They were down two flights when she tugged on his hand. “Callum, really, where are we going?”
She didn’t want to see anyone. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She didn’t want to eat, drink or, possibly, breathe.
Since not breathing would be bad, she decided she’d breathe but she wanted to do it somewhere alone so she could get her thoughts in order and sort out her crazy, unbelievable life. A life which was already pretty unbelievable, say, because it included kings of secret sects of society and enchanted castles in tiny, unknown, independent countries in the depths of Scotland. But now she was forced to come to terms with the fact that she had to share that life with an arrogant, self-absorbed, philandering werewolf.
“It’ll only take a minute, baby doll, and then back to bed,” he told her, not pausing in leading her down the steps.
If whatever it was would only take a minute, which seeing someone, talking to them or eating and drinking the way Callum’s people did would take longer than that, she followed without protest.
At the front door, he stopped her and turned her to him.
“One last thing,” he muttered and his hand went into the pocket of his jeans.
She watched, her breath catching, as he pulled out her wedding rings.
How?
What?
Again, how?
What, did he have backups or something?
He lifted her limp hand and slid them on her finger.
Then he lifted her hand further and bent his head to it where his lips touched her rings and brushed her finger.
Her stomach clenched, her heart leaped and her sinuses tingled with unshed tears.
That was how you put wedding rings on a woman’s finger.
Then just his eyes came to her, his lips remained at her hand and he said quietly, but very, very firmly, “Never take these off again, little one. Hear me?”
She was too stunned. She could do nothing but silently nod.
He lifted his head, squeezed her hand and then pulled her a bit back from the door. He opened it and, hand still in hers, he guided her numb body outside.
She almost stumbled at what she saw.
Across the clearing at the foot of the steps, around the fountain, even up the hill, not to mention tall warriors flanking the sides of the steps, stood Callum’s people.
Even Regan, Ryon, Caleb, Lucien and Leah were standing along the top of the landing.
All of them silent, some of them carrying candles, others holding bunches of flowers or tins.
All of them looking at the castle, looking at her.
In her robe!
Callum led her to the edge of the top landing where he stopped and pulled her into his side with his arm carefully wound around her shoulders.
Nearly the minute they stopped and nearly at once, every last wolf dropped to their knee, hand to the snow or stone, head bowed (though Lucien and Leah didn’t, of course, not being wolves and all).
Sonia quit breathing and learned that, even not breathing, you could still cry.
When she started breathing again, she whispered, “Oh my God.”
“They need to see you’re all right,” Callum murmured.