Authors: Elizabeth Rose
Lady and the Wolf
Lady and the Wolf
By
Elizabeth Rose
Copyright © 2015 by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual organizations or persons living or deceased is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever without the author’s written permission.
Cover created by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik
Books by Elizabeth Rose:
♔
(Legacy of the Blade Series)
♛
(Daughters of the Dagger Series)
♛
Ruby
♖
(Madman MacKeefe Series)
♖
Onyx
♖
Ian
♗
(Barons of the Cinque Ports Series)
♗
The Baron’s Bounty
(New!)
♗
The Baron’s Destiny (Coming this winter)
☀
(Elemental Series)
☀
The Dragon and the Dreamwalker
✛
(Tarnished Saints Series)
✛
Tarnished Saints’ Christmas (Prequel)
✛
Loving John (Winter)
✭
(Greek Myth Fantasy Series)
♡
(Short stories)
♘
(Cowboys of the Old West Series)
Wolfe of the West
(NEW)
❤
(Tangled Tales Series)
❤
Lady and the Wolf
(NEW)
☂
(Single Title)
☂
The Caretaker of Showman’s Hill
(Gnarled Nursery Rhymes)
☠
Muffet (coming soon)
❒
(Boxed Sets)
And More!
Table of Contents
Danger lurked in the forests of Dartmoor and it went by the name of Lord Hugh de Bar.
Lady Winifred Chaserton of Tavistock made her way on horseback through the woods, sure she’d heard the soft pitter-patter of what sounded like animal paws on the trail behind her. The night was dark and the forest foreboding. Branches reached out like the bony fingers of a harpy, trying to snag the cloak she wore – her grandfather’s cloak. She’d sneaked it out of his chamber, wearing it as a disguise should she be noticed as she left the protection of Castle Chaserton’s walls.
She traveled without a torch this night, keeping to the rough path, not needing to see where she was headed, as she knew this trail by heart.
It was a cool autumn evening, and the trees had started to turn to shades of blood red, amber yellow, and fire orange in the past few weeks. The winds lately had loosened many of the leaves and they’d been dropping to the ground faster than enemies at the hand of her warlord grandfather, Earl Roland Chaserton.
The horse’s hooves crunched the dried leaves and the sound of crickets filled the air as she bravely forged forward without an escort. She hadn’t told anyone but one guard that she’d left the castle, and the man was sworn to secrecy.
With her crossbow slung over one shoulder and a quiver of bolts at her side, Winifred felt well protected from any evil that might be lurking behind the trees.
She had a mission to fulfill and she wouldn’t stop until she found her answers.
She slowed her horse. The night sky was only lit occasionally by the moonbeams that spilled out from behind the passing clouds. The long cloak she wore fell over the sides of her white horse, billowing outward in the breeze as she rode hard through the forest. The dampness of the night felt heavy all around her, and a cool breeze bit at her flesh. But its sting was naught compared to the teeth of the bloodthirsty wolf lying in wait somewhere in the shadows.
Rumor had it, Lord Hugh de Bar of Babeny was naught more than a wolf in disguise. Everyone referred to him as Wolf behind his back, and even to his face and he didn’t seem to mind. He was said to be able to shift from the form of a human to that of a wolf at will, and sometimes he couldn’t even control his shapeshifting. While in his wolf form, he was naught more than a bloodthirsty killer looking for innocent young maidens to defile. Or eat. She’d heard many stories of the infamous knight from traveling scribes, and each time the stories were told they grew in tremendous proportion.
None of it really mattered because she refused to believe in such nonsense. She surmised these were only tales of terror devised by her own grandfather in order to keep poachers out of his forest – and to keep her inside the castle walls.
Even if this man sounded darker than a midnight sky, she had nothing to fear – or so she told herself, trying to stop from feeling jumpy. She was the granddaughter of a powerful earl, and should not be intimidated by anyone or anything.
She heard the snap of a twig from behind her and glanced back over her shoulder as she directed her horse forward. The light of the full moon broke through the clouds and lit the path, enabling her to see the way.
Her destination was just up ahead, through the trees and next to the brook. She’d come here every day with her grandfather’s men to hunt. And every day she’d seen his trusted knight, Sir Bradley, sneaking off somewhere with a basket of food in his hand. When he’d return – the basket was always empty. She knew this for certain, because she’d looked into the basket when the man went to the brook to wash his hands.
She needed to find out where he went and why he’d lied to her when she’d asked him about it. There was something he was hiding and she bet her grandfather was behind it all.
She’d been warned by the castle knights and also by her grandfather that it was dangerous coming into the woods, and she should never attempt it without an escort. She’d also been forbidden to come into the forest alone – and not at night at all. When she’d objected, her grandfather banned her from ever leaving the castle alone again.
Roland Chaserton, Earl of Tavistock, was as ornery as the day was long. He was a brave warrior, but it seemed as if something about these woods had him spooked lately. He hadn’t joined the hunting party in almost a year now, nor had he set foot in these woods since the day her parents died. She asked him many times why he never came here anymore, but he never answered. Well, she no longer cared. He had his secrets . . . and now she had hers as well.
If he knew she was making this trip outside the castle gates and journeying through the forest of Dartmoor in the dark, and unescorted – he’d probably send her off to a convent just to keep her locked away. That’s why she’d waited until after the man was well in his cups and fast asleep before she left the castle. She’d befriended a guard who had taken a liking to her. He promised to keep his mouth shut and the postern gate unlocked – in return for a kiss. A small price to pay for the knowledge and discovery she’d gain from this little journey.
She heard a slight growl from behind her, and grabbed for the crossbow on her back as she continued to ride. It was a small, lady’s crossbow and much easier to load than a knight’s larger crossbow which would take more muscles to use than she had in her entire body. Her grandfather had his master craftsman make it for her five years ago when she’d turned sixteen. She’d been trained by the knights to use it, and could hunt just as well as any of her grandfather’s men.
She didn’t fear her grandfather and all his silly rules about not leaving the castle, and she had often gone to the docks or visiting in another town without him knowing it. But this trip was different. It was dark and gloomy in the woods, and she also felt as if she were being watched.
Another snap of a twig and this time she also heard a growl. Her horse became spooked and reared up, pawing the air with its hooves. She managed to hang on, gripping her legs around the animal tightly, and regained control.
“We’re almost there,” she said to the horse in a calm voice, and at the same time grabbing for a bolt from the quiver at her side. She glanced over her shoulder to see a shadow dart through the underbrush behind her, sending a shiver up her spine.
It was a wolf. She just knew it. These woods were filled with wolves, and there was no denying that. She also felt as if this was no ordinary wolf. Mayhap all the stories of Lord Hugh de Bar had taken its toll on her after all. Suddenly, she couldn’t get the silly notion out of her head that the dark lord of Babeny was stalking her.
The last traveling bard who’d come to the castle told her Wolf ate young girls such as herself out of nothing more than boredom on a slow day of battle. He was rumored to have bloodlust in his veins, and couldn’t sleep nights unless he’d killed a girl a day. She only hoped the rumor meant young girls, and not twenty-one-year-olds like herself, because she didn’t fancy dying anytime soon. Especially not before she could uncover her grandfather’s secret.
* * *
The girl would be a tasty morsel in more ways than one, and Lord Hugh de Bar craved her body more than any man had the right to. Then again, he wasn’t just any man. Right now he was in wolf form.
He was also a knight and a lord, and one of the most feared men in all of England. Sadly enough, over the past year everyone had forgotten the man he used to be, and had started referring to him simply as Wolf.
He hadn’t always been so feared, but he had the Earl of Tavistock to thank for that. The earl – and his witch.
Wolf ran on all fours in his animal form, following the girl’s trail through the woods. He’d seen her pass by, covered with a long, dark cloak. He’d hidden behind a bush so as not to alarm her, so he’d seen nothing more. Actually, he didn’t need to see her to follow her path, because his senses were so strong. He peered ahead in the darkness, spying his companion wolf, his twin brother, Arnon just up ahead. He smiled and nodded, giving the wolf the signal to track her.
Wolf’s bloodlust grew stronger in the past year. His soul as well as his senses were now tied to his cursed wolf form, and usually beyond his control. When the moon was full as it was tonight, everything within him was intensified.
His hatred for the man responsible for all this, Earl Roland Chaserton, was growing stronger. Each day for the past year, Wolf had imagined many ways to kill the earl. He knew the man’s scent perfectly. It was something he’d never forget, as it was embedded in his mind from the torture he and Arnon had endured by his hand when they were taken prisoners of war.
Tied, caged, poked, whipped, and left for dead, he thought his life couldn’t get worse until they’d been cursed by the earl’s witch. To this man, a simple death in his dungeon just wasn’t enough. The man wanted them to suffer each day until they passed on, and he and Arnon would have died in the dungeons of Tavistock if an anonymous person hadn’t helped them escape.
Yes, the earl’s scent was embedded in Wolf’s mind, and with it came the bloodlust as well as the pain every single damned day of his life.
The earl never came to the woods anymore, knowing Wolf would be waiting for him. He’d doubled the guards at his castle’s door and hired every extra mercenary in the country to protect him, knowing Wolf would someday come for his revenge. Tonight was different. He smelled the man’s unforgettable scent, and he was no longer patient for his revenge. Tonight he’d kill the bastard. Hopefully with the man’s death, Wolf’s curse would somehow be broken at the same time, as well as that of his brother’s.
He ran after the girl, hoping the earl was with her after smelling his scent, but it didn’t take long to realize the girl was alone. A sudden sense of disappointment engulfed him. The rage pounding in his heart slowed, but the anger still flowed through him like a hot poker in his veins.
The earl’s scent was strong on his prey, but then his senses picked up the scent of rosewater and honeysuckle as well. Damn, now the girl had his lust growing stronger as well as his rage. Didn’t she know how dangerous it was for her to come here alone? He could kill her in his wolf form or even take her in his man form, right here in the woods and no one would be the wiser. It would sate his lustful appetite, and though the knight in him told him it wasn’t a chivalric thought or deed, his animal instincts begged to differ.
His thoughts melded with those of his twin again, as he searched the animal’s mind for a clear vision of his prey. He could envision her clearly by reading Arnon’s thoughts. Long red hair, a petite frame, yet a curvy enough body to tighten any man’s groin just thinking of her. He smiled and nodded his head, thanking Arnon silently in his thoughts for this tidbit of information.
But there was more, and he stilled his own thoughts in order to listen. She rode a white horse. A horse with an expensive tooled leather saddle and trappings that bore a knight’s crest - a chevron, in the colors of red and gold. The upside down V had two swords in the gold partition at the top, while a Volant, or flying charge of an eagle filled the bright red center.
Wolf’s heart leaped in his chest. This was the crest of the earl. There was no doubt this girl was somehow connected to him. She also carried a basket with something inside. Wolf threw back his head and sniffed the air, feeling the cool breeze against his long, wet snout. He inhaled a whiff of the contents on the breeze, and it smelled like sweet meats, mutton, and fresh baked white bread along with some of the castle’s finest wine.
Food and drink of the nobles and a horse with trappings bearing the earl’s crest, was all too tempting. The scent of the cloak on the wind was so strong it was as if the earl were standing before him right now. His senses reeled, threatening to consume him.
He continued forward, melding Arnon’s thoughts with his own once again. They’d always been close and could read each others minds as well as feel each others pain. Wolf felt angry and saddened by what had happened, because while he was able to shapeshift, Arnon hadn’t been so lucky. His brother was stuck in the form of a wolf – a curse that was far worse than what he endured.
He told Arnon to close in around the front of the girl and he would come up the back. As he approached quickly, he stopped in his tracks, coming thru the foliage and seeing her clearly now in the bright moonbeams. Her back was toward him, but he noticed her reaching for something under her cloak. She grabbed something and pulled out – damn no!
This girl – this beautiful girl was sporting a lady’s crossbow. The only people who were allowed to hunt in these woods were the earl’s men. And the only woman he knew of, who carried a crossbow was none other than the granddaughter of the wretched earl himself.
He tried to send his brother a warning, but he could feel Arnon’s anger for the earl blocking his message. He felt the wolf’s anxiety as his own.
He spied his steed tied up nearby where he’d left it while in his human form, and knew he would have to approach this matter in a different way than he’d originally planned. He glanced up to the moon and shook his head. It would be difficult to try to shift back at a time like this, but he’d have to fight the urge to stay in wolf form. He had a plain tunic and hose as well as his sword tied to his steed. The question was - would he have enough time to pull this off before the girl tried to shoot him or Arnon?
He’d heard from his men she’d taken down quite a few wolves in the past year on the nobles’ hunting trips. She knew how to handle a crossbow, and had no qualms killing a wolf at all.
