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otherwise occupied and had given him her keys so he could bring
    Catherine’s morning meal. Catherine was only slightly mollified as she pulled her robe
    tighter around her, but had no desire to take her frustrations out on someone who had
    not been a party to her predicament.
    Jacob placed Catherine’s breakfast tray on the little table sitting before the western
    bank of windows and uncovered a pungent omelet stuffed with sharp cheese,
    mushrooms, crispy bacon and peppered with some sort of green herb. He pulled out
    her chair and waited until she was seated before shaking out a linen napkin and placing
    it in her lap. He looked at her quizzically as she placed a hand on his black-clad arm.
    “Are all the prince’s guests locked in their room at night, Jacob?” she signed to the
    butler as he waited for her to make her wishes known.
    Jacob nodded solemnly. He lifted his hands and told her it was for her own good.
    “Why?” Catherine demanded.
    The butler’s eyes shifted to the window and his face took on the look of one who is
    acutely uncomfortable. When he looked back down at her, he shrugged helplessly. He
    signed that it was for the best and that she should not question the master’s motives in
    wanting to protect her.
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    Charlotte Boyett-Compo
    “Is he up yet?” Catherine asked.
    Jacob shook his head and told her it would be late afternoon before the prince
    would be able to see her. He would sleep until sunset.
    “Is he ill?” Catherine asked.
    Once more Jacob shrugged helplessly, his hands up beside his shoulders as though
    to say things were beyond his ability to understand. He smiled gently then turned to go,
    stopping politely as Catherine rushed to him and took his arm.
    “Where is Nyria?” she signed.
    Jacob’s face darkened, his eyes narrowed into unforgiving slits. “With the master,”
    he signed with disdain.
    Catherine felt her face turn red for there was no denying the implication of neither
    Jacob’s words nor the staunch disapproval his quick signing exhibited. Embarrassed,
    Catherine rapidly changed the subject.
    “Last night,” she said, “there was an animal—”
    Jacob shook his head vehemently and turned to go but stopped again when she laid
    a restraining hand on his arm. “Do not concern yourself with the beast, Lady
    Catherine,” he signed.
    “Is it a dog or a wolf?” she asked. “I could not tell in the rain.”
    Jacob looked at her, his dark cinnamon eyes seeming to see all the way to her soul
    and beyond. He sighed deeply. “Keep away from the beast for as long as you can,
    milady,” he warned her, his hands moving quickly.
    “Is it that dangerous?” she wanted to know.
    Jacob thought a moment and then shook his head. “Not to you,” he told her.
    “It was making a terrible racket last night,” she said, and watched Jacob nod his
    agreement. “I thought it might have been hurt.”
    The butler’s forehead crinkled in such a way it was obvious to Catherine he was
    trying to decide whether to tell her something or not. Finally, he let out a long breath
    then lifted his hands.
    “He seeks a mate,” Jacob signed. “One with whom he may spend eternity.” His
    eyes bore into hers. “One for whom he would destroy all mankind in order to protect.”
    Catherine blinked, puzzled by the odd statement. There was a sound at the door
    and she turned to see a sullen Nyria standing just outside her room.
    “The master bid me see to your needs,” Nyria stated. She raked her dark gaze over
    Jacob and the mute butler was quick to leave, moving past the housekeeper in such a
    way it seemed he was loath to touch her person in any manner. “Lord Bahru is still
    abed and sent me away when I knocked at his door.”
    Catherine could feel the temperature of the room drop as Nyria stood there glaring
    at her. The woman’s lips were swollen—as were her eyes—and there was such stark
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    Shades of the Wind
    emotion in her look it could not be mistaken for anything other