by Jessi Gage
Honesty’s eyes rolled to show their whites. Even though he’d come to a stop, he danced with agitation.
Constance’s voice rose on the air. “Wilhelm!”
He dropped Justice’s reins and raced to the loch.
“Wilhelm! Wolves! Get back, you!” That last had obviously been directed at the wolves. The edge of panic in her voice meant they were closing in on her. Lord help them.
He pushed his legs faster. Mid stride, he drew his double-edged axe. Rounding the trees, he took in the situation. Two wolves advanced on Constance, teeth bared. Their coats lacked luster and hollows showed at their hips. Their hunger would make them vicious. It also explained why they were targeting people—they were desperate.
“Behind me!” he yelled as he neared his lady.
She wasted no time obeying, scurrying backward with skirts gathered to aid her haste. The wise woman didn’t turn and give the wolves her back. Her bravery never ceased to amaze him.
He lusted to send her back to the horses. Atop Honesty, no wolf would be able to reach her. But he was no more inclined to trust her safety to spooked horses than to wolves. She would be safest here with him. No wild beast would touch her with him in front of her. He’d slay a thousand wolves to keep her safe.
Whirling his axe, he pressed forward. “Think you to make a meal of her, aye? I wouldna recommend it. Tough as tanned hide, my lady.”
Constance clucked her tongue. “Honestly, Wilhelm.”
He grinned at her chiding as he took two more steps forward.
The wolf on the right had a yellowish gray coat. It held its ground, but the other, slightly smaller wolf, backed up a step. A decisive show of strength would likely frighten the pair off. If need be, he’d fight the yellow one. The other wouldn’t pose a problem.
“Besides, you’ll have to get through me to take a bite of her.”
“Please be careful, please be careful, please be careful.” Constance’s murmuring filled him with pride. She cared for him. He wouldn’t fail her.
Wilhelm made the first move. He lunged to put himself nose to nose with the yellow wolf and carved his axe through the air. Wisely, the dominant beast scurried out of the way. Due to Wilhelm’s position, it had to move backward, away from Constance.
“Off with you, now. You’ve no business attacking men or women.” He sliced his axe through the air again for emphasis.
The meeker wolf stopped its growling and tucked its tail, but the yellow wolf kept up its vocal threat. It wouldn’t relent unless he proved his superiority. So be it.
Wilhelm charged, axe whistling toward the beast’s shoulder.
“Wilhelm! Look out!”
Somat collided with his side, knocking him to the ground. Pain shot up his arm. A third wolf!
The beast had come out of nowhere and struck at his elbow, exactly where the joint in his armor left him vulnerable. Were it not for his pourpoint, those wicked teeth might have sunk to the bone. As it was, discomfort flared at the wolf’s vise-like clamp, but it gave him an advantage. If he could just roll the beast beneath him and get his axe into position, he could use the wolf’s own body for leverage and slit the thing’s throat.
Before he could get a leg over the wolf to pin it, Constance rushed in.
What was she doing? She would get herself killed! “No! Back with you!”
Unsurprisingly, his lady didn’t listen.
Screaming like a Valkyrie, she stretched a length of linen over the wolf’s head as if she meant to smother it. To his utter shock, she began pummeling it. “Let go, you son of a bitch! Let go of him! I’ll kill you!”
Her punches jarred the wolf’s teeth in his flesh, but the pain only lasted a moment. The wolf released him with a snarl and aimed that vicious mouth at Constance. The growl of the yellow wolf grew closer.
If Wilhelm didn’t act swiftly, they would attack as a pack.
He launched to his feet and scooped Constance behind him. Wielding his axe one handed, he drew his broadsword with the other and passed it to her. ’Twas not a weapon he would trust in the hands of just any woman, but since his woman seemed disinclined to stand by and let him perform the rescue by himself, she had better have more than a piece of linen to defend herself.
The meek wolf trotted in circles, indecisive. But the other two still bared their teeth. Their ears flattened to their heads. Good. They’d drawn first blood. He would draw the last.
As the two larger wolves sprang forward in unison, battle lust struck him like lightning. The urge to protect his lady surged through his limbs. As always when he faced worthy foes, time seemed to slow. Every move his enemy made announced itself in advance.
He swung his blade with precision. With a single arc, his axe disabled the yellow wolf with a neck wound and lodged in the ribcage of the surprise attacker.
Both wolves fell. Because they were animals and not men who should face justice for attacking a woman, he ended their lives with swift mercy.
The meek wolf ran into the forest. It would not attack men again.
Flush with the thrill of victory, he turned to Constance and yanked her to him by her hip. The blade of his axe clinked with the broadsword in her hand, the tip of which rested in the sand.
She gasped. Her lips parted, and those eyes of every color widened. Her cape hung crookedly, and a lock of her hair formed a ragged loop as it came partly undone from its binding. Even disheveled and pale with fright, she was the bonniest sight he’d ever gazed upon.
The sword fell from her grasp and hit the ground with a slap.
He let the axe join it so he could wrap both his arms around her. Tight. Tighter. His.
He took her mouth while the battle lust still rode him. Lips and tongue more bold than was proper, he plundered the wet, welcoming heat of her.
A groan rumbled in his chest.
She answered with a whimper and matched his fervor, throwing her arms around his neck and crushing herself to him from thigh to chest.
A feeling of completion overwhelmed him. He lusted to lay her down on the beach and take her roughly and thoroughly. But where there were three hungry wolves, there might be more.
Tearing his mouth from hers, he growled, “We should make haste.”
She nodded, cheeks flushed. Her gaze jumped all around, avoiding his.
He grasped her chin. “Look at me, my Constant Rose.”
She did and swallowed hard.
“Why do you fash, lass?”
Pinning her shoulders back, she lifted her chin from his hold. “Just, you know, not used to wolf attacks.” A bushel full of words containing but a grain of truth.
He did not press her. Instead, he sheathed his weapons, took her hand, and led her in silence back to the horses.
He didn’t require his truth sense to ken it had upset her greatly to see him threatened. While fighting that third wolf, she had acted as a woman determined to protect what was hers.
Taking vows was merely a formality. They were as good as wed. Whatever he must do to make her his in the eyes of the crown, he would do, but they already belonged to each other. ’Twas as certain as rain in springtime.
As soon as they neared the horses, Constance tried to tug her hand away.
He didn’t let her go. Not only did he intent to assure himself the horses had calmed before trusting them near his lady, but he loathed the thought of losing contact with her. She might have been gravely injured or worse this day. Her touch assured him that she was alive and hale.
“Wait,” he said, pulling her close and wrapping an arm around her.
Honesty bobbed his head, agitated. His ears moved to and fro, searching for the sounds of predators. In contrast, Justice’s ears pricked forward at their approach. He knew his master well enough to interpret his lack of haste to mean he’d dealt with the threat.
“Easy, lads,” he cooed. “The beasties are gone.” Rather than go to his horse first, he left Constance with Justice and took Honesty’s reins with a firm hand. “You’ll be all r
ight then, aye, lad? Easy. Easy.”
The gelding lowered its head, seemingly reassured. Still, Wilhelm wouldn’t trust him to carry his lady just yet.
He peered back at Constance, keeping his movements slow. “Are you fit to ride? I’ll be taking Honesty for this stretch. You’ll have Justice.”
“No,” Constance said. Her face was still pale, but she kept her voice low, no doubt following his cues to keep the horses calm. “I’m not fit to ride. Not until I look at that arm of yours.”
She began plundering his saddle bag. “Do you have bandages in here? I suppose a first-aid kit is too much to hope for. No hydrogen peroxide in the fifteenth century. No Neosporin or Band-Aids. Not even Bag Balm, for crying out loud. None of it’s even been invented yet.”
Her pitch rose as she rattled off word after word he didn’t recognize. The curious tirade terminated on a hiccup.
He left Honesty to go to her. His lady’s emotional state was far more important than that of a horse. Clearly, the encounter with the wolves had greatly upset her.
She waved him away. “No. No. Never mind me. Forget everything I just said.”
Her eyes went wide—almost frightened—as she returned to her search. But what did she have to be frightened of now that the wolves were gone?
“Stupid,” she muttered to herself, resuming her search through Justice’s saddle bag. She kept her eyes on the bag, but she couldn’t hide her welling tears from him.
“Lass? What fashes you? We are safe now, you and I. And I vow to keep you safe. For all time, lass. You may trust me on that.” ’Twas a vow from the depths of his heart.
She froze with her hands deep in Justice’s saddle bag. After a long moment she lifted out somat large and brown and said, “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”
In her fist, she held her travelling sack. In her gaze was confusion and, worse, mistrust.
Chapter 17
Och, Wilhelm had forgotten all about the sack when he’d insisted Constance ride Justice. He’d planned to tell her about it gently before showing it to her. Her finding it like this couldn’t be worse for the fragile trust growing between them.
“You’ve had it the whole time.” She spoke as if her lips had gone numb. Her gaze was sharp as a brooch pin. Those eyes of every color accused him of keeping this from her to hurt her rather than to protect her.
“Not me. Terran.” He took a tentative step toward her. Then another. “He found Ruthven’s men pawing through it before he set the fire, and he took it. I did not intend for you to find it thusly.”
Clutching the sack to her chest, she backed away from him. “Of course you didn’t. You were holding onto it, waiting for the moment it would benefit you in some way. You’ll never stop with the questions, will you? And now you have something to hold over me. Right here. Proof that there’s something wrong about me, that I don’t belong here.”
Her chest rose and fell too quickly. Her pitch rose again until her voice trembled with unshed tears. He was learning this behavior indicated a crisis of emotion.
He reached out a hand, hoping she would trust him and take it. “Easy, lass. I am not your enemy. Never will I hurt you. Never.”
She ignored his offered hand, his offered comfort. “Surely, you’ve seen inside. Terran too. Oh. Of course.” Her gaze went distant, as if she’d forgotten he was there. She might have been talking to herself. “This explains why he threatened me. No wonder he questions my loyalty.”
“Terran threatened you? When?” He took another step closer.
His rising agitation robbed his movements of subtlety. How dare his cousin treat Constance harshly? He would have words with him when they met again.
Constance backed up again, quicker this time to match his increasing pace. “And you. You’ve been so nice to me, but it’s all to get me to let my guard down, isn’t it? I should have known. No one is nice just to be nice. Everyone wants something. What do you want, Wilhelm? What do you want from me?” Her back hit the peeling bark of a birch tree. The sack dangled from the fingers of her right hand.
He wasted no time capturing her shoulders. The firm touch was not only to soothe her but to soothe himself as well. Now that he had her stationary, he could explain.
Her captivating eyes grew wide with fear. She mistook his intent. “What are you going to do with me?” Her voice was steady.
He admired that about her. No matter how frightened she was, it never showed in her voice. But this questioning his honor after all they’d been through would not do. It would not do at all.
“I was considering kissing you,” he said. ’Twas the truth.
She blinked.
“Mayhap even ravishing you here against this tree. Taking you again and again until you ken beyond all doubt I’ll never keep secrets to use against you.”
Overcome with need for her now that he had her in his arms, he lowered his mouth to her neck. He held himself back from kissing her there, but only just. He would be certain she was not afraid of him before he acted on the lust he couldn’t help but feel whenever he was this near to her.
“Wilhelm.” His name might have been a warning. Or it might have been a plea.
“That linen you used to blind the wolf.” He nuzzled the silky skin below her ear. “That wouldn’t happen to have been your undergarment, would it?” With his lips alone he nipped her lobe. She tasted like a sweet orchard breeze in summer time. He dropped his hands to her waist.
“Wilhelm.” There was no mistaking that one word for what it was: an invitation.
“Tell me you trust me, lass.”
She said nothing.
He drew back to meet her gaze. “Tell me.”
“How can I?” She twitched the sack. “Why did you keep this from me?”
Anger he could have dealt with, but the hurt in her eyes made him feel helpless. All he had with which to combat the suspicion in her gaze was the truth.
“Caution, at first” he said. “To bring it to you in the abbey would have been an unnecessary risk. Anselm might have seen it. Besides, I didna ken you well so then. Then the bairn came, and there was much to do. Then enough time had passed and you’d captured my heart so thoroughly I didna ken how to broach the subject.” While he made his confession, he cupped her jaw and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. So soft, her skin. So creamy and warm.
Forgetting what he’d been talking about, he made another sort of confession. “To think I might have lost you today. I doona ken whether to praise you for your bravery or chide you for your foolhardiness. Never make me fash like that again.”
She blew out a breath. Her lips flattened then softened as the fight went out of her. “Then you’d better stay away from wolves,” she said, and he understood he was forgiven.
He could hold back no longer. With a growl, he descended on her, hungry as any starved beast, but not for food.
#
How could a single kiss erase every last hint of Connie’s anxiety? Well, maybe “single kiss” was selling it short. This desperate clinging of mouths and groping of hands was more like a hot and heavy make-out session, only that term made it sound paltry, like that time she’d made out with Kenny Garretson in the music room after Mrs. Bemis’s cello class. Except, this was not an exploration undertaken out of boredom and opportunity. This make-out session was honest and full of adult passion. It was driven by mutual need and welcomed with mutual longing.
It was an apology from Wilhelm, she imagined, for the betrayal she’d experienced over the discovery of her backpack. It was a promise from her not to doubt him again—how could she have doubted him even for a second when he’d saved her life not once but twice? It was a return to normalcy after the horror of a wolf attack.
Wolves! They’d been attacked by wolves!
She could hardly fathom it. A week ago, she’d been driving her Mercedes through the concrete jungle of Chicago. The most trying aspect of her commute was stopping for jaywalkers and weaving around cabs and busses. Now, to
make a trip that would take less than three hours by car, she was riding a horse over the course of several days, battling winter elements and wild animals.
She sobbed into Wilhelm’s mouth as the reality of her situation reasserted itself.
“I have you, love. I have you.”
“Wilhelm.”
Saying his name did something to her. She had the absurd feeling that every time she spoke it aloud it strengthened her connection to him. This should make her never want to say it again. Why would she build connections of any sort in the past when she intended to return to the present? But she would say it again. And again and again. She loved saying it.
“Lass,” he murmured, rolling his hips forward and taking her mouth again, this time with an urgency similar to when he’d kissed her near the loch.
His armor covered him to mid-thigh. She was glad for it because it had saved him from what might have been a terrible injury today, but she wished it gone at the moment so she could feel his arousal.
“Wilhelm,” she gasped when he trailed his kisses across her jaw and down her neck.
“Aye. Say my name, lass.” His strong hands clawed at her skirts, dragging them up.
Yes. Yes! He was going to give her what she’d been wanting from him for days, and he was going to do it right up against a tree, like a man possessed with lust. For her!
An encounter outdoors had always been one of her fantasies, but of course, she’d never seriously considered it, not back home, anyway. But the rules here were different. They were surrounded by forest. The only witnesses would be the trees and rocks and their horses.
A thrill of anticipation shot through her like lightning. Come what may, she needed this, needed him. But a niggling of concern lodged itself in her consciousness. There were reasons they shouldn’t. Many. But she couldn’t seem to remember them. Maybe if he stopped nibbling her neck.
“Wait.” Gasping for breath, she put a palm on his chest. Ah, yes. She remembered. “Your arm.” She’d seen pain register on his face when the wolf had attacked. He might be hurt. “And what if the wolves come back? What if there are more?” Also, he’d told her he didn’t want to become intimate with her until they weren’t married—which wasn’t going to happen, so…no sex with the tempting Highlander.