The defense was automatic.
“Yeah, it is. You might not see it, but I do.” He patted Dillon’s shoulder. “All joking aside, something’s wrong. You’ve always been ornery, aggressive, but I figure after what you went through…” when Dillon growled at him, Mason amended, “…not that I know the details, but I figured you had the right to carry that chip on your shoulder. Since you met Isabeau, it’s worse.”
Dillon’s throat tightened. “Get to the point.”
“My dad believes every Evanti had a set number of years in him before…” Mason’s expression shuttered. “Before mating becomes an imperative.” His voice cracked, a kid convincing himself what he said next was the truth. “He loves my mother, he does, but he’s convinced that meeting her was a right-time, right-place kind of deal. That he was ready to mate and she was…” He left the sentence hanging. “The point is, you’re getting older. Clayton settled down and now Harper has too.” He held his hands up to fend off Dillon’s response. “All I’m saying is being single is great.” He grimaced. “But there comes a time when you want more, no matter what you’ve been through or where you come from, you want one person who knows your worst and forgives it.”
“You think I’m courting a mate.” Dillon’s mouth parched at the thought.
“The signs are there.” Mason shrugged. “I take it you weren’t seeing them.”
“I kissed Isabeau for her own good.” Dillon scowled when Mason coughed into his fist. “You saw how she showed up here. She was half naked, and every male in the colony was salivating at the border waiting on her to cross it.” His reasons had sounded logical in his head, yet rang hollow. “You saw that crowd.” He modulated his tone. “She would have been hurt if I hadn’t intervened. Then what would Emma have done? She would have strangled me for starters.”
“And was making out here, in the tent, in the dark, after a suspected theft, all for her too?”
The razor edge of sanity cut Dillon too late and not nearly deep enough. After Mason’s revelation, one thing was for damn sure. Dillon wasn’t going anywhere near that tent. Not tonight. Not until Isabeau left. “Drop what you’re doing and make sure Isabeau makes it to my tent. I don’t want her getting lost out here.” There were too many males eager for what she had to offer. “Post a trustworthy guard outside my tent. No one enters and she doesn’t leave. Got it?”
Isabeau couldn’t be his, but damn if he’d let anyone else have her.
I kept my back to the tent, giving the impression of awaiting my escort. Straining my ears, I listened to Mason and Dillon’s low murmurs behind me. One phrase stuck. I kissed Isabeau for her own good . I would have laughed if my chest weren’t so tight. His admission made my next move easier. I unbuttoned Dillon’s shirt and let it fall. Several males cut their eyes my way, but none of them approached me and none said anything untoward.
I’d have to try harder.
My fingers were trailing the fabric of my top when the flap rustled behind me. I jumped, arms snapping to my sides and heat rushing up the back of my neck. An apology balanced on the tip of my tongue before I noticed it was Mason and not Dillon who was staring at me quizzically.
“Dillon said you’re staying with him tonight.” He made it sound like a bad move on my part.
“He offered me his bed, yes.” My embarrassment was genuine. “We won’t be sharing it.”
“Huh.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “If you say so. You ready?”
A glimpse at the tent flap showed me it was closed. “If you are.”
Heeding Dillon’s advice, I began counting my steps so I could find my way back here.
“I do have one question.” I let my fingers take over ticking off each stride so I could talk. “Where are my saddlebags?” The grimoire was invisible, for now, but it wasn’t intangible. Sweat beaded my lip from the strain of
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