Page 52

Alain made no move to answer.

“These are from the tenth century,” said Grace, filling in the awkward silence. “This is Gaharet d’Louncrais and his…wife Erin.” Grace pointed to the portrait of the tenth-century alpha and his mate. “And this is his brother, D’Artagnon, and his wife, Constance. Alain is their descendant.” Revealing they were wolf shifters wasn’t her secret to share. But it wouldn’t surprise her if they figured it out for themselves. Faster than she had.

Bernard leaned in closer, inspecting the portrait of Constance. “Her eyes are in color. How intriguing.” He gave Alain a strange look.

Alain took Grace by the elbow and ushered her toward the stairs. “This way. You must be tired and hungry. The cook has set out some refreshments for you.”

Grace sighed and let Alain lead her up the stairs to a room on the second floor. It wasn’t as big as the suite in the east wing, but it had a small sitting room and its own bathroom.

Her mama took a seat on the couch. “This is very hospitable of you. And far nicer than where we’ve been staying for the last few weeks.”

Alain held up a bottle of red. “Wine?”

“Thank you, no. But I’ll have some of that sparkling water, if I could?”

“Of course.” He poured her mama a glass, and Grace, too. “Bernard? Wine?”

“I don’t mind if I do.”

Alain poured him a glass, and one for himself.

“You’ve been very kind.” There was a forced politeness to Bernard’s smile. “And we do appreciate it, don’t we, Emmeline, but I think we’d like to speak with Grace alone now.”

“Bernard.” Her mama laid a hand on her husband’s knee. “We’ve been here all of two minutes. And they did rescue us. From your family.”

“Be that as it may, darling, but what do we know of these people?” He glanced at Alain. “And their motives?”

Grace set her sparkling water down on the table. She understood where Bernard was coming from. Her own switching of sides had only come about when she’d been given all the information. None of which Bernard had. And Alain’s mood wasn’t helping, but they had bigger fish to fry right now. Like Cordelia, and figuring out the curse so they could save the Langeais wolves. A dull throb burned behind her breastbone. Save Alain. She’d want to do that even if he— “There’s more to this than you know, Bernard. I promise you. Alain has told me things, shown me things that change everything.” She straightened in her seat. “Anything you want to say or ask me, you can do it in front of Alain.”

Alain propped himself on the arm of Grace’s chair.

Bernard leaned back, rubbing his hands along his thighs. “Right. Well, then.” His gaze skipped from her to Alain, back to her. “Are you okay, Grace? Have they hurt you? Are they keeping you here against your will? And what of this grimoire you were sent to fetch?”

Alain cocked an eyebrow at Bernard’s last question.

“I’m fine. Really,” she added when Bernard gave her a hard look. “Considering I broke into Alain’s apartment and tried to drug him so I could steal the grimoire, he’s treated me far better than I deserve.” Alain took her hand, and she entwined her fingers in his. Her heart skipped a hopeful beat. “And the grimoire… I’ve been reading some of the spells in it, and I’d rather not see it end up in Cordelia’s hands.”

“Is it that bad?” asked her mama.

“Yeah, Mama. It is. And no offense, Bernard, but Cordelia is, well, Cordelia, and she could do a lot of harm if this book were to fall into her hands.”

Bernard’s eyebrows dipped, and he studied his wine. “You’re quite right. Cordelia is a force to be reckoned with, and her methods are questionable at best. But I have to wonder, if this grimoire is that bad, should anybody have it?” Bernard tipped his head toward Alain. “Especially him.”

“What do you mean? Alain’s a member of the Council of Witches. If we were to give it to anyone, we would give it to them, wouldn’t we?” She met Alain’s gaze. “I think we can trust Alain.”

Alain’s nostrils flared, and dark shadows swirled in his eyes. She did trust him. With the grimoire. Maybe not with her heart. But that wasn’t his fault.

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” said Bernard.

“Why not?” After all that had happened, Alain had given her no reason to distrust him. She’d broken into his apartment, and he’d brought her to his home, to his family. He’d promised she wouldn’t be hurt. She hadn’t been. When she’d demanded to know what was going on, he’d revealed his family secrets. And in the bedroom, night after night she’d put herself in his hands and he’d been more than patient. He’d tempered himself. For her. She swallowed the lump in her throat, conscious of the warmth of his hand, her fingers threaded through his. If this was the end for them, it was going to hurt walking away from him.

“Look.” Bernard leaned his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped, and regarded her with fatherly concern. “There are things you don’t know about Cordelia that have bearing here. Maybe had I told you both…” His shoulders were heavy with regret. “We might not be here if I had.”

“What is it, Bernard?” asked her mama.

Bernard sighed. “Cordelia is more powerful than you think. And more twisted. She’s not come from the twenty-first century. Rather, she’s from sometime around the eighth or ninth. She created a time-traveling spell.”

Grace relaxed her shoulders and smiled. “It’s all right, Bernard. I already know. Alain told me.”