Wolf Bride (7 page)

There would be little hope of pursuing the courtly life once married to Lord Wolf. For if she spoke or sang or read poetry in the company of gentlemen as she had been wont to do at court, her new husband would soon make her – or the gentleman in question – suffer for it. She would be less his wife than his possession, and kept under close scrutiny.

As the last course was served, her anger faded away and an intense tiredness took its place. The wine was stronger than she was used to, a coarse dark red that made her head spin, and Master Beaufort kept refilling her cup as soon as she drained it.

Whenever she glanced up at Wolf, his face seemed to be in shadow. Or were her eyes slowly closing while she was still sitting at table?

Carefully she washed her fingers in the water bowl set before her, then dabbed at her mouth with the napkin. She felt overwhelmed by fatigue. All she could think of was the bed in her chamber upstairs, where no doubt Mary would already be asleep, having taken a dish of supper with the servants before bedtime.

‘Shall I light you upstairs to your chamber?’

Turning her head wearily, she found Wolf at her elbow, a lit candle in his hand.

‘I thank you, yes,’ she said huskily, not bothering to conceal her fatigue.

Wolf drew back her chair and she rose unsteadily, bidding her father and the company goodnight. Hugh and the others rose from their seats with polite bows, but Eloise kept her eyes lowered. As she glanced at her father, she had caught a frown on his face and knew her conversation with Hugh had indeed met with his disapproval. If she did not wish to find herself confined to her chambers on their return home, she would have to be more careful how she behaved in public.

Now that she was promised to Lord Wolf, it was no longer acceptable for her to speak so freely with other men, however innocent her intentions. It was a sobering thought.

‘This way,’ Wolf murmured.

The corridor was unlit and deserted. Wolf gestured for her to go ahead of him, then climbed the narrow stairs in silence, limping slightly.

Near the top, Eloise stumbled, catching her foot in her gown. Lord Wolf caught her at once, steadying her.

‘Thank you,’ she managed, very aware of how close he was standing.

His eyes gleamed with amusement in the candlelight. Did he know how nervous he made her?

‘My pleasure.’ Outside her chamber door, he paused, still gripping her by the arm, the candle held high to examine her face. ‘I hope you enjoyed your supper tonight. And the company.’

She nodded without speaking, wishing he would simply allow her to retire.

‘You seemed to take a keen interest in Hugh Beaufort,’ he remarked, watching her.

‘He is an interesting young man.’

‘I would advise you not to find him as interesting as you found Simon,’ he warned her coldly. ‘You are promised to me now, body and soul, and no longer free to smile at whomever you wish. In a very short time you will be Lady Wolf. Whatever liberties you may have enjoyed at court, we will soon be back in Yorkshire, and I shall not permit any scandal to be attached to my family name.’ His eyes dwelt on her face. ‘Is that clear?’

‘Yes,’ she said gratingly, and shook her arm free from his grasp. ‘Perfectly clear, my lord. Though I dislike being punished for another woman’s fault.’

He stared, frowning.

‘I seem to recall this is not your first betrothal,’ she remarked, and saw a grim look enter his eyes. Slightly startled, she backed away. ‘Have I your permission to go to bed now?’

He gave a bow, his smile icy. ‘Of course,’ he agreed, his lips tight. ‘Granted you intend to sleep alone.’

She fumbled behind her back for the door handle, not quite trusting him enough to turn her back on him until she was safe inside her chamber. But how insulting he was!

‘Does my maid count?’ she demanded hotly, throwing open the door.

The last embers of a small fire remained in the grate, their reddish glow illuminating the rough plaster walls. The threadbare curtains around the bed had not been fully drawn, and through the gap she noted that the maid was taking up most of the bed, her fair face flushed, her nightcap askew.

Eloise sighed, realising she would have to undress herself for bed. Well, she could hardly complain at finding Mary asleep. She had told the girl not to wait up for her.

She turned to close the door and found Wolf still leaning on the threshold, looking into the bedchamber with a dry smile.

‘What a touching scene.’

‘Goodnight, my lord,’ she said, rather more sharply than she had intended, closing the door on him.

He stuck his booted foot in the way. His blue eyes narrowed on her face. ‘Have a care, Eloise. I would not wish us to become enemies. This might not be a love match, but you agreed before the court to marry me. Or had you forgotten?’

No, she had not forgotten. But did Wolf have to make her feel so uncomfortable? Surely it was enough that she had accepted her fate, knowing how useless it would be to fight this arranged marriage. Must he now rub her acquiescence in her face by acting the jealous husband before they were even wed?

‘No, my lord.’

‘Excellent.’ The smile returned to his eyes as he beckoned her closer. ‘Come then, and kiss your betrothed goodnight.’

She stared, hardly able to believe he was serious.

Wolf laid a finger on his lips. ‘Here,’ he told her softly, and waited, his blue gaze locked on hers. ‘On my mouth.’

Hesitant, Eloise remembered how he had kissed her in the cloistered garden at court, so powerfully it had left her shaking afterwards, dazed and unsure of herself. But she would not allow this man to think her a coward.

Leaning forward, she placed her lips against his. The contact burned, their breath mingling with the scent of wine. She felt again the lure of some passion she had yet to discover, and closed her eyes instinctively. His arm curled about her waist, pulling her close, and to her own surprise she did not resist.

His tongue slipped between her lips, gently exploring, and her whole body jerked in heated shock at such an intimate contact. Here in the dark, on the very threshold of her bedchamber, his embrace seemed even more of a sensual promise than when he had kissed her in the palace garden.

Still kissing her, he cupped her breast, kneading it gently through the thin fabric of her gown, then stroking his fingers back and forth until her nipple began to tingle and swell. It felt nothing like the way Simon had touched her there, and Eloise held her breath, shocked at the sudden hunger burning inside her.

When he tugged the lacy bodice lower, exposing her breasts, the hunger became molten, coursing through her veins and setting her entire body alight. She had not thought it possible to feel more excited by a man’s touch. Then his head bent and he seized one nipple between his lips, dragging it fiercely into his mouth. Her nipple stiffened to a peak under his merciless tongue, so taut it was almost painful, yet still she did not push him away.

Unable to help herself, Eloise made a small noise under her breath which sounded suspiciously like a moan of pleasure.

Lord Wolf pulled back, his expression oddly tense as she opened her eyes and stared up at him.

If his lordship had thought her unwilling before, she had just given herself away. Her lips tightened under that searching gaze. She was irritated with herself for allowing herself to be seduced, then angry with him for taking advantage of her father not being present.

Yet to her surprise he did not kiss her again. It was almost as though he had been testing a theory rather than making a serious attempt to seduce her.

‘We make another early start tomorrow.’ Carefully, Wolf dragged up her bodice to cover her breasts, and left her with a curt bow. ‘Sleep well, Eloise, and sweet dreams.’

CHAPTER FOUR

‘I must congratulate you in your choice of bride, my lord,’ Hugh Beaufort remarked, riding ahead of the litter with Lord Wolf. ‘She is quite ravishing.’

Wolf smiled, hearing the hesitancy in his companion’s voice. ‘But . . .?’

‘Very well, my lord. Though pray do not bite my head off for an honest opinion which you have solicited. Not wishing to cause you or your betrothed any offence, I admit Eloise Tyrell would not be my own first choice for a wife.’

‘How so?’

The chilly February weather had improved overnight, the day dawning still cold but bright. Now that the sun was higher overhead, Wolf was glad to feel the warmth of it on his back and shoulders. Yet as always, the promise of spring held a darker note for him. For it was in springtime that he had lost his mother, and knelt as a child beside her fresh-dug grave while the larks soared and sang dizzyingly high overhead.

Wolf’s gloved hands tightened on the reins as he remembered that day. The irony of the lark’s joyful song had never been lost on him since.

Hugh pondered for a moment before replying.

‘Eloise Tyrell is a lively and intelligent lady, to be sure, and goodly enough to look upon. That cannot be denied. But when I eventually marry, I hope to find a bride with a less mettlesome nature. Like our Queen Anne, your intended is of an argumentative bent. While I admired her fiery responses at supper last night, I agreed with her father that a woman like that needs to be disciplined. I would not wish to share my bed with such an opinionated lady.’ He sounded rueful. ‘I fear your wife will not take kindly to bridle and bit.’

‘I must take care not to restrain her too harshly then.’

Surprised by that response, Hugh glanced at him. ‘You intend to indulge her behaviour? Is that not dangerous in a wife?’

‘To continue your amusing conceit of the wife as mount, I would rather have to rein in a restive wife than be forced to plod along at too sedate a pace.’

‘And when she bears a child? Will you not demand her obedience then?’

‘If my wife is to raise sons worthy of the name Wolf, she must possess some spark of pride and know her own worth as a wife and mother.’ He thought of his own upbringing at the hands of a proud and fiery woman, who had died while still young. ‘I must bring Eloise to acknowledge me as her lord and master, you are right there. But I shall not do so at the expense of her spirit. A broken wife is no wife at all, but a poor drudge.’

‘And yet you gave no sign of indulging her whims last night. Quite the contrary, in fact.’

Wolf grinned. ‘I would not wish my mettlesome bride to have it all her own way, my friend. She must not think me weak.’

‘You knew Eloise as a youth, did you not?’

‘Barely.’

Wolf recalled their few encounters, remembering how the young daughter of Tyrell’s estate, all long limbs and untidy yellow hair, had impressed him with her wild demeanour. She had been too young then, a child still, climbing trees and riding about the fields without a chaperone. One time he had seen her from afar, a thin dab of a girl flying over hedges and ditches on a restless black stallion most women would have feared to mount. It had occurred to him then that she would make an interesting bride. But he had not been in any hurry to enter into a marriage contract, for he knew she might change once old enough to wed.

Then he had met Margerie at court, a girl fast passing into womanhood, a red-haired creature with pale skin and high, well-rounded breasts.

Margerie had blown him a kiss at supper, and he had sought out her quarters later, eager to lose his virginity. She had been shy but not unwilling. His lovemaking that first time had been awkward and clumsy, and he had known it. Margerie had lain beneath him in silence, her eyes wary and unsure. But he was soon deeply in love with her strange green eyes and elfin beauty.

Straightaway, he had made an offer of marriage and it had been accepted by Margerie’s father, a country squire with too many daughters to his name. His future had seemed settled when the king sent him on his first military campaign soon after that, trusting a party of men to his command.

With a soldiering career and a soft-skinned wife for his bed, what else would he need?

Yet when he returned from that campaign, flushed with the triumph of his first battle and eager to wed the girl with whom he was now desperately in love, he found Margerie had fled the court – on the arm of another lover, a penniless young noble from the south.

The news of Margerie’s flight was soon all round the court. His pride had been wounded, his already sore heart broken. And he had sworn never to love again, for love was just a mask that hid a man’s baser needs.

‘But Eloise was always at the top of my list,’ he admitted, seeing Hugh’s glance.

‘You had a list?’

Wolf raised his eyebrows. ‘There is no need to sound so surprised. You may reach that point one day soon. And it does not hurt to be prepared.’

His companion laughed. ‘I have no wish to marry young, so I have not yet made my list.’

The cavalcade slowed as the narrow track turned east, passing through a grove bordered by a shallow, reed-thick lake. Wolf examined the close-growing trees with an experienced eye, watching for signs of ambush, for these roads became more dangerous the further north they travelled.

‘No maid has caught your eye at court?’

Hugh looked sheepish, bending to pat his horse’s neck. ‘I find one or two of the queen’s ladies pleasing to the eye, I cannot deny it. But none have struck me as perfect.’