Sinking down on her bed, Cissy started to pry open the knots of string. Eagerly, she ripped open the paper—and a small red box fell into her lap. Taken aback, she turned it around. This was certainly too small to hold a book! No, it held—eagerly, she opened the lid—a stack of cards?
Cissy blinked several times, dumbfounded.
Very, very carefully, as if it might bite off her finger, she lifted the topmost card. She slowly turned the strong, ivory-colored paper around.
The ace of hearts.
How fitting.
Cissy frowned. How was a deck of cards supposed to help her with her marital problems?
The single ruby-red heart on the card seemed to wink at her mockingly. “Stupid thing,” she muttered, and shoved it back into the stack. Impatiently, she looked for an accompanying letter. Yet all that she found was an uncharacteristically short note: My dear, I hope this will help to bring light into the darkness. Else have a little more patience with your husband. I am sure he will eventually relent. Yours, &c.
Mrs. Chisholm obviously liked to keep at least the censor’s officers in the dark. Unfortunately, Cissy could not make any sense of her message, either. She read the note a second and a third time, even held the sheet of paper against the light to see if there was any hidden message to be found that way. After all, Mrs. Chisholm had written:
Bringing light into the darkness … light into—
Cissy smacked her forehead. “That’s it!” Hastily, she picked up the ace of hearts once more and held it against the light coming through her window. Very faintly, a picture appeared around the heart.
The blood thudded in her ears as she started a frantic search for a candle and her tinderbox. The candle lit, she held the card against the glow. As if by magic, the image appeared, strong and clear: a man and a woman on a bed and—
Cissy’s breath caught. Her stomach somersaulted.
The woman sat on the man and, with their clothes pushed out of the way, she had…impaled herself on him.
The image trembled.
Cissy licked her suddenly dry lips. This was certainly most improper, but she couldn’t help staring in helpless fascination. She could see the hair around the woman’s secret place. Her round breasts with puckered nipples were bared, and she was smiling down at the man beneath her.
Human intercourse, Cissy was happy to see, appeared to be much nicer than the mating of sheep. Her breathing quickened.
She imagined baring herself thus for Fenris, spreading her legs wide while she sat on his lap, with this…part of him deep inside her. Would he look at her like the man in the picture looked at his woman?
Her face flamed. “Oh my,” she whispered.
Nevertheless, she took up the next card…and the next…and the next. And on each she saw that mysterious act which could make two bodies one, that act in all its curious variations—people making love on beds or chairs, even hanging from trees, with the men sitting beneath the women, or lying above or behind, or kneeling or standing. She saw women proudly displaying their bodies, taking delight in what they were doing.
As if in answer, Cissy’s breasts tingled and heat pooled low in her belly. Yet it was the queen of spades that made her moan softly: smiling serenely, the queen leaned on a table, her thighs and belly bared. And between her legs sat a man and he…
With a groan, Cissy let herself fall back against the pillows. Breathing heavily, she pressed the queen of spades to her heart. With wide eyes she stared up at the canopy while the blood hummed in her veins.
Was she the most awful wanton for wishing to share this same kind of intimacy with her husband? She remembered the sight of his naked torso, all that pale, smooth skin stretched taut over hard muscle. How her fingers had itched to slide through the springy dark hair on his chest. Perhaps even through that intriguing whorl around his navel.
Her breath hitched, and she turned her hot face into the pillow.
She would have to pursue him, to go to him, to undress herself, stand naked in front of him. How could she cross this line of propriety without feeling shame?
Cissy bit her lip.
You’ve been given this one chance at happiness. Do you want to let it slip through your fingers because you’re afraid to sidestep social conventions?
She rolled onto her back.
Very slowly, her hand curled into a fist.
She would get her wedding night. She would brave the demon wolf. After all, all that was needed to transform the fairy tale beast into an adorable prince was a kiss.
Just a simple kiss.
Chapter 15
If she had hoped for a quick solution to her problem, Cissy was disappointed: after two weeks she still had had no opportunity to test her newly gained knowledge. The snow had started to thaw and had left the world in shades of muddy gray. Only the forest stood as dark and forbidding as ever.
Woodsolitude,
brings joy to me…
Or not.
Cissy grimaced. Actually, she was quite sick of it. She carelessly threw the book she was reading on her bed; it was late at night, almost time to extinguish the lights. Another day spent reading. If she continued at this pace, she would have gone through the whole Wolfenbach library before summer.
She sighed.
Another day spent without once seeing her husband. As much as she appreciated the contents of his library, she would have preferred to actually see him once in a while.
A knock on the door announced her maid, come to inquire whether she needed anything else for the night. Only my husband, Cissy thought wryly. “No, thank you, Marie, there’s nothing.”
Yet instead of leaving the room, the maid hesitated and shuffled her feet. “Gnädige Frau, I…um…” A soft blush appeared on her cheeks.
“Yes, what is it?”
Marie twisted her fingers. “I’ve meant to ask you if I could have a free afternoon on Thursday, gnädige Frau. It’s the start of the carnival, and I wish to go to town and watch the parade of the Hemdklunker.”
“The Hemdklunker?” Her interest roused, Cissy leaned forward. “What are these?”
“Everybody dresses in a white nightgown and nightcap and powders his face with flour.” Marie took a step toward the bed. “And then there’s a big parade.” She smoothed her hands over her skirt. “It is great fun…”
“Of course!” And because Cissy loved to discover new things, she asked, “Will you let me go with you? We can take the gig.”
“Actually, I’ve meant to walk—”
“To walk?” Cissy gaped at her. “Won’t that take terribly long?” It took over an hour to get to Kirchwalden by carriage!
Her maid shook her head. “Not if we take the footpath.”
“Through the forest?” A prickling sense of excitement filled Cissy. Here at last it was: an adventure to break the monotony of her days.
And thus, the following Thursday, shortly after midday, the two young women set out on their way down to the valley. The path dived deep into the forest, and the dark trees closed in on them. The air was filled with the scent of wet earth and rotting leaves. Sometimes a small animal rustled in the underbush or a bird chirped over head. In the distance Cissy could hear the gurgling of a small stream, and it almost seemed to her as if time itself had stopped in the musty twilight of the woods.
What joy to me,
Woodsolitude.
And who knew what they would find beyond the next bend? The castle of Eckbert the Fair and his Bertha? The gingerbread house from “Hänsel and Gretel”? Cissy giggled. After the winter and the thaw, the gingerbread would be all soaked and mushy. Not the nicest of abodes, even for a witch.
Marie threw her a strange look. “Are you all right, gnädige Frau?”
“Oh, yes. Yes.” Cissy grinned. She had insisted that both of them wore nightgowns over their outer clothes and nightcaps instead of bonnets. After all, she wanted to be authentic.
It took them not quite an hour to reach Kirchwalden, yet the walk through t
he fresh, crisp air energized Cissy. She nearly burst with her eagerness to see and experience new things. She was not disappointed: the streets of the small town teemed with cheerful bustle. Everywhere were people in nightgowns and flour-pale faces, but Cissy also spotted other, more eerie disguises: faces hidden behind grotesque wooden masks and dark hoods. At the sight, a chill ran down her spine. Yet then she forgot all about these other masks, as she heard the sweet ring of small bells on the donkey ears of a jester’s cap, the clatter of wooden rattles, and the sharp slaps of blown-up pigs’ bladders. The air hummed with the sound of innumerable voices and laughter, so much laughter.
“Oh, this is wonderful, Marie!” Cissy exclaimed, a little breathless with excitement. Laughing, she looked around—but her maid had disappeared.
Cissy frowned. She glanced this way and that, stood on tiptoe for a better view. Yet the features of the faces all around her were obscured by flour. They formed an indistinguishable sea of white planes with wide open, laughing red mouths.
“Ah, well…” Cissy shrugged. She slipped through the crowd and worked her way forward to the market. From a street trader, she bought an apple glazed with red, sticky sweetness, which melted on her tongue and stuck to her teeth and lips. And when finally the parade of the Hemdklunker marched by with a din and much clattering, she laughed and cheered and clapped with the rest of the crowd. Afterwards, she drifted along through the masses, gaping with amazement and utterly enchanted. However, the sight of a golden head made her halt. For a moment she thought it must be Leopold von Wolfenbach—but what could he want in Kirchwalden?
The slap of a pig’s bladder on her cheek made her forget all about her brother-in-law. She winced. But almost immediately, she heard the boisterous shout, “For good luck! For good luck!” Rubbing her cheek, she smiled again—and chuckled as she saw the flour now clinging to her mitten.
Only slowly did she become aware that the daylight had begun to wane. With a jolt, she finally realized it must be much later than she had thought. It was more than time to be on her way back to the castle, for darkness would fall much sooner in the forest.
As she pushed through the crowd, she was struck by the increased frenzy she could feel all around her. The smell of alcohol and human sweat saturated the air. Why had she not noticed before that the numbers of white Hemdklunker had dwindled? More people in colorful costumes surrounded her now, and wooden masks. Long-nosed, with leering grins or feral snarls. Sharp ridges were the wooden cheekbones. The masks muffled the voices and lent them a strangely hollow sound.
A fight broke out on the street before her. Fists flew.
The breath caught in Cissy’s throat. With her heart beating madly, she quickly slipped onto a sidestreet. For a while the hustle and bustle continued, then the crowd gradually thinned. Cissy lengthened her steps. She hoped Marie would be all right. But then, her maid had lived here all of her life; she would know how to deal with this.
On the other side of the street, the door to an inn opened and a pair of drunken men tumbled down the stairs. To the delight of the people around them, they rolled through the mud before they finally managed to get to their feet.
Cissy slipped past them unnoticed. She threw a look over a shoulder. Some way behind her she could detect a trio of particularly nasty wooden masks. Devils, demons, whatnot. Shuddering a little, she again quickened her strides.
Well, really, her worries were probably for nothing. These were just the normal, boisterous celebrations of a small town. Back at their small assemblies in Yorkshire, old Squire Elrich had always fallen into a drunken stupor before half the evening was over. With his head sunk back, he had lounged in a chair for the rest of the time, snoring loudly and displaying his rows of black, rotten teeth for all to see.
Cissy couldn’t help chuckling at the memory.
And woe be to him who had dared to disturb Squire Elrich’s sleep! The best thing the unfortunate could hope for was getting the man’s heavy walking stick smacked over his head. And at one of Mrs. Quirking’s musicales Elrich had actually thrown her good china vase at the piano player. It had probably been the shortest musicale in the history of mankind.
Oh yes. Celia grinned. Squire Elrich would have liked the carnival in Kirchwalden!
She reached the last house in the street, which dwindled down to a muddy path through a meadow. The forest loomed darkly some way before her. Cissy heaved a sigh of relief.
The din of the crowd had receded; this part of the town was almost deserted for now. She cast a look behind her—and froze. The way was deserted except for that trio of tall, masked figures. And they were much closer than before.
Surely they didn’t…wouldn’t…
Cissy started to walk a little faster. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and her breath wheezed through her nose. She darted another glance over her shoulder. Nearer still.
“Oh no!” She took a deep breath and…bumped into a solid, muscular body.
She shrieked.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing down here?” her husband asked in his most frigid tones.
Gasping, Cissy pressed a hand against her racing heart. “W-what?” A most unsettling habit this, for a man to pop out of thin air.
“And these…” His eyes narrowing, Fenris looked beyond her to the masked trio. With a swish, he drew a glinting sword and stepped around her toward them. “Go and look for some other entertainment,” he growled.
Cissy turned. The masked figures had stopped at some distance—and small wonder, for Fenris stood in an aggressive stance, his legs apart, his shoulders slightly crouched, like a wolf ready to pounce. The fading sunlight glinted on his sword. How curious, Cissy thought numbly; her husband didn’t even need a wooden mask to look like a demon. He bristled with barely leashed violence.
She blinked. A sword?
The masks slowly swung to and fro as the men regarded him, dumbstruck. “Eh,” one of them finally protested, “we found her first!”
Fenris’s muscles tensed. “Oh really? Care to discuss the point further?” Cissy could well picture him giving them a wolfish smile. His blade danced through the air, softly swishing in a graceful, deadly arch.
The trio stared.
Perhaps it was the aggressive power he emanated, or perhaps it was the fact that he had a sword and they had not. “Bah. Too much trouble for a silly chit,” one of them finally mumbled. The others muttered their agreements and backed away. Then they shrugged, turned, and sauntered back to the town.
Cissy heaved a sigh of relief. “Well, that was—”
Snarling a violent oath, Fenris thrust his blade back into the sheath hanging at his side. Whirling, he grabbed her arm and dragged her on into the forest.
“W-what—”
“Shut up!” His grip tightened painfully. “How could you have been so damn stupid to go to town today? Have the crows picked out your brains?”
“I—”
“And what the hell are you wearing?” He scanned her body and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Have you completely taken leave of your senses?” he yelled. “To run around in a bloody nightgown when the bloody town is swarming with bloody drunkards?”
Annoyance replaced her gratitude. How dare he treat her like this? Especially when she never saw him. “I—”
“And what’s this? A bloody nightcap?” He yanked it off her head and flung it into the forest.
“Hey, that was—”
“A bloody nightcap when it’s still so chilly? Do you want your ears to fall off with the cold?” He fumbled with his coat and drew out a woolen cap, which he proceeded to plunk on her head.
Cissy tried to ward him off. “This is much too warm. We’re walking and—”
“Leave it on!” he snarled at her. And with his chest heaving, he actually bared his teeth.
Cissy blinked.
Perhaps he had the rabies? She opened her mouth. Closed it again. “Well,” she finally said. “Where have you come from, anyway? And with
a sword on top of it!”
Which, she realized, was a mistake, because it set him off all over again. So he dragged her on and snarled and shouted about how he had gone to search for his ninnybrained wife because, like any normal human with some brains, he had known that carnival spelled trouble and that stupid little chits from the other side of the world had better stay away from it.
“And how should I have known?” she yelled back, all her anger and frustration finally bubbling over. “When Mr. High-and-Mighty never deigns to show his face in my presence and goes skulking on the ramparts instead? I thought it would be fun when Marie told me about this day—”
They stopped again. “And where is your maid now?” Fenris rounded on her.
“Er…” Cissy blinked rapidly. He was so near that she could smell the warm scent coming off his body. Sandalwood and musky sweat—how utterly distracting! It reminded her of the kiss they had shared, of resting her head in his lap. Of the cards she kept hidden in one of the drawers of her dresser. She heaved a dreamy little sigh.
“What? What?”
Her eyes snapped open. Did he have to be so loud? “I…um…lost her.”
“You lost her!” Fenris threw up his hands, nearly dislocating her arm. “God, you’re even more stupid than I thought!” He turned and walked on. “I guess Marie can take care of herself,” he muttered darkly. “After all, she’s got some brains.”
Cissy had finally had enough. She dug in her heels and wrenched her arm free. “Why do you have to be so mean?” she shouted at him. With grim satisfaction she watched his eyes widen in surprise at her attack. “Yes, I wanted to have some adventure, some fun! Is that so bad? And yes, I have learnt my lesson, thank you very much. But do you have to rub it in? Do you have to harp on and on and on? Can’t you just…” She bit her lip. “I know it could’ve been ugly, yes, I know that now. So can’t you just… I mean…” Her voice trailed away as she realized that she was all alone in the forest with her husband. A husband who clearly cared on some level about her. And thanks to her cards, she knew that there were possibilities… Given, it was a little bit cold, but she was willing to make some small sacrifices. Perhaps she should just try a different strategy with her spouse.
Castle of the Wolf Page 15
