“Warrick!”
I frowned and glanced up at my father. Months had passed since Eira had returned my ring. She’d also returned all the gifts I’d given her.
What did that matter? I was the wolf, after all. And now I was in the process of considering ways of getting Thomas into my bed once he returned—I’d learned he was on his way home.
“Yes, Father?” I didn’t relish being disturbed. I made a show of raising my wine glass to my lips, although I didn’t drink. My dinner also sat before me, untouched. The taste no longer suited me; it was too well-done, not seasoned with fear.
My father stood leaning heavily on my ebony walking stick, which I never used anymore. The silver wolf’s head…displeased me. “Delicia…”
“Ah, the lovely Miss Corbyn. Would she be interested in having tea with me one afterno
