She didn’t expect to find a modern flushing toilet as so few homes had them yet, even in England, but in a contrived semblance of one, a sturdy block of smoothly polished wood cradled a ceramic chamber pot, thankfully empty. She made quick use of it and was washing her hands when the door opened behind her.
She swung around. She wasn’t really surprised to see Nadia standing there. The look the blonde had given her in the parlor had been nasty enough to suggest they weren’t done with each other. Alana should have kept her mouth shut, but Nadia had attacked her directly in calling her Christoph’s mistress. She had responded angrily, thoughtlessly, and now she was going to reap the consequences.
She thought about pushing past the woman and simply ignoring her, but she was too curious to see if Nadia was as malicious as Christoph had implied, or if she was there to apologize for her catty remarks. Alana could understand why Nadia had been upset at the palace. Apparently Christoph had asked her to leave, she’d refused, so he’d had her forcibly removed. But they were neighbors! How close had they been before that argument? He never did say what sort of friends they used to be.
Nadia clarified that rather well when she said stiffly, “Don’t think he will marry you. He’s soon going to marry me. Our families expect it.”
If she hadn’t added the remark about their families, Alana could have scoffed that the woman was still just being a jealous shrew. Instead, she felt oddly—deflated.
“He’s a barbarian, you’re welcome to him,” she replied, but then she felt a spark of anger and added, “Though last I saw, he was banning you from the palace, so I doubt he thinks he’s going to marry you.”
What was wrong with her?! She sounded as jealous as Nadia did. Nadia’s face turned quite pink at that reminder. Still, Alana didn’t expect to be slapped for it, but she’d never been so glad of all those rapier lessons she’d had as she was when her arm rose automatically to block it.
“I warn you, we only had a lovers’ quarrel,” Nadia hissed. “We’ve had them before, but we always make up and we will this time as well.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
“I’m not.”
Alana chuckled without humor. “You could have fooled me. Maybe you should be convincing him that you two always make up. I could care less. Now if you’ll excuse me, there are some wolves I want to meet, a prospect I find far preferable to listening to anything else you have to say.”
She brushed past the woman, almost hoping Nadia would try to detain her further so she could really give her a piece of her mind. She was furious to find herself in the middle of a lovers’ spat. And without warning. But of course Christoph wouldn’t tell her he was just using her to make his lover jealous. For Nadia to come to that conclusion so rapidly suggested it wasn’t the first time he’d done so, either.
Stepping outside behind the house, she gave Christoph a baleful look. He was close enough to catch it, on his way back to find out what was keeping her.
Grinning as he took her arm to help her along the swept path, he guessed, “You got lost?”
“No, I can follow directions.”
“Then—?”
“You should make an effort to tame that shrew. She’s really quite unpleasant.”
“Nadia spoke to you again?”
“Yes, she had to make sure I knew that you’ll be marrying her—eventually.”
“Wishful thinking on her part that will never come to pass, but this is no concern of yours.”
“Isn’t it? She just made it my concern by trying to slap me a few minutes ago! She’s lucky I didn’t break her bloody nose.”
He choked back a laugh. “Perhaps I should explain.”
“Yes, perhaps you should,” she huffed.
“As neighbors, we grew up together. At one time she was even my best friend. But that ended long ago, when she became what you met today, a shrew, as you called her. Once I did think of marrying her, but I was still a boy, and she had yet to become the termagant.”
Alana blushed, that she’d been so gullible. “So she’s not your lover?”
“No, nor will she ever be. The only thing left between us is unpleasantness. She nags me to marry her. She even tries seduction. But her trap is clear. I’m not fool enough to step in it so she can cry foul to her father. Now come and get the foul taste from your mouth with fresh wolves.”
She was appalled by the thought. “You killed one of your father’s pets?”
He rolled his eyes. “Fresh as in babies.”
“Oh, babies!” she exclaimed with a laugh.
Alana had never owned a pet of any sort, nor had any of her friends, at least not in the city, where conditions weren’t ideal for them. She thought it was cruel to keep a dog cooped up indoors for most of the day. So her heart opened immediately when she saw the four little wolf pups through the gate, three white, one gray, all the same size, playing with a bone as if it were a toy.
