About Face (Wolf Within) (30 page)

He snorted. “I regret playing with her emotions the way I did. I thought I would keep it strictly pleasurable business. I thought I could persuade her to my side of things or failing that, yes, block her ascension to the Great Council. She was first in line, although I wish you wouldn’t repeat that.”

“If she’d switched sides, you’d have supported her appointment?” I ate a bite of sausage.

“Possibly. If I’d believed she was genuinely in support of it. She might have turned the tables on me and merely pretended. We used to spend more time in bed debating Pack politics than…” He trailed off, but not before I saw the amusement in his smile. My expression must have verged on horrified. I so did not want to hear intimate details about Kathy Manning and Jason Allerton in bed. “She’s under no illusion why I did what I did. I’m surprised she let you believe I blocked her so she would bond with me.”

“She knew I had no clue about the real nature of what’s going on, remember?” I piled some eggs on a piece of toast and some sausage, then another piece of toast to make a sandwich. Perhaps the eggs would be palatable with toast, butter and sausage to mask their taste? “Nobody bothered to tell me about the existence of Pack First or the Guardians. This whole thing is like peeling an onion. Layer after layer, and the deeper you get, the more it stinks.” The egg-and-sausage sandwich was pretty decent. I took another bite and chewed reflectively.

Allerton sipped his coffee and returned to his contemplation of the herb garden.

“Do you think Murphy’s been agonizing about his father’s involvement in all this ever since he came back here?” My question drew Jason’s attention back to me. “Because I think he has. From what I can gather, nobody liked Sorcha except him, of course. Killing her maybe wasn’t so hard to do.”

“But pushing his own son out of the Alpha position wasn’t?” Jason didn’t seem convinced.

“Some fathers don’t stand behind their children. Some fathers do all they can to undermine them.” My voice was bitter, and I put down what was left of my egg sandwich.

“I don’t think Glenn Murphy’s one of them.” There was compassion in Jason’s expression, but I didn’t want any from him. I picked up my coffee cup and moved toward the doors that led out into the garden. He followed me as I knew he would, damn him.

“Then Etain Feehery, your ex-whatever she is, wanted to put Paddy into the Alpha slot. That makes more sense since she’s the one who recruited his father who then got Paddy into it.”

Jason looked as if he struggled against inappropriate laughter, but he couldn’t keep the gleam of amusement from his blue eyes. “You’ll never miss an opportunity to throw my ex-mistresses in my face, will you?”

“I doubt it.” I found a stone bench, warmed from the morning sun, and sat. Jason joined me. I could discern the gleam of the gray lake behind a screen of trees beyond the garden wall. Ireland was fucking beautiful. With a pang, I wondered if Paddy had ever sat on this bench and thought the same thing. My eyes filled with tears, and I took a hasty sip of coffee to shield my face from Jason’s prying gaze.

“Murphy was Alpha. Why didn’t Glenn try to recruit him?” The sun glinted off the surface of the lake, and my eyes were dazzled for a moment.

“Who’s to say he didn’t?” Jason’s words were soft, but they hit me like a bomb.

“No. No way. Murphy told me once that the only connection he had with the conspiracy was fighting to end it. He had no idea about the Guardians or Pack First until Paddy told him about it.”

“No idea that people within the Guardians had taken a dark turn in their methods,” Jason said. “But I suggest he knew about both Pack First and the Guardians through his father although he refused to join, preferring to stay neutral. What then, Stanzie?”

“Then we’re back to his father plotting to remove him as Alpha, and we’re back to him keeping secrets from me. Like you did. Like my father did. Like everyone has.” Tears spilled down my cheeks, and I didn’t bother to brush them away. “You’re wrong, Jason Allerton.”

But was he?

* * * *

I had to compose myself, so I headed for the sanctuary of the gardens where I wouldn’t have to walk through the breakfast room and confront any of the others.

Halfway along the grassy path to the lake, I spotted Glenn Murphy. His pipe trailed a plume of cherry-scented smoke as he headed toward me. He’d likely gone for an after-breakfast stroll, maybe to prepare himself for the beginning of the tribunal.

I dashed the last of the tears from my cheeks in a no doubt futile attempt to hide the fact I’d been crying, and mustered a smile of greeting.

It would have helped enormously if I knew I could trust this man. He was Murphy’s father and I understood I was a bit jaded with fathers after what I’d experienced at the hands of mine. Jason’s infuriating ambiguity also didn’t help.

“Good morning,” he said as he drew closer. The smile on his face faded as he obviously realized I’d been crying. “Are you all right, Stanzie?” His voice, so like Murphy’s, made me want to cry harder. And fling myself in his arms for comfort. Damn it.

“I’m fine,” I said. I tried to move around him so I could pretend I’d just been on a walk, but he moved to block me.

“It’s a terrible thing to lose an Alpha,” he said, and that did it, the floodgates opened again. Paddy’s face rose up to haunt me and once again I felt horrible for every bad thing I’d ever said to him.

Glenn reached out for me and drew me into his embrace. Up close he smelled of cherries and Pack. I sobbed into his shoulder. He wore a tweed jacket and the fibers scratched my nose.

“We’ll get through this,” he promised as he patted my back. “We’re strong. We’re Mac Tire and we won’t let this break us.”

I thought I might already be broken, but he sounded so confident, even as the grief stripped his voice of most of its power.

He gave me a brisk shake and fished in his pocket for a tissue, which he handed to me. I wiped my eyes and blew my nose while he smoked his pipe.

“Ready?” He held out his arm and I tucked my hand in the crook of his elbow. We didn’t talk on the walk back to the castle, and I wished I knew the truth about anything.

* * * *

The tribunal began at ten. I just had time to retreat to my room to wash my face and redo my makeup. As I opened the door, I noticed a small gold plaque bolted to the wood at eye level.

Liam Murphy and Sorcha McClanahan. Her name coupled with his left a nasty taste in my mouth. What the hell was this? For the first time, I saw all the doors in this wing of the castle had gold plaques. Were they names of pack members?

The plaque on the next door down read Padraic O’Reilly and Fiona Carmichael. Paddy’s face flashed before my eyes and I leaned my forehead against the plaque. As close as I could get to him now.

Homesickness surged through me. I wanted to go home. Tears threatened, but somehow I held them back.

The plaques must be the names of current and former Alphas. This must be the Alphas’ wing of the castle. Older plaques must give way for newer ones as time passed. Would my name replace Sorcha’s someday? A sobering question and one I didn’t have time to contemplate.

I passed into my room and heard my cellphone chirp. It was Murphy. I stared at the phone for several seconds, paralyzed. Could I talk rationally to him right now, or would I sling accusations and sob again like a fucking baby? Sorcha’s name on the damn plaque coupled with his hurt.

I let the phone go into voice mail and went into the bathroom to wash my face.

* * * *

“You will tell us who instructed you to provide Michael Shaughnessy with a knife,
Monsieur
Byrne.” Celine Ducharme worked her usual charm as she ruthlessly questioned Declan Byrne.

The tribunal took place in a large, echoing chamber that added a disconcerting counterpoint to the bitch queen’s interrogation. A table, several horribly uncomfortable wooden chairs and a few rugs and tapestries did nothing to muffle the sound. The windows were mullioned and set with opaque glass so nobody could distract themselves with anything pleasant, like nature.

Three hours of torture and I wasn’t even the one on the hot seat.

Ryan and I had notebooks where we ostensibly would take meticulous notes of the proceedings. How many times, though, could I write the same damn thing? Ducharme had already asked a variation of her question, but was a single-minded bulldog who refused to be sidetracked.

Declan’s standard answer—silence. Attempts by the other Councilors to ask different questions had been venomously rebuffed by Celine Ducharme. This was her show.

Etain Feehery tapped her fingers on the edge of the table and sneaked glances at her watch. Glenn Murphy sat stony-faced and listened. Jason steepled his fingers and appeared lost in thought, but I knew he missed nothing. He never did.

Beside me, Ryan’s stomach gurgled loudly, and he crimsoned.

“Councilor Ducharme, it’s past one o’clock, and I believe we would like to take a lunch break.” Etain Feehery’s tone was impatient, but her expression remained bland.

Celine Ducharme threw her hands up in the air and sighed so gustily it was a wonder the tapestries in the room didn’t flutter.

“If we must.” She pushed back her chair, with effort—the goddamn things weighed a ton—and stalked from the room, her Louboutin heels clacking on the slate flooring. Today she wore the same peep-toe pumps I remembered from the chateau. They must be her favorite interrogation shoes. Her navy blue pencil skirt was tailored, as was the matching jacket. Her straw-blond hair was rolled into a no-nonsense chignon at the base of her skull and with her hair drawn back, her face became even more arrogant than usual.

I couldn’t find any sympathy for Declan Byrne under the circumstances, but I still hated the woman and her relentless methods.

As I struggled with my damn chair, Declan Byrne’s gaze swept over me, his expression full of contempt.

“Enjoying yourself, you self-righteous slag?” he asked.

“I’ll enjoy it more when I watch you die,” I said with a nonchalant shrug. I made a mental note to look up the meaning of slag. Whatever it meant, it couldn’t be good.

His face darkened, but before he could spring out of his chair, Ryan Kelly and Glenn Murphy were at his side.

“Sit down. What are you thinking?” Glenn Murphy growled, and Declan Byrne sank back into his chair.

“I’m hungry,” he said. “Surely, prisoners get their bread and water.”

“Oh, shut your feckin’ mouth, Byrne,” snarled Ryan.

“You think you’re better than me, but you’re not. You just haven’t gotten caught,” muttered Byrne.

Ryan flushed scarlet and his hands bunched into fists. “I’m not a fucking murdering traitor. Get outta that chair, you frigging coward, and back up your words with your fists. Otherwise, shut the fuck up.”

“Ryan.” Etain Feehery didn’t raise her voice, but Ryan dropped his fists to his side, and a frustrated sigh burst between his lips. “Declan Byrne is facing a tribunal. Your fists won’t settle this, the Councils will. He’ll get what’s coming to him, never you worry, but you need to put your anger aside. Now’s not the time or place for it.”

“I had nothing to do with this, Etain. I can’t have him insinuating I did.”

“Maybe I’ll tell that fucking skinny bitch French Councilor you helped me,” said Declan Byrne with a grin. “She’s convinced somebody did. Why not you, Kelly?”

Etain Feehery paled, and her mouth tightened into a thin line.

“You’ll tell the truth and nothing less, Declan.” Her tone was harsh and uneven.

For the first time I felt a small measure of sympathy for her. If she truly had nothing to do with Paddy’s murder, and her son did, how awful it must be for her to sit and wait for Declan Byrne to crack under Councilor Ducharme’s pressure.

She already had to condemn her cousin and if Declan implicated Ryan, she’d have no choice but to move against her own son. Had I done the right thing to bring Declan up before a tribunal? I remembered Jason telling me he’d support me in whatever decision I made. The minute I saw the photographs, I hadn’t thought of any alternative but to bring Declan Byrne before a tribunal for justice. But what if there had been other ways to handle it? A dark alley and a knife? No one the wiser for why he died except a precious few who would never breathe a word of the truth?

What had I brought down on Mac Tire? No. Murder was murder, no matter who did it or why. I’d done the right thing. So why did I feel so goddamn guilty?

* * * *

After bolting a few mouthfuls of lunch, I escaped outside and walked to the shore of the gray lake, where I scavenged flat rocks and skimmed them across the lake’s smooth surface.

The sun was warm on my skin and the cool breeze carried scents of water, grass and flowers. Once a small fish broke the surface, perhaps drawn by the noise and motion of my skipping stone.

I wanted to be wolf. She tugged at me even though she had no way to come out. Ryan and I should have had sex the night before. We could have had the release of our wolves if we had.

But, I wanted Murphy. Not the stranger, the one who told me he loved me one day and turned away the next, but the kind man I knew from our time in America. Maybe I hadn’t known he’d loved me back, but he’d been patient and calm and he’d always been there.

It wasn’t fair to build somebody’s hopes up the way he had mine. I’d been alone and then he’d made me see how lonely I’d been and showed me what I might have. He made it seem as if it were mine for the taking, so when I reached out and grasped nothing, it hurt like hell.

My best was five skips, but I thought it was mostly a fluke, not skill. I didn’t want to return to the tribunal, but my watch and my internal sense of justice prompted me to return to the castle.

The summer breeze caressed my face as I walked along the pathway. Ireland smelled so different than Massachusetts. The plant life was not the same, the water had a strange, though not unpleasant sensory texture, and even the air was unique.

These woods would become my hunting ground for the most part from now on. The condo in Boston would be a vacation destination, not home. Wistfulness clouded my eyes with tears. What would Dublin be like without Paddy? What would Murphy be like?