Chapter Twenty-Five
Isobella sat at the large oak table, sandwiched between the twins.
In complete contrast to the previous evening’s meal, she had the undivided attention of both Edmond and Aubert.
Edmond poured her wine. Aubert passed her the bread.
Edmond piled her plate high with bloody meat.
Aubert handed her an elaborate knife with which to eat.
With every movement, her shoulders brushed theirs, and beneath the table, muscular thighs hemmed her in.
If she’d asked, Aubert might well have cut her food into bite-sized pieces, while Edmond hand fed her.
It was overwhelming and confusing. It set her heart fluttering and her cheeks heating, and it had not gone unnoticed.
They’d been the focus of more than a few curious looks, from servants and Langeais wolves alike.
Erin found it amusing, and Gaharet… She had no idea what was going on in his mind, but Isobella was glad when the meal ended.
“Stay,” said Gaharet, as servants cleared the table and Isobella rose to leave. “There are things we must discuss.”
Isobella sank down in her seat and Aubert refilled her wine goblet. She’d been expecting some sort of strategy meeting, or a Q and A session about Cordelia and Faucher.
“I’m curious,” began Erin, as the hall emptied of everyone bar the Langeais wolves, “about the Langeais wolves you know. The ones in the twenty-first century.”
There was something in Erin’s tone, a glint in her eyes, the way she shared a look with Gaharet that put Isobella a little on edge.
Erin rubbed her belly. “About our descendants.”
Erin was pregnant? Her curiosity was understandable, and it was as good a place as any to start, but that didn’t wipe out the sense that Erin was digging for something. But what? And why didn’t she come right out and ask?
“I confess I don’t know all of them,” said Isobella. “I’ve only met a few.”
Aubert took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.
She side-eyed it. Had Edmond said something to Aubert?
Or had Gaharet? Was he trying to make up for this morning?
Could his treatment of her during training—and in general—have more to do with this Sabine Gaharet had spoken of than her?
Isobella didn’t have the monopoly on heartbreak.
“Anything you can tell us would be a boon,” said Gaharet. He leaned back in his chair, nothing but curiosity in his gaze, but Isobella’s instincts were pinging.
Edmond entwined his fingers in hers. She was under siege from all sides.
“Okay. Um… Let me think.” She couldn’t think, not with the way the twins were holding her hands, or the way the others were staring openly now.
“Who’s the alpha?” asked Erin, throwing her a bone.
“Oh, um, Maxime d’Louncrais. Your descendant.
” She indicated Gaharet and Erin as her brain clicked into gear.
“I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard about him.
He has two younger sisters—Stefanie and Nathalie.
I’ve met Stefanie. She has your green eyes, Erin, and Gaharet’s dark hair.
” Maybe they were simply curious, and Edmond and Aubert’s sudden dedication to her needs was throwing her off.
The Langeais wolves teetered on the edge of extinction.
Isobella was a link to their future. Neither Erin nor Bek had had any prior knowledge of them before they ended up here in the tenth century.
“I believe Nathalie has recently mated,” she continued, nodding at Ulrik and Rebekah. “To Laurent Voclain.”
A slow smile spread across Ulrik’s face.
She was glad she could give them positive news of their continued lineage.
Glad she could focus on something other than the warmth of Edmond and Aubert’s hands engulfing hers.
She continued around the table, settling on Aimon and Kathryn.
“There are at least two Proulx brothers that I know of.”
Kathryn’s face lit up, and Aimon placed a tender kiss on the top of her head.
“Alain d’Louncrais has your gift of second sight, Constance. He’s a wolf witch and a member of the Council of Witches.”
Constance blinked back tears. Living as a witch in the tenth century before she’d become a Langeais wolf couldn’t have been easy for her. That her descendant was a respected witch and werewolf must be welcome news.
“There are three Montagnes.”
Erin straightened a little in her seat, and Gaharet, though his expression never changed, watched her with that intensity that always made her squirm.
“Gabriel is the head of pack security and mated to Annabelle, the High Priestess of the San Francisco Bay Coven, and my sister.”
She glanced between Edmond and Aubert. Again, the similarities and the differences between the tenth and twenty-first century Montagnes struck her.
Gabriel was a big man. Built like…like Edmond and Aubert.
But even if he had had a beard, other than size, Gabriel bore no family resemblance to his ancestors.
Neither did Pierre and Louis, who, though muscular, didn’t have Edmond or Aubert’s build.
Isobella didn’t know much about genetics, but there must’ve been someone of Spanish or Latino heritage somewhere in their line, because the Montagne descendants, Gabriel, Pierre and Louis, all had a darker skin tone. And darker, curlier hair. More like…
Oh. Isobella’s breath caught in her throat. More like hers.
“You said there were three Montagnes?” prompted Erin.
How had she not seen this? Now that she had, she couldn’t unsee it. Gabriel, Pierre and Louis could pass for her descendants. With Edmond. Or Aubert. She swallowed. Or both. It sure as hell would explain why Gabriel was so damn determined it be her taking on this mission.
“Isobella?”
Erin was staring at her. Everyone was staring at her. Waiting.
“Oh…ah…” Isobella struggled to collect herself. “Sorry, yes there are three Montagnes.”
Had getting rid of Faucher ever been her true task? For her coven maybe, but for the Langeais wolves?
Edmond’s concern wafted over her. “Is something wrong?”
“Ah…no, no. I…”
She’d thought it odd they were targeting Faucher.
The Faucherians couldn’t be that big of a deal.
Maybe in France, but until Gabriel and Stef had approached the coven, Isobella had never heard of them.
If they’d truly wanted to have a resounding impact on witchcraft down through the ages, wouldn’t they have chosen someone like the Witch-Finder General?
Or Heinrich Kramer or Jacob Sprenger, the authors of Malleus Maleficarum?
Everyone knew about them. Instead, they’d chosen a tenth-century bishop who was barely a footnote in history.
“The other two Montagnes?” asked Erin.
“Ah…twins,” she said, though she paid no heed to any reaction they might’ve had.
It all made perfect sense now. Why they’d sent her, a mediocre green witch—a dying witch—instead of a strong blood witch like Annabelle.
“Twins?” asked Gaharet.
“Pierre and Louis.”
Isobella did have a task. One only she could perform. Gabriel had known it all along. And Louis and Pierre. Maybe Annabelle, too. It just had nothing to do with Faucher.
“And are they mated?” asked Erin.
Isobella snapped herself out of her thoughts at the guile in Erin’s voice. She knew. Or suspected. She glanced at Gaharet. His lips twitched, and he raised one eyebrow at her. So did he.
She glanced first at Edmond and Aubert, who were hanging on her every word.
They hadn’t, and never would, meet the twenty-first century Montagnes.
They would never understand the significance of their appearance.
Not like Isobella. But what she was about to say, they couldn’t fail to grasp. “Yes. They are mated. To Melinda.”
Erin tapped a finger to her lips, her confusion as fake as the designer merchandise in Chinatown. “So which twin is mated to Melinda? Pierre or Louis?”
Isobella glanced around the table. There was no help for it. All the Langeais wolves were waiting for an answer. “Both. Melinda is mated to both Pierre and Louis Montagne.”
There was silence at the table, as the import of her words sank in.
Rebekah chortled. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have our very own why choose romance.”
Kathryn frowned. “Why choose what?”
“Never mind, Kathryn,” said Erin, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. “Bek and I will explain it to you later. Just know it’s a good thing. A very good thing.”
Isobella’s attention flicked between Edmond and Aubert. Edmond’s smile could light up the sun. To her surprise, so could Aubert’s.
* * * *
The glimpse of Isobella tucked up in bed was brief as Anne and the old wolf emerged from her bedchamber, but Aubert would keep it close to warm him through the night.
The wall at his back and the floor beneath his ass was not comfortable, but there was nowhere else he would rather be.
His brother settled in beside him. Nor Edmond.
Anne crossed her arms over her generous bosom and stared down at them. “What are you boys waiting for?” She jerked her head toward the closed bedchamber door. “She is in there, not out here in the cold corridor.”
Aubert grunted. He wanted to be in there making it up to his mate, not sitting on the floor outside her bedchamber. But despite Isobella’s surprise revelation at supper, he was not convinced Isobella could be won over. Not after this morn.
Edmond jerked his chin at Vladimir. “We could say the same to you, Anne.”
“What…I…hmpf. I do not know what you are talking about.” Anne huffed and stomped off down the hall, the patient Vladimir trailing along behind her.
They could learn a lot from the old wolf.
Anne was not ready to accept what was right in front of her.
Not so soon after Tumas’ death. Isobella might be familiar with twins—Montagne twins—who shared a mate, but would she want them storming into her bedchamber right now? No more than Anne would Vladimir.
With his hands resting on his raised knees, Aubert leaned his head back against the wall. Isobella had been so tense after her revelation. Because she did not want to mate two men? Or because she did not want to mate him?
Edmond nudged him. “It is not like you to admit defeat so easily.”
He snorted. This was not a battle he could win with brute strength and endurance.
Merde. If only it were so simple. If he wanted to win over Isobella, if he wanted to have any chance at a bond that included both him and Edmond—and by the Fates, he hungered for that with every inch of his misbegotten soul—it would take more than a few words, more than an apology.
“Have faith in Isobella. She is strong. Did she run when House Allard attacked us in the forest? No, she stood her ground and used her magic. She killed three men. Look at how she withstood your brutal training this morn.” Edmond stretched his legs out, crossing them at his ankles.
“And have faith in the true mate bond. She will be feeling the pull toward us, too.”
If only he could. “We had a bond with Sabine.” He kept his voice low. Isobella’s hearing, untrained as it was, was as good as any werewolf’s. She had reason enough to dislike him already. Finding out Aubert had almost killed his twin would not help his cause. Their cause.
“I am not so sure we did.”
What? They had never discussed Sabine. Not since that fateful day. By unspoken agreement they had put her and the whole putrid mess behind them. Had his brother had misgivings about her?
“We never stopped to consider if Sabine were best suited to one or the other,” said Edmond. “Or if she would suit either of us at all.”
Of course they had not. She was their true mate.
A woman who would best match them in every way.
Yet, in the depths of his heart, he knew Sabine was not the woman he would have imagined for himself.
Or for Edmond. The way her greedy gaze had perused their keep.
The things that had gone missing—their mother’s favorite brooch, a gilded comb, more than a few coins.
Her harsh treatment of the servants turned his stomach sour even now.
Her high-pitched false laugh, and her liberal use of floral unguents that had made him sneeze.
But still he had wanted her with everything he had.
So had Edmond. He had not questioned it then, too love-drunk on the bond already forming. He could not help but question it now.
Edmond sighed. “I do not know what I am thinking, but… Does it feel different with Isobella to you? Less…forced?”
Aubert could not deny that it did. He liked Isobella, even when he had been trying not to.
She never complained, she never asked for anything—apart for them to turn her because she was dying.
And she’d been prepared to take full responsibility for that.
A brave woman. Resilient, too. And there was a gentleness about her. Isobella had a good heart.
All morn he had had to fight the impulse to swoop her up in his arms, to cradle her against his chest and hold her, whisper promises in her ears.
With each soft word she spoke, every time he looked into her beautiful eyes and saw her soul shining through, another thread had woven around his heart, drawing him closer, threatening his resolve to remain unaffected.
Aubert wanted her with a desire at once raw and overwhelming, yet sweet.
He wanted to protect her and pleasure her in ways she would never forget.
Imprint himself on her soul. He would give her the world if she asked it of him.
With Sabine, the urge to claim her had swirled in his gut like a meal of rotten meat.
He could not deny his body had wanted her, but even when his cock had been as hard as an untempered sword his rage had swirled closer and closer to the surface until it had been nigh unstoppable.
“Sabine would not have been a good mate for either of us.”
“Agreed. And Isobella?”
Just the thought of her made his heart lighter, made him smile. “She is perfect.”