Wolf Bride (3 page)

‘How dare you say such a thing of Her Majesty?’ she exclaimed, pushing away his hand. ‘You must know how it disgusts me.’

‘My love, all I mean is that we need not let this arranged marriage stand in the way of our pleasure. True, it is a long way to York. But you will return to court soon enough. Lord Wolf is too ambitious a man to remain in the cold north forever.’ His smile teased her. ‘And then we can lie together at court while he is busy with the king or campaigning abroad.’

‘You expect me to cheat on my husband?’ she asked, feeling sick.

‘Why not?’ Simon patted the bulge in his crotch with every indication of pride. ‘I am an excellent lover, or so I have been told. I will give you no reason to complain.’

‘Simon, please tell me you are jesting,’ she demanded, and promptly hated herself for clinging to the fast-fading hope that he loved her. ‘We could run away together, and marry under assumed names.’

‘What, and risk the king’s displeasure? I think not. And how would we live, my sweet, when I have no hope of income? You must know that being a younger son, I cannot marry you, however much I love you. I can only marry a woman with a large fortune, or else look forward to a life of chastity and cold knees in the church.’ Simon winked. ‘And we both know that would not suit me. Besides, if I get you with child as a married woman, who is to say it is not your husband’s?’

Anger boiled inside her at this insult. ‘What?’

‘Oh, these arrangements are quite common at court. They say the king fathered many of the young pages you see about the palace these days, some with the husband’s eager consent.’

He smiled down into her face, oblivious to her growing fury, no doubt thinking her merely nervous at the idea of surrendering her maidenhead. ‘My dearest Eloise, do not be afraid to raise your skirts to me. There will be pain, a little at first, but you will enjoy it after that, trust me. And when you are Lady Wolf, we need not be apart when you are at court, but can love with even greater freedom than now, for a wife is watched less carefully than a maid.’

The sound of footsteps in the cloisters saved her from slapping his face in rage, which she had been about to do. Eloise pulled hurriedly away from him, and even Simon had the grace to look embarrassed as a group of young girls passed through the cloister, accompanied by their governess, a stern-faced woman who eyed them both with disapproval.

‘That was close!’ he exclaimed once they were alone again, and made as though to pull her back into his arms.

‘No, leave me alone, Simon,’ she told him fiercely. ‘I think you had better go, for I see now how mistaken I was to . . . to trust you.’

He hesitated, then shrugged, seeing the contempt on her face. His hands dropped and he took a step backwards. She was relieved that he did not appear interested in pressing his suit.

‘Very well, if you must go to your marriage bed a foolish and inexperienced virgin, that is your own affair. By all accounts, Lord Wolf is as hard a man as he is a soldier. He has an ugly limp, you know, and rough soldierly manners.’ Simon looked pointedly at her. ‘He will not take you gently, maiden or not. You may regret submitting to him unspoiled.’

‘Go!’ she insisted, a sudden heat flaring in her cheeks at this description of her wedding night.

Simon bowed reluctantly, and turned on his heel, but could not resist saying over his shoulder, ‘If you change your mind, Eloise, send me a note. And don’t forget my offer. When you come to court as Lady Wolf, I will not refuse you if you are looking for a lover behind your husband’s back.’

Eloise stood in angry silence when he had gone, cursing her own blind folly. How could she have been so deceived in Simon? She had thought he loved her, but in truth he had only ever loved himself and thought to enjoy her body without commitment. And to think she had almost permitted him to take her virginity.

‘What a touching scene,’ a voice drawled behind her, and a man ducked his head under one of the archways, stepping out from the shadowy cloisters into the garden.

She spun, cold with dread that anyone might have witnessed the intimacies that had passed between her and Simon.

The man walked with a pronounced limp, though his body looked fit and strong enough despite it. He was not fashionably dressed like most of the other courtiers; his clothes seemed to be designed more for riding and comfort than dancing with ladies, for he carried a crop in one hand, and his boots were dirty from the stables. Yet she could tell from the fine cut and costly material of his rich claret-coloured doublet that he was a nobleman, and a wealthy one at that. His red-and-black hose were tightly fitted, and she found herself staring at his powerful thighs and the prominent bulge of his codpiece.

Then she raised her eyes to the man’s face and felt sick. For although he was much changed, his black hair cut short, his angular body grown tall and strong, his face harder and older, she knew him at once from her childhood.

It was the old baron’s son, Lord Wolf. The very man her father intended her to marry.

‘Forbidden love in a privy garden,’ Lord Wolf continued, his tone light, though his blue eyes were cold as he looked her up and down. ‘Listening to you two reminded me of one of Chaucer’s tales. The old fool, his beautiful young wife, and the cunning lover. I am only sorry to have missed its torrid consummation. But no doubt that will be arranged as soon as my back is turned.’

Eloise curtseyed, managing a cold, ‘My Lord Wolf,’ for what else could she do but try to remain as collected as the queen had done, nearly caught flirting behind the king’s back?

Yet she knew in how much danger she stood. If Lord Wolf reported her meeting with Simon to the king, along with what he had witnessed of their lovemaking, she would be utterly disgraced. She had heard whispered tales of unchaste maids of honour whipped from the court, their wicked names never to be spoken again in the queen’s presence.

Did that fate await her now?

CHAPTER TWO

‘Eloise Tyrell.’ Lord Wolf bowed in response to her curtsey. His blue eyes seemed to mock her as he straightened. ‘My chamber overlooks this charming garden, and has a most stubborn casement that lets in the cold – and the sound of voices below. For which I shall be forever grateful. At least now I will have no illusions about my new bride’s willingness.’

God’s blood, why had she kissed Simon so openly? This wealthy baron would not wish to marry her now. Not after hearing Simon’s suggestion that they should meet and couple shamelessly behind his back once she was Lady Wolf.

Then she realised belatedly what he had said . . .

‘New bride? You surely do not still intend to marry me?’ she demanded, staring.

‘Why not?’ Lord Wolf shrugged. ‘From what I overheard just now, your maidenhead is still intact, even if your honour remains in question.’ His smile was unpleasant. ‘Unless you were lying to that boy?’

‘No,’ she told him defiantly.

‘Well then, there can be no opposition to the match. I need an heir, and your father will welcome my help with his debts.’ He examined her through narrowed eyes. ‘You are a little thin for my tastes. But if you can learn to obey me, you will do. All I require is a girl to produce a few sons and not make too much of a nuisance of herself about the place. Do we understand each other?’

Eloise did not know what to say. She wished it was possible to refuse this marriage, but she did not wish to be beaten for her disobedience, nor put away in some quiet place of contemplation for the rest of her life. Her childhood friend Sylvia had refused her father’s choice of bridegroom, and had been beaten so badly that she lost her sight in one eye. Now Sylvia kept to her rooms through shame, and spent the days in prayer. For what else was left to her, scarred and disfigured as she was?

Eloise did not believe her father would beat her as Sylvia had been beaten if she refused Lord Wolf’s proposal. But he would certainly punish her for dishonouring him.

I will not suffer like Sylvia, she told herself fiercely. It was clear that Lord Wolf would not trouble her except in pursuit of an heir, and she would at least have a large manor house to run once they were married. There was no shame in wanting to make her life comfortable.

Besides, Lord Wolf was not unsightly, and was certainly more honest than Simon. Her father could have found her a worse husband, she considered.

‘Yes, my lord,’ she replied, lowering her gaze before his in a mimicry of obedience.

She would never sleep with Simon – nor any other man – behind her husband’s back. It was not in her nature to hold a man’s honour so cheaply. But it might be possible to keep the baron at a distance after she was safely with child.

After all, once the question of his heir was taken care of, what else would Lord Wolf want her for?

He approached her, limping, his face thoughtful. ‘So docile, so quickly?’ he murmured. ‘Is that possible?’

Eloise had wanted to appear submissive before Lord Wolf; she knew he would expect his bride-to-be to acquiesce to his every demand. Yet to her dismay, she found she could not keep up the pretence. Not when questioned with such directness. There was something in his voice that dug at the truth and would have it out.

Eloise tilted her chin to look him boldly in the eyes. He was taller than she had realised. ‘My lord, I am grateful you do not intend to shame me before the court by refusing my father’s offer. But I cannot pretend to look on our marriage with anything other than dislike.’ She paused, then added flatly, ‘You are not my choice of husband, as you know.’

‘Yes, I was a little startled to see my promised bride in the arms of another man. But if you can overlook my ugly limp and my rough soldierly manners,’ he said, an ironic gleam in his eyes as he repeated Simon’s unflattering description, ‘then I can overlook a single mistake on your part. Assuming it is never repeated, of course.’

He raised his hand, and she flinched. But it seemed he did not intend to strike her. The rough split ends of his hazel riding crop touched her on the forehead, so lightly it was almost a tickle, then slid down to her mouth.

Slowly, the crop traced the outline of her lips with a sensual threat, and Eloise shivered, unable to help herself.

Lord Wolf watched her response, narrow-eyed, then lowered the hazel crop again. This time he traced it down her neck to the gentle swell of her breasts, his face unsmiling.

‘Eloise?’

She tried to reply but could not. His blue eyes seemed to have penetrated Eloise to her core, leaving her utterly entranced, as though caught in some kind of spell. Did Lord Wolf possess some magical power? Why else would she feel so utterly drawn in by his gaze?

‘Do you remember me?’ he asked, drawling again. ‘From when we were children?’

She struggled to remember him, that sullen-faced youth watching her from a distance. He was too close to her now, his gaze too demanding. Her heart raced at his proximity. The memory of him as a boy came back to her slowly. No, the two images could not be pieced together. The edges were too jagged. He was a man now, and she would soon belong to him.

‘A little,’ she conceded.

He stroked along her breasts with the crop. ‘You were such a skinny little thing. I am glad to see you have filled out.’ His smile was appreciative. ‘I would have come for you sooner, but I had not yet made my mind up. I was betrothed once before, you see, and my memories of that time are not happy.’

She nodded silently.

‘But of course, you spoke of it to your suitor. It seems my youthful indiscretions are a topic of gossip for every court slut.’

She was startled by the sudden harshness of his tone, and jerked away in angry surprise.

‘My lord?’ she questioned him, and heard the haughtiness in her voice too late. But Eloise refused to cower before him, even if he had caught her in an embarrassing situation with Simon. She had blood in her veins, not milk. It was better he should know it before they married, rather than after.

He dropped the riding crop and grabbed at her wrists, dragging her towards him with hidden strength.

‘God’s blood,’ he told her thickly, ‘I swear to you that our marriage will never be food for gossip. I will not stand to be cuckolded, I promise you that. Once we are married, you will belong to me and admit no other man to your bed. Is that understood?’

‘Yes,’ she replied, staring at him, his face so close she could feel the warmth of his breath, see the strangely long lashes that hid his blue eyes.

‘Swear it,’ he insisted. ‘On your life.’

‘I swear it, my lord.’ This man, she thought, would not be as malleable a bridegroom as she had hoped. ‘I swear it on my life.’

‘Good.’

That had been the right response, she thought, still staring at him. The squall seemed to have dropped as quickly as it blew up, though his smile was still fierce.

Lord Wolf slipped an arm about her waist and drew her easily against him, tucking her into his body. He was tall and hard-bodied, easily more than six feet of pure muscle under his soldier’s plain doublet, and she felt breathless, knowing she would not be able to fight him off as she had attempted to do with Simon, not if he deliberately chose to dishonour her.

‘Let’s have a kiss to seal your oath,’ he said shortly, and bent his head to hers.

She had thought Lord Wolf would give her a token kiss, like that given by a bridegroom after the marriage vows had been exchanged. Some cold and bloodless meeting of lips to remind her that she belonged to him now. But his mouth took hers with a kiss of such ardent fervour she could barely stand beneath it, her hands clinging to his shoulders. She was dazed, her body under assault, not expecting the wave of violent passion that swept through her in the wake of his embrace.