Page 35 of A Lady’s Guide to Werewolves

The length of plaid draped over the top. He was naked again.

She should be escaping, shouldn’t she? Was she still a prisoner?

She did not feel like one.

He re-emerged clad in the white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He wore rough trousers, again very unlike what she thought she knew of him. But she could see how they would be easier than fussing with breeches and stockings under the circumstances. Her own stockings were strewn across the moors somewhere. And they would not be inexpensive to replace. She wondered if she could send Brutus the bill from the modiste.

And then she stopped wondering about anything altogether, because Aidan was stalking toward her, eyes fixed hotly on her. He did not say a word. She held her breath, as though this moment was a sparrow too easily frightened from the branch. Speaking too loudly might break the spell between them. Because it felt like a spell: shimmering, expectant. Mysterious.

He stopped in front of her, eyes glittering. “As to that apology,” he said softly but firmly, “I Marked you.”

She touched the side of her throat. He watched her, nostrils flaring slightly. “A wolf thing?” she asked, just as softly.

“I’m afraid so,” Aidan replied. “And mitigating circumstances.”

Mitigating circumstances.

Her hand dropped away from the spot where he had pressed his teeth to her flesh.

She did not know what she had expected. Aidan certainly had not been overwhelmed with her presence, with the need to bite her specifically. She had not thought so in the first place, and so it was utterly ridiculous to feel a bit…bereft about it. She stepped back, shoulders hitting one of the tent posts.

Tea. She clearly needed tea. A bucket of tea. Enough to float away, comprised entirely of tea.

Better than this squirming, confusing wanting that made no sense.

A horrifying thought pinned her in place. Bad enough to dream about a kiss, to want to kiss Aidan again. And again. When he did not feel the same—but could his wolf sense her desire? She was trying to be so rational and unaffected. But what if wolves saw through all of that?

Mortifying.

Aidan frowned at her hand, now at her side, which she tried valiantly not to clench into a fist. She smiled. At least, she hoped she smiled. It did feel more like a grimace, truth be told. “Apology accepted,” she said. She knew how to sound calm when a unicorn tried to gore her or a kelpie snapped at her while swimming. This was nothing. Simply a gentleman in mitigating circumstances.

“Just like that?” he asked.

She shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly. She had never been so nonchalant in her life. Behold her nonchalance. “Of course, Lord Coventry. You didn’t tie me up and throw me over your horse.”

“If only it were that easy.”

She tilted her head. “Even I know that bite wasn’t enough to turn me into a wolf. You didn’t even break the skin.”

“It’s not that.”

“What, then? I assure you, the suspense is killing me. And it’s been a trying afternoon. I am rather in need of a cup of tea.”

He winced. “I’m making a hash of this.” He jerked his hand through his hair. “That cut on your arm?”

“Yes?”

“I believe someone did that on purpose.”

Sorcha frowned at it. “This little thing? It’s nearly healed. And why would they bother?” Was it because of the Red Cloak? Was someone trying to find out her identity with blood magic? Blast. “So you marked me to cover another mark?”

“For your protection, aye. And I offer my most sincere apologies, Lady Sorcha, that I did so without explanation.”

“Let me guess—mitigating circumstances?”

“Aye.”

“Oh.” Blast and botheration. She did not want his apologies. She had wanted an explanation, but now she found she did not much care for that either. “Is that why Brutus abducted me?