Come the Night. Susan Krinard
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could take the risk of getting drunk. “What do you think of the kid?”
“He seems a fine boy,” Grif said. “He looks very much like his mother.”
“I’d noticed that.” Ross paced across the room. Though it wasn’t small, it seemed far too confining. “He’s only part werewolf,” he said suddenly.
“Is that important?”
“It is to Ji—To Mrs. Delvaux.”
Griffin considered that in silence. “You’re worried about Toby.”
“I want to make sure he has a good life in England,” Ross said. He rubbed his hand across the unshaven stubble on his chin. “Hell. I’ve only known him two days, Grif. And seeing Jill again…”
“Allie told me she’s a widow.”
Ross wondered what sort of conversation she and Gillian had had. “Yeah.”
“Do you still love her?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE BLUNTNESS of the question left Ross stammering. “She…I…” He gave himself a hard mental shake. “What makes you think I loved her?”
Griffin looked at him as if he’d said something stupid. Ross wished he were back in his own apartment, with a cheap bottle of whiskey and a stained wall to throw it at.
“It wouldn’t have worked,” he muttered.
“Yet she’s here.”
Too much had already been said. Ross opened one of the French doors to the garden and walked out, leaving Grif to his speculations.
The garden smelled strongly of roses, both new and fading. The moon was high and very bright. He wandered aimlessly for a while, across the rolling lawn and then down to the boathouse that stood near the dock. The scent of salt water was so strong that he almost didn’t realize that Gillian was already there.
Gillian, yes. But she waited for him on four legs instead of two, and the moonlight caressed sleek golden fur and sparkled in slanted lupine eyes.
Ross stopped, transfixed by memory and Gillian’s magnificence. She was more glorious in her maturity than she’d been that first time he’d caught her in wolf shape, but he felt that same sense of shock and realization, understanding that certain puzzles had been solved and mysteries explained. No one, not even the most superstitious human, could have looked at her now and doubted that she was beautiful.
And untouchable. Untouchable because she was what she was, and he could never Change and stand at her side as partner and true equal.
He turned to leave. A low whine brought him to a halt. He didn’t move again until he heard her return from the boathouse on two human feet.
“Ross.”
She wore a dress cut much shorter than she seemed to prefer—one of Allie’s, no doubt—and flat pumps a size too large. Her legs were bare, and her hair hung loose below her shoulders. She looked so unlike the Gillian he’d met two days ago that he could do nothing but stare.
She glanced down at herself. “I suppose I look rather a mess,” she said.
She spoke like a girl with her first beau, doubting her own ability to attract the interest of any male. Ross thought of the golden wolf and struggled not to laugh at the desperate irony of it.
“No,” he said roughly, blurting out the first words that came into his head. “You look beautiful.”
His pronouncement had an unexpected effect. Gillian’s face flushed red, and she smoothed her skirt as if she could somehow make it extend farther down her legs. “I thought I would be alone,” she said.
“I’ll leave.”
“No.” She brushed her hot cheeks with her fingertips. “That isn’t necessary. I was about to return to the house.”
“Don’t.” He realized he’d taken complete leave of his senses, and he didn’t care. “Stay.”
Gillian took an awkward step, stumbled, then caught herself just as Ross reached her. He grasped her arm and felt her muscles tense. The scent of her hair and skin swirled around his head, far sweeter than any rose.
If Gillian had behaved true to form, she would have extracted herself from his grip immediately. Instead, she laughed. The sound was almost girlish, nervous and bright.
“I’m not usually quite so clumsy,” she said.
“I know.” He glanced around and noticed a bench near the boathouse, set where the lawn gave way to the beach. He eased her down, though it was clear she didn’t need his help. She sat with her back straight and her hands folded at her knees, gazing out at the dark, choppy water.
Ross continued to stand, half-afraid he would send her running off again if he tried to share the bench with her. A little afraid of himself, too.
“Toby’s asleep?” he asked.
“He soon will be, if he isn’t already,” she said. “I didn’t realize it was possible to exhaust him.”
The ease of her speech, like her laugh, set Ross back on his heels. He’d expected her to be warier after meeting Allie and Grif; Allie could come on pretty strong, especially in comparison to someone as reserved as Gillian. Maybe he seemed less threatening in comparison.
“I guess you don’t feel very comfortable with the Durants,” Ross said. “I’m sorry it turned out this way.”
Gillian raised her hand in a brief, dismissive gesture. “Mrs. Durant is an unusual woman, but quite charming,” she said. “Mr. Durant is very pleasant company.”
“Yeah.” Ross figured that it didn’t matter if she was lying just be to be polite, as long as it helped her cope. “I guess this place has one advantage. You’re a lot safer Changing here than in the city.”
“I hadn’t thought about it.”
“But you’ve been living in the countryside. You must find Manhattan pretty confining.”
She cast him a distracted look. “We…seldom find occasion to Change at Snowfell.”
It was such a strange comment that Ross wasn’t sure how to respond. “I thought Changing was the most important thing for your people.”
“It is.” She answered so quickly that she hardly seemed to realize what she’d said until the words were spoken. “I…Of course there is a great deal more.…It is simply…” Her shoulders went up in a defensive posture, and Ross had a sudden, inexplicable flash of insight.
“You don’t really like it, do you?”
She would have bolted from the bench if Ross hadn’t stood in her way. Her scent heightened with some strong emotion.
“If I didn’t ‘like’ it,” she said tightly, “why would I do it here?”
Ross had nothing but pure conjecture on his side, yet he couldn’t let it go. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe being around people who’ve broken the rules means you have to remind yourself who you are and what you’re supposed to believe.”
“I know what I am.”
“But are you so sure what you believe?” He leaned over her. “What was it like when you went back to Snowfell, Gillian? What made you this way?”
Waves licked at the beach and receded again, whispering derision at Ross’s stupidity. She would never confide in him, not while he treated her like an enemy.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Gillian met his gaze, her hazel eyes searching his as if she thought he was mocking her again. “Why, Ross?”
“Why