Lady and the Wolf (6 page)

Chapter 9

“Keep quiet and stay hidden, my lady,” said the woodcutter, sneaking Winifred from the castle courtyard on the back of his cart. It was already sunset when they left Castle Chaserton. The woodcutter drove an empty cart after having dropped off the cut wood he’d collected for her grandfather from the royal forest earlier that day.

Winifred stayed hidden under the blanket, listening to the voices of the guards up on the battlements as well as the clip clop of the horse’s hooves on the cobbled stone as they made their way toward the castle gate. She’d been lucky to find the woodcutter when she visited the orchards earlier. He’d relayed to her that Lord Hugh de Bar was severely wounded and wasn’t expected to live through the night. He’d also told her that Wolf had gone to a hidden hovel in the knoll deep in the woods to be alone and die.

She knew exactly where that was. He was at the witch’s hut where her grandfather had trapped the old hag. She felt bad now and had to do something to help him. Wolf must have been hurt badly when he’d saved her from the witch, and she felt responsible for his condition. She could also think of nothing else but being in his arms and kissing him once again. If he were to die before she told him her feelings for him, she would never forgive herself. He wasn’t the horrid man she’d first thought him to be. If so, he wouldn’t have risked his life to save her. She had to thank him for that, and if she had to sneak out of the castle against her grandfather’s orders to do it – then so be it.

They traveled for a while along the bumpy road and then the cart finally stopped. Winifred grabbed her crossbow and bolts as well as a covered basket full of food she’d brought with, and slipped out from under the blanket, dismounting the cart. There was a chill in the night air and she was thankful for the red cloak she wore to keep her warm. She should have worn a black cloak or one that blended into the night and hid her identity, but for some reason she wanted to wear the cloak that Wolf had given her. She liked it, and also liked the fact he called her Red. “Where are we?” she asked. “This isn’t the knoll in the woods.”

“Nay, but I can’t go any farther with you, so you’ll have to go on foot.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Because I . . . I have some other business to attend to first. “You have your crossbow to protect yourself, so you won’t need me.”

“I don’t even have a horse. At least let me take the cart. Please.”

The woodcutter thought about it for a moment and when she was sure he would say no, he nodded and dismounted. “All right. But do be careful. After all, you know you can’t trust anyone.”

His dark eyes stared into her, and a sudden chill swept through her body. She felt as if she shouldn’t trust him either. She quickly climbed atop the wagon, seeing the woodcutter heading away on foot. “Wait. Don’t you want your ax?” She pointed to the ax on the seat next to her.

“Oh, how careless of me to forget it. Of course.”

She handed the ax to him, and when she did, she had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Mayhap she should have kept the ax for protection for herself.

“Now hurry, my lady. He’s in the hovel in the knoll not far from here. You’ll want to get to him before he passes away.”

“Aye, I will.” She directed the horse forward, and sped through the woods. She looked back to thank the woodcutter, but he was already gone.

* * *

The fire burned on the hearth, and Wolf bent over and looked upward, trying to find a flue or a way for the smoke to exit. He couldn’t find one, though the room was not filled with smoke either. It was fascinating. He wondered if this had been constructed with magic somehow. He paced the floor, waiting for Winifred. He found himself drawn to the mystical hand mirror on the dressing table. He walked over and picked it up, wondering why the woodcutter would have wanted this mirror in the first place, unless he knew about the magic.

Then he saw fog in the mirror again and it slowly parted. He watched in amazement as a picture appeared before his very eyes. He saw someone in the shadows rushing away that he guessed to be the woodcutter. He also saw the woodcutter’s cart and horse with Winifred driving it through the woods, headed right for the hovel.

“She’s here,” he said, taking a few steps across the room, and stopping abruptly as a pain shot through him. “Damn, not now!” He felt his change coming on and could do nothing to stop it. He thought he could have met with Winifred before this happened, as his changed usually only came about at night. The woodcutter had taken so long to sneak the girl out of the castle that his opportunity had diminished. Why couldn’t the man have listened to orders and just waited until the morrow since it was now dusk?

He knew he had to do something, but wasn’t sure how to handle this. He needed to lay down during his change and tried to make it to the door, but the pain was too intense. He felt his bones shifting and his vision blurred. His acute wolf senses picked up the sound of the cart pulling up to the hovel and he realized it was too late to leave now. She would see him in the midst of his change and probably be horrified. He couldn’t have her running away, or her grandfather wouldn’t come looking for her after all.

So he did the only thing he could, waiting out his transformation. He ran over to the bed and drew the black curtains around him, and hid under the covers, feeling so sick at the thought that she’d see him like this that he wanted to die.

Winifred dismounted the wagon and tied the horse’s reins to a tree. Her eyes scoped her surroundings in the dark. She was sure she heard the pitter-patter of wolf paws in the brush following her and she wondered if it was Lord Hugh de Bar in his wolf form.

When she stopped and listened and no longer heard anything, she decided she must have just imagined it. So with her crossbow over her shoulder and the bolts at her side, she grabbed the basket of goodies and headed toward the secret hovel. She approached cautiously, and stopped at the threshold as the door was open. She peeked inside, seeing the fire blazing on the hearth, giving the room a subdued glow.

“Wolf?” she asked in a small voice, feeling nervous and anxious to be here at all. “The woodcutter told me you were wounded. I brought some food as well as healing ointments in my basket. Can I help you?”

When she heard nothing, she bravely took a step forward into the room, and craned her head and looked around. “Is anyone here?” Her heart raced, and she started to think she needed to get out of here fast, when she heard a muffled noise from the bed.

“Oh, you’re in bed,” she said, looking at the velvet curtains drawn closed. Of course. What was she thinking? That he’d be standing there to greet her? The woodcutter had said he was hurt and dying. What did she expect?

She took a few steps forward, and a breeze blew through the room, making the door slam shut behind her. She jumped and turned around, grabbing her crossbow in the process. Then when she realized it was just the wind, she released the breath she’d been holding, trying to still her rapidly beating heart.

Winifred heard a moan or whimper followed by the rustling of the bedcovers from behind the drawn curtains.

“Oh, you’re still alive, thank goodness.” She put down her crossbow and ran to the bed still holding onto the basket. She pulled back the curtains, seeing a lump underneath the covers. “Wolf, how do you feel?”

She couldn’t see well in the semi-darkened room, but at least she knew he wasn’t dead yet. He remained hidden under the covers.

“Mayhap this will make you feel better.” She put the basket down on the edge of the bed and opened it. The aroma of brown baked bread drifted out into the air, filling the room. She took a deep breath and released it. “Can you smell that?” she asked him. “It smells so good it makes me hungry. Did you want something to eat?”

She held out the bread toward the lump under the blanket, wondering why he was being so shy. Then she heard a growl instead of his voice. She froze, and her heart sped up frantically.

Out from under the covers sprang a big black wolf with his tongue hanging out and a menacing hunger in his eyes.

“Ahhhhh!” She screamed and threw the bread to the ground, and dove for her crossbow. Her fingers fumbled with the bolt and she dropped it twice before she was able to load it and pull back the windlass to line up her shot. She sprang to her feet and aimed the crossbow at the wolf, her grandfather’s warning resounding in her head. The wolf looked at her intensely, but instead of devouring her as she thought it would, it lay down on the bed, and rolled over and whimpered. It showed her its stomach, becoming vulnerable, just waiting for her to kill it.

“Wolf?” She looked from the corner of her eye in question. When she was sure the wolf wasn’t going to hurt her, she slowly bent over and put her crossbow on the chair. “Is that you?” Her eye caught a sparkle in the firelight from the hand mirror on the dressing table. She slowly backed up toward it, having an idea.

She had seen the witch’s true form in the mirror. If this wolf was really Lord Hugh de Bar, mayhap she’d be able to see his true form as well.

She picked up the hand mirror and hesitantly turned her back on the wolf, hoping this wasn’t the biggest mistake of her life. Then she glanced into the mirror and waited. There was a fog within it that cleared slowly, and when it did she saw Lord Hugh de Bar lying on the bed on his back – naked, looking at her with sad eyes.

“It is you! You’re the wolf.” She put down the mirror and ran to the bed and covered the wolf’s body with her own. She cried, thinking of how horrible this must be for him, and closed her eyes, hugging the animal in her arms. Her tears hit the wolf’s head, making it wet, and she brushed her cheek against its fur.

“I’m so sorry, Wolf. I can’t imagine how awful this is for you. And I’m sorry that I’m not able to help you.”

Something happened just then. The fur against her cheek didn’t feel so soft anymore. It felt like – the stubble of whiskers from a man. She opened her eyes slowly, feeling the body of the wolf shifting, growing in her embrace. She let go quickly and pushed back and watched in horror and awe as the form of the wolf started to transform.

She couldn’t believe what she was witnessing. The wolf’s limbs grew longer, and its chest grew wider and she heard the animal cry out in pain. A swirl of fog encompassed the beast, and she heard odd noises she’d never heard before and wondered what they were. Then the fog cleared, and lying on the bed in front of her was the naked, glorious body of Lord Hugh de Bar – Wolf.

“You – you . . .”

“Aye. I’m a man now, but I was a wolf. I’m sorry you had to witness this, Red, but it’s part of my curse.”

“I’m . . . so s-sorry.”

“Now do you see why I harbor so much resentment for your grandfather?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, her heart was filled with joy that he wasn’t dead and that he was a man again. She threw herself into his arms and kissed him passionately on the lips.

“What was that for?” He chuckled.

“That was for saving me from that awful witch. If you hadn’t come in your wolf form to scare her off, I’d be dead right now.” She kissed him again, and his arms closed around her. She felt him growing beneath her in ways that had nothing to do with shapeshifting into a wolf.

She touched his shoulder and realized it was healed. There wasn’t even a scar. “I thought you were hurt and dying, but I don’t even see your wound anymore.”

“You healed that when you healed Arnon. I thought I told you that in some ways we’re connected.”

She figured he was talking about the curse. “Wolf – I was afraid you’d die before I told you how I felt about you.”

“How do you feel about me, Red?” His voice was low and husky, and it made her all tingly inside.

“I am very attracted to you. I also feel something when we’re together that I’ve never felt with anyone before.”

“It’s called lust,” he told her, smiling, and allowing her to see his teeth. Those same teeth that she thought moments ago were going to eat her.

They kissed again, and when they did, his hands expertly removed her cloak. Then he fumbled with the ties of her bodice.

“What are you doing?” she asked, knowing only too well, and liking every minute of it.

“I want you, Red. More than I’ve ever wanted any woman in my life.”

“Is this the animal lust coming out?”

“I’m not sure, but does it really matter?” He pushed her bodice from her shoulders and ran his fingers across the bare skin of her chest, dipping his fingers down into her cleavage. A thrill ran through her, and though she should have felt wanton, she didn’t. Something about the magic in this room and the magic that filled Wolf made her deepest desires come to the surface and she couldn’t deny them. His thumbs flicked across her nipples making them instantly taut. Then he fondled her breasts as he kissed her once again. When his tongue shot out and entered her mouth, it excited her to the point that she heard the slight moan of desire at the back of her throat.

“It doesn’t matter. I want you, too,” she said, feeling his hand sliding up her thigh, pushing her gown upwards inch by inch. With the next kiss, his hands fondled her buttocks, and he pulled her tight against his hardened form.

“I’m so hard I could burst, Red. I lust for you, I’m not going to lie.”