The Marchioness Strikes Back,His Mistress Picked the Wrong Woman

Celeste dabbed at her tears, stealing a glance toward the carriage from the corner of her eye.

Nana Ashwick, the old nursemaid at her side, stepped forward. The sour undertone of stale dried herbs and tallow rolled off her in waves as she raised her voice for the crowd. "Bonded mate of Ferris Shadowmere, bearing pups for your mate is a she-wolf's most basic duty. You can't conceive yourself, haven't produced a single pup in years, and now our mistress carries the heir's flesh and blood. You ought to be on your knees baring your throat in gratitude, welcoming her through those gates with full ceremony."

"She's delicate. The young master never lets anyone cause our mistress the slightest distress. You stand there ignoring her, leaving her to kneel in the dirt. If something happens to the pup because of you, can you bear that responsibility?"

Whispers rippled through the crowd. I signaled Rosalind to draw back the curtain, then fixed a cold stare on the beautiful woman kneeling below the carriage. Something in her scent nagged at me. Honeysuckle and warm milk, sweet enough on the surface, but beneath it a thread of something overripe, like bruised peaches left too long in the sun. My wolf stirred, uneasy, hackles prickling along the back of my awareness. "How far along are you?"

Celeste answered with a demure blush. "This humble she-wolf was taken in by the heir nine moon cycles ago. The pup in my womb is eight moons along."

I looked at her with undisguised contempt. "So for nine moon cycles, the heir hasn't brought you into the pack estate. Why is that? Is your bloodline too shameful to speak of? Or is the pup not his?"

"If he truly treasured you, why would he keep you hidden away as a secret mate?"

The crowd murmured in agreement. It was a fair point. If a wolf truly cherished a she-wolf, he would have brought her before the pack and given her a proper bond long ago. Why wait until she was nearly due?

Celeste's eyes brimmed over, and she wept aloud. "Only because Celeste had to observe three years of mourning for her late father and could not take a mate during that time. That is the only reason it has been delayed. Celeste's virtue is beyond reproach. I am not that kind of she-wolf."

"Why must you humiliate me, my lady? Is it simply because I come from a lesser pack that I must be a she-wolf of loose morals? What do you take common wolves like us for?"

"She's right. This is too much."

"Just because she's the heir's bonded mate, she thinks she can look down on everyone?"

"So high and mighty, and she can't even carry a single pup. The heir ought to sever the bond and be done with it."

The crowd's mood shifted, fed by Celeste's words, turning hostile toward me. Wolves always resented those of ancient bloodline. Now that someone had made this about high-born versus common, they were all too eager to see the privileged brought low.

Celeste wiped her tears again and spoke. "Now that the three years of mourning are complete, Celeste finally dares to come before my lady and beg entry into the pack. The heir's firstborn pup cannot be born outside these walls. If the pup were, the child's legitimacy would forever be questioned. Surely that would only invite ridicule."

Heads nodded throughout the crowd.

Rosalind looked ready to breathe fire. "What a shameless little fox! My lady, say the word and I'll drag her out of here. She can't even find the right pack to grovel at, and here she is running her filthy mouth."

I motioned for Rosalind to pull the curtain aside fully. My face, half-veiled behind gauze, appeared before the onlookers.

I stepped down from the carriage, slow and deliberate, and came to a stop before her. My wolf pressed close to the surface, watchful, reading the air. Every instinct told me this woman's distress was performance, but the crowd couldn't smell what I smelled. Nana Ashwick took one look at the veil covering my face and let a sneer curl across her lips. "So that's why the Luna won't let our mistress through the gates. Afraid that once a younger, prettier she-wolf moves in, she'll steal whatever affection the heir has left for you."

"You are a few years older than our mistress, after all. Males prefer a pretty young thing in their den. That's just the way of the world. Every pack has its share of bonded mates and kept wolves. Why cling so stubbornly to something you've already lost?"

Celeste shuffled forward on her knees until she was right at my feet. She tilted her face upward, lovely as carved jade, and gazed at me. "I beg my lady's mercy."

The moment the words left her lips, she tugged the hem of my skirt from an angle no one else could see, then threw herself backward. Her hands flew to her stomach and she screamed, "My lady, please, spare my pup! Don't kick my stomach!"

Agony twisted her features. She crumpled to the ground, both hands pressed tight over her belly, tears streaming down her face.

Nana Ashwick shrieked. "Mistress! What happened to you?!"

Then she whipped around and glared at me, eyes blazing. "Even if you are the heir's bonded mate, that gives you no right to lay hands on a she-wolf carrying young! She's about to whelp! You strike now, and you'll be killing two lives. Is that what you want?!"