“It is, sir,” Annelise was forced to concede.
“And more of a guarantee than many other maidens have upon taking their vows?”
“More, indeed.”
“Then, let us wed.” His tone indicated that he thought the matter resolved. “Let this love you desire grow in time, after we are wed.”
“Sir, my notion is not whimsy. I do not even know your name! I have never looked upon your face! I know little of you, beyond the fact that you have treated me well on this day. That is not sufficient!”
“But if you thought you loved me, that would compensate for all else?”
Her conviction sounded foolish when he expressed it thus, but Annelise lifted her chin. “If I believed we loved each other, that would, sir.”
“Shall I try to change your thinking?”
His low voice had awakened a tingle in Annelise that was not unwelcome. She was keenly aware that she was alone with this man, in a palace seemingly made for pleasure.
With a man who spoke to her as if she were his equal.
She swallowed. “I think not, sir.”
“Whyever not?” he murmured. He raised that gloved hand to her cheek, letting his fingertips trail across her skin. Annelise shivered despite herself. She found herself leaning toward him, wanting to feel his warmth—and far more. “Many ladies prefer to be convinced,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.
“Not me,” she said with haste and stepped away. “I know my own thinking, sir, and often express it with vigor. Indeed, most men see that quality as a liability.”
The smile was in his voice again. “While I am intrigued. I have a great affection for honesty, my Annelise, and have never desired a wife who would tell me what I sought to hear. You see? Our match becomes more potent with every moment.”
Annelise felt that she was being overwhelmed by his surety. He had a reply for every objection and, worse, she found her wish to deny him fading quickly. “I am certain, sir, that the novelty would fade. Marriage to me would suit you less well than you believe.”
He laughed then. “Do not have such little confidence in your charms, Annelise. I am convinced otherwise, that further acquaintance would only add to your allure.”
Annelise flushed then, because he had to be mocking her. No man had ever spoken to her thus. “I fear you mock me, sir.”
“I know you are mistaken.”
“All the same, I would abandon your hospitality, sir. I thank you for offering me a haven, but would prefer to leave.”
“You choose the wolves over marriage to me?”
Annelise nodded. “Certainly,” she said, although she did not feel so resolute. “I shall leave first thing in the morning.”
He did not reply, but she felt his gaze upon her.
“With my horse.” Annelise swallowed. “Thank you again, sir, for your hospitality. Perhaps the next maiden will welcome your offer.”
Still he did not speak.
She held out the ring again, but he did not move to accept it.
Had she injured his feelings? She felt a twinge of guilt then. He must truly be a fearsome sight. He must be lonely. While Annelise could feel compassion for him, she would not wed a man who refused to even show himself to her. She placed the ring on the flagstones between them rather than approach him again, then turned to leave.
Why had her heart clenched so tightly?
Why did she fear that she erred? Annelise knew she was right.
She was Quinn’s sister.
Rolfe was well aware of his comrade’s demand that Rolfe and Niall keep away from his sister. It had become a jest, but also was about seduction and not marriage. Rolfe had been resolved to abandon his ways with the exchange of marriage vows, but knowing that Quinn would take poorly to any slight suffered by his sister only redoubled his determination to court the affection of his lady wife alone.
Annelise was even more lovely when awake and Rolfe found her unspeakably alluring. Though he could see the resemblance, she was vivacious while her brother was more somber. She had amber eyes like Quinn’s, but while the knight’s often glowed with deadly intent, the lady’s eyes flashed with a fire that heated Rolfe’s blood. He had no doubt that her passion would extend to all facets of life and that she would embrace every pleasure. He had vastly enjoyed their conversation and the speed of her wit, and already anticipated a merry union.
But she meant to leave.
She would depart the palace and abandon its comforts rather than marry him. Perhaps she shared her brother’s skepticism of his intentions.
Perhaps Rolfe’s charm had faded.
It was clear he needed to be more persuasive with Annelise. She must agree to wed him on this very night.
He let her take a dozen steps before he spoke. “Not in the morning,” he decreed.
Annelise glanced over her shoulder and Rolfe shook his head. “If you leave, my Annelise, you will leave now.”
Her dismay was clear. “It is the darkest hour of the night!” she protested, turning to appeal to him. “You could not be so cruel!”
“I fear I must be firm, Annelise,” Rolfe insisted. “You gave your word that you would wed me in exchange for being granted admission to my palace. Is that not true?”
Annelise exhaled and her lips set. “It is, sir.”
“And now you would rescind your pledge.”
Annelise flushed. “You cannot wish to wed me, either, sir, not on so little acquaintance...”
“But I do.” He shook a finger at her. “I would excuse you from your vow, but only if you left this very moment.” It was a risk, but he doubted she would take it.
He hoped she would not.
Wolves howled in the distance, as if to remind them both of the perils of the forest.
Rolfe continued, speaking with a confidence he did not entirely feel. This lady, he suspected, was unpredictable—which, in truth, only added to his interest. “But if you remain within the walls until the morning, you must wed me first. I would not have it said that I had despoiled a maiden so lovely as yourself.”
Annelise strode back toward him, those eyes flashing with a vigor that made him want to kiss her senseless. “But I cannot leave now! You know the wolves would attack again.”
“You gave your word,” he reminded her.
Annelise halted before him and lifted her chin, clearly intending to look into his eyes. “Please do not be insulted. My choice has nothing to do with your disfigurement, however horrific it must be.” Rolfe frowned in confusion as she continued. “I can never marry a man who does not love me. It is that simple.”
“And how,” Rolfe murmured, “would you know whether a man loved you to your satisfaction?”
“I would simply know.”
“How? Give me a tangible example of a man’s love.”
“He would protect me from harm....”
“Save you from hungry wolves, perhaps?”
Annelise glared at him. “Perhaps.”
“What else?”
“He would ensure that I was sheltered and fed.”
“Ah!” Rolfe pivoted to survey the palace.
“Gifts,” Annelise said, sounding as if she had gritted her teeth. “A man smitten with his lady would bring her gifts.”
Rolfe could not resist reminding her. “Perhaps like a hot bath when she most desired one.”
Annelise exhaled in such evident frustration that he almost laughed. “You twist my words, sir! You cannot love me. We have known each other mere moments.”
“Yet it is said that the greatest journeys begin with a single step.”
Annelise eyed him, apparently having no argument to make against that.
“Perhaps,” Rolfe continued, “the truth of a man’s affection might also be found in the marital bed.” He saw her swallow as he raised his hand to her chin and felt her shiver beneath that light touch. “Your position is precarious, my Annelise,” he murmured. “You would neither wed me nor leave my abode before morning. Surely you kno
w that I could take whatever I desired of you, with no nuptial vows between us. Who would come to your aid?”
Annelise caught her breath but did not retreat. “But you would not.”
Rolfe was intrigued that she was not afraid. “How do you know?”
“You are not that manner of man.”
“How do you know?”
She frowned. “You would have done your worst already. You might not have offered me sanctuary. You showed me kindness when you did not need to...”
“And you come to trust me. I think we already take steps upon our journey together.”
She flicked a glance at him that was so filled with vexation that Rolfe did smile.
“But we both know that you cannot possibly love me,” Annelise insisted.
“Yet the end result is the same, is it not?” he whispered. “Surely love, like all matters of merit, manifests in tangible results?”
Annelise opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again.
Rolfe was close to triumph. He dropped to one knee before her and saw her try to spy something of him as the cloak parted. Her gaze flicked over his bent knee, then dropped to his gloved hand. She was curious about him, which could only be progress.
Of course, she had concluded that he was disfigured.
Perhaps that worried her, as well.
Rolfe straightened and doffed his glove. He held the ring out to her, the circle of gold pinched between finger and thumb of his right hand.
She looked and he knew what she saw. His hand was tanned, the palm broad and fingers strong. There was a callus on the palm at the base of his smallest finger. Her gaze lingered there, then she glanced suddenly at him.
“You are a knight.”
“Intent upon winning a lady’s favor so that she agrees to become my wife.”
She reached out and touched the white band on his finger. “You wore this ring until you gave it to me.”
“It is the only ring I possess, and a wife must have a ring.”
She caught her breath, her eyes darkening.
“Take my ring, Annelise,” he said softly, a thread of command in his tone. “Keep your vow.”
Rolfe saw her panic, but then she was cornered. What would she do, this unpredictable lady? She would not flee. Not Annelise. No, she would try to expose him, Rolfe guessed.
Indeed, she reached abruptly for his hood, clearly hoping to surprise him.
Rolfe’s other hand emerged from the folds of his cloak with lightning speed and locked around her wrist. She looked down at his hand, and Rolfe knew it was the supposed scar that she feared. His left hand was gloved, but clearly intact. Rolfe felt her pulse flutter beneath his thumb.
“I made myself a promise,” she whispered.
“And you made another promise to me.” Rolfe shed the other glove, watched her look, then captured her wrist again. His thumb slid across the inside of her wrist in a gentle caress, and his voice dropped as he continued. “The two are not necessarily incompatible.”
Her pulse leaped, the lady flushed, and Rolfe was reassured.
She peered up at him, and he saw that her resolve wavered. “How could they not be?”
Rolfe felt protective of her and wished he did not have to press her so on this matter. In the morning, the curse would be broken and he could confess all of the truth to her. There would be no cost in confiding in his wife then. “The two goals can be as one,” he said with conviction. “Your needs were met before you even stated them. I promise to you that will continue.”
Her eyes flashed and her next words were tart. “I expect more than a meal and the occasional bath from marriage.”
Rolfe smiled despite himself, liking her spirit. “And perhaps you are overly ambitious for that,” he chided. “Many women are abused or ignored by their spouses, kept in dismal conditions and forced to bear countless children. It is not so uncommon as a sheltered woman like yourself might think.”
Annelise was so impassive that Rolfe wondered if that was her fear.
“You will experience none of that at my hand and will be better situated than most,” he said. “I swear it to you, Annelise, that as my lady wife, you will be protected and defended to my very best ability. Indeed, you will have the benefits that you consider to be a mark of a man’s love.”
“But there would be no love between us,” she said.
He clicked his tongue. “Can you divine the future, my Annelise?” He began to trace larger circles against the soft inside of her wrist as he spoke and felt her sway toward him. That was promising, indeed. “Who can say what will grow between us over the years?”
Annelise peered up at him, again trying to catch a glimpse of his face. “Tell me your name,” she insisted. “Give me this much.”
Rolfe shook his head.
“That does not bode well for this pretty future you promise.”
“You must not look fully upon me before the morrow.”
She frowned in confusion. “What will change by the morrow? It is already late....”
Rolfe chuckled and she gasped with a maiden’s surprise.
“But without my looking upon you? How could we...” She flushed and he admired that she had the courage to ask what she clearly believed to be a very bold question. “Is this to be a consummated match, sir?”
He moved so that they stood toe-to-toe. Her breasts were but a finger’s width from his chest, and he looked down into the glory of her widened eyes. He could smell the scent of the roses from her bath, mingled with the lady’s own sweet scent, and his anticipation of their union rose. He would introduce her gently and sweetly to the arts of love. He would seduce her. He would ensure her pleasure. And he would do as much as many times as she desired. He would win her with his touch. “This match will be complete in every sense of the word,” he assured her.
Her flush deepened to a darker hue of crimson. “You looked!” she whispered.
He shook his head and lifted her hand to his lips. “No, but I wanted to. You are alluring in sleep, my Annelise, but the honor of a lady must not be compromised.”
He kissed her fingertips, well aware that she strained to see his mouth.
He continued with resolve, using her apparent concern as an excuse. “We must consummate in darkness so that you are not burdened with the sight of me.”
Annelise bit her lip and he guessed that her compassion for him grew.
“What about the morrow? Why did you say I could look upon you then?”
“Perhaps my situation will have changed.”
She frowned, but Rolfe silenced her question by raising the ring between them again. The garnet snared the moonlight and glowed a dull red. “Do we have vows to exchange, Annelise?”
“There is no priest,” she whispered, though the heat was gone from her protest.
“Marriage is the only sacrament for which one does not need a priest,” he reminded her. “Annelise?”
She stared at the ring. She bit her lip. She sighed and Rolfe had a moment to fear that she would still decline him. What would he do then? A panic rose within him for he could not take what she would not give, or compel her to accept him, yet the breaking of the curse relied upon her agreement. How could he persuade her?
Then Annelise lifted her left hand toward the ring, sending relief surging through Rolfe. “I will, sir.” She sighed. “I concede defeat.”
It was not the most encouraging agreement of a proposal, but Rolfe was heartily glad of it.
He brushed a fingertip across the end of her nose, unable to keep from teasing her. “Ah, my Annelise, why do I suspect that you never truly admit defeat?”
Her eyes sparkled then, filling with a merriment that stole his breath away. “Perhaps we do come to understand each other, sir.”
Rolfe laughed as the lady smiled up at him. “I might have to believe in destiny, after all, since the Fates brought me such a bride,” he said, then bent to claim her ripe lips with a kiss.
She would be his bride and his sal
vation, and Rolfe would ensure she never regretted this choice.
Annelise had no time to feel disappointment in her choice, for it had not truly been a choice at all. She knew her host had cornered her with logic and she took encouragement from his determination to hold her to her word. She liked that he coaxed her smile, as if he had feared she would still decline.
She had not anticipated his triumphant kiss.
He bent quickly and touched his lips to hers, then when she caught her breath in surprise, he slanted his mouth over hers and deepened his kiss. The hood of his cloak shrouded her face from even the light of the moon. One of his arms was around her waist, drawing her against his heat, while his other hand held hers.
Annelise had never been kissed like this before.
It was a marvel.
His kiss was sweet, coaxing her response, inviting her to participate instead of claiming his due. He did not force himself upon her: instead, he persuaded her to respond in kind. His kiss was a marvel and a delight, one that set her pulse racing and her anticipation rising. Her very flesh was on fire and she found herself rising to her toes, wanting only more.
It was a persuasive kiss and one that fed her confidence in her choice as nothing else could have done.
When he lifted his head, Annelise found herself struck to rare silence.
Her host led her to the bower of flowers, then turned to face her again, holding both of her hands in his own. His hands were warm and strong, unscarred, and his touch was gentle. Annelise thought about them upon her flesh and her toes curled in her shoes. He began to recite the familiar vows in his wonderfully deep voice and she was amazed to find herself in such a situation.
But not unhappy with it. He had listened to her concerns and tried to reassure her. He had promised to treat her well, and she was inclined to believe him.
“I take thee, Annelise de Sayerne, to be my wedded wife...”
Annelise made her vows in turn, her voice growing in conviction as she spoke.
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