He hung his head. “My behaviour last night. Please allow me to apologise. It was unconscionable. If I had known who you were, I would never… I can’t possibly make amends.”
“Pish-tosh.” Rue sounded so like her mother it startled a few of the other werewolves into smiles. “You didn’t hurt one hair on my pelt. There is nothing to apologise for. What’s a little growling between family, hmm?”
Uncle Channing lifted his head, icy eyes hot with hope. “You aren’t angry?”
“Of course I’m not angry. It’s not your fault.”
Uncle Channing looked like he wanted to protest. Only someone behind Rue said in a gravelly voice, “Channing, did you growl at my daughter?”
Rue spun to find her father looming in the parlour doorway with his wife, a slightly smaller loom, behind him. She was holding his hand. Keeping him mortal.
He seemed to be wholly Paw, tired but otherwise nothing like the creature she had encountered that afternoon.
“Paw, good, there you are.”
He ignored her. “Channing?”
“It was all in good fun, wasn’t it, Uncle Channing? And Uncle Rabiffano was there to keep the peace. Nice of him, actually,” Rue prattled, squeezing past her father and into the back parlour. “Good evening, Mother.”
“Infant.”
Rue glared at her parents’ joined hands. “Got your hands full this evening, have you?”
Lady Maccon was a mite taken aback by her daughter’s tone. “I don’t quite comprehend your meaning.”
“How long, exactly, have you had your hands full, Mother? Since before I left for India or is this a new occurrence? Paw, would you please close the door and come in? Good night, Uncle Channing. Perhaps we will talk again a little later? No hard feelings, I promise.”
Uncle Channing nodded at her, looking relieved, but he did not move. His Alpha had not yet dismissed him.
Paw gave him one more dominating glare. “Major.” He slammed the door in his Gamma’s face.
Lady Maccon focused on her daughter. “What’s happened, infant?”
Rue examined her mother. Lady Maccon seemed more frustrated than was normal, even for her. If she’s been holding Paw back from insanity, she’s had to stay touching him, flesh to flesh, whenever they were both awake. Rue had never once doubted that her parents adored one another, but that kind of thing would strain any marriage.
“Had a little bit of a chat with Paw earlier. Although, I did most of the chatting. Paw was there but he also wasn’t if you take my meaning?”
Mother’s face blanched, as much as it could, for she was swarthy. She collected herself and tsked. “Oh for goodness’ sake, you two, let’s sit like a proper family.”
They sat and stared at one another in awkward silence, which was quite familial.
Paw broke it. “Little one, did I drop by for a visit this afternoon? Or was that a dream?”
“I thought werewolves didn’t dream.” Rue didn’t answer his question.
He continued musing. “I did stop by. I’m certain of it. Massive ladybug ship. And you were there and so was that blister Lefoux. And he was kissing you!” His voice rose.
Then he rose as well and marched back to the door, ripping it open. Luckily it was built for such abuse.
“Channing!”
Uncle Channing reappeared with more than supernatural speed, suggesting that he had been listening at keyholes, although with werewolf hearing a keyhole wasn’t necessary.
Paw didn’t care. “As a personal favour, I’d like you to go keep an eye on this Quesnel scrapper. You know him, Lefoux’s spawn. He seems to be hunting rather the wrong prey.”
“Oh, really, Paw!” Rue was moved to protest.
With a nod and an avaricious gleam in his eyes, Channing clapped his top hat to his head and headed out.
Lady Maccon took this all in stride and stayed focused on her daughter. “Kissing? In public? Is that wise?”
Lord Maccon slammed the door… again… and rounded on his wife. “How can you be so calm? He was encroaching on our daughter!”
“Husband,” said Lady Maccon in that tone, “sit down! Our Rue has her majority. I should hope she has had more kissing than I at twenty-one. Young women need some experience. Rue, dear, remind me to discuss the precautionary arts with you at some point soon.”
Rue looked nonplussed. She supposed she ought to have expected this from Mother. Lady Maccon always had a ready answer that was slightly more practical than anyone expected.
Lord Maccon sputtered. “But he was kissing her! And he is quite a bit older. And she was letting him. And people saw.”
Lady Maccon raised her free hand in an awfully familiar silencing gesture. “Now, now, let’s take this one step at a time. Prudence Alessandra Maccon Akeldama—”
Uh-oh, full name. I may actually be in trouble. “Yes, Mother?”
“I will allow that kissing someone is indeed necessary for your education.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
“Although your father may not agree with me.”