by Wendy Stone
"Rose!” Wulf cried , almost breaking free of Hawke.
"She's gone boy,” Hawke said, grabbing Wulf to him. “She's gone, my baby is gone.” Tears started in his eyes, wending their way down his cheeks and for the first time, Hawke looked old.
Wulf fought a few moments longer than hung limply against Hawke. “She can't be gone. We were to be married."
"I know,” Hawke whispered, his big hand patting Wulf on the back. “I'm sorry. I should have dealt with Geoffrey yesterday. Then none of this would have occurred."
Wulf looked up, his eyes meeting those of the man who would have been his father-in-law. “It's not your fault. If I'd taken the keep back earlier, it wouldn't have happened either. If you want to look at it in those terms, it's my fault.” He pulled away slowly, turning to look as the only true home he'd ever known burned to the ground.
Soon only the rock walls stood, scarred with smoke and cracked from the heat. “Rose,” he whispered., then turned back to her father. “You should have left me in there."
"You don't mean that, boy. Rose would want you to live. She wouldn't have wanted you to die as well, not if she loved you like I think she did.” Hawke clapped his hand down on Wulf's shoulder .The boy shook as he forced down the sobs he couldn't bear to release.
"Hawke, where is our daughter?” Maddie's voice cracked as she panted the words, out of breath. “We watched from the village, Liana and I, both worried sick. The escaping servants told us of Wulf and your survival, but no one will meet my eyes when I ask for Rose..."
Hawke turned, taking Maddie into his arms and holding onto the back of her head with one of his big hands. “Maddie...” he began.
She looked up at him seeing the awful news in his eyes. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Not my Rose. Not my baby."
Hawke nodded, trying to be gentle in the telling. “She's gone, love. She was trapped upstairs. There's no way she could have lived through that fire."
"No.” Maddie pushed away so she could see his eyes. They flickered eerily with the light of the flames. “No. No, I would feel it. I would know here.” She pushed both fists against her stomach. “She's not dead, Hawke. She's not."
Liana arrived and went to her son, laying a gentle hand upon his shoulder. “I'm sorry, Wulf.” He turned toward her, his eyes harried, his face a mask of pain. She opened her arms and he buried his face in her neck, finally letting loose his sobs. She could feel the heat of his tears against her skin and it broke her heart.
"What of Geoffrey?’ she asked Hawke as she held on to her son.
"He's missing. His mother is missing too."
"No sir,” one of the men close by said. “His lordship killed his mother, hit her so hard with his fist that she fell at his feet. He'd gone quite mad."
"Lady Solana died at her son's hand?” Liana shook her head as the man nodded. “The poor woman never could see what her son had become. But what mother would ever be able to admit such a thing?"
"We've got to find a way to get in there. I won't believe my daughter is dead until I see her body.” Maddie sounded calm, though tears ran down her face and her hands were clenched tight enough that the knuckles were white
Hawke interceded and pulled Maddie close. “My love, there is no way for us to get in there until the fire dies. I won't ask a man to die searching for a lifeless body. I am so sorry."
Maddie nodded, running her hand over the soot that covered Hawke's face. “We should care for the injured and find room for all who have lost their homes.” She wiped the tears off her face, stubbornly refusing to shed any more until she knew for sure.
"Where is Wulf?"
"He was right here,” Hawke said. He turned his head, searching through the crowd for the younger man. “I don't see him."
Liana answered, her face growing pale. “He was so distraught over Rose's death. What if he...” She couldn't finish the thought.
Maddie returned the earlier favor and reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “He wouldn't do something like that, Lady Liana. He'll be back. Have no fear."
"I've never seen him so in love as with your daughter.” Lady Liana hugged Maddie, then pulled her toward the village. “Come, we should get away from this smoke. I will have baths drawn for you and a bed readied. By morning we will know the extent of the damage and how many have been lost."
Maddie nodded, though she found it hard to take that first step away from the fiery manse. “I feel as if I'm deserting her."
Hawke nodded, his hand resting with strong comfort upon her thin shoulder. He guided her away, following the trim back of Lady Liana away from the heat and the smoke. “I remember the first day, so long ago. You were so fierce, protecting Adaira Rose from me.” He bent and pressed his lips against her temple.
"I had every reason to believe that you were going to kill her next. How was I to know you were our destiny?” Maddie sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “You made our lives worth living, Hawke."
"And you made my life more than just war and whoring.” He squeezed her to him. “We'll get through this, my love. We'll find our way. I promise."
"How long, do you think, before we can get in to look for her?"
"Morning,” Hawke said decisively. “We'll go back at first light. Before that, it would be too dangerous."
Maddie nodded, swallowing her sobs. “First light."
* * * *
Rose pushed through the passage door, barely stifling the cough caused by a funny tickle in her throat. A familiar smell filled her nostrils and she smiled. They had emerged in the stables. Peeking through the open top of a half door, she saw the rows of horses.
"Oh Lucy, this is wonderful."
Lucy nodded, closing the door behind her. “I love it here. The horses don't judge. They return whatever they are given. If you are good to them, they are kind back. They make me happy."
"Do you have your own?” Rose slipped out the half door, going to the first stall and reaching for the huge nose that moved to meet her.
"Mamma promised me a mare for my next birthday.” Lucy sniffed. “If Geoffrey has his way, I'll be married first, for whatever bride price I can bring in. He won't care about my wishes. Mamma would have let me find a gentle boy that would love me and respect me."
"I'm so sorry, Lucy. If there is anything I can do, you know I'll do it.” Rose coughed again, then sniffed at the air. “Do you smell smoke?"
"Smoke?” Lucy asked. She went to the stable's entrance, opening it and looking outside. “Oh my God! Rose, the manor is on fire!"
"Fire?” Rose hurried to her side, staring at the manor and the flames that flickered out the windows and crawled upon the roof. “Oh God. Wulf is still inside!"
The two girls watched in horror as the roof began to cave in, a huge whoosh followed by a resounding crash. “Wulf!” Rose rushed out the door. She had to get inside. She had to save Wulf.
Lucy raced after her, grabbing her around the knees so that both of them fell to the ground. “You can't!” She screamed the words in Rose's face. “It's too late! He's gone, Rose. He's gone."
"He can't be gone,” Rose cried, tears falling from her eyes, sobs shaking her shoulders. “No!"
But she quit struggling, her hands fisting in Lucy's gown, burying her face in the girl's shoulder. “I love him."
Lucy nodded, holding on tight. “I know, Rose. I know."
* * * *
Wulf reached out and yanked the saddle off one of the rails. Taking it to a stall, he heaved it up and onto the stallion's back, reaching under him to grab the girth strap. He tightened it, digging his knee into Hermes ribs as he tried to hold his breath and keep the saddle loose. Wulf growled a curse, grabbing the reins in his hands and pulling himself up into the saddle.
"She's gone, Hermes. I can't stay here."
The horse's ears twitched, moving back as if listening to him. He took a couple of prancing steps before falling into his gait, obeying the reins in his mouth.
They hea
ded out the town gate and onto the road. Wulf kicked Hermes into a gallop, needing the speed. He had to get Rose out of his head. Otherwise, her death would drive him mad. Pain, hot and bitter, gnawed at his insides, howling like a mad wolf, trying to escape. He swallowed hard, forcing it back. Letting the breeze blow into his face, he shook away the thoughts of her, of her sweetness, her passion, her intelligence. He couldn't let memories of her take control of him again, not and stay sane.
Miles passed under them, gone quickly as the last light left the night sky, filling the silky blackness with tiny pinpricks of light. Alone, under the stars, without the woman he wanted to wed, the woman supposed to share his life. How could he live without her? He could barely handle the next breath.
"Rose!"
He screamed the name, falling forward on the saddle and burying his face in Hermes’ thick mane. Sobs racked his shoulders, tears falling to wet the horse's neck. A blinding burst of pain stiffened his back. No matter the speed, no matter the distance, he would never be able to forget her or get away from the pain of her passing.
It took a few minutes for him to realize Hermes had stopped moving, standing docilely as he wept. Lifting his face, he stared in confusion around him. They'd stopped at a crofter's cottage, a rough wall of stones surrounding a small stable and a coop full of chickens. Saucy white undergarments hung on a line, flapping in the soft breeze.
A candle glowed in the rough hewn window, as if the occupants were waiting for him to arrive. Just as he began to lift Hermes’ reins and turn him away, the door opened and a slight figure stepped out, silhouetted by the light shining behind her.
"Well, are you coming in?” a soft, melodious voice asked. “I don't get many visitors and I've got freshly baked bread cooling, if you'd like some."
Wulf stared at the figure. Her voice was beautiful, almost captivating and he felt a part of himself wanting to respond. “W-who are you?” he stuttered.
"My name is Lyra. I'm a healer. Now if that answers your questions, I'd love to get out of this cool air and back near the fire. Please, come in. Maybe I can help you find your way."
"Lyra? ‘Tis a strange name, but quite beautiful.” He slid off the saddle. Hermes snorted as if disagreeing with his actions. “I've lived in this area all my life, but I've never heard of you."
"You've only to open your ears,” Lyra said. “There is an empty stall for your horse and good feed in the stables. While you care for him, I've a thick stew I can reheat for you."
Wulf nodded his head despite his misgivings about the strange woman. She didn't look at him as much as through him and he felt as though she knew his thoughts before he did. The unnerving experience distracted him to the point he found himself following her orders and taking Hermes into the stable. Accepting the inevitable, he made the horse comfortable and fed the other animals inside before returning to the house.
Standing on the door step, he raised his hand to knock. Before his knuckles connected, Lyra called out, urging him to enter.
"Wipe your feet."
He did as bid, finding himself in a small but well-ordered cottage. Neat as a pin, with homey little touches that reminded him of his mother. A roaring fire warmed the room and gave off light. The faint scent of wood smoke masked another; there was something beneath it, something spicy he couldn't recognize. Embarrassed, he realized he was snuffling like a bloodhound chasing a fox and stopped. She seemed not to notice.
"Sit. There's no reason to stand on principle here. Be comfortable and I'll fetch your food."
Wulf's eyes grew thoughtful as he stared at the slender figure. Her beauty was unarguable, fiery auburn hair flaming in the light of the fire. A hazy film muted the colors of her eyes, and he found himself unable to decide on their hue. She had a small, heart shaped face with rosy cheeks and a pert, upturned nose. She walked with a gentle confidence, her hand in front of her in a manner that spoke of long habit.
"You're blind,” he gasped in shock.
"Yes, I'm aware of that. I have been for years, Master Wulf. Sit please. The affliction that took my sight will not harm you."
She stopped at the fireplace, reaching for a small pad and using it to protect her hand from the heat. Lifting a small pot from the metal rod hung over the fire, she stirred it quickly before scooping up a goodly amount and filling a thick wooden bowl. Setting the pot to the floor, she collected a hunk of bread and a wooden spoon, turning and walking back to him. Holding the food in her outstretched hand, she waited for him to take it before returning to the small rocking chair in front of the fire.
"Eat, please. You need to keep up your strength, Sir Wulf. You cannot let your mourning sap your will to live. You are too important."
Wulf sank down on the small bench that lined one length of the wooden table. He set the bowl and spoon upon the table, letting the bread drop into the bowl. “How do you know me? How can you be so sure I'm not here to hurt you?"
Lyra bowed her head, smiling. “You are a good man, Sir Wulf. You wouldn't hurt a woman unless she'd done you unforgivable wrong. I've offered you nothing but succor. There's naught wrong in that.” She tapped the floor impatiently. “Eat."
Wulf picked up his spoon, deciding food wasn't as bad an idea as he'd first thought. They'd been interrupted before he'd been able to finish his dinner this night and now he realized he was hungry. He spooned the food into his mouth, enjoying the subtle nuances of the spices. “This is wonderful. Thank you."
"You are quite welcome, Sir Wulf.” With that she began to rock, the chair squeaking quietly. Reaching down, she lifted a pair of knitting needles from a basket of yarn and began to knit expertly. The needles clacked in counter rhythm to the squeaking chair, creating a soothing melody of sound.
Wulf ate, devouring the stew and the hunk of bread. When he'd finished, he took the bowl and spoon and washed them in a bucket of water left for just that purpose. Drying his hands, he went back to the bench. “I thank you. I actually feel better, Lady Lyra."
Lyra laughed, letting the needles rest in her lap. “I'm no lady, Sir Wulf but you are most definitely welcome.” She waved at him to come nearer, holding out her hands to him.
He went obediently, dropping his hand into hers. She closed her eyes and he felt a strange sensation, as if someone were pushing at his mind. Wulf shook his head, closing his own eyes to fight the invasion. Before he could, it was gone. She released his hand.
"A strong mind,” she mused, seeming to speak to herself. “A handsome man, with a broken heart. What could be more enticing?"
She rose, taking his hands once more. “Sir Wulf, I know of your loss and the pangs it causes your heart.” She spoke slowly, carefully choosing her words. “There is power inside of you, a power you've left untapped. I don't know if it's fear or ignorance that has let this fall to the wayside. I have a question for you. I would like you to listen to me, just once and all the way through, before you make your answer, please."
She seemed to need that commitment from Wulf so he nodded yes, forgetting in the moment that she was blind. Now that he'd finished his meal, he found himself more heartsick than before. He wished he'd stayed at Rose Thorn. He had family there, family that would have mourned with him.
His eyes dropped to the floor and he missed seeing Lyra reach up to her blouse and untie the chord that kept it on her shoulders. He didn't miss noticing her skirt and blouse hit the floor. His eyes widened, moving over the slender body of the healer.
"What is this you do?” Wulf snapped, jumping back as she reached out one slim hand.
"Please, Sir Wulf, you promised to listen to my tale without interrupting."
"Yes, of course, but put on your clothing.” Wulf backed up until he hit the table behind him, halting his retreat from the blind girl.
"Am I not pleasing to your eye?” Lyra's hands caressed the beautiful curves of her body. “Can you feel no desire to touch me at all?"
"My desires are dead,” Wulf growled, his voice hard. “They died with my Adaira Rose. I am l
ittle more than a hollow shell.” He sank down on the chair, his eyes sliding to the fire. The flickering flames reminded him of home and the inferno that had taken his Rose from him.
"I want a son,” the healer said huskily. Her hands roamed over her breasts, squeezing their lush fullness. Her fingers played with the hardened tips and made her moan. “For you, I could be a distraction, someone to lose yourself in for a few stolen hours. You could give me the son I long for, the child that is my destiny. I ask nothing of you but your seed.” She moved closer, lifting one of his limp hands and placing it on the smooth flesh of her hip. “Am I not soft? Do I not please? Please, Sir Wulf. This one thing is all I ask for the succor I have given your body."
Wulf felt locked onto the bench, unable to move away from the softness of her touch, the sleekness of her body. Her hand dragged his to her breast, felt the hard nipple rub against the center of his palm. “Rose...” he began.
"Is dead,” the healer said harshly. She reached for his other hand and cupped it over the lush red triangle between her thighs. “Feel my heat? How wet I am? I am alive and I want you, Sir Wulf. I want you to be the father of my son, a son who will do amazing things. He is your destiny and mine, Sir Wulf. I've seen this.” She moaned as she moved his long finger so it pushed inside her, the flesh of her pussy capturing it and begging for more.
"You've seen my son?” He tried to pull away from her, but her hands were like chains, binding him to her body.
"Yes,” she cried. “Your son and mine. Take me Wulf.” Her hand dropped to his lap, her fingers circling the hardness he couldn't conceal. “You want me too.” Her fingers pulled at his laces. His cock sprang free, her hand jacking at him, causing his breath to block up in his chest.
"No!” he cried, trying to fight her off. “I'm as dead as she is!"
"This doesn't feel dead,” she crooned, straddling his loins. “This feels alive, and willing. You will give me my son."