“And what of your men pursuing us?” she asked impatiently. “What of them? And my father’s men?”
“They are not my men.” He would brook no confusion on that matter. Jeoffrey, Clement and Margaret were the reason he’d slept lightly on the road from Blackens Gate. “Let me worry on that score. But I cannot subject you to another night like this. I cannot see you so close to death again.”
Though he felt her eyes upon him, he could not meet her gaze.
“I cannot agree to this.” Her words dripped with quiet anger, and he looked up. “You cannot ask me to. If they find us, who will protect me from them?”
He could not answer.
“The others were content to let Jeoffrey have his way with me. They fought you when he did not. Don’t pretend as though I have no understanding of the danger I face, from the wild and from them. I chose this danger, because I trust you to keep me safe from it.”
He faced her then, and saw the tears standing in her eyes, the desperation there. What kind of a man would he be to turn her down?
What kind of man would he be, if he could not protect her?
Knowing himself a fool, knowing he may regret it, he nodded. “I will take you to Blackens Gate. But you must understand, I am no knight. I’m a cripple. There is a limit to the protection I can offer you.”
“Then perhaps I must have more faith in you than you do in yourself, Sir Raf,” she replied quietly, and her voice was like a dagger to his heart.
He turned his back to her and said, “Dress. We should move before our pursuers brave the cold.”
Listening to the rustling and scrabbling sounds of her dressing made it impossible not to imagine it. He pictured her lifting the chemise over her head, her perfect round breasts raised with the motion, nipples hardened by the cold. The curve of her waist and arched back as she struggled into the kirtle. The sway of her hair as she pulled it free of her garments. He could imagine no torture worse than this one.
“How did it happen?”
No torture worse, until she reminded him of that. His leg, long gone, buried against the wall of the village churchyard, pained him at the memory. It wasn’t enough that he’d lost the damned thing, but its ghost still tormented him. “Hunting boar.”
“You’re unlucky with boar,” she said placidly.
“You heard me?” he asked, wondering that she could remember anything from the night before, when she’d been so delirious with fever.
“Some,” she admitted. “You said you were lost hunting for boar. You lost your leg similarly? I hope you no longer hunt boar.”
He would have laughed, if he could have found any humor in it. “I am not fit for hunting, these days.”
It was clear that she wished to press further, but she did not and he did not offer the information. Just thinking of that night brought back the saw, the hot, tearing pain and the hands holding him down. Sweat stood out on his brow, and he wiped it away with a trembling hand.
“I’ve upset you.” Her voice was small, chastened.
He turned, the sounds of her dressing having died away. Her face was flushed with embarrassment, and her eyes flicked down when he caught her gaze. Knowing he would later regret the contact, but unable to resist physically comforting her, he reached out and took her chin his hand, turning her face gently to his. “You have not upset me yet on this journey.”
She held his gaze for an impossibly long moment, the only sound in their makeshift shelter the rise and fall of their breathing.
It was a moment, he realized, that would change the course of things between them. Perhaps only for their travels together, perhaps forever. It was not often that he found himself faced with such a clear choice in his actions. The morning of the hunt that had lead to his lost leg, he’d not had any inkling that fate could change on a whim dependent on his choices. The day they’d ridden out from Blackens Gate to claim Roderick’s bride, an errand meant to humiliate Raf before his father’s men, he’d had no sense that it would be more than a mere errand. Yet now, now something seemed to matter.
He kissed her.
It began as a slow and tender act, for he was mindful that she was a maiden and he did not wish for her to think of him as she thought of Sir Jeoffrey. Intending to back away the moment she showed any repulsion or fear, she surprised him by eagerly accepting, rising to her knees and winding her arms about his neck. His heart thundered in his ears and his chest tightened. He dropped his hand from her face and pulled her hard to him, and her lips opened under his. She was so soft he ached, burying his fingers in her hair. Her body molded to his, and she whimpered against his mouth.
That small sound brought him back to his senses. This was his brother’s bride he held. What did he intend after this moment? Did he think he would lie with her, then bring her back to Blackens Gate and challenge his brother? Facing Roderick in combat was as much as a death sentence.
If he were a whole man, he could easily best his brother, but he was not. And as he was not, he could not claim her, nor protect her against the pack.
He pulled away gently, immediately craving more of her sweet mouth. He should never have let himself have a taste of her, for now he would long for her for the rest of his days. At the hurt and confusion on her face, he gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m sorry, my lady. It was not my right to do that.”
Flushed, she responded breathily, “It was…appreciated.”
They laughed then, whatever horrible tension had been between them before, the terror of pursuit and the fear of the elements, melted away at once. Perhaps he should have kissed her beside the river, when he’d first plucked her out, he mused to himself.
They prepared for their day’s walk in good-natured silence. He laced her kirtle for her, unable to resist tickling her sides when he finished. She jumped in shock and giggled, and he saw for the first time her smile, her actual smile, not a polite face she’d calculated. Her blue eyes sparkled, and a dimple showed on one cheek. Raf put that sight away, knowing he would not see it again once they reached Blackens Gate.
Even with that dark thought in his head, he could not help but be lifted by her mood as they picked their way through the snowy forest. She never once complained about the snow on her feet, or the cold. Instead, she chattered idly about her home, her mother and father, her embroidery, the shirts she’d made for Roderick in anticipation of their wedding. Raf clenched his fists at that, vowing silently that Roderick would be appreciative of the gift.
“May I ask a question?” Aurelia ventured, leaning on Raf’s arm for surer footing over an uneven patch of snowy ground.
“You may, and I may answer you,” he warned with a wink.
She blushed so beautifully, even with her cheeks already rosy from the cold. “Why is Roderick your father’s heir, if he is your younger brother? Is it because of…”
Her gaze had dropped to his iron leg. The day before, the humor would have gone out of him. He would have reacted in embarrassment and anger. Today, he worried what such a reaction would make her feel, so he said simply, “My leg? Yes. Weakness is reviled by our pack, and the loss of my leg has made me weak. My father cannot appoint a cripple as his successor, lest the pack revolt and our line lose control of Blackens Gate.”
“I think you would make a very good…leader of wolves. You’ve proven yourself a very capable man these two days past, Sir Raf.” She meant the words in good faith, so he did not let it show how much they wounded him.
If he were to be the leader of their pack, he would be walking with his bride now, and not his future sister. He would not carry the tremendous weight of guilt that he did now for coveting his brother’s wife.
He would have had the right to lay her down inside that shelter, to take her and make her cry out beneath him. The image of their bodies entwined came to him in a dizzying rush, and in his fantasy, he was whole.
“Do you think I will…please him?” Aurelia asked, suddenly serious.
Nothing pleased Roderick. He might ha
ve replied with such the day before, but he could feel her fear. So, he made a liar of himself, when he so often praised honesty. “I could not imagine any man disappointed in you.”
Instead of beaming or blushing at the compliment, she only nodded gravely. “If he were not pleased with me…what would happen?”
It took Raf a long time to consider his response. He knew not what would happen if his brother were displeased with Aurelia. He might beat her, or cast her aside. He could give her to one of his men, or kill her. Roderick had never displayed any tender feeling toward anyone that Raf had seen.
When he’d taken too long answering, Aurelia added, “I don’t want to marry him, you know. I’m not a fool. I’ve heard stories about Blackens Gate and what the name Canis stands for in England. The king won’t allow you at court, and I’ve heard stories of your pack’s ferocity in battle. I do not wish to go blindly into this union.”
“Aurelia,” he began, leaving all pretense of formality aside. “If he hurts you…”
There was no promise he could make her, except for one. Hoarse of voice, he finished, “If he hurts you, I will give my life to put things right.”
This struck her speechless, and motionless. He went on ahead, knowing she would follow only steps behind. When she did come apace with him, she blinked rapidly to disguise her tears. With a forced smile, she declared, “I will not think such grim thoughts. I know all be well. I had a dream last night.”
“A dream?” he asked, ready to resume the easy conversation of before. That hope died with her next words.
“I dreamt of a huge wolf, lying down beside me.” She grinned broadly. “It is a sign.”
A sign of what, Raf would not tell her.
Chapter Five
The way had become difficult in the dark when ahead of them the glow of fires peeked through the trees.
It was the village he had spoken of in his plans to surrender her, Aurelia realized, and her heart plummeted. “You said you would take me to Blackens Gate.”
Though she could not see his face in the dark, she knew there would be a grim set to his mouth. The long days of walking had given her ample time to study him. “I will take you there. But for tonight, I wish you to sleep in real shelter. I will send word ahead to my father, and they can meet us on the road.”
And her time with Raf would come to an end. Though it had been miserable and fearful, she could not imagine feeling as safe as with Raf by her side.
Would she still see him, at Blackens Gate? She had no idea the size of the Canis household. She knew that many wolf-men lived there, and their wives and children. Perhaps she would see Raf only in passing, perhaps never at all. If Roderick kept her confined to the kitchens or some drafty solar, she might never see him.
And she should not wish to. She was on her way to become the good wife of Sir Roderick Canis, to one day be lady of Blackens Gate. Not to pine after Sir Raf, who could offer her nothing, who had no right to her.
Except, he could offer something. He could give her all the excitement she had felt when he’d kissed her, he could keep her safe and give her children, cripple though he might be. She did not wish to belong to Sir Roderick.
The deal had been made. She squared her shoulders as they stepped free from the forest’s edge, the lack of trees making her feel suddenly exposed and in danger. She kept close to Raf’s side. “You aren’t going to make me cover my face again, are you?”
The moonlight was kinder in the open space than it had been in the trees, and she could see his smile. “No. I think the snows will have delayed those three long enough. They’ll take the main road, and be a day behind us at it.”
“It’s only a day’s ride,” she protested. “Are you sure we should stop here?”
“It isn’t as though we can go on, not in the dark. And this is a safe place. I’ve stayed here often.” He took her by the elbow and steered her between two of the low, stone houses. The path between them was steep, and spilled onto a wider lane. The village was barely that, just a small inn on the road and the two houses opposite. One had a pen with a few sheep, the other a roof in disrepair.
“This is the very edge of my father’s land,” Raf explained. “The people here are not wolves, and so they make do with what they have, though some have sought permission to leave for other holdings.”
“And does he give them permission?” a chill crept up her spine at the thought of dwelling out here, in the cruel winter forest, ruled by wolves.
“He does,” Raf said with a shrug. “He would rather not be responsible for them. His main concern is the pack.”
The inn was small and smelled of damp. Drying meat hung from the ceiling, ropes of spices between, to disguise the flavor and the smell. A huddled shape slept on the floor before the hearth, and a woman stood over a pot on the fire. She looked up, grimaced and stepped over the sleeping form on the floor.
“My lord.” She bowed to Raf. “What brings you out so far from the castle this evening?”
He didn’t answer her. “I need a message taken to my father.”
The form on the floor stirred and sat up, the blanket falling away from his dark hair. He looked so like Sir Clement that Aurelia gasped and clutched Raf’s arm, but he did not seem alarmed. On second look, the man before the fire was younger, thinner of face, with a neatly trimmed beard. “Raf, word has it you abducted your brother’s wife!”
Raf laughed and walked over to the other man, his iron leg making him seem clumsy in the small space. It was odd, compared to how capable he’d seemed in the woods. Raf clapped the second man on the back. “No, but I did have some trouble on the road. I’m sorry to say, Henry, I had to smack your brother in the face with a tree branch.”
“You should have drowned him in Sir Edmund’s river,” the younger man said with a frown. “I’m truly sorry, Raf. I should have been there.”
“You had other duties to attend.” Now, Raf returned the frown. “So why are you here?”
“Your father had us out looking for you. He was certain Clement had drowned you.”
Raf laughed bitterly. “And the old man didn’t grant him his own manor in thanks?”
“Pottage, lady?” the inn keeper woman asked Aurelia, startling her out of her eavesdropping. At the mere mention of food, Aurelia’s stomach roared, and her head went dizzy. She sat at the trestle table and leaned over the steaming wooden bowl the woman sat before her. The pottage was thin, with little barley and mostly leeks, but she spooned it down as fast as she could, paying no mind to the conversation of the men who still spoke intently by the fire. Whoever this Henry was, Raf appeared to trust him, and so she would, as well.
She’d finished the bowl, embarrassingly fast, when the woman set a mug of ale before her. It had been a long, thirsty day, picking snow up off the ground to drink, and Aurelia gulped it down.
Before long, Raf returned to her side, and Henry threw down a handful of coins on the table. He warned the innkeep, “Feed them, keep them secret until morning. If you do not, your Lord Canis will not be pleased.”
The woman brought Raf a bowl and a cup of ale, and he accepted it gratefully. Aurelia took another cup, and let the drowsy warmth of the fire seep into her. “Will you still take me to Blackens Gate on the morrow?”
Raf nodded. “Henry thought we could ride tonight. I thought perhaps it would be better to send word ahead.”
“But he was here looking for us,” she said uncertainly.
“And he found us, and he will bring my father news of our arrival.” Raf’s tone brooked no argument. “You nearly died last night. I won’t endanger you again.”
As he finished his food in silence, Aurelia leaned her head on her arms on the rough tabletop. He would not endanger her, but he would hand her to his brother to wed. Yet, he kept her for one more night.
There had been no denying he felt passion for her, not after the way he’d kissed her that morning. And he treated her as something precious, first saving her from Jeoffrey, and then the
river, and then the cold.
“Why are we staying here?” she asked him, and when he would not meet her gaze, she knew the answer. Anticipation fluttered through her, warning her of danger, promising her things she had only vaguely imagined. A longing so keen as to become painful lodged in her breast, she looked down, certain he would tell from her face, or the inn woman would, the thoughts that coiled in her mind like the biblical serpent.
When Raf had finished his supper, and she her cup of ale, the woman moved the table aside and brushed the moldering rushes away to reveal a wooden door, well-fitted to the dirt around it. She heaved it open to reveal a ladder into the darkness. She handed a worn satchel over to Raf, and he slung it over his shoulder as he climbed down first, awkwardly clinging to each rung in one arm as he positioned his false leg on the next one.
“Come, there’s nothing to fear, he called to Aurelia from the bottom, and, heart in her throat, she climbed down after him. When her foot could not find another rung of the ladder, Raf’s hands closed over her waist and he pulled her down to stand. Overhead, the inn keeper dropped the door, closing them in the darkness.
Aurelia shivered and put a hand out in front of her, finding her way to Raf’s side, her hand falling on his shoulder as he leaned over something. There was the sound of a flint, an almost painful spark in the darkness, and then a tiny flame, growing bright as he touched another and another candle to the first. When the three were lit, he moved about the space, finding the niches in the wall where others had died in waxy heaps.
“We’re staying in a cellar?” she asked, rubbing her arms. “I thought you wanted to keep me warm.”
“It will be warm enough,” he said, with the same cool bearing he’d used the morning he’d told her to stay on the cart that would carry her to her new home.
Had she misunderstood his intent in this night alone together? Surely he would rather be in his own home, in comfort, than here in an underground hole. Unless Blackens Gate was less hospitable than this inn, this hole. Did he still fear retribution from his brother, from his father? From the men who’d attacked them?
Brlde of the Wolf Page 4