Soul of the Wolf

by Judith Sterling

  “Of course, my lady.”

  “The runic symbols too?”

  Edith shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t know them. Still, that’s one goal down, and Nihtscua’s transformation is well underway. But children…”

  Jocelyn frowned. “Aye. Children are another matter.” If anyone had told her a month ago that she’d soon want to seduce a Saxon, she would’ve thought them deranged. Yet ’twas exactly what she was considering. The memory of Wulfstan’s kiss—of his ice-blue eyes penetrating her soul—made the plan infinitely more agreeable.

  Alice shrugged. “There’s nothing for it. We must find a way to make his lordship share your bed.”

  Edith chuckled. “You’re right, Alice. We must. But how?”

  Jocelyn peeked at the guards patrolling the walls. All but one watched the three women.

  They smell conspiracy, she thought. Well, take a big whiff, fellows. I’m not backing down. Conspiracy is justified when Nihtscua’s future happiness hangs in the balance.

  “I’m going to the Wolf Stone,” she announced.

  “Wolf Stone?” Alice said, frowning. Then her brow smoothed. “Oh aye. Gunhild told me about it.”

  Edith’s expression turned droll. “Of course she did.” She regarded Jocelyn. “Why do you seek the Stone?”

  Jocelyn grinned at her conspirators. “For inspiration. There’s an energy there…a creative flow I cannot put into words. And if I’m to seduce my husband, I need all the help I can get.”

  ****

  Wulfstan scrawled his final note on the parchment, then set down his quill. Yawning, he stood and stretched his arms above his head. He needed sleep.

  Right, he thought, rolling his eyes. While Jocelyn inflames my dreams? When danger prowls so near?

  He rubbed his bristly jaw. He could also use a shave. Later.

  The wolf’s alert claimed his focus. A stranger—who was somehow not a stranger—wandered the woods. Would that person fulfill the runes’ warning? What form did the stranger take? Flesh or spirit?

  ’Twould soon be the Yuletide, when the doors between the worlds opened. ’Twas the time of Woden’s Wild Hunt, when the dead walked freely among the living. Had Aldred returned early? Had his father?

  A knock on the door startled him. His gaze clapped onto the battened door.

  It couldn’t be Jocelyn. Not after their recent clash. Then again, her nerve was a virtual force of nature.

  Two more knocks, harder than the first, sounded on the door. Warily, he opened it.

  ’Twas Harold, and he appeared winded. “My lord,” he breathed, hooking his thumbs onto his belt. “Forgive the disturbance. I thought you’d want to know. Sir Robert from Ravenwood is here.”

  Wulfstan raised his eyebrows. “Well, well.”

  “He’s waiting in the solar.”

  Wulfstan nodded and stepped out into the stairwell. “Find out where her ladyship is. She should be notified of Sir Robert’s arrival.” He locked the door behind him, sidestepped Harold, and sped down the stairs. Curiosity rode him all the way to the solar.

  Robert stood beside the roaring hearth. The devilish glint in his eye was so apparent, he might’ve been Loki, the trickster god, in disguise. “How goes the battle?” he asked.

  Wulfstan played dumb. “Battle?”

  Robert’s dimples deepened. “You catch my meaning. The battle that would squelch your natural instincts.”

  “My instincts are my business.”

  Robert glanced about the chamber. “Obviously, your wife’s business is the keep’s decor. What a change!”

  Wulfstan nodded, admiring her handiwork. Tapestries graced the walls. Cushions softened the seats. New furniture, a copious amount of candles, and games like Merels, Fierges, and chess gave the solar a warmth altogether lacking before Jocelyn worked her magic.

  He gestured to the high-backed chairs before the fire. “Pray, sit.”

  Robert sank onto one of the chairs. He stretched his legs and sighed.

  Wulfstan sat beside him. “Why are you here?”

  “Wow,” said Robert. “Right to the point. We got word you needed more wine. William said he could spare several tuns from Druid’s Head, so I fetched them and brought them hither.”

  “Is that your only reason for coming?”

  “I have news too. Lady Ravenwood is with child.”

  Wulfstan smiled. “That’s the best news I’ve heard for some time. Is Emma well?”

  “Perfectly well and in high spirits.”

  “And your brother?”

  “Proud and protective.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Robert studied Wulfstan’s face. “When’s the last time you slept?”

  Wulfstan shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them. “Last night…briefly.”

  “And the night before that?”

  “The same.”

  Robert tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair. “I have to ask. What’s pressing on you?”

  Wulfstan frowned. “Nothing I can discuss with you, or anyone.”

  “Not even Lady Nihtscua?”

  Wulfstan shook his head. “’Tis my work…my burden. No one else’s.”

  For a long moment, Robert regarded him in silence. “She might surprise you,” he said at last.

  “My wife?”

  “No, your water hen. Of course your wife! Give her a chance.”

  “In what way?” Wulfstan asked with eyes narrowed.

  “Let her into your life.”

  Wulfstan’s chest tightened. “And into my bed?”

  Robert held up his hands. “You said it. Not I.”

  With a grumble, Wulfstan stood and started to pace.

  “Listen,” said Robert. “If there’s one thing I learned from my brother’s marriage, ’tis that communication is key. Secrets are poisonous. Is there nothing you can share with her?”

  Wulfstan embraced the memory of the kiss he and Jocelyn shared. She was like no woman he’d ever known. So passionate, so warm, so…

  “Could you stop pacing for two seconds together?” Robert said. “You’re making me dizzy.”

  Wulfstan halted and turned to him. “Sorry.”

  Again, Robert raised his hands. “No need to apologize. But do consider my words.”

  “I am considering them. But you don’t know my wife.”

  “Neither do you, from the sound of it.”

  Wulfstan frowned. “What would you have me do? Give her every detail of my wretched past? Teach her the magic I’ve spent a lifetime developing? I need every ounce of it now and cannot afford to weaken it.”

  Robert arched an eyebrow. “Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere. That’s it, isn’t it? You’re afraid if you let her in, you’ll lose your power.”

  “I’ll lose my focus.”

  “You could lose a lot more than that.”

  “Such as?”

  Robert leaned forward. “You could squander your chance for happiness with a woman who’s one of a kind.”

  Wulfstan looked away and stared into the fire. It flickered and flared, enticing him with the promise of hot kisses, fiery flesh, and immeasurable bliss.

  He turned to Robert. “You have a point.”

  The dimples were back. “I always do.”

  “But I cannot be her lover. Not yet.”

  “Then be her friend. Take it one step at a time.”

  A smile tugged at Wulfstan’s lips. “I’ll try.”

  Harold appeared in the archway. “My lord, Lady Nihtscua has gone to the Wolf Stone.”

  With knitted brow, Wulfstan regarded his manservant. “The Wolf Stone? I wonder why.”

  Harold shrugged. “Oh, and Edith says Cearl has need of her ladyship.”

  Robert sat up and looked at Wulfstan. “Cearl. Isn’t he your cook?”

  Wulfstan nodded. “Why does Cearl need her?”

  Harold’s thumbs found his belt. “He has a question about one of the new recipes her ladyship gave him.”

  Robert
stood. “Let me fetch her ladyship.”

  Wulfstan’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  With a shrug, Robert moved past him. “I rode all morning and could use a good stretch of the legs.” He hesitated beside Harold and turned back to Wulfstan. “Remember what I said.”

  Wulfstan crossed his arms. “How could I forget?”

  Robert’s eyebrows shot up and down. In a flash, he was gone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jocelyn stood beside Woden’s Stair, admiring the beauty and regularity of the snow-covered steps. The wind was bracing and friendly.

  Here we kissed. I surrendered to Saxon magic, and to the man who wields it.

  The trick was to summon that magic again, to make Wulfstan want her so badly he’d forget himself and consummate their marriage. But how?

  Suddenly, the skin on the back of her neck prickled. Someone was watching her. Someone to her right. She turned.

  An elderly woman in a gray gown and veil stood at the edge of the forest. She stared at Jocelyn with an expression that revealed neither kindness nor malice.

  “Hello,” Jocelyn called.

  The woman remained silent. Her gaze didn’t flinch.

  Jocelyn advanced toward her. With every step, the fresh snow crunched and squeaked beneath her boots. “I’m Lady Nihtscua. Who are you?”

  The crone kept to the tree line and moved to the point where the North Woods met the Long Wood. Not once did her stare waver.

  Jocelyn kept pace with the stranger’s progress. “Can you speak?”

  The woman backed into the woods, turned, and vanished among the trees.

  “Who on earth…?” Jocelyn murmured. She started forward.

  “Lady Nihtscua!” a male voice called.

  Jocelyn spun around. Sir Robert le Donjon stood at the brink of the trail that led to both village and keep.

  She smiled as they approached one another. “You’re the last person I expected to see today. What a nice surprise!”

  His dimples appeared as he stopped in front of her. “I live to liven up people’s days. And I brought the wine you requested.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “You’re not wearing a headdress,” he said, pointing.

  “Lord Nihtscua said I could forego it in and around the keep. Does he know you’re here?”

  Robert nodded. “He does. I’m here to fetch you.”

  She looked askance at him. “For what purpose?”

  “My purpose is twofold: to tell you I’m here, and to tell you that Cearl has need of you.”

  “Cearl? Why?”

  Robert shrugged. “Something to do with a new recipe.”

  “Oh. That makes sense.”

  He took a step closer. “Dare I tell you what doesn’t make sense?”

  She gave him a dubious look. “I don’t know, but I would hope you’d tell me anything you deem important.”

  He grinned. “I knew I liked you. And of course I dare. It makes no sense for you and your husband to sleep apart.”

  She folded her arms. “Told you, did he?”

  “I wheedled it out of him.”

  “Hmph.”

  Robert held up his hands. “Fear not. I’m here to help…if you want me to.”

  She frowned. “How could you help?”

  “Let’s put our heads together and see what comes of it.”

  Extraordinary, she thought. I came hither to solve my problems, and Sir Robert simply appears and offers to help. ’Tis as if this place is a magnet, drawing toward it whatever one needs.

  Robert trudged through the snow to the Wolf Stone, and she followed him. The whistling wind tugged at their mantles, as though guiding them to the site.

  When they reached the white mound, Robert leaned toward the rune stone and examined it for a long moment. Then he turned to her. His steel gray eyes mirrored the leaden sky. “First, I have news. Lady Ravenwood is with child.”

  Jocelyn’s heart twisted. “I’m happy for her. But I must confess, I’m envious. I assume you told my husband.”

  “I did.”

  “Did he express a wish to join the ranks of parentage himself?”

  “Your tone tells me you already know the answer to that question.”

  She made a face. “The answer is no.”

  Robert gave her a sympathetic look. “Take heart. We shall remedy the situation. Do you remember Meg from Ravenwood?”

  “Of course. She was most kind.”

  “She had a dream about you and Wulfstan, and her dreams don’t lie.”

  “You mean they’re prophetic?”

  He nodded. “Oftentimes. Her dream revealed the two of you as one, that you are meant to be so. But that’s what Wulfstan fears the most.”

  Jocelyn frowned. “Why? Am I so horrid that—”

  “No. Not at all. The trouble is that you do attract him. You see, he believes that when a husband and wife consummate their marriage, they become one…in a spiritual sense. He thinks such a union would weaken his powers and keep him from doing what he’s compelled to do.”

  “Which is?”

  Robert gestured to the Wolf Stone. “Cracking the riddle on this stone.”

  “Did he tell you this?”

  “He told Meg, and she told me. And according to her, you are crucial to solving the riddle.”

  Jocelyn raised a hand to her chest. “I?”

  “Apparently so.”

  She bit her lip. “I want him to solve it, for his own sake and for the sake of all who dwell here. But I also want children. If Meg is right—”

  “She’s always right.”

  “Then there’s no reason why we shouldn’t achieve both ends. Perhaps if we told him of Meg’s dream…no. Telling won’t help. We need to show him. And I don’t want him thinking that you, Meg, and I are plotting against him.”

  “In sooth, we’re plotting for him.” Grinning, Robert rubbed his hands together. “So, what’s our next move?”

  Jocelyn thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it! You’ll stay the night. I’ll tell my husband I cannot bear the shame of your knowing I sleep alone.”

  “But I already know it.”

  “Aye. But he doesn’t know I know that.”

  Robert’s dimples deepened. “So he’ll have to share your bedchamber, if only to keep up appearances.”

  She beamed at him. “Precisely.”

  He nodded. “I like it. It just might work.”

  “Might?” Jocelyn glanced at the snowcapped Wolf Stone and crossed her fingers. “It must.”

  ****

  Seated at the high table in the redecorated great hall, Wulfstan took a swig of blackberry wine and eyed his empty trencher. Jocelyn sat to his left; Robert, to his right. The two of them conversed easily and laughed often. Perhaps too often. There seemed to be a conspiratorial air between them that twisted round and round his body. ’Twas almost palpable.

  Robert patted his belly and sighed. “Those chicken pasties were delicious.” He turned to Wulfstan. “What say you?”

  Wulfstan nodded. “Excellent.”

  Jocelyn grinned. “The secret is in the spicing.”

  “And the quince pie!” Robert raved. “You must send the recipe along to Ravenwood.”

  “I’d be glad to,” Jocelyn said.

  Robert cleared his throat with exaggerated care and volume. “Well, after such a supper, I’m ready to retire.”

  Wulfstan’s stomach dropped. “So early?”

  “I had a long journey today.”

  “’Twasn’t that long.” Wulfstan’s eyes narrowed.

  Jocelyn focused her warm, brown eyes on him. “Edith took Freya to bed ages ago. ’Tis our turn now.”

  “You’re eager to retire?” Wulfstan asked.

  “I am,” she said.

  “With me?”

  “Of course.”

  He rubbed his recently shaved jaw. She was up to something. He could smell it.

  Robert glanced at Jocelyn, then stood. “Sh
all we go to our respective beds?”

  “Indeed,” Jocelyn said, standing. She regarded Wulfstan. “Are you ready, my lord?”

  Ready? he thought. For what? To climb the stairs? To enter my mother’s chamber? To take you to my bed?

  His stomach churned. He wished he hadn’t eaten so much food. But Jocelyn’s recipes were as beguiling as she was.

  Suddenly, Robert’s words came back to him. Be her friend. Take it one step at a time.

  ’Twas all he had to do. No one could force him into connubial bliss. He would simply be her friend.

  Heartened, Wulfstan stood and faced his wife. “I’m ready.”

  Robert flashed him a devilish grin. “See you on the morrow.” He traded glances with Jocelyn, then left the dais.

  Wulfstan followed Jocelyn out of the hall, along the brightly lit passage, and up the spiral stairs. Within her green gown, her hips swayed with each upward step. So did the long, red braid that trailed down her back to her buttocks.

  Friends, he reminded himself. Nothing more.

  They reached the top and crossed the threshold. With wide eyes, he inspected the bedchamber. ’Twas the first time he’d seen the transformation Jocelyn wrought.

  “I like what you’ve done in here,” he said. “Particularly the tapestries. What ever made you choose hunting scenes?”

  She closed the chamber door, then turned to him. Her gaze locked onto his. “I’m certain you enjoy a rousing hunt the same as anyone.”

  Her words held a double meaning. He was sure of it. Unable to tear his gaze from hers, he swallowed hard. “I do.”

  She stepped away from the door and advanced toward him. “What else do you enjoy?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  She stopped an arm’s length away. Her body heat reached out to him, every bit as fierce as the flames thrashing in the fireplace. “I want to know what gives you pleasure,” she said.

  His manhood stiffened, and he groaned inwardly. After a moment, he found his tongue. “Many things give me pleasure.”

  “Such as?”

  ’Twas the perfect opportunity to guide the conversation away from anything that touched on the physical. “I enjoy my studies.”

  She blinked. Then she crossed to the hearth and sat in one of the high-backed chairs before the fire. She motioned to the other chair. “Pray, sit and tell me about them.”

  “You truly want to know?”

  “Why else would I have asked?”