Lady and the Wolf (4 page)

“He would never do that. Now untie him, quickly.”

Stefan reached out for the rope, but Arnon growled at him for what he’d done.

“Arnon, stop it,” said Stefan dropping the end of the rope and backing away.

“I’d growl too if you tried doing that to me.” Wolf walked over and slipped the rope from around the wolf’s neck, running his hands in the animal’s fur to calm it. He then bid farewell to Stefan and closed the door.

He turned around and stopped short, eying Winifred standing on the bed with his sword in both hands, aiming it at the wolf. “What is God’s name are you doing?”

He strode over to the bed, and when he did, he realized Arnon was growling at her and showing his teeth. His twin was having a bad day, and always did have a temper.

“Arnon, stop it.” He walked over and tried to pull the wolf away, but it snapped and lunged for Winifred. She lifted the heavy sword in both hands, and aimed it right toward the animal. Wolf grabbed Arnon by the scruff of the neck and pulled him away. He read her mind again. She thought the wolf was going to eat her.

“Give me that!” Still holding the wolf with one hand, he used his other hand to yank the sword out of her grip. “Don’t worry – Arnon isn’t going to eat you.”

She fell onto the bed and didn’t take her eyes from the wolf for a moment.

“I wish I had my crossbow right now.”

“No, you don’t. That’s the whole reason Arnon doesn’t like you. He knows you’ve killed other wolves. Not to mention you wounded him as well.”

“I was only following my grandfather’s orders.”

“Well, now you’ll follow mine.” He looked down at Arnon and gave him the mental command to leave her alone. Then he looked back up to her. “Just be nice to the wolf and he’ll stop growling.”

“No, he won’t. He has that look in his eyes – like he wants to eat me.”

Winifred looked up to see not only Arnon, but also Wolf staring at her with the same hunger in his eyes. They both wanted to eat her in one way or another, she was sure of it. She swallowed hard. She wondered what might have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted. When he’d looked at her that way and then touched her, all she could think about was his glorious naked chest and also the kiss they’d shared in the forest. ’Twas almost as if she’d lost all common sense, and she found herself actually thinking about coupling with this dark, dangerous stranger. What was the matter with her? If her grandfather ever found out, he’d have her head. Or Wolf’s head, anyway.

“There now, Arnon,” he said, petting the wolf and getting it to lay at the foot of his bed. “Once that wound is healed, you will feel so much better.” Then he looked back to her. “Are you ready?”

“Ready? For what? Please don’t think I am going to heal the wolf as well, because I don’t have any plans of putting my fingers near its mouth.”

“You won’t have to.” He got up and took the cloth from the table as well as a jar of herbal ointment cream and handed it to her. “Heal me.”

“What do you mean?” Her hands went out and she automatically took the supplies from him, and her eyes darted over to the wolf once again. He did seem docile now, but she couldn’t trust it.

“I said – heal me. When you do, you’ll heal the wolf as well.”

Her eyes shot over to him now and she shook her head. “You are jesting.”

“I jest with you not. Now try it and you’ll see what I mean.”

Her heart raced and she felt as if the walls were closing in around her. One wolf watched her like a cat and mouse, and the other one toyed with her just the same. She didn’t know what kind of absurd games this man played, but the sooner she did as he ordered, the sooner she might have a chance to escape.

“All right.” She nodded slightly, and looked over to the bed next to her. “Sit down and I’ll try.”

He did as ordered, and she opened the jar, sticking her fingers into the balm. Then she reached out for his wound, once again looking at his naked chest that seemed to beg her to touch it. She wet her lips with her tongue and just shook her head. “I can’t.” There was no way she could touch his nakedness and not feel that same want spiraling out of control like before.

“Why not?” His dark eyes the color of weathered steel met hers and his eyebrows lifted. “Afraid by touching me you’ll like it too much and lose control?” His mouth turned up into a cocky half-grin.

She almost dropped the jar, and wondered if he could really read her mind. It almost seemed like it. She had to think of something else quickly. “The wound is dirty and I need to clean it first.  So I’ll just -”

His hand shot out with the wet cloth in it. “Use this. Or was there something else you needed?” He looked at her mouth when he said it, and she felt as if he were silently mocking her and her illicit thoughts.

“Give it to me!” She ripped it from his hand and placed it over his wound to clean it.

“Gentle,” he said in a low voice, and she heard an intake of breath and swore he wasn’t breathing as she dragged the wet rag across his wound.

The wolf whined from behind her at the same time, and she didn’t dare to turn around to see it.

“You’re lucky you don’t need stitches,” she said, laying on the salve thick, and making small circular motions with her fingers.

“No thanks to you,” he mumbled, and she heard him exhale. When she looked at his face, he had his eyes closed.

“I told you, I didn’t stab you. I stabbed the wolf.”

She finished her ministrations and looked around the room for something to use as a binding. When she couldn’t find anything, she told him to get up off the bed. When he did, she pulled back the coverlet and stripped the satin sheet off the pallet and used the dagger to cut it, and ripped it into strips.

“What are you doing?” He wasn’t pleased by her action.

“I’m making a binding for your wound.”

“I have rags for that, you didn’t need to ruin my best sheets.”

“Why does a wolf need sheets?” She glanced over to his pet when she said it, but he obviously must have thought she meant him. Actually, she did.

“Just wrap up my wound and let’s be done with this. I have things to do.”

“Whatever you say.” She did as ordered and when she was finished, she swore she heard the wolf behind her sigh. She turned and looked at it lying on its back with its legs in the air.

“I think he wants you to scratch his stomach,” Wolf told her.

“I’ll not scratch anyone’s stomach!” She looked back at him, and her eyes dropped down to his stomach immediately. She had to get out of here fast before he put her under his spell again. “I need to use the garderobe. Where is it?” She wiped the rest of the cream from her fingers onto the wet rag.

“It’s down the hall to the left.” He lay on his back on the bed void of sheets and closed his eyes. This would be her chance to escape.

“I’ll be right back.” She hurried for the door.

“Arnon will go with you, Red. And you’ll wear that red cloak hanging on a hook by the door. That way I’ll be sure to spot you easily wherever you go.”

“Nay.” Her hand on the door, she turned her head and glanced over her shoulder at him. He looked comfortable, as if he were about to fall asleep.

“You heard me. Wear the cloak or you’ll go nowhere, my lady.”

“Fine. I’ll wear the cloak, but I’ll not be guarded by a wolf.” She grabbed the red long cloak, knowing it was probably left there by one of his latest whores, as this was the color worn by women of the night. Still, she no longer cared. If it allowed her to leave the room and sneak away, she’d wear red if she had to.

“You will be guarded by Arnon. That way I’ll be ensured you won’t try to escape.”

“I wasn’t –” The wolf was at her side, panting, with its tongue hanging out. Her eyes fastened to its shoulder – the shoulder that was wounded mere minutes ago but now looked totally healed. “W-what happened to its wound?”

“I told you – heal me and you’ll heal the wolf as well.” He drifted off to sleep quickly and began to snore. She looked down to the wolf that was staring at her intently. It did seem as if its wound were gone though she hadn’t done a thing to try to heal it. Odd. Very odd indeed.

“Sweet dreams,” she whispered to Wolf, and tried to leave and close the door but Arnon was right at her side. This was going to be a little trickier to escape with a wolf watching over every step she took.

Chapter 6

Wolf woke with a start at the sound of howling from outside. He jumped to his feet and grabbed his sword, taking a moment to get his bearings. Arnon howled again, and he ran to the open window and looked out in time to see Winifred riding over the drawbridge at breakneck speed – on
his
horse. She still donned the red cloak and it billowed out behind her in the breeze. It was his guess that the wolf was trapped somewhere in the mews since the door to the mews was closed and he heard the fluttering of wings and the cry of his falcons and hawks all the way up to his solar window.

“Damn, I should have tied her to the bed,” he mumbled, hurriedly dressing and putting his weapons into place.

The door to his solar burst open and in ran his squire, Dolan, waving his hands in the air. “My lord, the girl has escaped!”

“I know.” He calmly fastened his belt.

“She’s also locked your wolf in the mews – tricked him she did. She lured him in there by throwing one of those sausages from the kitchen inside and slamming the door behind him.”

“I know,” he said once again, having read Arnon’s mind all the way from across the courtyard. “Now stop telling me what I already know and go saddle me a horse, squire.”

“Are you going after her?”

“Of course.” He made a face and shook his head. “Did you think I was going out for a joy ride? Now hurry.”

“Milord, she will be long gone before you even leave the courtyard. Perhaps you should just . . . I mean if you . . . it would be faster and easier to just . . .” Dolan looked to the ground at his foot when he spoke rather than to meet Wolf’s eyes.

The boy was obviously insinuating it would be faster and easier if he just shapeshifted and tracked her on all fours. It was exactly what he planned on doing, but didn’t like to shift into his wolf form in front of his knights or the ladies of the castle, even if everyone knew he could do it.

He felt like a fool for sleeping and letting the girl trick him as well as his wolf. But her hands on his bare skin had felt so good, that it had not only distracted him but also made him feel very relaxed. All he could think of was the way she spread the cream on him with small, sensual circles of her fingers. He knew Arnon must have been distracted as well, and his wolf’s craving for meat had gotten the better of him.

He would have to do something about this girl soon, because she’d just foiled more than one of his plans.

* * *

Winifred rode the large war horse through the woods, looking back over her shoulder, knowing it wouldn’t be long before Wolf came for her. He wasn’t going to take it well that she’d not only tricked his wolf, but deceived him too.

It was getting late, and the sun would be rising soon. She had to get back to the castle before her grandfather awoke and realized she was gone. She also had to have her own horse when she returned. It was bad enough she’d be returning without her grandfather’s cloak and he’d be questioning her as to why she was wearing red. She was sure her grandfather would be amongst the first to notice the warhorse hidden in his stable, draped in trappings that boasted the crest of Lord Hugh de Bar.

She rode to the knoll where she’d last seen her horse and quickly dismounted. She looked around and saw her steed munching on grass behind a tree. Her crossbow was still slung over the pommel of the saddle.

“Thank goodness, it’s still here.” She held the horse’s rein in one hand and was heading over to her mount, when she heard a muffled voice cry out from somewhere.

“Help me. Use the key and open the door.”

She looked around and once again saw the mystical door in the knoll. Dawn was just starting to break, and with the lightening sky she saw the outline of the wood. She wrapped the reins around a tree branch and hurried over to the knoll. She stood on tiptoes and found the key hiding above the doorframe again, and gripped it tightly in her fingers.

“I’ve got it,” she called back. “I’ll open the door for you. Are you trapped?”

“Do it, quickly. He’s coming,” said the voice.

She looked back over her shoulder and listened, but couldn’t hear the sound of hoofbeats through the woods. Still, she put the odd-looking iron key into the lock and turned. Slowly, she heard the tumblers inside the lock falling into place and then the thunk that told her it had been a success. With the key still embedded, she pushed open the door and gasped when she saw a beautiful young woman about her age standing there with a hand mirror. The woman looked up from admiring herself in the mirror and smiled. Then she placed the mirror down on the dressing table.

“You did it. You opened the door. Now come inside.”

“Who are you and who did this to you?” Winifred took a cautious step over the threshold and jumped in surprise as a mouse ran over her feet and out the door. She took in her surroundings. She was in a small underground room with log walls and a wooden floor. There was a hearth with a burning fire, but no flue to vent the flames. Still, no smoke filled the room at all. There was a bed in the corner with long, black hanging curtains around it, and a dressing table with some jars on it. A chair was in front of the dressing table, and there was a second chair across the room. An old tunic hung from a nail in the wall, but besides this, there wasn’t much of anything else.

“I am Sheena, the fair maiden of Dartmoor, and I’ve been trapped in here by a very evil man.”

“Really? I’ve never heard of you. Who trapped you?” She walked over and sat down on the chair and eyed the odd jars on the table. “How long have you been in here?” She opened a jar and took a sniff and almost retched it smelled so bad. Then she peeked into another one and closed the lid fast when she saw odd objects that she couldn’t decipher inside.

“I’ve been here very long. A year now,” came the girl’s answer.

“I’ve seen my grandfather’s guard bring you food every day. Why haven’t you tried to escape?” She picked up the hand mirror and ran her fingers over the ornate etchings of the handle. It was made of an unusual metal and decorated with a raised face of a cherub with small wings on its back as well as horns on its head. Odd indeed.

“Your grandfather is the one who trapped me in here.”

She almost dropped the mirror when she heard that. “Nay.” She shook her head. “My grandfather is many things and most of them not nice, but he’d never trap a beautiful young maiden inside a secret room in the ground.”

“Oh, you’re mistaken. He did do it.”

“If so . . . mayhap he had good reason?” The mirror vibrated in her hand. When she glanced over at it, the reflective surface became clouded. When it became clear again, she held it up and looked at her own reflection and her eyes grew wide in fright. Not because of her own image, but because of the woman’s image she saw within the mirror. It was of the girl standing behind her across the room. However, the young girl wasn’t a young girl at all. She was an old, ugly, withered hag that was bent over, nearly bald, and missing teeth.

“Nay!” She threw down the mirror and jumped to her feet, and turned around with her hand to her chest.

“Oh, you saw me in the mirror, didn’t you?” asked the girl.

“Who are you?”

“I am the great warlord’s lover.” She shifted from her beautiful form into that of her true self - and old, evil hag. Winifred’s legs became weak and she stumbled backwards, holding onto the table to steady herself.

“You – you tricked my grandfather just like you tricked me.”

“He’s the one with the tricks, and I assure you, he will pay for it.”

“You – you did something else didn’t you? That’s why he put you in here.”

“I did. I ruined his plans when I cursed his prisoners a year ago. I had two wolves ready to do my bidding, but you had to go and set them free.”

“I – I didn’t know. Honest, I didn’t. I only saw one wolf and a man. I was only trying to save their lives.”

“Well, now that you’ve opened the door and entered, you have enabled me to continue what I started.” She came forward as if floating over the ground and her eyes bore fire. What had she done by opening the door?

“Wait! If you’re a witch – why haven’t you been able to break out of this room by yourself?”

“There was a protection spell placed on this hidden hovel and it couldn’t be broken until someone opened the door and stepped over the threshold.”

“But the guard brings you food each day. Surely he’s already entered.”

“He throws the food over the threshold but never steps inside.”

“Nay.” She shook her head furiously. “I don’t believe any of this. My grandfather is just a mighty warlord, not an evil warlock able to place spells.”

“Nothing is ever as it seems, my dear. People aren’t always as they appear to be.”

“Is that why he caged and whipped Lord Hugh de Bar and that wolf? Because he’s not the man I think he is?”

“Your grandfather is weak, though you may not think so. He never was clever, except for figuring out how to trap me and bind my powers.”

“So . . . are you powerless right now?”

“Almost. But I’ll get all my powers back now that you’re here. You’ve got the same blood running through you as the man who bound my powers. So a little taste of your blood, and I’ll regain what I’ve lost.”

Her hand shot out and she grabbed the dagger from Winifred’s belt. Then she held it up and lunged forward. Winifred jumped to the side, but the old hag was fast and strong, and she managed to nick Winifred’s arm, drawing blood in the process.

“Nay! Leave me alone,” she cried out in horror, wishing she had her crossbow on her.

“Ahhhh,” the woman said taking a deep breath, studying the blood on the dagger’s blade. “With a little taste of the blood of the man who deceived me, I’ll be able to leave this prison.” She cackled and smiled a toothless smile, reaching out her tongue and running it across the flat part of the blade. “Mmmm, your blood is thick and rich. Still, it’s not enough to gain back all I’ve lost. I’m weak from being locked in here for so long, so I’ll need more.”

“Don’t touch me!” cried out Winifred. The witch lunged for her with a crazed look in her eyes, the dagger slicing through the air. A growl was heard from the door, and a huge wolf bolted into the room with its jaws snapping. It jumped through the air right at the old hag, but by the time it landed, the old woman had disappeared in a puff of green smoke.

Winifred screamed again and ran for the door. This wolf wasn’t Arnon. It was all black, not brown. It was twice as big and looked to be twice as mean. She needed to get to the safety of her horse, and to get her crossbow as well.

She hurried out the door and ran to her horse, mounting just as the wolf ran up, snapping at her heels. From atop the horse she grabbed her crossbow and pushed a bolt into place, raising it up and aiming it directly at the big, black wolf. Her fingers quivered, and when she saw the sun’s rays hit the glassy eyes of the wolf, she stopped, unable to loose the bolt.

Something about this wolf seemed so familiar. Something in its steel-grey eyes looked . . . looked a lot like . . . Lord Hugh de Bar! She slowly lowered the crossbow, her eyes still interlocked with the wolf’s eyes. Then another wolf came bolting through the underbrush followed by someone on horseback.

She turned and kicked her heels into the sides of her horse and quickly rode back to Castle Chaserton where she would have to deal with her grandfather now instead.