by Gail Link
Table of Contents
Part 1 A Bridge Crossed
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Part 2 Promise Renewed
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Epilogue
PRISONER OF PASSION
"'Tis time for debts of honor to be paid, my lady."
"I spit upon your honor, my lord," Sybelle said, trying to free her hair from his grasp.
"As I spit upon yours," he said in a low, soft voice, his mouth quirked in a devilish smile, rife with promise. "Now let's have done with the verbal warfare, Sybelle; I've need of a more personal form of combat." Rolf released her and leaned against one of the posts of the bed, folding his arms across his chest. "Disrobe."
The angry denial he saw in her eyes made him smile all the more deeply. "Disrobe, or I shall rip the gown from your body myself."
Rave Reviews for
WOLF'S EMBRACE:
"Excellent, fast-paced historical romance . . . compelling characters."
Joan Hohl
"Touching . . . provocative!"
Casey Michaels
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:
To the ladies of the clubwhose support and love is much appreciated; who listened and encouraged: Joan, Kathie, Rita, and Lori.
To Pat for her unflagging belief in my work.
To Carolyn for giving me the Irish name book in the first place (and for the loan of a certain video tape!)thank you so very much.
To two great ladies of historical fiction who were inspirations with their beautiful prose: Sharon Kay Penman and Roberta Gellis.
To my customers at WaldenBooks #668 who cared you know who you are!
To my co-workers: Mary, Betsy, LuAnn, Stephen, Rick and Krissiethe laughter and the good times helped.
To two actors of incredible scope whose performanaces gave me pleasure and inspiration: Timothy Dalton and Michael Crawford.
And to the passionate, eloquent music of Andrew Lloyd Webber, which exalts the creative soul.
Wolf's Embrace
Gail Link
To my parents: for their love, their unending
support, and most of all, their patience and belief in
me as a writer. Words could never be enough to ex-
press my thanks and love.
A LEISURE BOOK®
November 1992
Published by
Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
276 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10001
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."
Copyright © MCMLXXXIX by Gail Link
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.
The name "Leisure Books" and the stylized "L" with design are trademarks of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
Printed in the United States of America.
PART 1
A Bridge Crossed
Prologue:
Ireland 1476
"Siobhan."
The voice thundered in the small room. "Did you hear me?"
"Aye, tiarna."
"Then do as I bid."
"Will you not think on this?" the old woman inquired, hoping that he would reconsider.
The blaze from the fireplace threw the tight muscles of the man's face into relief. It seemed to be carved from the same harsh rock that made up the walls of his castle and the fireplace in his sitting chamber. This was the face of a man who didn't know the meaning of the word compromise. Several of the dogs that had been sitting at his feet rose with him, awaiting their master's command.
He reached down and fondled the ears of the largest, a big brute who responded with a growl of contentment. "'Tis all I have thought about. It must be done."
"There is no must," she admonished him softly with the ease that came from the familiarity of the years behind her.
The man's head turned; he threw her a warning glance that silenced the old woman.
She knew that the Wolf had made up his mind; there would be no changing it. He had decided on a course of action, and he would follow it to the end.
Siobhan nodded her head in assent. "I shall see to the arrangements that must be made, my lord."
He nodded his dark head as he stared into the flames. Now that he was decided, all that remained was to do the deed. Tonight he and his men would ride to Castle Derran and steal the eldest daughter of Hugh Fitzgerald.
Chapter 1
"Audrey! Clare! Where are you?"
Sybelle Fitzgerald searched the gardens surrounding the keep. She knew that her twin sisters loved to play amongst the myriad plants and flowers of their mother's garden. Sybelle also enjoyed the gardens, but for a different reason. Here she felt close to the mother she still missed, even though Margaret Fitzgerald had died eight years ago, along with her just-born son. It was a place of peace and contentment, where Sybelle often sought a few minutes of respite from the various tasks that she either oversaw or performed herself, all part of her duties as the chatelaine of her father's various manor houses and castles. Of all the properties her father owned, some given in recognition of his services to the Yorkist crown, this relatively minor castle in Ireland was her particular favorite.
Her father, Hugh Fitzgerald, the Earl of Derran, had already set aside this place as Sybelle's own on her last birthday, deeding it to her. These were her gardens now, her people, her heritage. A legacy for her heirs. She gently touched the soft wool at her waist. At twenty, Sybelle was long past the age for being wedded and bedded. No children tugged at her skirts, no babe waited for its birth.
Since his earlier efforts at marrying her off had come to naught, her father, ever indulgent of his eldest daughter, had promised that she would wed only by her choice.
This state weighed heavily on Sybelle's mind this day as she prepared to celebrate the wedding of her personal maidservant to one of her father's grooms; Alyce was happy, glowing in her love for her affianced husband.
A quick flash of cloth the color of the evening sun caught Sybelle's eye. Giggles that could not be missed alerted her to where her sisters were hiding.
''If you do not come now, I promise that you shall both be banished to your chambers when the festivities commence. You shan't be allowed to participate in the wedding celebrations at all."
Abruptly the giggles ceased, and from behind a large hedge the twins emerged.
"We were only playing a game with William, 'twas all, Belle," pronounced Clare.
"Aye," echoed Audrey, "William promised to show us a treasure." Audrey added with all the disdain her fourteen-year-old tongue could muster, "But all he did was to show us some ugly old weapon he'd found and steal a kiss from Clare." A sharp jab in the ribs was Audrey's reward for volunteering this bit of information.
Sybelle stifled a smile and asked Clare, "Is this true?"
Clare, her blonde hair loosed from its usual plaits, blushed and stared at the ground. Sybelle noted that although both her sisters were becoming women physicallythe changes in their bodies had been evident these past few monthsthey were both still too young emotionally to be forming attachments to any boy. William, a page, would have to be disciplined. Clare and Audrey would have to be cautioned that their honor was not to be taken lightly.
Sybelle silently acknowledged the need to have a long talk with them. It was easy to shrug away the task of telling the twins about their place in society, especially how very fortunate they were in being allowed to remain children longer than most of the girls of their age. The duty fell to Sybelle, who had raised and loved them, protecting them perhaps overmuch. Maybe tonight, or better still, tomorrow when the wedding feast was over.
"Your gowns are grass-stained. Come in and change or you will miss the ceremonies."
Audrey fell into step with Sybelle, asking, "Will Father return and join in the wedding feast?"
Sybelle, her brow knit in thought, answered, "No, Audrey, our lord father had business to attend to."
"For the king?" asked Clare in an awed tone.
"I suppose so," Sybelle answered, though in her own mind she wasn't quite sure. Something was wrong; she could feel it. Her father usually took her into his confidence. Yet this time he'd left only a parchment containing a hastily written note to her that he had to leave for England without delay. He gave no details, and no further messages came. This was unusual for Hugh Fitzgerald, who frequently communicated with Sybelle whenever business for his king took him away from family for any length of time. A fortnight had now passed without word from the earl, and Sybelle was worried. One didn't attain the position that her father had without enemies, particularly from the Lancastrian camp. She dismissed any threat from her neighbors. Her sire was a royal sheriff, her family too well thought of, to be in danger from that quarter.
She forced a wide smile to mask any troubling thoughts that might reveal themselves to her sisters. Besides, this was a happy day; naught would come of worrying save to spoil Alyce's happiness.
«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»
"'Twill be easy to take the wench, my lord."
"Everything has been secured?"
"Aye. The guards are away from their posts because of the wedding feast. The maidservant of Derran's daughter was wed this evening. The lady gave leave for a grand celebration, and there has been much feasting and drinking. 'Tis almost as though heaven were aware of our plans and aiding us."
A cynical smile curved the lips of their lord, Roll O'Dalaigh. "'Twould probably be closer to say hell, Auliffe."
Auliffe's dark eyes twinkled with amusement. "'Twould serve the purpose better if the Norman believed his flesh was abducted by the devil himself. Like as not he'll have to search to hell and back to find her."
Rolf O'Dalaigh answered, "No, Auliffe. He will know soon enough."
"You'll be telling him?"
"Aye, I will."
"Why?"
"So that he knows full well that to strike at a member of my family is to strike at me." Rolf smiled again, but this time it was the gesture of a man confident and hard in his purpose. "He will remember the man who took his daughter's honor, as he stole my cousin's. The Earl of Derran must be taught that the Earl of Killroone is not to be trifled with."
Another voice spoke out, urging caution. "It is still not too late to change your mind."
Rolf tilted his head, slicing an angry glance at his younger brother. "There is no need for you to join us if you feel the task beneath you."
Branduff O'Dalaigh's golden eyes were gentle, for he loved his brother and respected him as the leader of their family. Yet still he felt duty bound to voice his reservations about an action that he deemed folly. "Rolf, you know full well I respect you and will obey your wishes. But do you think what harm this will do to the woman we are to take? She has done nothing wrong."
"She is her father's daughter," Rolf answered. "That is enough."
Conversation abruptly stopped as another man approached.
Rolf's knife was at the man's throat. "Is all safe ?"
The man choked on the fear that he felt. He nodded. Rolf let loose his hold.
"Excellent. 'Tis time we make our move."
"My lord," the man gasped, "there is the payment that you still owe me."
Rolf signalled Auliffe with a wave of his hand and Auliffe produced a bag of coins, which he threw at the peasant.
The man picked up the leather pouch and fled into the night.
"Do you trust such as he, my lord?"
Rolf snorted. "Of course not, which is why I sent you to observe as well, Auliffe. A man who betrays his lord will sell his services again."
"Then should we not dispose of the problem rather than allow him to profit?" Auliffe suggested.
"No," Rolf said calmly. "He will serve my purposes quite well. When Derran returns, the man will no doubt tell him who has stolen his daughter and expect a reward for doing so.
"The proud earl will pay money to the man who betrayed him. A just touch, do you not think?"
The men laughed softly, all save Branduff O'Dalaigh. He said a silent prayer.
«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»
The sounds of revelry echoed faintly in Sybelle's chamber. She stood at the window, staring out into the night sky. It was a solid darkness, unbroken by a moon. Breathing deeply of the cool air, she felt it caress her skin. She drew an ivory comb through the shiny brown waves, which unbound came to below her knees.
A sound from her bed caused her to turn her head, but it was only the movement of her sister Clare. The twins were too excited to sleep in their own chamber tonight so Sybelle had allowed them to share her wide bed. But, she was too restless to sleep herself, preferring to observe the stars, which dotted the night like so many gems against a backdrop of velvet.
She was bending to blow out the candle and return to her bed when she saw the door to her room open slightly.
Before she could reach for her dagger, the door swung open and in strode several men, weapons drawn. Fearing for her sisters' safety, Sybelle swallowed the scream that rose in her throat. Perhaps they wouldn't notice the two sleeping girls curled amongst the fur robes of her bed.
There were three men. All were tall, that little she could tell. Not her men, to be sure. One approached her, blade glistening in the tiny light the candle afforded.
"Here is the one we seek."
In the shadows of the room, the speaker's face was harsh and proud, and held the look of a warrior. Terror griped her, but she wouldn't allow it to show. One man she might be able to fight and save her honor, not three. She must remain calm and cool-headed.
Sybelle stood rooted to the spot, allowing only her right hand to move behind her as she felt for the dagger.
Seeing the slight movement, Rolf grabbed the woman, putting his blade to her breast. "Halt."
Through the material of her nightdress she felt the hard point of the weapon against her flesh. She was so close to the man that she could smell the fragrance of horse and leather that clung to him. It was still too dark in the room to see all his features properly, or to see what the other two men were doing.
The touch of his large hand on her body sent shock waves through her flesh. "Be still or my blade will draw blood," the deep voice said roughly in her ear.
Sybelle stilled. His hand continued its leisurely journey across her body, cupping the curves, sliding softly along the valleys.
"You'll do," were the enigmatic w
ords the stranger uttered. He spoke English with an accent that she knew to be native Irish, perhaps from the rebel western coast.
Rolf waved his hand towards the tangle of furs that lay upon the bed. "Take a pelt for her."
Sybelle jumped in alarm and the knife scratched a hole in the material and on her flesh. Her fears came true as the twins awoke with a start.
The men were surprised; each went for a girl, trying to hold the wiggling bodies still and maintain some control over mouths that wanted to scream.
"Tell them to be quiet," Rolf urged, moving with Sybelle so that they stood next to the bed that now held Auliffe with an armful of Audrey, while Branduff was struggling with Clare, who managed quite successfully to nip him on the hand before he stilled her.
When Sybelle spoke, it was in French. She instructed her sisters to pretend that they could not understand English; they were to be quiet, and above all, do or say nothing.
"What did you say?" Rolf asked in a throaty growl.
"Only that they should be still," she lied boldly. "They are my cousins newly arrived from Normandy for a visit."
Branduff threw Rolf a puzzled look. He made as if to speak, but was silenced with a warning look from Rolf.
"That is all?"
"Yes," she said softly.
"They shall remain here," Rolf ordered. "Bind their hands and feet." He sliced a glance at the defiant, fury-cold eyes of the girl that Bran held. He added, "Also their mouths." These orders were given in Gaelic.
Rolf made note of the confused look on Sybelle's face. Good, he thought. Two could play at the game of ignorance.
"What is it that you seek?" Sybelle asked.
Rolf's cryptic response was simply, "Justice."
Finising with the twins, Bran and Auliffe awaited Rolf and his captive.
Sybelle saw the terror that each twin was feeling. Whatever was to happen to her, her sisters would be spared as long as she cooperated with the strangers. Quelling her natural urge to fight to free herself and her sisters, Sybelle allowed the man to place the soft pelt over her shoulders and lead her from the room.