How To Marry A Werewolf (Claw & Courtship, #1)(27)

“It’s not him I worry about.”

“Never say you worry about me, Professor.”

Lyall sighed and, instead of leaving, moved forwards to cock a hip against the desk. He fiddled for a moment with the letter that Channing had left folded there.

“Don’t you dare read that.” There was sharpness in Channing’s voice, and the wolf lurked behind his eyes.

“You know me better than that.” Lyall stilled and waited.

Channing lost his ire under Beta calm – imperceptible waves of patience that were also sublime strength. What was I thinking? I know Lyall to be a man of principle. More so than I am, that’s for certain. Also, I cannot take this Beta in a fight.

When Channing shifted, he lost himself. He was all wolf instinct and violence. Oh, he was very strong, but he was also crazed. He forgot his human side to baser lusts. It was one of the reasons he could never be a loner. He might act the part, aloof and solitary, but he needed pack more than most.

Channing tilted his head back at Lyall, baring his throat.

“You will fix this thing that eats away at you, Channing,” ordered Professor Lyall.



“It may not be up to me.” The Brophys’ ball was a positive squeeze, being both too popular and too packed, so that Faith wished she were anywhere but there. It was exhausting just trying to make one’s way through the door.

She searched the gathering, trailing behind Teddy’s determined push, from room to room. She could admit to herself that she was hunting for a blond head that stood a little higher than most others.

Teddy paused at the door to the music room. “I do declare, what a crush! Really, what possessed them to invite so many to a house decidedly insufficient to contain the number?”

“Teddy! They’ll hear you.”

“No one can hear anything in this noise. And how am I to find Mr Rafterwit in such a press? He said he would be here. He was going to tell me all about breeding stock.”

“Teddy! Are you sure that’s appropriate conversation for polite company?”

“Oh, Faith, don’t be silly. His horse breeding stock, dear. Oh, you are droll! I imagine if I’m very lucky, I will be his breeding stock, so to speak, after our wedding and such.”

“Teddy, really. Stop it.”

Teddy grinned. “I’m quite looking forward to it. Oh, I know I shouldn’t say such things, but there you have it. I think Barnaby is most awfully, well, awfully.”

“It could be disappointing.” Faith tried to put experience into her tone without actually sounding too experienced.

“Yes, but if that’s the case, we won’t have to do it too often, and Faith, you should see his horses! Oh, look, there he is!” Teddy waved madly at Mr Rafterwit; the poor man nodded shyly back.

Teddy charged across the room towards him.

Faith would have followed except she found herself neatly pulled aside by a firm, cool hand on her arm.

“Did you want that first dance now, Lazuli?”

“Major Channing, how nice to see you again so soon.”

“Is it? Funny, but I think you actually mean that. You know, you are likely the only person in all of London who is ever happy to see me.”

That made her sad, but she hid it with a soft smile.

He led her onto the floor, and then when the dance was done, he blatantly flouted the custom of relinquishing her arm to her next partner. Faith should not have been surprised; he had flouted the customary rules of conversation for weeks on end. Why should the rules of dancing be any different?

Instead of leading her back to her chaperone – where was Mrs Iftercast, anyway? Really, she was a tad bit forgetful and lax about her duties. (Not that Faith or Teddy minded the freedom this afforded them.) Instead of taking her respectably to the edge of the dance floor, where Faith’s next admirer eagerly waited, Channing didn’t even ask if she had one. And instead of offering to retrieve her punch or comestibles while she sat to catch her breath, Channing took her hand firmly and led her out of the ballroom and into the garden, where all was quiet and peaceful and they were alone.

Which was, of course, quite dangerous. But Faith found she could not be frightened and she did not care.

Channing dropped her hand and they walked together, silent and not touching, along an herbaceous border and across a manicured lawn into a copse of trees, ill tended and shrouded in shadows, at the very far end of the garden.

The perfect place, thought Faith, for an assignation.

Still, she found she did not care. She should have, for she knew better than most the risks a young lady took with a gentleman alone.

Then he said, “I know about the claviger. Your claviger.”

And Faith’s world shattered.



Channing heard her breath catch.

Her voice trembled only a little when she spoke. “He wasn’t mine, not really. Never was and never would be. He belonged to the werewolves, and that, as it turned out, was all that counted.”

“He made you feel as though he were yours, though, didn’t he?”

“For a bit. Or maybe I just wanted the experience too much. Some moment of excitement. Some point in time where I was wanted without question. Maybe that’s why I’m here with you now. Have you considered that?’

She was attacking, like a trapped animal, fierce and defensive.