Soul of the Wolf

by Judith Sterling

  Jocelyn’s brown eyes widened as she stared up at it. For ten seconds, silence reigned. Then she spoke. “And I thought a bath would relax you.”

  He guffawed. “Not a bath with you in it!”

  She stood, and her wet smock became a second skin that cleaved to every curve of her body. “But as you see, I’m half dressed. Doesn’t that make a difference?”

  “You know bloody well it doesn’t. Not where you’re concerned.”

  She looked thoughtful. “Is that a curse or a compliment?”

  “At the moment, both.” He stepped out of the tub and wrapped a large drying cloth around his hips. Turning his back to Jocelyn, he grabbed a second cloth and held it out behind him. “Peel off that smock and put this around you.”

  The telltale swash of bathwater marked her exit from the tub. A few seconds later, she pulled the drying cloth from his hand. “The servants brought fresh clothes for you,” she said. “You’ll find a clean pair of breeches over there on the table.”

  He crossed to the table. “Might I suggest that you also don dry clothes?” He seized the braies and stepped into them.

  “Only on one condition.”

  What now? He tied the string on his braies and turned to her. “Pray tell.”

  “I shall don a chemise…if you wear only your breeches.”

  “And if I wear a tunic?”

  She grinned. “Then I’ll wear nothing.”

  He watched her in silence for a long moment. “What angle lies behind this?”

  Her gaze veered to the fire. “No angle. But Edith and I have been talking.”

  “Edith?”

  Jocelyn nodded and met his stare. “You bear too much stress. I believed a bath would help, and Edith suggested I give you a massage.”

  His mouth fell open. Robert, Jocelyn, and now Edith. Were they all in this together? Where did it end?

  Best not to think of that. Or of Jocelyn’s body…or her wit…or her will…or anything at all to do with her. Loki must be laughing now!

  Heat traveled the length of his body. “A massage. You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “I kid you not.”

  “You’re quite determined?”

  She lifted her chin. “I am.”

  He sighed. “Very well.”

  She beamed at him. “You lie down in bed…on your stomach. I’ll get a chemise and meet you there.”

  What have I gotten myself into? he thought, striding to the bed. What sweet torture lies ahead?

  He pulled back the fur coverlets and flopped onto the cool linen sheets. Less than a minute later, Jocelyn joined him and straddled his lower back.

  “So this is how it feels to ride a horse as a man would,” she said.

  He could feel the heat and hair of her sex on his flesh. I’m in trouble now. He cleared his throat. “I thought you would stand beside the bed.”

  “Edith assured me this is the proper way.” Jocelyn’s warm hands kneaded his neck, shoulders, and shoulder blades. “How does that feel?”

  “Wonderful.”

  She started to massage his back, then hesitated. “This might sound strange, but may I scratch you?”

  His mind and body stood at attention. “You want to scratch my back?”

  “Among other things.”

  Again, his manhood stiffened. He groaned inwardly. ’Tis going to be a long night.

  “May I?” she asked.

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You may.”

  In a soft, tickling touch, she moved her fingernails up, down, sideways, and crossways along his back. The sensation bordered on magical.

  “You’re enjoying this,” he murmured.

  “That I am.”

  He smiled. “’Tis no wonder the cats are drawn to you. You’re rather catlike yourself.”

  “You think so?”

  “You put me in mind of Freo, the goddess of love. The cat is considered one of her sacred animals.”

  Jocelyn continued to scratch his back. “All I know is that male cats tend to get excited around me. They seem to mistake my legs for female cats in heat.”

  He chuckled, but quickly sobered. He didn’t blame the tomcats any more than he blamed himself for being attracted to her. Nature had made her damned near irresistible.

  Resist her you must, he reminded himself. He had to talk…about anything. “You’re not unlike another goddess, Frige.”

  “What is she associated with?”

  “Many things. Knowledge, wisdom, marriage, the harvest, and the home.”

  “What about childbirth?”

  “That too.” He frowned. “Do you want children?”

  Jocelyn’s fingers stilled, and she rested her palms on his back. “I do. I cannot remember a time when I didn’t.”

  His frown deepened. He had no desire to thwart her cherished wish, but he couldn’t see himself as a father. Not after the father he’d known.

  Her weight lifted off of him, though her knees still trapped his torso. “Wulfstan, turn around so I can see your face.”

  He twisted beneath her and lay on his back. With her thinly veiled curves and loose hair cascading around her, she seemed a soft, seductive mountain of flesh and fire.

  Her lips twisted. “Why do I get the feeling you’re staring straight into my nostrils?”

  He chuckled. “I assure you, you’re quite lovely from this angle.”

  Her cheeks colored. “I’m flattered you think so.”

  She settled back down on him, and her femininity reconnected with his skin. This time, ’twas damp.

  Woden help me!

  “Does my desire for children trouble you?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Do you desire them?”

  He averted his gaze. “Fatherhood is not a state to which I’ve ever aspired.”

  “But why?”

  His gaze locked onto hers. “From the little you’ve learned of my father, you should know why.”

  She gave him a soulful look. “You are not your father.”

  Her brown eyes warmed him, made him believe he could choose his fate. Almost of their own accord, his hands found her thighs.

  Softly, she scratched his chest, his abdomen. His breath caught in his throat. His manhood grew harder by the second.

  She leaned forward, and her hair tickled his skin. “I have a confession to make. I fell in the tub deliberately.”

  He squeezed her thighs. “I suspected as much.”

  She stopped scratching him and straightened. “You did?”

  He nodded. “You’ve been a different woman since your dream this morning.”

  Her face flushed. “My dream.”

  “You said you wanted it to go on forever. Why?”

  “You’ll think me wanton if I tell you.” She bit her lip.

  “I’ll think you honest.”

  Her chest rose as she took a deep breath. “I had the most exquisite feeling.” She placed a hand over her sex. “Here.”

  He couldn’t stop himself. His hand covered hers. “Here?”

  “Aye. I assume ’tis the same feeling one has during the love act.”

  “Describe it to me.”

  She closed her eyes. “’Twas a pleasurable torment. A tingling, tickling sensation that built and built until…” The fingernails of her free hand dug into his chest.

  “Jocelyn.”

  Her eyes opened. “Aye?”

  “Now I must confess.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “To what?”

  He removed his hand from hers and laid it on the center of her chest. Beneath it, her heart beat furiously.

  “’Twas I who gave you that…dream.”

  She gaped at him. Then she closed her mouth and tilted her head to the side. “I wondered about that. Of course, I doubted my suspicions, but—”

  “You were right.” Slowly, he ran his hand downward, between her breasts and down to her belly. Then he yanked his hand away.

  “Please…don’t stop.”

>   “I must.”

  Her eyes smoldered. “Must you? Even if I do this?” She leaned forward and kissed his left nipple.

  His heart beat faster. “Jocelyn…”

  She moved off him and knelt beside him on the bed. “Or this?” Leaning forward, she kissed him just above his navel.

  He gritted his teeth as she loosened the string of his braies. She slid her hand inside his breeches and scratched his shaft from base to tip.

  He gasped. Never had he felt such a sensation. She was leading him down a path he dared not tread. He had to regain control.

  Seizing her hand, he pulled it away from his throbbing member. “Listen to me. I’m still not ready to consummate our marriage. But I am prepared to give you succor.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “In what way?”

  “You enjoyed your ‘dream,’ did you not?”

  “You know I did.”

  Leisurely, he fingered a lock of her hair. “How would you like another?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jocelyn gazed into his eyes. “Another?” she said. “The same thing I felt this morning?”

  Wulfstan nodded and dropped his hand from her hair. “Only this time, you’ll be awake.”

  Heat rushed into her nether lips. “I think I’d like that. But what about you? Are you so willing to forego pleasure?”

  “I’ll feel it too, but without consequences.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Never you mind.” Pushing his breeches below his hips, he freed his erection.

  She stared at it. “Is it possible you’re even bigger now than before?”

  “Entirely. Now sit astride me.”

  “On that?” she said, pointing to his manhood.

  “Aye.”

  “But you won’t put it inside me?”

  He shut his eyes, and a muscle worked in his jaw. Five seconds later, his blue eyes were again visible. “I won’t.”

  “I see.” She grabbed the sides of her chemise. “Shall I doff my—”

  “No! Leave it on.”

  She pouted. “My body displeases you then.”

  His eyes widened. “How could you think that?”

  “Quite easily.”

  “Jocelyn, you’re the loveliest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. But if you remove your chemise, I might lose control. That’s not something I’m prepared to do.”

  So he did desire her. He was just too stubborn to give in to the impulse.

  “I understand,” she said. She straddled him once more and settled onto his hardened length. Its heat rivaled her own. “What now, my lord?”

  “Wait a moment and you’ll see.” He closed his eyes, and his brow puckered as though he concentrated hard on something.

  Or concentrated on something hard, for his manhood began to vibrate, just as his hand had done the night before.

  Jocelyn gasped. She leaned forward slightly, and the bud of her desire felt the full force of Wulfstan’s power. “Oh…my…God in Heaven!”

  After that, she couldn’t speak, think, or do anything but give in to the incredible feeling that swelled and strengthened within her. She dropped her head, and curtains of red hair closed over her face. Her eyes shut. Her nipples hardened beneath her smock. She bit her lip and dug her fingernails into Wulfstan’s chest. Her heart pounded. Her blood raced. Sensation ruled supreme.

  A bolt of intense pleasure struck. She threw her head back and cried out as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her.

  Wulfstan gripped her hips and lifted them. “Get off. Quickly!”

  Her eyes shot open. She moved aside, just in time to dodge his seed as it spurted onto his chest. His groan told her he’d felt a shattering release similar to hers.

  She longed to stroke the golden hair on his belly, to sit astride him again and grind her swollen bud against his flesh. Instead, she cleared her throat. “Shall I fetch you a washrag?”

  He blew out a long breath. “Thank you, aye.”

  She crawled over him, hopped off the bed, and scurried to the tub. A moment later, she handed him the cloth and rejoined him on the bed.

  Kneeling beside him, she sat on her heels. Unashamed, she watched him clean himself and pull up his breeches.

  When at last he looked at her, she smiled. “I like your idea of succor.”

  He grinned. “I thought you might.”

  “So what now?”

  “Now we sleep.”

  “Sleep? I’ve never felt so awake in all my life.”

  He yawned. “I cannot say the same.”

  With a sigh, she lay down beside him on her back. “All right. For your sake, I’ll try to fall asleep.”

  “Thank you,” he said, pulling the coverlets up and over them. Again, he yawned.

  She lay quiet for all of ten seconds before she had to speak. “Wulfstan?”

  “Hmm?”

  Take me in your arms. Kiss me. Teach me everything you know about passion and give me another taste of the pleasure I just felt.

  She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Nothing.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked drowsily.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Good night then.”

  “Good night.”

  A minute later, he was fast asleep. She closed her eyes and tried to empty her mind and body of the thoughts and feelings he’d stirred within her. After much trial and error, she finally settled down and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

  In the middle of the night, a shout woke her.

  “No!” Wulfstan yelled, jerking upright in bed.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He ran a hand through his hair. With a harsh sigh, he fell back onto the pillow. The dying fire illumined his frown.

  Jocelyn turned on her side to face him. “Talk to me. Please.”

  “It doesn’t concern you.”

  She laid a hand on his bare chest. “If something distresses you, I want to know about it.”

  He turned on his side and stared into her eyes. “Why?”

  “I am your wife. Isn’t that reason enough?”

  Again, he sighed. “’Twas a nightmare.”

  “About?”

  He raised his left hand, and his fingers traced the scar above his left eye. “My father,” he said, averting his eyes.

  “Did he give you that scar?”

  Wulfstan’s gaze reclaimed hers. “’Tis his and my brother’s handiwork.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I was ten years old, and Aldred bested me at swordplay. His blade just missed my eye, but it left only a nick. My father came upon us and laughed at me. He said if I was going to waste my time poring over books, I deserved a larger wound than what Aldred gave me. So he grabbed his dagger and cut deeper.”

  Jocelyn gasped. “How could he? How could anyone? To treat a child with such—”

  “Cruelty was like mother’s milk to him. And to Aldred.”

  Her heart swelled. She leaned forward and kissed his scar. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he said, but there was a catch in his voice. “It happened long ago.”

  “Was that your nightmare?”

  “No.”

  “Then what were you dreaming about?”

  He shut his eyes and shook his head.

  Gently, she laid her hand on his arm. “Tell me. ’Twill do your heart good.”

  “And what of your heart? And your opinion of me? I’ve no wish to blacken either.”

  She steeled herself against whatever might follow. “I’m strong enough to bear what you would reveal. Trust me, Wulfstan. I need to know what ails you.”

  “Then know this. My nightmare was reality. A memory from my past.”

  She dropped her hand from his arm. “What did you remember?”

  He sat up in bed, and his expression turned cold. “The night I killed my father.”

  ****

  Wulfstan’s chest tightened. Surely Jocelyn’s silence—her wide eyes and
frozen features—signified her censure.

  After an endless moment, she sat up and hugged her knees. “Go on.”

  He swallowed hard. “I was sixteen. He was beating my mother. Every one of her screams gouged my soul. I rushed in and pulled him off her. He just laughed in my face and ran away. I followed him…all the way to Woden’s Stair. He mocked me as he climbed to the top…called me a coward and a weakling. He cursed the day I was born, when he was saddled with such a ‘mewling milksop,’ as he put it. He grabbed his dagger…goaded me into grabbing mine. He slashed me here above my eye…the same place where he scarred me six years before. He jabbed at me again and again. And I think I went mad for an instant because the next thing I knew, I’d stabbed him in the side. I’ll never forget the look on his face…utter surprise. He backed away…got just to the middle of the landing, and then…”

  “What?” Jocelyn demanded.

  Wulfstan shook his head. “You won’t believe me.”

  “Try me.”

  “He disappeared.”

  She looked askance at him. “Wait. You mean he fell off the top and—”

  “No. He vanished. Right there on the landing. Without a trace.”

  “Incredible.”

  Wulfstan nodded. “I know, but it happened. Then I told anyone who asked that he’d grabbed his chest and dropped dead in front of me…and that I buried him near the Wolf Stone. Only my mother knew the truth. She believed the landing was a gateway.”

  “To what?”

  “She didn’t know. I wish to Woden I did.”

  Jocelyn moved her hair from one shoulder and draped it over the other one. “Now I understand why you didn’t want me on those stairs. And your alarm when you saw Freya on them.”

  “And now you know the kind of man you married.” His jaw tightened.

  “Just stop right there. You didn’t actually kill your father.”

  “Didn’t I? He stepped backward because I stabbed him. And then Woden’s Stair wiped him out of existence.”

  Jocelyn pursed her lips. “But we don’t know what really happened.”

  “We?”

  She nodded. “What bothers you, bothers me. And I’m telling you, your father had it coming…whatever it was. You’re not to blame.”

  Wulfstan sighed. “Perhaps you should also know that I told Lord Ravenwood to kill my brother.”

  “Aye. After he’d worked all manner of evil.”