THE CRY OF THE WOLF

CHAPTER 3: STORMS OF INSIGHT

Lanecea's gown, befitting a noblewoman in New France in 1673, was a masterpiece of elegance and opulence. The deep emerald green silk shimmered in the flickering lamplight, its rich hue echoing the iridescence of her captivating eyes. The gown's bodice was intricately embroidered with gold thread, forming delicate patterns of vines and flowers that seemed to dance across the fabric. The neckline, tastefully low, was edged with fine lace that hinted at the porcelain skin beneath, while the sleeves flared gracefully at the elbows, ending in soft, billowing cuffs that added a touch of whimsy to her stately appearance.

A voluminous skirt flowed from the cinched waist, cascading in luxurious folds that whispered softly with her every step. The hem was adorned with a border of hand-stitched motifs, reminiscent of the flora and fauna of the New World, a testament to Lanecea's love for blending the old and the new. A delicate, gossamer-thin shawl draped over her shoulders, providing a subtle contrast to the gown's rich fabric and protecting her from the evening's chill.

As Lanecea made her way to the dining room, her two majestic white wolves flanking her, the storm outside seemed to mirror the tumult within her mind. The soft glow of candlelight cast a warm, golden hue over her, highlighting the intricate details of her attire and the elegant curves of her figure. Her dark brown hair, flowing in loose waves down her back, framed her face, accentuating the intensity of her expression.

Despite her troubled thoughts over learning about LaSalle's impending murder, there was an air of anticipation in her step as she eagerly awaited Storm's return. The scent of cedarwood and the distant rumble of thunder accompanied her through the halls, creating an atmosphere charged with both tension and hope. Lanecea's presence, commanding and graceful, was a beacon in the storm, her gown a symbol of the timeless elegance and strength she embodied.

Storm entered Timeless Haven through the back door, his presence immediately commanding the space with a blend of rugged charm and quiet strength. The wind from the storm outside tousled his dark hair, adding to his roguish appeal, and the dim light caught the weathered lines of his face, each one a testament to his many experiences. His broad shoulders and athletic build were accentuated by a dark, tailored coat, giving him an air of both resilience and nobility befitting his status as Lord Cumming.

Behind him, the ancient oak grove surrounding the hotel rustled and sighed in the storm's grip, a fitting backdrop to his dramatic arrival. The oak trees, with their gnarled branches and deep roots, mirrored the timeless strength and steadfastness Storm embodied. LaSalle, his guest for the evening, followed closely, casting glances around with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation as they stepped into the sanctuary of the hotel.

Inside, the ambiance shifted from the wild fury of the storm to the warm, inviting glow of candlelight. The rich scent of burning cedarwood mingled with the faint, comforting aroma of old books. Storm's piercing blue eyes immediately sought out Lanecea, who awaited them in the grand hallway. Her waist-length dark brown hair flowed freely, and her iridescent green eyes, filled with a blend of worry and relief, met his gaze.

"Lady Cumming," Storm greeted her with a slight bow, his voice carrying both warmth and formality. The title, though often used in jest, carried a genuine respect and acknowledgment of her unique presence and authority. Lanecea's gown, befitting a noblewoman of New France in 1673, shimmered in the lamplight, adding to her ethereal allure.

As Storm and LaSalle approached, Lanecea's mind raced with the weight of the knowledge she had yet to share. The impending murder of LaSalle loomed heavily on her thoughts, a secret she had not yet divulged to Storm. Her husband's calm, steady presence was a source of comfort, but she knew the revelation would change the evening's tone significantly.

LaSalle, unaware of the grim future that Lanecea foresaw, appeared intrigued by the hotel's rich historical ambiance. His demeanour, a mix of scholarly interest and the cautious respect of a man of his time, contrasted with Storm's solid, grounded nature.