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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.