Red Wolfe

by B. L. Herndon

  “Oh, yes. I’ve deemed him so. I’m sure he would be very flattered to know the interest I’ve taken in him.”

  “I suppose I should uphold my end of the bargain.” They began to slowly walk from the music room and wander about in the candlelit hallways. “Where does this story in your book end?”

  “The young woman ran off to elope with the other prince.”

  “Ah, yes. Well, the kind prince was so devastated by his lover’s rejection that he shunned himself away, far away in the depths of his mansion that was isolated deep in the forest. He would see no one, not his servants, his friends, not even his own mother.”

  “How sad.”

  “It gets even sadder,” he teased. “Wanting to ease his pain he fled from his home one night, seeking help from the one person who could possibly stop his suffering.”

  “Who?” Ellena excitedly asked as they arrived at her chamber door.

  “I’m afraid we’ve reached the end for tonight,” he wickedly said.

  “You mean that’s it?” Ellena was outraged. “That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

  “Yes,” he seemed very amused. “For now.”

  “Why?” she impatiently pleaded.

  “It’s part of my evil plan to keep you here longer.”

  “Keep me? I recall you saying that you didn’t like to keep women.”

  “That was true,” he laughed.

  She stopped before asking the question that had weighed heavy on her thoughts for some time. “Why are you acting so differently?” she softly inquired.

  “I’m not quite sure myself,” he answered. “Possibly magic?”

  Chapter Ten

  “Checkmate!” Ellena proclaimed for the second time in a row that morning. It was early the next day and the two were passing time in the John’s study, enjoying a rousing game of chess. Apparently, the great lord was much better at piano than board games. Ellena had beaten him twice in a row and he was baring the consequences of her victories.

  “Women are always unbearable when they win,” John grumbled.

  John.

  It felt so strange, but at the same time refreshing referring to him in such an intimate way.

  “Well, you certainly spent more time practicing music than you did your chess skills,” she taunted.

  “And how did you become such a master of the game?”

  “My grandfather loved it and he taught me well at a young age.”

  “And can you now best him?”

  “By the time I was fourteen, but in the last year of his life I began to throw the games. It always brought him such joy to play, but I think he had caught on that I was letting him win.”

  “It must be nice to have those memories of him. All I knew of my grandparents were stories and tales. They all died from illness, as did my father, when I was very small.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Ellena whispered.

  Tea time in the drawing room brought another surprise in the way of a new stranger. Sir Philip was his name and he too seemed to have just returned from a long trip. He was a sprit, cheerful man, long and lanky but full of mirth. He was balding, but he did his best to hide the fact by swooping what little gray hair he had left over his shiny head. He was dressed similarly to Gregor in bright blue tights and a long black man’s dress. He delivered their tea and then bowed before running off.

  “Are you fond of horses?” John suddenly asked and Ellena knew he was trying to deflect her curiosity from the mysterious man. She would allow it—for now.

  “I have never ridden, but I would like to try it one day.”

  “Then that one day is now. I will go and prepare the horses for an afternoon stroll.”

  “You have horses?” she excitedly asked.

  “Well, of course. Doesn’t every lord?”

  Using horses to distract her from asking probing questions was a dirty trick, but it was a trick that she could not resist. He swept from the room to prepare their horses and Ellena waited, finishing her drink.

  Everything had changed. The whole house had transformed from a stony, lonely place to a warm home full of people and life. The mansion had changed along with its master.

  A cough gained her attention. John had finally returned and with gifts. He looked quite handsome in his riding boots and long coat. Gray gloves covered his hands and his red cape fell across his back.

  “They are ready,” he said, holding up her hood and coat. She stood and he helped her bundle up. As she moved to tie the hood in place her hand touched his and she jerked away. Having him so close, feeling the warmth of his body, it was sensation she was not accustomed to. Her parents had shown little affection not only to each other, but also to her. It was a feeling she craved, but at the same time, frightened her.

  A blue glove was suddenly slipped onto her left hand and not by her own doing. Was it her imagination or were his fingers shaking as he tugged the velvet material across her hand? Before he could put the other glove on, she gently took it.

  “I’ve got it,” she softly whispered. “Thank you.”

  She could barely look at him as he turned and began to head for the door. He was silent as they headed deeper into the halls. Her eyes watched the blood crimson of her hood mingle with her white dress as her feet marched forward.

  He led her through an unfamiliar part of the great estate, the east wing Ellena recalled him saying. Everything here was far more elaborate. Grand golden capers with extravagant red trimming hung from the walls as long emerald rugs ran down the halls. Even the golden candle holders lined along the walls seem to shimmer just a little more brightly than others she had seen.

  They past a grand portrait and Ellena stopped to stare. It was the first one depicting something other than servant faces. Instead it was a pastoral scene of some prodigious castle, covered in snow and surrounded by rolling hills and lush pines.

  “This is lovely,” she said, causing John to halt. He came to join her as she admired the painting.

  “You think so?”

  “It reminds me of this mansion.”

  “I suppose it does bear a striking resemblance.”

  “I love snow,” Ellena cheerfully said. “But back home it rarely ever fell.”

  “What’s so lovable about snow?” he retorted. “I’ve never enjoyed the stuff, makes it hard for hunting.”

  “Maybe that’s why I like it,” she lightheartedly replied.

  “Do you also like starving to death?” he shot back and Ellena laughed with such mirth that it brought a grin to his face. “You are insufferable.”

  “Me? You’re the most insufferable man I’ve ever met.”

  “I would hope that I have become more agreeable,” he gently said.

  “You have,” she turned to face him. “You have become much more agreeable.”

  “Would you like for me to have this moved to your room?” he pointed to the painting.

  “Don’t be silly. I’ll simply come here to admire it.”

  They began once again toward the stables.

  “Is your room in this wing?”

  “Oui,” he pointed down a hallway as they passed. “Down that passageway.”

  Ellena slowed down to gape down the dark path, but to her dismay she could not see anything. Forcing herself to tear away from the mysterious corridor, she caught back up with John. Their stroll was pleasant as they walked, chatting idly about the weather and different kinds of horses. She had once been to a farm when she was very small where she had seen a white pony, but that was the closest she had ever come to one.

  They exited the house through a back door that led behind the mansion. It was obviously the outside gardens with the way the pines perfectly aligned and the careful placement of different shrubberies. It was covered in snow, but Ellena could still make out the marble fountain in the center. This one was enormous and had the silhouette of marble woman perched above the frozen water, looking very vague and very lonesome as her empty eyes gazed down across the me
adows.

  John bore a quick right and Ellena followed. They passed the house and came to a flight of steps. She could see them, the stables, just a few feet beyond the icy stairs. An old stone archway stood above the steps and Ellena gently touched the ivy covered stone as they descended.

  “The horses are already prepared. I hope you like the one I’ve chosen for you.”

  She turned to see two horses tied to a stand nearby, saddled and impatiently whining. One was sheer black, and the other a dark brown with splotches of white and red. Both were muscular and lean with a coat that shined more than Ellena thought a horse coat could. As they drew closer, she noticed the dry bales of hay that had been placed along the newly swept ground and the smell of fresh straw filled her nose. Someone was tending to the stalls and doing a very good job of it.

  “The pinto is yours,” John smiled as he untied the horse and walked it closer. Ellena instinctively drew back. This one was much more intimidating than a little pony. “Go on and pet her.”

  Ellena removed the glove from her hand and reached out to pet its long snout as it snorted in her scent. “It’s a girl?”

  “I thought you’d like her unique coloring.”

  “I do.” Ellena was feeling much braver as the mare relaxed.

  “Her name is Jolie.” He then crouched, entwining his hands. “Place your foot in my hand and I’ll heave you up.”

  Her heart beat faster as she gripped his warm shoulder and stepped her boot into his waiting hands. In one swift motion she was atop the horse and feeling a little nervous.

  “Don’t be fearful. They can sense it.” He gently placed her brown boots into the harnesses and then handed her the reigns. “Make sure to pull outward when you want her to turn. If you pull back, she’ll stop.”

  “Are you sure my saddle is secure,” she was starting to panic as the horse moved. “I think I’m falling!”

  “You aren’t falling,” he tried to force his laughter down since his riding partner was far from being entertained. “You’re just sitting crooked.”

  That seemed to be the problem. The moment Ellena straightened her back she felt more balanced. John then leapt onto his horse with the ease that only comes from years of practice.

  “Gently use your heels to apply pressure to her belly when you are ready.”

  Ellena obeyed and the horse set off at a very slow pace.

  “I’m a little higher up than I’d thought I’d be,” Ellena’s voice quivered as she spoke.

  “Well, these are Percherons. They are known for being quite big, but don’t worry. Jolie is very gentle that is why I chose her for you.”

  “What’s your horse’s name?”

  “Roulette,” he smirked.

  “Doesn’t that mean—?”

  “A game of chance? Oui, riding Roulette is always a gamble. Half of the time he throws me, but his untamable spirit is what I like the best. It’s a game we play,” he leaned forward to pat the black stallion’s neck.

  “Have you ever gotten seriously hurt?”

  “Many times,” he proudly declared. “The first time he threw me was on my twentieth birthday. I landed on my face and broke my nose.”

  “And you still rode him?” Ellena was astonished.

  “I was trying to impress a young girl,” he chuckled. “But eventually I became fond of the troublesome thing.”

  “Did you win the young girl over?”

  “Only for a short time,” he answered in a low tone.

  Ellena could tell he did not wish to discuss that topic any longer, but she couldn’t help but think that perhaps the young girl was the Janelle that he had mentioned. From the look on his face, the short union did not end well.

  “I am glad I came back,” she suddenly confessed and John’s face beamed with pleasure. “I wasn’t going to a first, you know, but something about this place beckoned me to return and I am glad that I did.”

  “I have a notion of why. It is same reason why I could not resist riding Roulette.”

  “And why is that?”

  “You like a challenge.”

  “Well, I’m not sure if I like them, but I certainly don’t run from them.”

  She found herself enjoying the rocking motion of Jolie’s movements as they continued down the path that led into the forest and around a frozen lake.

  “What of your family? Do they not miss you?” he asked as she leaned forward to caress Jolie’s mane.

  “My mother died years ago. She was very sick, for a very long time. Once she passed away, my stepfather just disappeared. I haven’t seen him since.”

  “Nasty fellow?”

  “Very nasty and I do not miss him.”

  “What happened to your real father?” he gently asked.

  “I never knew him.”

  “Did you ever consider marriage?” It was a question that surprised her, especially coming from him.

  “I am not against it,” she confessed. “I’ve just never found that special person.”

  Without warning, Jolie suddenly began pulling to the left and then the right. Even Ellena, not having any experience with horses, could sense how rigid Jolie had become. Something was scaring her. Roulette seemed on edge also as he anxiously whined and Ellena could only pull at the reigns as Jolie began to stomp in an aggressive manner, nearly causing her to fall from the saddle.

  “John!”

  She was losing the battle as Jolie nearly tossed her to the ground.

  That’s when Ellena saw him. His yellow eyes and gray form leapt from the shadows along the forest.

  He lunged at Roulette first, but one swift kick from the black stallion sent the wolf clambering for a different target. Jolie bucked as the wolf snapped and tore, sneered and clawed at her legs. Piercing clothes ripped at Ellena’s dress as she clung to Jolie’s mane. John was bellowing something, a muddled jumble of words that she could not understand in the chaos. The horses were screaming, John was shouting, the wolf snarling, but Ellena couldn’t utter a sound.

  Jolie gave one last jerk and then Ellena was falling. The horse giving such a cry as she lost her footing on the snowy bank and plummeted, that Ellena dropped the reigns to cover her ears.

  Ice shattered as the horse’s heavy body crushed the frozen lake’s surface and Ellena was engulfed by the freezing water. It felt like a thousand prickly needles, the pain shooting through her veins almost like fire.

  The surface was so close. She could see dark shadows move from just beyond the edge. Jolie’s powerful legs were cutting through the water, stampeding all around and Ellena realized in horror that she was underneath the massive animal, a massive animal that was panicking. An ironed hoof hit her shoulder, pushing her even further down into the depths.

  A crimson ribbon was filtering through the water, a crimson trail that was not her cape.

  Blood.

  Was it Jolie’s or hers? Ellena couldn’t tell.

  She would not die like this. She refused to give in so easily, but her heavy coat had become like cement as Ellena battled toward the light. Her lungs were screaming for air, her limbs dense and stubborn as they refused to obey her demand to move.

  It was just so cold, the kind of cold that lulled its prey into a slumber that no one could wake from. The numbness seeped into her legs first and her frantic kicks became slower and slower before completely stopping. Her arms were soon infected with the growing deadness and she was suddenly floating motionless into the rising darkness.

  Chapter Eleven

  Whispers.

  Someone was whispering and her mind was thick and hazy as she struggled to move. Was she dead? She had to be, but the warmth enveloping her feet told her otherwise. Silk covered her skin. Was it a silk nightgown or a silk blanket? She couldn’t tell. Either way, it didn’t matter. How happy she was just to be alive! The whispers continued and she wanted to open her eyes, but found her eyelids like blocks of lead.

  “Hurry, Louisa,” she heard Gregor whisper as they placed something undern
eath the blanket by her feet, something hot and wonderful as it warmed her toes and sent a tingling heat through her body.

  Ellena could tell two things. One, she was back in her bed at the manor. Two, she was lying on her side with her face buried within a pillow. If she could have cried she would have, but it’s amazing how much energy is needed for such a simple task. That was her last thought before sleep claimed her again and what welcomed her were sweet dreams, full of sunshine and green meadows. She was not alone as she walked along the flower covered valley. A man was close behind, a man whose presence she did not mind. In fact, she felt happier than she had in some time. The next time she awoke it was to a sore throat and aching body. She opened her eyes to see Louisa.

  “She’s awake!” The woman bellowed coming to hover over her. Gregor soon arrived, as did Sir Phillip. Even some faces she didn’t even recognize appeared, looking down at her with anxious eyes, but one face was absent.

  “Where is John?” she strained to ask. “Did he get hurt?”

  “No, mademoiselle.” It was Gregor. “He’s out getting some herbs. You have a nasty fever.”

  “How long have I been asleep?” Her throat was throbbing.

  “Nearly three days. Here drink some water.”

  Louisa and Gregor helped her sit up and only after two gulps, she pushed the cup away. It was just too painful trying to force the liquid down. Louisa shooed the others away, but Gregor remained behind.

  “What happened?” she whispered.

  “Three days ago, Lord Wolfe came barreling through the door with you in his arms, completely soaked to the bone. He said there had been a wolf attack. Both of you were a sight to see! He recovered quickly, but unfortunately, my lady, you developed an awful fever.”

  “He came in after me,” she more said to herself than Gregor. “I can’t believe he did that. Is he all right?”

  “Lord Wolfe is well.”

  “What of the horses?”

  “They received a few bites and cuts, but they’ll heal.”

  Her throat was feeling better, but her body still horribly ached, not only from the strain of her unfortunate plummet but also from hunger. Before she could even ask, Louisa came storming in with a tray of hot porridge and meat.