained her cheeks at the candid mention of Des’s scent clinging to her body, testament to what they’d done.

“You don’t know how rare that is,” Gideon continued, “to find someone like you, accepting of who we are…”