“You must be looking forward to getting back home to the Keep, Geoffrey,” she ventured. “Have you been away from home long?”
“Three years milady,” he answered reluctantly, mumbling his words.
“Your family must have missed you.”
He shrugged and sent her an inscrutable look.
“Your parents surely?”
He shrugged again.
“Don’t have any, milady.”
“Oh I’m sorry Geoffrey. You’re an orphan?”
He growled and muttered something under his breath that sounded like,
“May as well be.”
She shot him a searching look but clearly Geoffrey had no intention of following his statement up.
“What’s Varkash Keep like, Geoffrey?” she persisted. “Is it a big place?”
He perked up a bit at this,
“Gonna be even bigger now his lordship’s been granted the two neighbourhood estates by the prince,” he boasted. “Gonna be the biggest spread in the Winterlands.”
“That sounds impressive. I’ve never been to the Winterlands. Do you think I’ll like it?”
Geoffrey shot a look of scorn at her.
“It’s a far finer place than yon father’s piddly manor house.”
“Geoffrey!” Sir Alfric half-turned in his saddle. “You’ll keep a civil tongue in your head when you speak to the Lady Isolde!”
“That’s alright Sir Alfric. I don’t mind a little colourful language,” she retorted brightly.
Geoffrey coloured and shot her a resentful look. Isolde sighed. She doubted she’d get any further conversation from him now. Glancing at her husband’s back she suddenly got the impression he was listening to every word they’d exchanged, despite the fact he’d been conversing with Alfric the entire time. This was confirmed when he and Geoffrey swapped places around an hour later.
“How are you holding up?” He asked giving her a sidelong look.
“Fine. Thank you for Trix. She’s such a beauty.” She patted the mare’s neck.
He smiled slightly.
“You’re welcome.”
Isolde blinked. She didn’t think she’d seen him smile before. Even grudgingly. He was so good-looking it made her stomach lurch.
“It’s colder in the Winterlands, you’ll have need of that warm cloak.”
“Will it really take three days to arrive? Where will we overnight?”
He gestured to the pack horses.
“We’ve got pavilions packed up to use since it’s doubtful we’ll come across many inns on our route.”
“Pavillions? I’ve never stayed in a pavilion before. Won’t it be cold? To sleep in a canvas room?”
“You won’t be cold Isolde,” he promised in a low voice giving her a long look.
Issy found herself holding her breath before expelling it with a woosh. She realised he must be talking about body heat. That they would stay warm together. Her mind raced and she wondered frantically about the lust potion. Would it still affect him now on the third day after using it? She bit her lip and lowered her gaze to stare at Trix’s mane. Would he expect to consummate their marriage tonight? She cringed at the thought of Sir Alfric or even worse, Geoffrey overhearing them.
“H-how are you feeling now? After your sickness last night?”
He shifted uncomfortably in his saddle.
“I must apologise for that,” he said stiffly. “I’m not usually so affected. As I hope to prove to you.”
Issy cleared her throat.
“I must apologise again… for the perfume,” she carried on awkwardly. “I never dreamt it would affect you so adversely… “
He narrowed his eyes at her.
“Least said about that soonest mended,” he said abruptly. “But if you ever try to control me thus in the future you will not like the result, by the gods.”
Issy gulped.
“No, I promise you,” she answered faintly. “It was a terrible mistake.”
She managed to hold his gaze, but only just. He gave an abrupt nod.
“We’ll speak no more of it then.”
“Thank you my lord.” She was frankly surprised he was letting her off the hook so lightly considering the unspeakable things she had driven him to do last night. She clutched her reins with nerveless fingers.
He leaned forward in his saddle suddenly, his gaze intent on her.
“You don’t need to be afraid of me, Isolde,” he said quietly. “Not if you’re open and straightforward with me in your dealings. I don’t mean to be an unreasonable husband. I believe we can deal well together.”
Issy stared back mesmerised by his low and sincere tone. He had snarled and scowled his way through the feast and last night he had seemed like a man possessed. At this very moment, this was the most reasonable she had ever seen him.
“Yes, I would like that too,” she answered. “Above all things.”
“Good.” He gave her an appraising look. “In spite of last night, I believe you can give me what I want.” He looked her up and down although in truth she realised he could not see much beyond her thick cloak. “And in return I can give you wealth, security, status, comfort…”
Issy tried not to frown at his words but in truth she found them lacking somehow.
“My words displease you?” he asked coolly.
Oh he was a shrewd one, she realised with a start. Or did she merely convey her every thought with her face as Miriam had so often claimed?
“What of… affection? Of… mutual respect. And children my Lord?” she asked haltingly. “Those are the things I always hoped for from marriage.”
He smiled, a more relaxed smile this time.
“I can give you those things Isolde. In time.”
She expelled a breath she hadn’t known she was holding and gave him a shaky smile. And love? She had not had the nerve to voice that and knew instinctively he would not have reacted well to such a demand. She would have to settle with affection and respect she realised dolefully. Which were very good things in marriage she told herself sternly and more than she deserved considering how she had been carrying on the last few days. After all she was lucky he hadn’t taken her over his knee or had the marriage annulled. Very lucky.
Jorah spurred his horse on when they reached the next landmark, the effigy at Maidens Barrow and nodded to Alfric for his second in command to join him as he rode a little ahead. He signalled to Geoffrey that he was in charge for now. The young man nodded and puffed out his chest.
“I want to set up camp before we lose all light. We should be able to reach the valley before dusk.”
Alfric nodded in agreement.
“Agreed. It would be hard on Lady Isolde to expect her to push on any further today. She’s an indifferent rider and we have covered many miles today.”
Jorah nodded before adding softly.
“I’m going to show her tonight.”
Alfric angled his head sharply.
“Show her?” he echoed.
“The nature of the beast.”
Alfric gaped at him.
“Why in gods names would you do that now Jorah?” he demanded in a shocked undertone. “She could try running from us. Fleeing back to her father!”
Jorah snorted.
“I’m not saying she’d get away from us, but why risk it?” flung back Alfric.
“You think I should wait till we’re back at the Keep and then lock her in a tower until she gets over the shock? With the whole pack aware of her every reaction?”
Alfric paused at this.
“There is that,” he conceded. “But even so… She’s a gently raised Summerlands girl…”
“She’s three and twenty,” interjected Jorah mildly. “She’s a woman.”
“She’s … somewhat naïve,” pointed out Alfric. “She’s what you wanted. A simple, uncomplicated human female. Her reaction … to this, to what we are… it won’t be good, Jorah. I hope you’re prepared for that.”
Jorah s
hrugged.
“Women can be pragmatic when they have to be. She’ll get over it.”
Alfric shook his head.
“I hope to gods you know what you’re doing Jorah,” he replied heavily. “This could make our journey ten times more difficult. Add days to it if we have to force her every step of the way!”
“Please,” protested Jorah derisively. “Are you suggesting that battle veterans such as you or I would be slowed down by one reluctant bride?”
Alfric simply shook his head again and turned his horse back to appraise Geoffrey of the plan to set up camp over the next hill.
Jorah watched him feeling strangely irritated by his attitude towards his mate – no, wife’s aptitude. Why had he thought mate? He wondered with alarm. That had been the whole purpose to selecting a human bride. He did not want a mate. He never wanted to be that dependent on another being for his own happiness,., nay his very sanity. There was no middle ground when it came to being mated. Once you had committed to your mate it was for life. Their presence was essential to your well-being, your balanced state of mind. If you took an untrustworthy female to mate as an Alpha it would jeopardise more than just your own existence, you could condemn your entire pack. Jorah did not intend to go down that dangerous route, not with the example of his own parents before him. Hence his vow to marry a sensible, down-to-earth female with no pretensions to setting the world alight with her beauty or wit. Isolde already had two strikes against her, he thought darkly. She had already taken a lover before him. The thought angered him more than he cared to acknowledge. And she had chosen to wilfully sabotage their marriage bed. But his decision to overlook that gave him leverage when it came to his own secret. In truth, he had been more than lenient considering her transgressions. If she had any sense she would acknowledge as much and come around to the fact her new husband was a werewolf without too much hue and cry. He pulled back on the reins and brought Warrior to a stand-still as he waited for the others to catch him up. He realised he was being arrogantly over-confident in his expectations from his new bride, but he didn’t give a damn. He would bring her to heel before this night was out or his name wasn’t Jorah Mallon-Garth.
Isolde had watched her three companions set up the two pavilions with interest. They had clearly done this many times before and moved swiftly and in common purpose. In no time at all they had pitched the first tent and then started on the second. Feeling she couldn’t sit idle while they did all the work she took a bucket down to the nearby river and collected several pails of water before she started to rub down her horse. She had only got so far as removing the saddle and blanket before Jorah came up behind her, towering over her and took the brush out of her hand.
“Rest,” he’d said briefly. “You’ve had a long day.” He pointed at the first tent. “Your things are in there. Get comfortable and we’ll see to the horses.”
“Very well,” she conceded. “But perhaps in a little while I can help prepare some food?”
“Just rest. We’ve got everything covered,” he told her turning back to Trix and giving the mare some water to drink.
Isolde tried not to stare at the breath of his back and instead trailed in the direction of the first tent. She was curious about what it would look like inside.
“Thank you,” she called out before ducking inside to Alfric and Geoffrey who were still occupied with their tent which was set a few metres away. Alfric nodded though she thought he looked strangely tense. Inside the pavilion she was pleased to find a comfortable looking bed set low to the ground. She hoped they would start a fire soon as night was starting to fall and the temperature with it. She should really think about unpacking her essentials for the evening and then brush and rebraid her hair, have a quick strip-wash, but ugh, there was such a chill in the air that the thought was unappealing to say the least. Her eyes darted back to the bed and her hand shot out to stroke the thick furs piled up on it. They were soft to the touch and she sighed. Surely it wouldn’t hurt for her to just have a very quick lie down? After all, her new husband had bade her go and rest. She was stiff and exhausted after riding for so many hours and a nap would surely set her to rights? Biting her lip Isolde quickly shed her cloak and started tugging at her lacings to remove her stuff gown so she could slip under the covers in her shift and undergarments only. That way she could completely relax. It took longer to achieve with cold stiff fingers and it was several long moments later that she finally divested herself of her gown and dove under the pelts with a soft groan. She closed her eyes and regulated her breathing forcing herself to relax. As soon as she relaxed she knew she would start to warm up. Deep breaths Isolde, she told herself, shifting around the mattress until she found a spot that felt just right. It really was quite comfortable considering its proximity to the ground she thought drowsily. She wouldn’t fall into a deep sleep, just a light doze. As soon as she heard the fire crackling outside she would get up and re-dress herself for supper she promised as her thoughts started to slide away. Yes, as soon as the fire was going….
Mmmm, so warm, thought Isolde some time later snuggling into the fur beside her. The warm breathing fur. Isolde’s eyes flew open as her chest thudded in alarm. It was dark in the tent. There was a faint light only projecting from a guttered candle on the chest beside the bed. On it she could see a plate had been set for her with some roasted meat and biscuits. It was pitch black outside the tent. She must have slept for hours. But more alarmingly she was tightly wrapped around an extremely large furry animal. A big solid muscular animal. And she had no idea where her husband was. For all she knew this creature could have swallowed him whole! Cringing she tentatively lifted her head from what she was realising was a thick furry barrel like chest. Her wildly beating heart almost thudded to a halt. What the hells was this huge beast? Whatever it was she was clinging to it with her one leg flung over it! Too frightened to call out Isolde tentatively tried to raise her shaking leg off it, but heard a soft growl from somewhere above her head and froze. She held her breath and slowly tilted her head to look up. Two steely blue eyes lazily flickered open and gazed at her down a large black muzzle before shutting again. It was Prince! She’d know that terrifying visage anywhere! But what was he doing here? Her mind reeled. She must still be dreaming surely? Why else would Prince have followed her from her father’s house? If this was Prince, she thought slowly. He still looked more like a huge overgrown wolf than a hound. Unless…. This was Jorah’s dog and had been all along? But then where was Jorah? Surely he wouldn’t let his dog sleep in her tent while he remained elsewhere. And what time was it? Despite her anxiety, her stomach rumbled. She was thirsty too. There was no way she could fall back to sleep now with all these thoughts chasing through her head. Oh yes and the mind-numbing fear of the supposedly savage wolf she was currently cuddling! Feeling like the worst kind of fool, Issy cleared her throat.
“I’m thirsty,” she whispered softly. “Prince, I need to get something to drink.”
She felt rather than heard the faint rumbling in the dog’s massive chest beneath her. Please don’t let him be snarling, she prayed as she raised her head and started to untangle her limbs from his. His eyes shot open and he stared at her accusingly.
“I won’t be a minute,” she told him soothingly as she inched to the edge of the bed.”
He rolled abruptly onto his front. He really was as big as a bear she thought, swallowing as she reached for the glass of water someone had left her. She gulped down a few mouthfuls watching him over the rim of the glass. He watched her steadily back. It was a little unnerving.
“Good boy,” she told him in a voice that only wobbled slightly. Gods, was he a northern wolf? Were they all this big? “Did Jorah tell you to watch over me? Your master?” she ventured. He didn’t react to the name. She set the glass down and reached for the plate of meat.
“Do you want some?” she took a piece and ate it before offering some to him. He seemed to be staring at her rather than the meat she thought with trepidatio
n. “Not hungry?” He lowered his head, still watching her. There was something about his eyes that stirred a vague memory. “You’re not Prince are you?” she said uneasily. “I’m pretty sure my father’s kennels never saw anything like you.” She drew up her knees and balanced the plate on them as she continued to tuck into her meal. She was hungry even if it was pretty tasteless fare. Who had cooked it, she wondered as she had slept away oblivious? Prince, as she had no other name for him continued to watch her keenly. She finally set her plate down and then drained her glass.
“I don’t know where my husband is,” she told him. “Do you?” His eyes flickered at that. “Never mind,” she sighed moving slightly back onto the mattress. “Please don’t bite me.” He shifted on the mattress as if giving her more room to roll back to her previous position. She hesitated and he gave another soft growl.
“Oh very well,” she said weakly as she rolled into him. “Bossy aren’t you,” she commented before softening the blow with a stroke of his chest. He sighed at this and stretched. “I suppose you are tame after all, boy,” she said softly. “You’d never guess it. You look terrifying.” He yawned making her smile against his fur. “Well you’re certainly warm,” she sighed happily and reached her arm around him again. He shifted slightly and settled back against her. Well, who’d have thought giant wolves made such comfortable bedfellows? She thought drowsily as her eyes drifted shut. Although… she was curious about where Jorah had got to, she simply couldn’t keep her eyes open a moment longer.
Jorah had woken in the early hours with Isolde’s curvy little body pressed up against his back, her hands buried in his fur, her breath warm against his neck. His wolf actually liked it. He felt languorous and content and didn’t want to transform back into a man. As a man his body’s reaction was a lot more disturbing in its urgency to get physical with her. In his wolf form this was as close as they would ever get. He felt peaceful and the only discordant note was the faint lingering of that wretched scent. His wolf could bear it only because it liked everything else about the soft press of her flesh. Stay, his wolf rumbled as Jorah put out his inner feelers to transform. We can’t, he frowned back. In wolf form his human voice wasn’t as strong and he had to work harder to exert his will. He was ruled more by his basic drives, to feed, to run, to sleep, to hunt. And apparently to sleep with his human wife hugging his back. Mine, growled his wolf proprietarily. Jorah raised his head reluctantly Yes, ours, he agreed surprised he needed appeasing. His wolf didn’t understand the human bit of signed paper that legalised their union. His wolf only knew they hadn’t exchanged the three fold mating bond of blood, spit and essence. We’re not doing that, he reminded himself and felt his lip rise into an answering snarl of displeasure. We don’t need it, he told himself stubbornly. He was pissing his wolf off. Jorah cast a quick glance over his shoulder as his wife murmured softly in her sleep before bounding up and springing from the bed. His wolf snarled in displeasure as his four feet hit the floor but Jorah forced him to pad from the tent on his huge paws. He needed to get away from her to where his head was clearer and he wasn’t tying himself up in knots. He bounded down the hill towards the river and dunked his head beneath the cold water before shaking the water drops back over his powerful shoulders. Still in wolf form he made his way warily over to Alfric and Geoffrey’s tent. Geoffrey was sound asleep, but Alfric’s eyes were open.
Lust Potion For the Alpha: A Hot & Historical BBW Shifter Romance Page 5
