“You should leave while you can,” he breathed into her mouth. Yet his actions belied his words when he pressed her into him and kissed her deeply.
With notions of decorum fading fast, Scarlet responded in kind, raising herself on the tips of her wooden shoes to meet his kiss then double it. His chest felt warm and hard under her hands, and she had to resist the urge to rake her nails down the length of him, instead caressing the pale skin with the pads of her fingers, softly, slowly. Fredrick shivered.
She snaked her hands on either side of his narrow waist inside the parted tunic. This time she couldn’t resist a quick graze of her curled fingers. His reaction was immediate. Scarlet let out a small cry of surprise and excitement when Fredrick tugged the collar of her uniform past her shoulder and dove for the exposed flesh. Squeezing out of her sleeve, Scarlet freed a hand, which she used to pull his head down to her throat. Cold night air caressed her breast, tightened her nipple. He trapped it with his mouth, pulled until she breathed his name. He seemed to grow extra pairs of hands as he cupped her exposed breast, squeezed her tender nipple, raked her hair back from her face, yet at the same time, never releasing his tight embrace or ceasing his torturous caress. He hardened against her belly, the heat seeping through layers of fabric.
Scarlet throbbed and ached. Tossing aside the last shreds of modesty, she unbuttoned the rest of his long tunic with fingers that trembled with excitement.
“Turn around.”
He grabbed her by the shoulders and whirled her around like a dancer would. The dress came loose around her when he expertly unlaced the back of it. It fell limply around her waist but she never had time to step out of it as Fredrick spun her back to face him and slid the garment down past her hips. He draped the bench with it.
“There,” he said, guiding her back so she’d sit.
Scarlet sat on the bench, her back to the fountain, unsure what to do next. But when he crouched in front of her, parted her legs and knelt between them, she knew. His tunic spilled on either side of him like great black wings when he leaned forward and proceeded to assail her all the way down from throat to navel. Her breasts heaved sharply when his hands joined his mouth. His glowing gaze on her face the whole time, he kissed her lower belly then the inside of her thighs until his progress stopped just above her pulsating sex. The tip of his tongue poked out of a corner of his mouth, slid all the way along his upper lip before disappearing back inside. A flash of teeth heralded a sharp sting of pain when he bit her high between the legs. Instead of feeling scared, Scarlet spread her knees wider, kicked her shoes off so she could point her feet. Arching her back, she waited—prayed—for more.
And it came.
Using his thumbs, he spread her wide before giving her a lash of his burning tongue. Scarlet hissed. Her whole legs trembled under the strain of keeping them immobile.
Fredrick renewed his efforts, which she rewarded with increasingly louder moans of pleasure. Fire accompanied the wave that threatened to spill over her, and Scarlet gritted her teeth, braced her arms far and wide behind her. But he must have had other plans for when she arched, waiting for the climax to claim her, Fredrick stopped.
“Don’t…please.”
With a devilish grin, he returned to her bud, which throbbed demandingly, and brought her there again, only to abandon her the second she started to writhe with contentment. And he did this so many times, after a while Scarlet seriously considered throwing him down and assaulting him right there on the spot. But she didn’t have to. For before she could voice her frustration, Fredrick knelt on the bench between her legs, scooped her up with one arm and sat her on his lap.
Their gazes fixed on each other, Fredrick angled the tip of his member right at the juncture of her lips, rubbed in a circular motion before sliding inside. Then he retreated, almost all the way out. A low groan escaped Scarlet.
“It’s too late for you to leave now.” He stabbed his hips upward.
Scarlet’s cry reverberated in the walled garden. Her climax exploded out of her, left her quivering like a just-fired arrow. Welcoming Fredrick’s ferocious lovemaking with encouraging groans and hip torsions, Scarlet let her head fall back, her spine bent into a deep curve.
The stone fountain abraded her palms. Through the tangled foliage, she spotted looming above her the upside-down head of a snarling white wolf with his fanged maw wide open. She yelped in shock, only to realize the head was made of stone. When a delightfully sharp thrust from Fredrick nearly made her bite her tongue, she straightened to look into his eyes.
She gasped.
Above her, snarling, was Fredrick…except it wasn’t his human face looking down at her but the same wolf’s head as in the fountain. Only this one wasn’t made of stone. This one was real.
Scarlet woke with a scream struggling up her throat. She clamped both hands over her mouth. Sweet, sweet Mary. What…?
Her heart beat so fast she feared for a moment she would collapse under the strain. A breeze smarting with the first signs of autumn grazed her neck. Scarlet bolted upright and looked around. A dream. Thank God.
The rose garden was around her. The bench under her, the fountain behind her. No Fredrick. No snarling white wolf. She knuckled her eyes, trying to rub the last shred of dream away. And to add to her misery, her sex throbbed its unfulfilled needs at her. A thought crossed her turbulent mind. What if?
Scarlet reached over the fountain’s edge and parted the tangled rosebush. Nothing. She pushed farther, leaning precariously over the decaying stone. Crushed thorns bit her flesh. But she overextended and slipped inside where she landed on her hands. Face to snout with a snarling lupine head. Most of its teeth were missing.
Scrambling back, Scarlet floundered to her feet. How could she have known a white marble wolf’s head had once graced the fountain? She couldn’t possibly have seen it through the thick rosebush. Despite the delectable nature of her dream—the first portion anyway—Scarlet couldn’t shake the sadness choking her. Dreams were the only way she could ever know a man like Fredrick von Innsbruck.
The overwhelming feelings of sadness pervading the place chased her out of the garden. She closed the grate behind her.
Light far above caught her attention. It came from the tower, out of the master’s room.
His cell, she mentally corrected herself.
Her heart sank. During the last weeks, she’d been distant with him, hadn’t responded to any of his advances. And after a while, she’d seen the sparkle in his eyes die away. She hated herself for it. And now, in a perverse twist of nature, she had dreams about the man. Dreams that left her yearning for him in shameful ways.
Perhaps the Fredrick of her dream was right—she should leave while she still could. But leave for what? And to go where? She couldn’t return to Amsterdam where Werner’s connections and revenge would extend to every hole in the ground. She knew no one else but the folks here. And in a strange new way, Scarlet was starting to develop tiny roots to this place, despite what went on behind the stone façade. If she could only shake off the guilt.
To make her way back to the unused door Scarlet had to climb a set of dangerously worn stone steps that brought her close to the parapet near the tower. Scarlet squinted as she looked directly above her head, about fifty feet up. A strip of golden light pierced the dark wall of the tower. Too much light for a man who preferred darkness. As she pondered on this, she heard faint voices. Then what sounded like a howl. But the wind blew so strongly she could have been mistaken.
Shivering, Scarlet made her way back inside. Perhaps a cup of tea would do her good, would wash away the uneasiness.
As she stepped inside the warm kitchen, Scarlet spotted Ute in a corner giving a verbal lashing to a maid. Her! The same Lothar had… Scarlet hadn’t seen her in a while. A wool vest covered the maid’s shoulders and the deep red lines that would undoubtedly still show. Scarlet averted her gaze. Picking at the dried skin on her knuckles, Scarlet waited until Ute had finished with the maid.
>
The old woman muttered a curse before sitting at the table. “How’s the master tonight?” She sounded tired and older.
“The lady brought him his supper tonight. They had affairs to discuss she said.” Scarlet took a breath, meant to speak but checked herself in time.
“What?”
No use trying to fool the shrewd woman. “Well…he’s not as ill as I thought he’d be. Has he always been…like this?”
“Come with me,” Ute said, her voice uncharacteristically soft.
Scarlet followed her into the dining hall where the hustle and bustle of servants preparing the castle for the next day would nullify any eavesdropping. Scarlet sat on a chair by the old woman. Ute pulled out the vial of tonic and absentmindedly toyed with it.
Again, the barely remembered flowery smell wafted to Scarlet, the one from her dream. An image of a tall plant with clusters of violet-blue flowers at its tip appeared in Scarlet’s mind. Then she remembered. Werner had once forced Scarlet to steal some from the apothecary across the city.
“Wolfsbane.”
“What, my girl?” Ute asked.
Scarlet clamped her mouth shut. “Nothing, I just remembered something.”
Good God. This is what they put in Master Fredrick’s food? Wolfsbane was an extremely virulent poison when taken in large quantities. In small doses, as in Fredrick’s case, maybe it would make even someone his size controllable, docile. But could it also kill him in the long run? What did she know? She was no physician. An utter pig, Lothar was still a physician.
Ute closed her eyes briefly and smiled. “Master Fredrick’s always been different,” she said. Scarlet forced her mind to clear.
“The white hair, the pale skin and his eyes. It’s a condition his family is known for. Some of his ancestors had it too. But it never bothered him none. Always on the go, he was. Could be seen here and there, hunting with our men, fishing with the lads from the village. But he has a temper. Takes it from his father before him. The wicked fits he can throw. The noble families walk on eggs whenever they come around. Ever since—” Ute stopped, reminiscing with her eyes half closed, then chuckled. “After the master caught a visiting duke having a go at one of the maids who just wanted to be left alone, he threw him out on his arse. The sight.”
Scarlet could tell Ute loved her master. And to hear the description, she would’ve appreciated such a man as well. Yet she couldn’t reconcile the one she’d seen in the tower. He looked neither healthy nor pleasant, although he’d been very gentle in his attentions toward her. She felt herself blush.
Ute smiled widely. “Ah, but don’t go fancying him, girlie, you’ll only end up hurtin’. He’s not a noble per se, but just as good. He’s a Langraf. That’s what they call landholders in our country. Answers directly to the king.”
“I wasn’t fancying him,” Scarlet replied too quickly. She’d spent the last three weeks trying to convince herself of this, failing with increasing misery. She more than fancied him. She spent entire nights dreaming of his pale hands on her, his lips pressed against hers.
Ute put a gnarled hand over her shoulder. “Tell me how he looked. It’s been so long since I’ve been allowed up there.”
“I know about the physician’s test…but still…” Scarlet shook her head then lowered her voice. “I’m sure Master Fredrick would like the company.”
“Nein, nein. Oh no, that’d kill him!” Ute replied, as though the mere thought gave her an attack of the humors. “Only those the physician cleared may see him. Like you, dear girl. The physician’s been very clear about that. Otherwise, we could give the master diseases he can’t fight, ill as he is. Even a cold would kill him.”
So this is why they kept him locked up in the tower. Scarlet understood now. She had no doubt the man was ill, but it wasn’t only from his sun affliction. It was the wolfsbane that caused him to look constantly feverish and sluggish. Yet Fredrick still looked menacing enough take on three men his size.
What was going on? Scarlet was so tired from a long day of chores she couldn’t even think straight. What if he was mentally unstable and the wolfsbane was the only brew that kept him manageable? Ute had just told her he had a temper. What if the chains were there to protect Fredrick? The lady had said so. Maybe the willful man wouldn’t listen to the physician and insisted on going out, where the sun would roast his fair skin, blind his strange eyes? Yet the chain bothered Scarlet night and day. There had to be a way to keep him safe without resorting to such drastic measures.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Scarlet began. “I wonder if the chains aren’t—”
“My dear, I was just looking for you,” a man said forcefully from the doorway.
Scarlet turned toward the voice, where Lothar stood leaning against the doorjamb. Shiny and smooth, his hair was pulled back into a perfect ponytail. He beckoned to her with a finger.
Ute’s face remained mostly expressionless, though Scarlet could detect a slight trace of animosity. Trying to hide her panic, Scarlet stood and followed him.
“The lady requires your assistance,” he said, giving her a penetrating look. He had a small bag in his hands.
He was taking her to the tower. She knew it in her heart. But he was taking the long route, not the one used by the servants. Maybe he didn’t know of it. Though he was impossibly alluring and elegant, especially this evening dressed all in jade green velvet, Scarlet couldn’t quell the warning bells tolling in her gut, couldn’t cleanse her mind of the images he’d put there. Sick bastard. Sick, dangerous bastard. Surely the lady had him in sight, her being shrewd and all, and knew what sort of man her friend was. Scarlet could have thrown Lothar farther than she could trust him, yet despite her mistrust, she had to believe in the lady’s good judgment regarding her own cousin. She wouldn’t let anything bad happen to Fredrick.
When they’d turned into a deserted corridor, Scarlet reacted too slowly and Lothar was able to grab her by an arm and pull her to him.
“Succulent little thing,” he murmured, aiming a kiss at her but only getting a cheek after Scarlet turned her head away.
He grinned, nodding. “Pardon my enthusiasm, Scarlet. But the mere sight of you unmakes me.”
She shivered. His hand was gentle when he cupped her backside. “The things I want to do to you…”
She could well imagine what sort of things. Perverted man.
“Lady Katrina is waiting, Master Lothar,” Scarlet said, trying to keep her tone even though her heart was beating a mad tempo. Everything in her body was telling her to knee him where it counts and run like the Devil was after her. Which wouldn’t have been so far from the truth.
“Yes, of course, she is waiting.” Lothar kissed her on the forehead then pulled away.
When they rounded the last corner, Scarlet spotted the lady pacing in front of the tower door.
As soon as they were within arm’s reach, she took the bag from Lothar’s hands and shoved it into Scarlet’s. “My dear cousin has fallen off his bed again.” Her eyes were hard. “Poor helpless man. See to him, would you, Scarlet?”
Scarlet threw a sidelong look at Lothar. Wasn’t he a physician? Why ask a mere servant?
“My dear, I don’t treat such trifle cases. I’m sure your ministrations will be just perfect.”
Trifle? How could he call Master Fredrick’s state a trifle when the lady looked beside herself with worry?
“The physician has done his part and now you must do yours.” The lady narrowed her eyes in Lothar’s direction. He shrugged, looked ready to say something but clamped his mouth shut before storming off.
Drawing near, Lady Katrina placed a hot hand over Scarlet’s shoulder. “Lothar said he found him on the floor, but I…” she faltered, seemed lost for words. “The physician can sometimes be a very driven man. Be careful around him, Scarlet.”
Scarlet nodded.
“Please, do be quick. My cousin needs you.” Then Lady Katrina was off, the hem of her midnight blue
dress fretting about her ankles as if a beast struggled within its folds.
With horrid images dancing in her head, Scarlet rushed up the steps, not bothering to check if anyone would follow her or not. Had he injured himself severely? she wondered. And Ute who’d asked only now how the master was doing. Scarlet hoped no one would blame her. What if they did?
She stormed into the room. A lone oil lamp, probably left by Lothar or the lady, lit the sorry scene before her. The bag slipped from her hands.
Pure chaos. Upturned furniture, ripped cushions, shredded black velvet littered the floor. As though something had exploded out of the tunic. And on the floor in the middle of a pool of blood, Fredrick, naked, lying on his front. The white of his hair was streaked with crimson.
“Good Heaven…”
She’d seen enough beatings in her life to recognize one. This man hadn’t fallen off anything. He’d been beaten. Savagely.
Which brought her back to the last time she’d seen him bruised. Almost four weeks ago. Tonight was ten times worse.
Torn between being quick and being careful, Scarlet rushed to his side and knelt.
“Master Fredrick,” she murmured, placing a hand over his shoulder. So hot. That fever again.
His vein fluttered at his neck, so he lived still, of that she was sure. But he didn’t respond to any of her urgings. What if he died? The thought of the beautiful man dying in her arms horrified her. Looking around in mounting panic, Scarlet meant to call for help but thought better of it. What if they thought it’d been her doing? What if someone came, someone not entitled, and gave some illness to the wounded man, finished off Master Fredrick? What if it was Lothar who answered her call?
No, she’d have to rely purely on herself. The story of her life.
She’d need to drag the inert man to his bed if she hoped to be able to bandage him. She couldn’t very well leave him on the stone floor where he’d catch his death.
Though her throat was squeezed painfully tight, she gathered her wits about her and grabbed the coverlet from the bed, folded it in half and tucked it under him. After she grabbed the corners near his head, she crouched down low and tugged him to his bed. He was much heavier than he looked, despite his lean figure. It took all her strength and a good while to hoist him onto the mattress. Good Heaven! He was heavy.
Wolfsbane Page 7
