Forever His(54)

Squaring her shoulders, she kept walking. All she had to do was find the fork—

An animal made a noise, somewhere off to the right, behind her.

Celine stopped. That wasn’t a howl. It wasn’t wolflike at all. More like a snuffly, wet, breathing sound. Made by something very large. She had never heard anything like it in her life.

Whatever made it went silent a second later. She stood there, frozen, not even breathing. Maybe it was a bear.

Had Fiara thought to clear her with the local bear population?

She picked up her pace, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest, painfully hard. She couldn’t breathe. Just taking a single mouthful of air was impossible. She felt like her lungs were being squeezed by a giant hand.

Oh, God, not now. She kept walking. Briskly. Almost running. Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t ...

It was too late. The familiar crisis hit her before she could even begin to ward it off. A full-blown panic attack. The first one she had had since she got here. At the worst possible time.

Then she heard a branch break. On the path, directly behind her.

Someone—something—was following her.

Celine froze, turned, heart pumping wildly. She could sense a presence, something large and dangerous and intently interested in her.

“H-hello?” she called out, peering into the gloom. “Brynna? Fiara? Is that you?”

But there was no reply.

***

By nails and blood, had she seen him?

Gaston went still, standing beside his destrier, one hand holding the reins, the other over the animal’s nose to try to stop its blowing. Pharaon was growing restless at the slow pace; the stallion was better suited to battle than to stealth.

Since morning, he had been on Christiane’s trail, certain she meant to meet with Tourelle—though her stop at the mystic woman’s hut made little sense. Could the woman and her daughter somehow be connected to Tourelle’s plot? Why was the child not returning to the castle? And what was the point of Christiane’s meandering path now? She was either incredibly crafty ... or completely lost.

He was dressed all in black. She shouldn’t be able to see him. Through the shifting forest shadows he could barely make out her slender form a few yards ahead, illuminated by a sprinkling of moonlight. She was trembling like a leaf in a gale, and her breathing sounded odd—short, sharp gasps, unnaturally loud in the stillness.

“Is ... is anyone there?” she asked.

Gaston remained silent. He wasn’t going to give himself away. Not after spending so many patient hours tracking her. He cursed himself for following too close. He should have kept his distance, but every wolf’s howl had drawn him nearer to her, ready to protect her if need be. The woman had to be daft or desperate, wandering the forest at night, alone and unarmed.

She peered into the darkness, looking directly at him. His jaw clenched. The game was up.

But after a moment she turned and kept moving, faster now.

Allowing the distance between them to widen, he followed. Mayhap she had realized long ago that he was behind her on the path. Mayhap she was purposely trying to lead him astray in order to protect her overlord. Tourelle could be anywhere out here, waiting.

Indeed, this would be a perfect opportunity for Christiane to have some “accident” befall her new husband.

Gaston glanced around through the gloom, one hand drifting to the hilt of his sword. He could be walking straight into a trap. Why hadn’t he thought of that before setting out after her alone?

He scowled. He knew why, and it wasn’t merely because he had been furious when he found her missing. It was because he had been concerned for her safety when he discovered her tracks at the edge of the wood. He had not stopped to think. Had paused only long enough to grab his sword and mount his horse before going after her.

Because he had been concerned for her safety.

Concerned for her.

That was such a disturbing thought it stopped him in his tracks. He stared at her through the moonlit shadows, watching her hurry down the path away from him.

He had once again allowed feelings to overwhelm his reason. Feelings for a woman. This woman. His enemy’s ward. It was a witless mistake, one that might cost him his life. Which would be a just reward, he thought with a grimace, for tossing all logic aside. Galloping off alone like some reckless, inexperienced squire—

Pharaon suddenly tossed his head, taking another huge, snuffling breath. The noise rent the silent woods.

Christiane gave a terrified shriek and broke into a run.

“Saints’ blood.” Gaston dropped the reins, torn between caution and chasing after her. Was this part of her act? Was she leading him into an ambush? Tourelle’s armed men could be waiting in the darkness to cut him down.