“Yea,” he admitted sheepishly. “I didn’t know that was part of a woman’s training.”
“My father taught me when I was younger.” Ginevra made her way back to the fire. Wiping the wet blade on her dampened pant leg, she continued, “We used to go riding at night. Sometimes we would camp.”
“Did he also teach you how to hunt?” Wolfe asked. He was amazed at how easily she fitted into the wilderness. Most women of gentry were hard-pressed to leave the comforts of a castle.
“Ah, nay,” she answered carefully. Again a blush deepened on her features. Turning her attention to her work, she stoked the fire. “He did try, but--”
“What?” he questioned at her look of embarrassment.
“I don’t want to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
With a heavy sigh, she admitted, “I can’t kill anything. I see its eyes and I just can’t bring myself to do it. I can’t even fish without feeling guilty.”
Wolfe laughed at her admission. Then, glancing at the rabbits, he said, “You appear to have done all right.”
“After the killing and skinning is done by someone else I have no problem, but I just can’t bring myself to deal the death blow.” Ginevra moaned lightly and shivered at the thought.
“But,” Wolfe became confused.
“I know, it’s silly,” she broke in.
“But you did fine today.” Wolfe glanced meaningfully at the rabbits as they began to burn.
With a gasp, she pulled them from the fire. She set them down on a nearby rock to cool. Distractedly, she uttered, “I told you, I have no problem cooking them. One has to eat.”
Wolfe frowned deeply. Slowly, he asked, “Ginevra, how did you get the rabbits if you didn’t kill them?”
Ginevra froze. As if speaking to a slow child, she said, “You left them for me.”
“I didn’t give you those rabbits.” Placing his hand on his sword, he was careful not to move his head to look around. “Look at me.”
Ginevra did as she was told. Her limbs shook as she stared into his stormy eyes. They were dark and cold.
Steadily, he said, “Smile.”
She did. It wavered.
“Where did you get the rabbits?” he asked in a low voice.
“I was bathing in the stream. I thought you left them for me to cook.” Ginevra’s eyes darted around the camp. Suddenly her insides quivered, as she admitted, “I thought you watched me bathe.”
Wolfe shook his head in denial. Ginevra paled.
“They were by the fire,” she explained in a rush. She ignored her girlish discomfort and the urge to belatedly cover her body from view. “As was more firewood.”
Within a blink of an eye, Wolfe drew his sword with a mighty swish. Spinning on his heel, he pointed his blade to the forest. Ginevra gasped and fell backward. A man walked out from behind a tree as she landed hard on her backside.
“I gave ’em to ’er,” the man stated simply. His long beard moved as he spoke, but Ginevra couldn’t detect lips underneath the heavy mass of whiskers. He was a burly character with thick arms and a round stomach. His body was strewn with a long fur cloak. It was as if he blended into the forest itself. “I didn’t know she was with someone. I only saw the one horse--damned fine animal to come with such a woman.”
“Who are you?” Wolfe demanded sharply.
“Edmund,” the man stated. With a toss of his head, he asked, “She yer woman?”
Wolfe looked over his shoulder. Ginevra stood and brushed herself off. He slightly lowered his arm as he shot her a smirk.
“Yea,” Ginevra put forth quickly when she saw the mischief brewing in Wolfe’s eyes. Coming to stand beside him, she threaded her arm in his. “I’m his woman.”
“It didn’t look like it,” Edmund persisted. Then, turning his gaze to Wolfe, he said easily, “Would ye like to trade ’er? I’ve been meanin’ to take another wife. Got a damned fine collection o’ pelts and I can get ye a good milkin’ cow two days hence.”
Wolfe tilted his head to the side and looked down at her. Smiling devilishly, he asked, “Shall I barter you, m’lady?”
“I am not for sale!” Ginevra declared hotly, glaring passionately at the two men.
Wolfe grinned and shook his head at Edmund. “Nay. I think I have use for her yet.”
“Well, if ye be sure.” Edmund shook his head in disappointment. Smiling, as Wolfe slid his sword in at his waist, he sighed, “She has a fiery tongue, does she not? If ye change yer mind--”
“I won’t,” Wolfe asserted. His easy expression stayed intact, as he said, “I like a bit o’ fire to my wenches.”
“Wench?” Ginevra gasped in dismay. She dropped Wolfe’s arm. “Sir Edmund, I just might go with you.”
Wolfe frowned and put a possessive hand on her shoulder to keep her from walking to the burly man. Edmund threw back his head in hearty laughter. Wolfe sighed. Ginevra glared defiantly at her husband.
“Is there enuf room at yer fire fer a friend that meant no harm?” Edmund inquired.
“Yea,” Ginevra motioned to the ground. Going over to pick up the cooked morsels from the rock, she offered one to Edmund. He took it gratefully.
Sitting by the fire, Ginevra bit into the other cooked rabbit. She smiled delightedly as she chewed the warm meat. Edmund joined her by the fire to eat in silence. Wolfe placed his hands on his hips as he looked down at the two.
“What about me?” he asked Ginevra sharply.
“This one’s my present from Edmund.” She took another delighted bite, as she nodded to Wolfe’s raw catch that still lay on the ground. Through the food stuffing her mouth, she acknowledged gleefully, “There is yours, m’lord. This wench doesn’t like to prepare food.”
Edmund burst into laughter at Wolfe’s dark scowl. Ginevra smiled, encouraged by their companion’s good humor. Without a word, Wolfe picked up his dagger and set to skinning his own food. Edmund laughed harder, earning him a blackened glance from dark eyes. Ginevra smiled merrily at the two men and took another impish bite.
“So you have no home?” Ginevra asked Edmund. She ignored her husband’s dark look as he came to sit possessively close to her.
The fire was beginning to dim and Edmund threw a log dutifully on the flames. Then, sitting back, he smiled kindly showing the gap where he was missing a tooth. “Yea, m’lady. Raiders burned my home many years ago. They killed my wife and two sons in that fire. E’er since then, I have been alone wanderin’ the countryside.”
“That’s so sad,” Ginevra put forth. She unconsciously leaned into Wolfe. He stiffened in surprise but didn’t back away as she settled more permanently against him. With forced ease, he draped his arm about her waist to hold her. He felt her shiver. “Where are you heading?”
Edmund shrugged.
“Then it’s settled. You shall come to Whetshire with us.” Ginevra shot him a satisfied smile.
“Whetshire?” Edmund asked. His eyebrows rose in surprise. “I’ve heard o’ it, ne’er been.”
“Yea, I’m Lady Ginevra of Whetshire and,” she patted Wolfe’s leg slightly, “this is Lord Wolfe, my husband. He’s to be future earl. He will make a place for you there.”
Wolfe shot a look of dismay at her offer. He too liked Edmund, but Ginevra didn’t know his wishes well enough to speak for him. Then, shrugging, he stated blandly, “Yea, it’s as my wife says. You would be most welcome there.”
“Well, I’ll be. Lord and his lady,” Edmund chuckled. “I just might do that.”
The fire of Wolfe’s nearness seeped into her skin. Licking her lips, she glanced up into his unreadable eyes. Realizing with a start that she sat so close to him, Ginevra straightened and jerked her hand away from his knee. Wolfe frowned in disappointment.
“It’s late,” Ginevra said in a low voice. “Mayhap we should rest if we are to rise early tomorrow.”
“Who says we must ride early?” Wolfe interjected with a sly smile. He felt Ginevra squirm lightly against his hold. He g
rasped her hip tightly in his hand to hold her still. Purposefully, he let his fingers massage her hip in an intimate caress. “We have all of the day for riding. Why don’t you go get that ale pouch from our satchel?”
Ginevra swallowed and nodded. Standing on unsteady feet, she began to move.
“Nay, there be no need o’ that, m’lady,” Edmund stated boldly with a wide grin spreading over his burly features. “I’ve got some o’ the finest brew o’ the woodlands. Trade furs with an old cripple who makes it. Just give me a flash.”
“Oh,” Ginevra looked at Wolfe whose eyes were steadily on her. Edmund disappeared into the forest. His fur cloak blended him perfectly into the trees and he disappeared quickly from sight.
Standing before her, Wolfe met her gaze with a dark scowl. “Don’t offer my protection again without my consent.”
Ginevra opened her mouth in shock at his stern warning. “I meant no harm. He lost his family. It’s our duty as nobles to help those less fortunate than ourselves. If we don’t help, who will?”
“Gin, not everyone tells the truth.” Wolfe took a step toward her. He saw the hurt confusion in her eyes and was sorry for it. In a rush, he said, “it’s all right this once. But I don’t take my word lightly. I wouldn’t have you give it on my behalf. Do you understand?”
Ginevra nodded in growing despondency. Taking a step away from his seeking hand, she turned her head sharply to the fire. Wolfe grabbed her jaw and turned her face back. Without waiting to see her reaction, he leaned forward with a bold kiss. Ginevra shook with the suddenness of the embrace. Satisfied, Wolfe let go of her just as quickly. Ginevra studied him carefully as he took a seat.
“If only your words to me were as heavily guarded as your honor, m’lord,” she mumbled.
Wolfe raised his brow in question but it was too late to speak. Edmund came back carrying a pouch. Ginevra shivered, turning to grab the fur blanket from the ground near Desert. Walking back to the fire, she wrapped it around her shoulders.
After taking a deep drink from the pouch, Edmund coughed and passed it over to Ginevra. She took a quick sip of the burning liquid and forced herself not to choke. Blinking heavily, she ignored Wolfe and passed it back to Edmund. Wolfe frowned at the slight. Edmund smiled wearily and handed the pouch to Wolfe.
They drank in silence for a moment, before Edmund started chuckling to himself. Ginevra looked at him questioningly.
“I must apologize, m’lady, fer tryin’ to buy ye. Had I known ye were a woman o’ gentry, I wouldn’t have offered.” Edmund looked guiltily to the ground.
“Why?” Ginevra shot back in mild amusement. “Are ladies of gentry not worth as much to you? Am I not worth the price of a good milking cow?”
Edmund laughed harder. Wolfe frowned in irritation. Ginevra smiled as Edmund paid her compliment.
“Nay, Lady Ginevra, women o’ gentry are worth too much and a woman like ye would be worth the same as a fallen star. I am but a simple man and would ne’er meet the price o’ a star.” Edmund handed her the pouch.
Taking a deeper drink, she handed it to Wolfe. Pointedly, she shot, “Did you hear that? Edmund thinks I’m like a falling star. I think never have I had such a pretty compliment.”
“I think he may be right.” Wolfe growled, entranced by her sparkling eyes. They did indeed look like stars burning in the firelight.
Ginevra made a face at his dark admission. Then, realizing Edmund watched in curiosity, she laughed.
“Nay, Edmund, hardly a star.” Ginevra dismissed his gallantry with a wave. “For it’s my opinion that most ladies of gentry are not worth much at all--myself excluded mind you. They can’t take care of themselves and they seek the attention of men to make themselves whole. Take this one woman I recently had the misfortune of meeting, Helewysa.”
Wolfe stiffened and glared at his wife. She continued, undaunted by his growing outrage. It would serve him right for trying to lecture her on the worth of his ‘word.’
“Lady Helewysa may be born into title, but I have met pigs with more worth than that addle-brained sow,” Ginevra announced. She smiled innocently as Edmund nodded his head in full-hearted agreement, completely unaware of the battle between the noble couple. Ginevra pulled the fur tightly under her chin, shivering at Wolfe’s direct attention. Even in his anger, he stole her breath and raced her heart. “I think only a dimwitted man would want such a woman in his bed.”
“Ginevra,” Wolfe hissed in warning.
“Yea, m’lord?” she began. “Oh, I forgot, Wolfe likes Lady Helewysa. In fact they are quite good friends.”
Edmund shook his head. Clearing his throat, he corked the pouch and stood up. Ginevra looked up at him expectantly. “I suppose it’s getting’ late. I think I should retire.”
Edmund nodded politely at the nobles before disappearing into the forest. Within moments he was gone. Meeting Wolfe’s glare defiantly, she uttered, “I think I shall also retire, m’lord. Good eve.”
Ginevra turned and settled onto the ground. She tugged the fur tightly around her. Before she could even close her eyes, Wolfe’s hand was on her shoulder whirling her about roughly to face him.
“What was that all about?” he hissed in displeasure.
“What, m’lord? It’s late and I wish to sleep.” Glancing to the opposite side of the fire, she said, “There is plenty of room over there if you wish to sleep as well.”
“Ginevra,” he warned.
“All right, if you insist on speaking about it.” She shrugged off his hand with a hard jerk and sat up. His face was very close to hers and she scooted back away from him. Glaring at him, she felt the heavy peasant liquor swimming in her head, loosening her tongue. “Well, speak.”
“Naught happened betwixt Helewysa and me,” he stated flatly, though he didn’t feel he owed her an explanation. “You merely kicked her out before I could.”
“Naught happened betwixt you because I showed up,” she returned. Her lips parted in heavy pants. Her lids narrowed in anger. “And who says I was speaking of this time?”
“She woke me up,” he shot back. His eyes moved to her mouth. Without thinking, he grabbed the aggravating woman by the back of the head and pulled her to his lips. Slanting his mouth against her warm lips flavored with cheap drink, he groaned the satisfaction of a conquering hero.
Ginevra gasped at the sudden onslaught. She lifted a hand to strike him away. But, as his lips became more insistent, her swat turned into a caress that found the nape of his neck. Moaning lightly, she came to her senses and tore her mouth away from him. Staring into his eyes, she spat weakly, “I don’t want you.”
“Nay,” he questioned, growing incensed by the woman in his arms. His head swam as he sought to tame her. Forgetting she was a lady to be treated gently, he met her challenge with a silent one of his own. He grabbed her breast firmly in his palm. Angrily, he kissed her lips with a bruising force. Ginevra cried out in pain. She tasted blood in her mouth. It was not that she minded his rougher passions--they just scared her because she didn’t know their origin or their intent.
“You are my wife,” he growled, as she pushed against him. His hands dug into her flesh as he forced her into his embrace. His lips found the tender flesh of her neck to ravish her throat with harsh licks. Ginevra cried out with a sob. He was using her body as punishment. It was more than she could bear. For he was winning, she wanted him. Hissing, he declared, “I will have your loyalty and your obedience.”
“Let go!” She tugged away, trying to free herself. Desperately afraid, she cried out, “You are no better than the raiders who killed Thomas--taking whatever you would by force.”
Wolfe froze. Ginevra gasped in horror over her own words. Slowly, he let go of her. For a moment, she thought he might strike her. His eyes dipped to her bloodied lips. He could taste the saltiness of it on his own. His stomach curled with an emotion he knew not how to describe. Pushing her roughly away from him, he stood.
“I didn’t mean it,” she whispered up
to him. She reached her hand out to the agonizing torture of his violent gaze. She never knew if he heard her. His eyes turned coldly away as he stalked into the forest.
Later that night, as Ginevra slept alone, Wolfe came back to the campsite. Swaying with drink, he stared at Ginevra for a long moment before falling next to her on his knees. Without thought, his hands strayed to her body. He couldn’t fight the feelings of desire in his chest. He was still angry with her, but couldn’t stay away. And, knowing he couldn’t fully sate his unusually forceful sexual appetites within her body lest he again see her rejection, he awoke her with gentle caresses and insistent lips.
But, as he touched her with tenderness, he found he didn’t care how he took her, so long as he could feel himself possessing her. Caught off guard, Ginevra awoke and was unable to fight him. He didn’t speak as he lightly peeled back the layers of her tunic shirt and breeches. And Ginevra didn’t answer as he came above her--naked and glorious like a conquering hero.
Staring deeply into her eyes, he let no emotion show, save that of passion and need. Ginevra received him within her depths, finding a sweet release within his brilliant hold. And with each not having forgiven the other, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Chapter Eleven
The day dramatically grew into a darkened gray as they journeyed on. Edmund returned from the forest with his own steed, an old horse but sturdy enough for travel. His light conversation and jovial attitude was a startling contrast to the frosted moods of his companions. Ginevra smiled kindly at him as she sat pressed against Wolfe’s stiff back. Her smile remained ever pleasant, but the sparkle had left her emerald gaze.
Wolfe deemed not to speak unless asked a question directly. Ginevra and Edmund mostly decided to leave him to his brooding. At night when they camped, Edmund would disappear into the trees and Wolfe would turn to his wife. Without words he came to her, capturing her gently in his arms. He didn’t speak as he sated his body in hers. Each time he was slow and gentle.
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