Wolf's Embrace

by Gail Link

  Hugh caught that gesture and swallowed hard. His anger at Clare was the result of his own continued feeling of guilt. Even now he wanted his wife with a consuming passion that grew deeper and stronger with each passing day. And the loneliness he felt at denying himself the sweet delights of her body scraped his soul raw. He had known denial as a soldier, knew what it was to want and to ignore, to placate with other diversions; but this pain of abstinence after such sweet, fresh pleasure was greater than anything he'd ever felt. It was matched only by his culpability in his daughter's abduction.

  "Never did we think that by answering love's call we would hurt anyone else. Neither Hugh nor I wished that. You must believe us."

  Audrey sprang from her seat and threw her arms around Duvessa's slim shoulders. "My lady mother, no one can blame you for following the dictates of your heart." She kissed Duvessa's cheek and went to her father, seeking strength from his embrace. She looked up at him, eyes expressing her hope. "The king's Grace will help you in your bid to regain our sister, will he not?"

  "I await his reply to my message, my dear," Hugh said, hugging her close. He thought how unlike these two sisters of the same mold were. Audrey was sweet, gentle, understanding, with a calm, placid heart; not so his firebrand Clare, who was impetuous and outspoken, blunt and generous. He never ceased to marvel that from his loins sprang three such different females as his daughters.

  "Will the king's Grace accede to your request?" Clare asked.

  "He must," Hugh answered. Yet, in his heart, he knew that with his king, there was no "must" unless it befitted Edward. "We will get Sybelle back, never fear. If need be, I will raise my own forces."

  "And put him to the sword," Clare said, vehemently. "Though a quick death would be too good."

  "Never fear, Clare. When this Wolf of Killroone is within my power he shall rue the day that he put hands on my flesh."

  Duvessa listened to the bitterness in her husband's tone and said a silent prayer that her plan would bring about results.

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  The meal was long over, and the twins had sought their bed for the night. Duvessa paced the confines of her bedchamber, knowing that she must tell Hugh about her lady Yseult and put her plan into motion. He was not abovestairs, having decided to talk with his man-at-arms. Nervously, she rubbed her palms together. There could be no turning back now. Come what may, right or wrong, she must do the deed.

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  A bottle of wine lay almost drained at Hugh's elbow. Plans had been worked out between him and Sir John for the retaking of his daughter. Hugh's usual calm in preparing for battle took on a strange edge when speaking of this assault. His habitual clear thinking was temporarily clouded with doubts regarding the safety of his daughter. Always before he was the cool leader in battle, being able to judge a situation to its best advantage for his king and his troops.

  He heard the door to his library open. His wife stood on the threshold, peeping around the door.

  "Come in, Duvessa," Hugh said softly.

  "I needs must talk to you, my lord husband."

  He pulled out a chair. "Sit. Speak," he said wearily.

  Duvessa's eyes went to the now empty bottle of wine; she smelled it on Hugh's breath as he leaned close to her. Her husband didn't indulge in drinking merely for the sake of something to do. He was a moderate man where spirits were concerned. Or he had been. She wanted to cradle that fine head to her breast and assure him that all would be well, that their world would soon be righted. Duvessa blinked back the tears that threatened to reveal her inner feelings. She must be content to feed on her memories until the breach between them was healed and her husband was once again safe within the haven of her love, as she was with his.

  "My lady Yseult wishes to return to Ireland, my lord. I have said that you will grant her request, and provide an escort."

  Hugh's blue eyes closed; the thick, short lashes of reddish-brown lay against his skin. He steepled his fingers; Duvessa yearned to caress the fine golden hairs that lightly dusted the backs of his hands, to touch her tongue to the pale coating of freckles nature bestowed on him. Neither Clare nor Audrey had inherited this gift; Sybelle had, though not to the degree that it shaded her father's skin.

  "It shall be as you ask, my lady. Tell her to be ready to leave at first light tomorrow. I will inform Sir John and instruct him to make the necessary arrangements.''

  Just as Hugh was about to stand, the door to the room was thrown open and Sir John appeared.

  "Forgive me, my lord, but the message that you have been awaiting is arrived."

  Accepting the thick packet of parchment that carried the Royal seal of England, Hugh broke the wax emblem. He hurriedly scanned the contents, his face draining of color before anger restored it.

  "Damn you, Ned. Damn you to hell for this!" Hugh shouted, ignoring the fact that his Utterances could be deemed treasonous to some ears. He was beyond caring about such petty matters as he threw the sheets to the desk, taking a deep breath.

  "What does your king say, my love?"

  Hugh turned to her. The look on his face was a frightening sight to behold. She thought she had seen his anger before; this was tinctured with the stain of the betrayal that Hugh was feeling.

  "Here, read his words of friendship," Hugh sneered, taking the sheets and tossing them towards her. "Read them aloud so that Sir John can hear how well loved I am by my king, in whose service I have been faithful these long years. Read," he said, his tone harsh and abrasive, "and see in what favor the Earl of Derran is held by his liege lord."

  Duvessa picked up the papers and read the script written in Edward IV's own hand. She read aloud:

  "My Lord Derran:

  'Tis with a heavy heart that after careful consideration I must refuse your request for troops, either royal or those which owe you allegiance. To undertake such an expenditure on behalf of one individual is folly. I know the pain that you must be feeling, for the Lady Sybelle is a child any man could be proud of. Yet, what you ask on her behalf must be weighed against the good of England. Such an extravagance cannot be permitted, and to send a campaign so far into Ireland would be to risk too many lives.

  I have talked to my advisors on this matter and I have made up my mind. I give you permission to bargain for her release, and will offer you a mediator ifyou wish, but I cannot allow you to lead troops in a hostile action against this Irishman.

  You must know, Hugh, that I would join you in this if I weren't Edward of England. But 'tis all I must think of, and also of your life, dear friend. Thereby, under Royal edict, you are forbidden to summon any of your own retainers to mount an attack on this Killroone's stronghold. You are also relieved of your position of Royal Sheriff. Should I discover that you have disobeyed my command, your title and property will be forfeit to the Crown. You and your family will become prisoners of the state.

  This appears harsh, my friend, yet I feel if I don't do this you will hie to Ireland in search of this Irish earl of Killroone. Our country cannot sustain any further political strife at this time. You must understand, Hugh.

  My queen and I offer our prayers that this situation will be rectified to your best interests."

  "Rectified!" Hugh shouted. "Christ, can Edward be so cold?" From his finger he removed a stone of incomparable beauty, a sapphire set in a thick chunk of woven gold, and tossed it angrily across the room, so that it bounced off the wall and fell to the floor. "A piss on your kindness, my lord King.''

  Hugh gripped his arms tightly together and bowed his head. He was a man caught in the deepest torment, torn by loyalty to his king and to his daughter, torn between anger and hurt that the man he gave his life-long fielty to could have betrayed him. He had feared that Edward wouldn't back him with either money or men; he had expected that, but to be told that he could not mount his own rescue effort on behalf of his daughter, that his heritage would be forfeit if he chose that path, was
a wounding he hadn't thought Ned capable of. The ring he'd torn off so viciously that it cut his finger had been given to him years ago by Edward as a token of his favor and professed love.

  Duvessa's heart was torn as she watched the man she loved in such agony. She vowed that she could easily tear the once handsome face of Hugh's king to ribbons of rent flesh for the pain he was causing her beloved husband. lord, what shall you do?" Sir John asked.

  Hugh straightened, his blue eyes reflecting the tortured decision that he must make. "Do?" he questioned, his voice husky with emotion. "Do," he repeated wearily. "I shall do what I must to protect my remaining family from the Tower, Sir John. I will accede to my king's request, and damn him for forcing me to do so at the expense of my eldest child." His hands balled into fists. "Edward is a coward, and he forces me to become an impotent reflection of his fear. For that, and Sybelle's fate, my service to the cause of York is at an end."

  "We must tell the twins, my lord," Duvessa stated simply.

  "Aye," Hugh acknowledged.

  "My lord," Sir John spoke, "if you want I will lead a band of men to this Wolf's castle and attempt a rescue of the Lady Sybelle as we had planned. It may be difficult, but we shall endeavor to free her. Leave the selection of the men to me."

  Hugh clasped the older man on the shoulder. "Thank you for your offer of courage, my friend. Yet, as much as I would like to say aye to your request, that I cannot do. I cannot risk your life and property, and that of any men you would ask."

  "My lord, 'tis no risk. I would do it gladly, surely you know that?"

  "Aye, Sir John, I do. But Edward has bound my hands so that all who help me are doomed. No, that I will not ask or permit. You have my gratitude for the offer, knowing the risks.

  "No, now I must deal with this man, much as I hate the thought of that. If he wants justice for any imagined action, than he shall have to face me or brand himself a coward. I shall write and offer whatever it takes to ransom my Sybelle. If that does not satisfy him, then I shall give him a chance to fight me for her."

  "No, Hugh," Duvessa cried.

  "If it must be so to regain my daughter, I will do it. I must. Now, let us retire upstairs and tell Clare and Audrey."

  "Before we do that, my lord, you must give Sir John the instructions for my lady's leaving."

  Displaying a weariness of the soul that sapped his strength momentarily, Hugh gave brief commands to Sir John, leaving the details in his capable hands.

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  Refusing the help that he could plainly see in his wife's eyes, Hugh opened the door that housed the sleeping twins.

  "Clare. Audrey," he said softly, so as not to startle them.

  Both twins roused from sleep quickly.

  "Father?" they asked in unison.

  "Aye. I have to talk to you both."

  Each of the girls immediately sat up, throwing a concerned look in their father's direction.

  "Have you had word from the king's Grace?" Clare demanded.

  "Indeed I have," Hugh admitted.

  "And?" Audrey queried.

  "I am forbidden to attempt to free her by means of force. I can ask no man who owes me allegiance to rally to my banner and join me in freeing my daughter. Nor will the king sanction money or men from his quarter, although truth be known I did not really expect him to provide succor. What I expected was the loyalty due me as Edward's man. That was denied me."

  "What will you do, Father?" Audrey asked.

  "I shall do all that I can. Trust me." Hugh thought silently to himself that he didn't know how, but that he would effect his daughter's release somehow. He had to, for too much was at stake.

  Both girls went to their father's arms, which gathered them close, effectively cutting Duvessa out. No one realized they had done so, except Audrey, who threw a look in Duvessa's direction, and saw mirrored there in her wide hazel eyes the anguish they all felt.

  Duvessa crept silently out the door, leaving Hugh to his children. The tears she had kept at bay fell freely now down her smooth cheeks. Love should bring only joy; instead, she now began to believe that it brought also pain and suffering, and the price too high to pay.

  Sybelle, she prayed, may you have tamed the Wolf, softened his heart and mind, or we are all lost.

  Chapter 17

  Sybelle stretched sinuously, her arms riding high over her head, as she breathed the cool, crisp air. The sun shone in through the windows. She snuggled further into the deep richness of the bed, enjoying the feel of the soft linen next to her naked skin. Sleeping nude was something she'd never done; now it felt natural, right.

  Voices below in the bailey kept her from returning to sleep. Reaching for the brocaded velvet robe at the foot of the bed, she threw it around herself as she rose. Going to the window, she peered out, blinking at the unaccustomed bright sunlight.

  She saw two grooms bringing horses that she recognized as belonging to Branduff and Rolf. Auliffe gently cuffed one lad, admonishing him for something. She watched as another boy emerged into her sphere of vision with a hawk on his arm, followed quickly by yet another who also carried a bird.

  Hawking. They were out for sport this morning. What she wouldn't give to be able to fly over the hills on a reliable horse and hunt, to enjoy a delicious taste of freedom. At times she felt just like the captive birds, a possession for a purpose.

  Sybelle heard Rolf's deep voice as he entered her field of sight. He was bareheaded and the sun glinted off the blackness of his shoulder-length hair, shading it with warmth. This day he was dressed in a rich green, the color of the forest at evening. Accompanying him was Bran, who wore the warmth of the sun on his slender frame.

  His clothes gave her an idea, and her mouth curved into a deep smile. Should she? Could she? Dare she? Yes, it was a risk worth taking. She didn't care what Roll thought, she would do it. At that moment, Sybelle didn't care that it would be thought scandalous. She'd come beyond that.

  Smiling, she opened the door to her room. She motioned to the young servant woman, Maire, who was walking by, that she wanted Siobhan. Maire nodded; she spoke only Gaelic, but she understood the name Siobhan and hurried to do Sybelle's bidding.

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  An hour had passed since Rolf and Bran left the castle to hunt. They were taking a break, relaxing their horses, sharing a skin of cool water.

  Bran noted absently that it had been well over a month, nigh onto two, he corrected himself, since the Lady Sybelle had joined their household. In that time he'd observed subtle changes in how his brother and the lady fared. He often caught the looks each focused on the other when they thought they were unobserved. No longer was the lady's regard that of fear or wariness. Glimmers of affection for the people and the land could be seen in her proud eyes. And, once in awhile, he caught the look of deep concentration on her face when she gazed at his brother, a sort of unwitting fascination, as best he could tell. And in Rolf's green eyes he could see respect, and something deeper. It was a look of wanting that bordered on the overwhelming. Strong cords of feeling emanated from them both. Bran judged that neither was aware of how much power each held over the other. He knew Rolf would scoff at the notion, as would the noble lady, but the growing intensity of consciousness between the couple was the subject of much conversation amongst the castle inhabitants whenever Rolf and Sybelle weren't around.

  Bran slanted a look at his brother. Rolf was speaking low to his favorite bird, praising the winged creature in dulcet tones.

  But Rolf was not so oblivious to him as Bran thought. Without looking up, his brother said, "What troubles you, Bran? You seem to be far away."

  "I suppose I was," Bran admitted sheepishly, focusing on his brother's face.

  "I hope that it was a woman who had your mind."

  Bran smiled. "In a way, aye."

  "In what way?" Rolf demanded.

  "'Tis my own concern, brother," he replied.

 
Rolf shot him a strong look. "Mayhap 'tis time we considered a match for you if your blood runs that hot."

  "'Tis no concern for you, Rolf, as the title and the estate are yours, and as such the responsibility of providing heirs for Killroone."

  "Until that happens, you, dear brother, are my heir. And if you don't wish an alliance of a permanent kind, perhaps we could find you a biddable mistress."

  Branduff said in a terse voice, "I think I can be trusted to find female companions of my own, thank you."

  Rolf continued, "Is there a woman who has captured your fancy? Speak and I shall arrange it for you."

  Bran's thoughts drifted to form a misty version of a girl of spirit and grace, of flesh and fire, who permeated his fantasies. Yet he couldn't speak the name of the child-woman whose golden-haired figure called to him. Rolf wouldn't understand. At times, neither did he.

  "No," he lied purposefully, "there is no woman of any importance."

  "The niece of Glengarden is young, but comely. I could speak"

  "If you think she is so well-formed, perhaps you should offer for her yourself," Bran said scathingly.

  "She would not suit me," Rolf said. "Besides, we were speaking of your marriage, not mine."

  "No, brother, you were speaking of my marriage alliance, not I."

  "As head of our family, 'tis important that I know who you will wed. It is not just your decision, Bran."

  "I am not a child, Rolf, to be instructed or forced."

  "I had not thought that you were, Bran," Rolf stated, his arm thrown companionably around his brother's slim shoulders. Rolf saw in his brother's face the man that he had once been. Although six years separated them, Rolf often thought that it was closer to a score or more. In experience and the ways of the world, he was so much the older and, sadly, the wiser. In only one way could he feel the cares of his world pass him by without notice; that was when he held the Lady Sybelle in his arms, when he sought the sweet sanctuary of her flesh. Then he felt re-born, renewed in a way he'd never believed possible. Was it an illusiona fantasy of his mind? Could one woman, an inexperienced one at that, hold him in thrall? Could she constantly deliver that haven he hadn't known he needed until that special night?