“You got it, Kate.” He started off again.
They managed to get partway around the circular drive before Angela Sapworthy blocked their retreat. She’d marshaled her camera crew, as well.
“Kate, may I have a quick word?” Angela usually dressed to startle. Today she’d paired tight silver pants with turquoise boots and a turquoise quilted jacket. Her hair, an improbable shade of red that veered toward magenta, had been waxed and sprayed into a punk style that made Kate think of a scarlet porcupine.
Reminding herself that Angela’s tabloid journalism had become all the rage with Weres, Kate squelched the urge to refuse an interview. Even her refusal would become a story or a Sniff, so she might as well try to take control of the news about her. Or about her sister. As she climbed down from the snowmobile, she mentally prepared herself for a question concerning Penny.
Angela motioned to the cameraman and spoke into her handheld mike. “I’m talking now with none other than Kate Stillman, who has just this minute returned from her harrowing adventure. How was your night with Duncan MacDowell, King of the Woofers?”
Kate frowned. “King of the Woofers? When did that happen?”
“I see you’re a few Sniffs behind, Kate. When you said he was no prince, his followers crowned him King of the Woofers. Your followers, of course, crowned you Queen of the Howlers. So tell me, does he snore?” Angela’s glistening red mouth turned up in a carefully orchestrated smile.
Kate remembered that she had zero makeup on. Oh, well. “I thought I was in the middle of a Chainsaw Massacre film festival, Angela. My ears still hurt.” She returned the reporter’s smug smile.
Angela shuddered prettily. “Dreadful. But then, I’m not surprised. Duncan is such a beast.” She gave the word plenty of sexual innuendo. “All that testosterone. Sharing a cabin with him must have been an exhausting experience.”
“You have no idea, Angela. As you can imagine, I’m eager to get back to my suite and freshen up.”
“Of course you are. Such an ordeal. Still, I’m sure he’s magnificent when he’s angry. And you do know how to taunt the beast, Kate.”
“He’s easier to manage when he’s jet-lagged. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really should—”
“One more thing. Have you heard from your sister, Penelope, recently?”
Kate kept her expression and tone of voice carefully neutral. “Yes, of course. We communicate on a regular basis.” Regular meaning two or three times a year. But she hadn’t lied. Penny had sent her a short e-mail last week wishing her good luck with the conference.
That was Penny, always classy. Kate was campaigning against the choice Penny had made, and yet she didn’t seem to hold it against her little sister. A familiar ache gripped Kate’s heart at the memory of that brief e-mail.
“Woofers have been asking, as I’m sure you would expect, how you can insist that Were-human mating is so terrible when your sister has chosen that route.”
“Penelope and I hold different views on the subject. That doesn’t mean I love her any less. Now I really must go. The conference has already begun, and I’m expected to be there.”
“There’s a rumor that Penelope will make an appearance this weekend to support the Woofer cause.”
Kate’s pulse quickened. Surely not. Penny had dropped out of pack activities completely and distanced herself from her immediate family. God knew what she’d told her husband, Tom, but he must have accepted the estrangement in addition to the invented story about a blood disorder.
The poor guy might even think the rift was his fault because he didn’t measure up. In a way, he was right, but it wasn’t anything he could fix. Their mother and father would have loved to spend time with Penny, her husband, and her children, as would Kate. But Penny had decided it was safer to minimize all contact.
But Angela was waiting, a gleam of triumph in her heavily made-up eyes, for Kate to respond. Kate gave the only answer that might end this line of questioning. “I hadn’t heard that, but if she comes, I would be happy to see her.” She hopped on the snowmobile. “Great talking to you, Angela!”
Ryan responded to that cue and sped off, sending a rooster tail of snow into the air. Kate wondered if some of that snow had landed on Angela. And if the cameraman caught it. She hoped so.
Duncan watched as Kate got caught in Angela Sapworthy’s web. At least he assumed that was Angela with the red spiky hair and tight silver pants. He’d never met her in person, but the presence of a camera crew and Kate’s obvious reluctance as she climbed down from the snowmobile told him he was right.
He hated seeing Kate waylaid like that, but he couldn’t very well go to her rescue. He had his hands full with Neil Stillman, who seemed determined to be his new BFF, as they said in the USA. Climbing off the snowmobile, Duncan thanked the driver and started up the snowy walkway to the main entrance accompanied, inevitably, by Neil.
“Everyone’s referring to you as King of the Woofers now,” Neil said.
“Everyone?” As a Scotsman, Duncan had a built-in prejudice against the term king, which conjured images of British royalty. Centuries had passed, but a true Scotsman never forgot.
“Well, the Woofers, I meant to say. They came up with it after Kate sent the Sniff saying you were no prince. So you’ve been upgraded.”
“That’s just silly. I—” A feminine cry of dismay made him turn around. If Angela had caused Kate to cry out like that, he might have to interfere, after all.
But no, Angela was the one who was upset, and covered in snow, to boot. The snowmobile carrying Kate zipped around the corner of the building, but Duncan had no trouble figuring out what had happened. He chuckled.
“That was a bad move on Kate’s part,” Neil said. “You don’t want to make an enemy of Angela Sapworthy.”
“I’m sure it was an accident.”
“Come on, MacDowell. You just spent more than twelve hours with Kate, so you know what she’s like. Think about that for a minute and then tell me her little stunt was an accident.”
“She wasn’t driving the snowmobile. How could she have engineered that maneuver on purpose?”
Neil studied him. “Surely you’re not defending the Queen of the Howlers.”
“Of course I’m not, but…what did you call her?”
“Once the Howlers found out about your title, they had to give her one. I’m sure she’ll love it.”
Duncan shook his head. “It’s childish. I’m going to put a stop to it.”
“Good luck with that. It’s all over Sniffer and once something catches on, you can’t do much about it. Those titles have taken on a life of their own. I’ve already seen pictures of each of you with a crown Photoshopped on your head.”
“Ridiculous.” Duncan sighed. “Well, I suppose I’d better get in there.” He started up the walkway again.
“Duncan! Duncan MacDowell!”
His shoulders hunched. Apparently even being covered in snow didn’t deter Angela from her appointed rounds.
“Take my advice,” Neil said. “Give her a quick interview. She’s already leaning toward the Woofer side, and after Kate blasted her with a rooster tail just now, you’ll have her eating out of your hand.”
“There’s an unappealing image.”
Neil laughed. “Sorry.”
“Duncan, may I have a quick word?”
He turned and did his best to keep a straight face. Angela looked as if she’d been dipped in vanilla frosting. Snow clung to her spiky hair, clustered on her dangly earrings, rested in drifts on the shoulders of her turquoise jacket, and splattered like well-aimed snowballs all over her silver pants.
But to her credit, she retained her poise. “I couldn’t let you go inside without one quick interview.” She turned to her cameraman and raised her mike. “As you can see, I met with a small accident following my interview with Kate Stillman. She’ll be getting the cleaning bill.” Angela’s laughter had a slight edge to it. “I’m talking now with her counterpart in this battle, Duncan MacDowell, and I’m sorry to tell you he did not arrive in a kilt as I’d hoped. Did you bring your kilt, Duncan?”
“I did, but I won’t be wearing it until our formal dinner at the end of the conference.”
“Wonderful! I’m sure all the females will be waiting for the moment when they can admire the King of the Woofers in full regalia!”
“Just let me say, Angela, that I’m not comfortable being called a king of anything.”
“And he’s extremely humble, folks! Is there a sexier combination than a great-looking Were with humility? I think not!”
“Seriously, I would like to ask the Woofers to forgo giving me that title. I—”
“Too late, Duncan. They’ve already held the coronation. They were positively jubilant at the way you came out fighting during last night’s Sniffer exchange. They’re also boasting of your gallantry in your last Sniff. Complimenting her on being a worthy opponent made her look ungracious by comparison. At least that’s how this reporter sees it.” Angela’s eyes glittered with malice.
Duncan groaned inwardly. Poor Kate. Her attempt to even the Sniffer score last night had worked against her. Or, if not, Angela Sapworthy would make sure that it did. He began to understand the part Angela would play this weekend, and it wasn’t small.
He was in a no-win situation. If he told Angela that he’d wanted to send a more antagonistic post and Kate had talked him into a more civil one, then he’d either arouse suspicion about their relationship or get more points for gallantry. His best bet was to get away from Angela as soon as possible.
“I really should get inside,” he said. “I hope they haven’t gone ahead with the council elections.”
“Of course not. They wouldn’t consider having elections without you. Get on in there and claim your place, Duncan MacDowell.”
If he hadn’t been so irritated with her, he would have laughed. She’d managed to dismiss him rather than the other way around. “Then I’ll bid you good-bye.” He turned and started up the walkway once again.
“And there he goes, folks. King of the Woofers!”
“Damn it,” he muttered, ducking his head.
“Get used to it,” Neil said as he opened one of two large and intricately carved entrance doors. “Your subjects await you.”
Duncan walked into the lobby and was immediately surrounded by a crowd of boisterous Weres, both males and females, wearing Woofer buttons and waving Woofer signs. Overwhelmed by the barrage, Duncan didn’t read any of the buttons or signs, but he heard the words of welcome. The language was English, the official choice for the conference, but the accents were from all over the world.
As he fought to get his bearings, a female emerged from the crowd bearing a gold crown on a purple velvet pillow. A chant arose from the group. “King of the Woofers! King of the Woofers!”
Duncan tried to protest, but he was shouted down. The female Were looked so happy to be presenting him with this crown, which someone must have obtained with a great deal of trouble on such short notice. He couldn’t figure out a way to refuse it without crushing her and ruining the mood of the enthusiastic crowd.
And he wanted them all to be enthusiastic. They believed in the cause he held dear, and this weekend he hoped to convince the delegates to adopt a resolution to end the secrecy. Wearing a crown for a few minutes might be the price he had to pay.
Kneeling down, he allowed her to place the crown on his head amid cheers from the group that surrounded him. When he stood again, some instinct made him glance across the lobby. Kate stood there watching the spectacle.
She’d changed into a purple long-sleeved T-shirt with a logo on the front, no doubt the Howler logo. She was too far away for him to gauge her expression, but he could only imagine how she’d react to the idea of him wearing a crown. He wondered whether she’d been offered one yet, and what she would do if she was. Her gaze locked with his for a brief moment before she turned away, almost as if signaling that she’d seen enough.
He had trouble believing that only hours ago he’d held her nak*d in his arms while he listened to her cries of pleasure. It seemed impossible, and the gulf between them widened with every passing moment. He despaired of ever bridging it again.
Chapter 8
Sniffer Update: @newshound—King is crowned but Queen has no tiara! Apparently royalty doesn’t suit everyone. #hailtotheking
Kate was eternally grateful to Heidi for running interference with the Howlers. Someone had contacted Heidi about giving Kate a tiara, and Heidi had told them how much Kate would loathe wearing one during the conference. Kate’s organization had always functioned democratically, and the concept of promoting her to the status of queen within a group united by an idea seemed wrong. Perhaps one day she’d be a pack leader with all the authority that implied, but the Howlers were a movement, not a pack.
She’d just happened to be in the lobby when Duncan was crowned, and she’d hurt for him. He didn’t have someone like Heidi, whose official job was Kate’s assistant at Furthebest, but who served as Kate’s right-hand Were in so many other capacities, including monitoring the Howler movement. So Duncan had been stuck with a crown. Finally she hadn’t been able to watch anymore and had left.
By the time everyone gathered in the lodge’s grand ballroom to open the conference and hold the election, she noticed that Duncan had found a way to ditch the crown. Knowing him as she now did, he’d probably done it with charm and grace so the hapless Woofers who’d thought it was such a great idea wouldn’t end up with hurt feelings.
Even though Kate hadn’t been at the lodge to oversee final preparations for today’s session, she was pleased to note that the staff had followed the directions she and her grandmother had given them. They’d set up the room with two blocks of folding chairs facing the dais and an aisle down the middle. A number of chairs were lined up on the dais, as well, and a lectern stood in front of them.