Susan Krinard - Come the Night

But he had agreed that she ought to allow Toby some contact with his father. Even if he hadn’t, she would have relied on her own judgment, not his.

Judgment she had begun to doubt more and more as the day went on.

As for Ethan…He had always been protective when they were children, angry when her father had been more critical than usual or had made it difficult for her to leave Snowfell to meet him. When they’d met again as adults, after a separation enforced by Sir Averil and facilitated by Ethan’s years away in Europe and the East, she’d told him about Toby’s real parentage, but she’d made it very clear that she had no desire to rekindle her past with her American lover. She couldn’t guess why he would be so upset about her having met with Ross.

After returning the receiver to its cradle, Gillian stepped out of the room. She was relieved to find the hall empty. Moving quickly to the stairs, she paused at the landing. She heard the low hum of Ross’s voice and the higher pitch of Toby’s light alto coming from Toby’s room.

The temptation to listen was great, but she deliberately closed her ears and continued on to her room. She would bide her time until she could speak to Toby herself, and then she would be free to spend the rest of the night alone.

Alone with the cruel little voice that kept asking her if she’d made the worst mistake of her life on that painful day twelve years ago.

GRIFFIN WAS WAITING for Ross at the bottom of the staircase.

As restrained as Grif had been compared to Allie, Ross had a feeling he wasn’t going to get away without answering a few questions. He’d noticed the way Griffin had watched first him and then Gillian, silently appraising, his golden eyes narrowing from time to time as he listened to their brief exchanges…or lack of them.

Whatever Grif was thinking, it was better that he knew at least some of the facts rather than speculate and come up with all the wrong ideas.

“How about that drink?” Ross suggested.

“Has Mrs. Delvaux retired?” Griffin asked.

“I haven’t seen her since I went up.” Ross passed Griffin and walked into the summer parlor, heading straight for the sideboard. “What she told you was the truth, you know.”

Griffin considered Ross from the doorway, one brow cocked. “Which part?” he asked.

“About our meeting while I was recuperating in a London hospital.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Ross poured himself a brandy. “We got pretty close back then. You know how it was. People formed strong bonds during the War, and it didn’t really matter who you were or where you came from.”

“I remember.”

“Anyway, she got married, and I went on to join the force.” He paused, wondering if Grif had heard anything about the scandal while he and Allie had been away. “I didn’t hear from her until she phoned me from England a couple of weeks ago. She thought we should meet again for old times’ sake.”

“Old times,” Griffin repeated. He wandered toward the windows. “You don’t have to play these games with me. I owe you more than I can repay. I would never presume to judge you.”

Ross downed the drink and poured another before he had time to think. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And I would accept that, Ross, if it weren’t so clear that you’re in some kind of trouble.”

He didn’t know. Ross expelled his breath. “And you think this ‘trouble’ I’m in has something to do with an old friend from the War?”

“She’s more than an old friend, isn’t she?”

The second drink disappeared in seconds. Ross set the glass down a little too forcefully.

“We were close,” he said. “Very close. But it didn’t work out.”

Griffin sat on the sofa, stretching his arm across the back. “What about the boy?”

“What about him?”

“He’s yours, isn’t he?”

Ross could have denied it. If he had, Griffin might have left it alone. Or, white knight that he was, he might have decided to interfere anyway, his usual courtesy be damned.

“How could you tell?” Ross asked.

“A hunch.”

“That’s all? A hunch?”

“And the fact that you offered to take Toby up to bed. If you’d never met the child until recently…”

“I hadn’t.” Ross forced himself to walk away from the sideboard. “Look, it’s not something I want to talk about.”

“Did Mrs. Delvaux bring Toby to the States to see you?”

“No. And please don’t mention any of this to her. She and Toby…” He swallowed. “They might not be in New York much longer.”

“I see.”

“I doubt it.” The impulse to tell Griffin everything gnawed at Ross. He wished he could take the risk of getting drunk. “What do you think of the kid?”

“He seems a fine boy,” Grif said. “He looks very much like his mother.”

“I’d noticed that.” Ross paced across the room. Though it wasn’t small, it seemed far too confining. “He’s only part werewolf,” he said suddenly.

“Is that important?”

“It is to Ji—To Mrs. Delvaux.”

Griffin considered that in silence. “You’re worried about Toby.”

“I want to make sure he has a good life in England,” Ross said. He rubbed his hand across the unshaven stubble on his chin. “Hell. I’ve only known him two days, Grif. And seeing Jill again…”

“Allie told me she’s a widow.”

Ross wondered what sort of conversation she and Gillian had had. “Yeah.”

“Do you still love her?”

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