He ignored her rudeness and inclined his head. “Good evening, Miss Sorrow. Has my collection met with your approval?”
She hopped from her perch. “Thelibraryis magnificent. I have yet to decide how I feel about the man who assembled it.” She glanced at Winifred, and her face softened. “She is the only true friend I’ve ever had.”
She was protective of her cousin. He was familiar with the feeling. Before his confinement, he had been endlessly frustrated by his younger sibling’s reckless behavior. On more than one occasion, he’d dragged his youngest brother out of a gambling hell minutes before sunrise because Jonathan had “lost track of time.”
Felicity sighed. “Oh, Winnie. You really can sleep through anything.”
Winifred had her head on her folded arms and let out an occasional snore.
“Take care of her, my lord,” Felicity said. “She’s more sensitive than she seems.” Then she spun around and strode out of the room.
He returned his attention to his slumbering wife. He didn’t want to believe she could have anything to do with the hunters, but the safety of his nest had to come first. Therefore, he let her rest while he made a few choice selections from his shelves. The best way to earn her trust was to give her what she’d crossedthe ocean for.
When he dropped the books on the desk, she jerked upright.
“Hello,” he said. “Have you been enjoying my collection?”
She covered her mouth as she yawned, then grinned. “It is exceptional.”
He gestured to the table. “I thought these might interest you.”
She flipped open the first book as he watched over her shoulder. The text was ancient, the pages so yellow, they almost appeared dyed and moved with a crackling stiffness.
“My, ah, grandfather’s journals,” he said, crafting the lie as he spoke. “He was present at the eruption of Mount Tambora and wrote of the experience.”
They were, of course,hisjournals, but he couldn’t reveal that yet. For the moment, it was best to continue to masquerade as a human.
“Thank you,” she said with a wide smile. “I could not ask for a better gift.”
He slid into the chair across from her. She certainly didn’t seem anxious, but that didn’t prove anything. His enemy was adept at infiltration. Before the Wild Hunt had all but eradicated them, he’d once spent three weeks following a group of suspected hunters, only to discover they had been secretly watching him the entire time. “I am glad you approve.”
She ran her hands over the spines. “Did you require my assistance with your invention?”
A genuine desire to be helpful, or a ploy to get him alone again? Regardless, he couldn’t allow her access to his workshop until he discovered her intentions. There were notebooks and artifacts stored inside that hunters would find extraordinarily valuable.
“There is no need. I disposed of it.”
It wasn’t as if he’d made much progress. Twenty-eight concoctions and none of them had provided lasting relief. He’d even collected his own blood and compared it against samples reluctantly extracted from his siblings but had discovered nothing that would explain why hesuffered attacks and the others did not.
There was always Cordon’s theory that everything Marcus was experiencing was part of mate atrophy, but Cordon’s illness several months prior had included entirely different symptoms. In any case, Marcus couldn’t leave the castle, and he wasn’t about to begin summoning young women to join him until he found his mate.
No, he would continue his search for an alternative solution.
Winifred tilted her head. “How am I to assist you, then?”
He ran his tongue over his teeth. There was no trace of malice or guile in her tone, but Cordon was right that he knew very little about her. “Do not worry about that for now.”
“In that case,” she said. “Perhaps I could ask a favor.”
His shoulders tensed. “You may ask.”
She rubbed her hands together. “It is my cousin Felicity. She would be an excellent addition to our household. As my companion.”
“You want to hire your cousin?” He almost laughed. It was such a simple request. “If that is what you wish, you have my permission.” The cost was nothing to him, and having another woman around might make it easier for Winifred to live so far from society.
Her eyes shone, and when she spoke, her voice was hoarse. “Thank you, Marcus. Oh, thank you! You do not know how much this means to me.”
Her display of emotion made his heart leap into his throat. He had grown so used to his siblings treating him with apathy or hostility that being on the receiving end of such gratitude left him unsure of how to react. What he wanted to do was lift her in his arms and bury his nose in her hair. Instead, he tapped the stack of books. “May I read to you?”
