Possessed by a Wolf. Sharon Ashwood
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can’t see how we can possibly manage,” Faran replied in a dry tone. “Perhaps if I stand very still. Oh, wait. That’s loitering.”
“With you it’s more like looming.”
He gave her a wounded look that seemed too real. “I don’t loom.”
Barely an hour ago, Lexie had seen him twist in the air and land like a cat. The memory of it still made her shiver. “Lurking, then. You’ve got to stipulate to the occasional lurk.”
“I’ll plead you down to hovering with intent.”
He was hiding behind jokes—and that had always driven her crazy. Yet now it was weirdly comforting. Everything was in turmoil, but Faran remained stubbornly who he was.
They waited for Chloe in the Queen’s Gallery, which was a long, wide hallway that stretched from one side of the palace to the other. The walls were molded plaster, the ceilings high and painted with designs of cherubs and clouds. Hung with selections from the royal family’s considerable art collection, it was one of the attractions open to the public. Normally it would have been packed, but there were no tourists that day, since security was on high alert. They had the place to themselves.
It was the first time Lexie had been able to see the pictures without being elbowed by the crowd and, despite her mood, their beauty pulled her in. She wandered slowly from one canvas to the next, so lost in the study of colors and textures that she almost forgot everything else. Art was an almost physical pleasure for her, the sight of it as tangible to her as a bubble bath or silk against her skin. It was one of the few things that could make her stay still.
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