right?”
It unsettled Ian that someone still cared enough to warn him away from danger. It was that small thing that had Ian giving his staff leave to treat him with undue familiarity; they were all he had. Ian moved to step awayfrom Talent and his concern, but not before giving the man a hard look. “Watch after her.”
Ian had stalked Daisy for much of the day, following her to such innocuous haunts as Florin and her milliner’s. Not that she’d noticed; he’d learned his lesson and stayed far downwind this time. Ian had caught her looking over her shoulder more than once. A smile tugged at his lips. Anxious for his company perhaps?
He came home to change only when his groom, Seamus, had arrived to take over the watch. Seamus was a strong, capable lycan. But Ian preferred Talent’s subtlety for the job.
“Do not let her out of your sight for anything. She can protest all she likes, but the lass is coming home with me tonight.” He would see this thing done with Lena and then he was collecting the stubborn Mrs. Craigmore.
“She’ll never even see me,” Talent promised.
Ian believed it. Talent’s skills were such that he could be practically under one’s nose and the poor sot wouldn’t be the wiser.
“So you’re set on bringing the girl here?” With a precise flick, Talent laid out Ian’s top hat and gloves. He knew better than to try to put them on him. Ian took to being dressed only so far. “Never seen you ask a girl to stay, I’ll give you that. Usually it’s a contest to see whether the door hits their sweet backsides before they get clear of it on their way out.”
“Lady,” Ian corrected with a twinge of irritation as he donned his gloves. The smooth leather scraped raw over his twitching skin. Damn, he was thinking about her again. Was she taking her tea? Changing into her dressing gown? He cleared his throat. “One cannot call a woman such as she a girl.” Not with that figure. “Andshe’s not coming here to stay. This is solely a matter of protection.”
Talent muttered something best left ignored as he followed Ian out of the dressing room and into his bedchamber.
“Now,” Ian said, “what of the
were
?” He needed to be well-informed when he faced Lena.
“Word on the streets is of no good. Not one lycan that anyone knows of has turned.” Talent shrugged as he poured Ian a glass of port. “Could be a country lycan gone bad, but with the Ranulfs controlling the borders, I cannot see that happening.”
Ian took the proffered glass and drained it in one gulp. “Aye, the Ranulfs would know if a werewolf came into London. Hell, the sorry bastard would be taken out before he made it to Hampstead.”
Certain as the sun rising in the east, a wolf clan always protected its territory. And London was the territory of the Ranulfs. No beast dwelled within the city proper without the Ranulfs knowing about it. Which made Ian’s teeth grind. Being an ousted member of Clan Ranulf, he was well acquainted with their vigilance in regards to territory. Damn it, and now his hands were tied. On a silent curse, he turned away, handing Talent his empty glass.
As if reading his thoughts, Talent’s expression turned shrewd. “You’re going to ask Lena to approach The Ranulf about it, aren’t you?”
The Ranulf. Ian almost laughed. Even after all these years, he’d be damned if he called Conall The Ranulf. The very notion turned his wame. “Something of the sort.” He drew a hand through his hair and then put on his hat. “It isn’t as if I can approach them.”
He knew he sounded bitter. It had been Ian’s decisionto leave the clan. He didn’t regret it, and yet the very notion of still being exiled twisted his guts. He hadn’t realized how very lonely it would feel. Allowed to live on the fringes due to his royal blood, but unable to return to his clan. But he had willingly thrown his birthright away with both hands, and it had been for the best.
Chapter Eight
D aisy counted
It unsettled Ian that someone still cared enough to warn him away from danger. It was that small thing that had Ian giving his staff leave to treat him with undue familiarity; they were all he had. Ian moved to step awayfrom Talent and his concern, but not before giving the man a hard look. “Watch after her.”
Ian had stalked Daisy for much of the day, following her to such innocuous haunts as Florin and her milliner’s. Not that she’d noticed; he’d learned his lesson and stayed far downwind this time. Ian had caught her looking over her shoulder more than once. A smile tugged at his lips. Anxious for his company perhaps?
He came home to change only when his groom, Seamus, had arrived to take over the watch. Seamus was a strong, capable lycan. But Ian preferred Talent’s subtlety for the job.
“Do not let her out of your sight for anything. She can protest all she likes, but the lass is coming home with me tonight.” He would see this thing done with Lena and then he was collecting the stubborn Mrs. Craigmore.
“She’ll never even see me,” Talent promised.
Ian believed it. Talent’s skills were such that he could be practically under one’s nose and the poor sot wouldn’t be the wiser.
“So you’re set on bringing the girl here?” With a precise flick, Talent laid out Ian’s top hat and gloves. He knew better than to try to put them on him. Ian took to being dressed only so far. “Never seen you ask a girl to stay, I’ll give you that. Usually it’s a contest to see whether the door hits their sweet backsides before they get clear of it on their way out.”
“Lady,” Ian corrected with a twinge of irritation as he donned his gloves. The smooth leather scraped raw over his twitching skin. Damn, he was thinking about her again. Was she taking her tea? Changing into her dressing gown? He cleared his throat. “One cannot call a woman such as she a girl.” Not with that figure. “Andshe’s not coming here to stay. This is solely a matter of protection.”
Talent muttered something best left ignored as he followed Ian out of the dressing room and into his bedchamber.
“Now,” Ian said, “what of the
were
?” He needed to be well-informed when he faced Lena.
“Word on the streets is of no good. Not one lycan that anyone knows of has turned.” Talent shrugged as he poured Ian a glass of port. “Could be a country lycan gone bad, but with the Ranulfs controlling the borders, I cannot see that happening.”
Ian took the proffered glass and drained it in one gulp. “Aye, the Ranulfs would know if a werewolf came into London. Hell, the sorry bastard would be taken out before he made it to Hampstead.”
Certain as the sun rising in the east, a wolf clan always protected its territory. And London was the territory of the Ranulfs. No beast dwelled within the city proper without the Ranulfs knowing about it. Which made Ian’s teeth grind. Being an ousted member of Clan Ranulf, he was well acquainted with their vigilance in regards to territory. Damn it, and now his hands were tied. On a silent curse, he turned away, handing Talent his empty glass.
As if reading his thoughts, Talent’s expression turned shrewd. “You’re going to ask Lena to approach The Ranulf about it, aren’t you?”
The Ranulf. Ian almost laughed. Even after all these years, he’d be damned if he called Conall The Ranulf. The very notion turned his wame. “Something of the sort.” He drew a hand through his hair and then put on his hat. “It isn’t as if I can approach them.”
He knew he sounded bitter. It had been Ian’s decisionto leave the clan. He didn’t regret it, and yet the very notion of still being exiled twisted his guts. He hadn’t realized how very lonely it would feel. Allowed to live on the fringes due to his royal blood, but unable to return to his clan. But he had willingly thrown his birthright away with both hands, and it had been for the best.
Chapter Eight
D aisy counted