World of De Wolfe Pack_Tall, Dark & De Wolfe

by Barbara Devlin

  Thus Rosenwyn became Titus’s bride.

  A cheer reverberated on the stone walls, and the De Wolfes and the De Sheras extended their congratulations, as Titus led Rosenwyn down the aisle and to the coach, which would convey them back to the main residence, whither they would assume a place of honor and partake of a wedding feast.

  Yet, she was in no mood to celebrate. As she settled her skirts, her husband draped an arm about her shoulders, and she stiffened her spine.

  “Easy, my lady wife.” He chuckled. “I wish only to provide warmth, as you appear on the verge of fainting.”

  “My lord, I am trying to accustom myself to my new station, but there has been little time to adjust.” For some reason she could not fathom, she preoccupied herself with his most mysterious part, whither his overgown draped about a peculiar bulge that had previously escaped her notice.

  “What are you looking at?” With a finger, he tipped her chin, bringing her gaze to his. “Curious, my dear?” He laughed. “That augurs well for me.”

  “Nay…that is to say…I only just learned what is demanded of me.” She gulped, as the bump swelled in size, beneath her scrutiny. “It does not seem possible.”

  “Rosenwyn, trust me, when we join our bodies, when we consummate our union, you will enjoy it.” To her amazement, he bent his head and pressed his lips to hers, in a gentle affirmation of his reassurance. “And I will never hurt you, so you have no reason to fear me.”

  Again, he kissed her, but with a little more urgency, and she gasped for air, but he gave her no quarter. In a soft and sweet caress, he brushed his tender flesh to hers, and she found herself reaching for him.

  Whither she anticipated fear, she found naught but unshakeable support.

  Whither she expected disgust, she experienced naught but fascination—and something else. Something akin to hunger.

  And then he retreated.

  “Did I do something wrong?” She clutched her throat, as foreign sensations rippled over her, from top to toe.

  “No, my dear.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “You did everything right, much to my inexpressible pleasure.”

  “Then why did you stop?” In that moment, she bit her tongue.

  “Because if we continued, I would have lifted your ankles, hither.” Titus peered at her and grinned. “And our presence is required at the fete in our honor.”

  “So when do you suppose you will demand what is yours?” Struggling with an unfamiliar ache, she shifted in her seat, as the coach drew to a halt. “When will we seal our vows?”

  “Sooner than later, I hope, as we will share a single chamber and a bed, at my insistence.” He unlatched the door, jumped to the ground, turned, and lifted her from the equipage. “But when we share our bodies is your decision.”

  _________________

  CHAPTER FOUR

  September heralded autumn’s arrival with a wicked tempest, marking Titus’s first fortnight as the lord of Tharnham Castle. The day after his wedding to Rosenwyn, he departed his childhood home and commenced the long journey, during which he shared a tent and a traveling bed with his spouse, to Truro, in Cornwall, to assume control of the earldom and its stream mining industry. Thus far, he confronted little resistance from the Truronians, who seemed resigned to their position under his rule. Indeed, naught about his new role posed much difficulty or rebellion, with one exception.

  His wife.

  Whereas the people welcomed his protection, Rosenwyn avoided him at every turn. When he sought her company, she made excuses to avoid him. When they retired, she stacked pillows between them. When she bathed, she barred the door to their quarters. The only time she permitted him the smallest measure of her attention was when he kissed her, every morrow and eventide, and one thing was certain.

  She liked his kisses.

  And that gave him hope, because his sanity and his patience were wearing thin, and he developed rough spots on his left palm. If he did not claim her soon, he would go mad. So he enacted a plan, on the first sunny day since his arrival, based on his mother’s advice on how to court a virgin, and he promised himself to conquer his stubborn bride and her irrational fears.

  “The horses are saddled, my lord.” Vennor, the steward who proved most loyal in his dealings with Titus, bowed. “And the cook prepared a noon meal, which I bundled with a blanket.”

  “Perfect.” Just then, his beauteous bride appeared, and he admired her brown hair and burgundy, velvet gown. If only he could get beneath her skirts without terrifying her. And he cursed whatever moment of lunacy inspired him to allow her to decide when they consummated their nuptials, because she distracted him to the point that he could not stop thinking about her. “Good morrow, my lady wife.”

  “My lord.” Inclining her head, she smiled. “Vennor said you wished to see me. Is everything all right? Have I done something wrong?”

  “Must you always assume something is wrong, when I summon you?” Ah, she blushed, and his longsword came to attention. “I wish to inspect the tin streaming in the east moorlands, and I want you to accompany me.”

  “Wherefore?” She blinked, and he could not help but laugh in the face of her confusion.

  “Because I desire your company.” Titus shifted his weight. “Must I have a reason?”

  “Nay, but I am confused.” That made two of them. “Would you not prefer Petroc escort you? After all, he is a man.”

  “Which is wherefore I would not prefer he join me.” And her brother made no secret of his disdain for Titus, not that it mattered, because he did not consider Burville a threat. Before Rosenwyn could protest, and she excelled at that, he lifted her to the saddle of a gentle mare. During the brief tenure of their marriage, he discovered his lady coveted an abiding appreciation for horses, and the steward indicated she favored the pastime, thus he intended to indulge her. “I also thought we might ride into Truro, as I have not visited the town, and you promised to grant me a tour of the environs. Do you renege?”

  “I would never do that.” Her charming pout almost brought him to his knees. “As I am your wife, I am at your service.”

  “But you will escort me, because you desire my company, too.” He tensed. “Do you not?”

  “Of course.” For some reason, he did not believe her, because he made her nervous. “You are my lord and master.”

  “First and foremost, I am your husband, and I want to please you.” Swift and sure, he gained his mount. “Now, let us away.”

  When he motioned with his head, Rosenwyn cast a mischievous grin, flicked the reins, and steered the mare to the gate, whither she heeled the flanks, urging the horse into a gallop, and he pursued her into the valley. At the verge, she glanced over her shoulder, as he gave chase, and she pushed harder, as she soared across the heath. While he could have run her aground, he preferred to give her the lead, and she blazed a trail through the Cornish countryside, just as he hoped she would. At a crescent of tall oaks, she slowed the mare to a canter, whither he caught her.

  “My lord, that was wonderful.” In her excitement, her cheeks flushed a beauteous shade of rose, and she bit her bottom lip. “I should thank you now, in the event I forget to do so, later. It has been so long since I ventured into the moors, and I have missed it. But my father always—”

  Silence weighed heavy between them.

  “Your father always—what, my dear?” Tears filled her velvety brown eyes, and Titus brought his stallion beside her mare, leaned to the side, and kissed her. “Tell me of him, as I do not want you to feel you cannot mention him in my presence. I did not know your father, and I do not consider him my enemy. Rather, I owe him a debt, as his loss brought me you.”

  “You would have liked him, and I believe he would have liked you.” She sniffed and angled her head, in perfect alignment to receive another kiss, which he offered without delay. “He was an honorable man, beloved by everyone, as he treated our citizens with respect. When he dispensed justice, he did so without bias, and his untimely d
emise, in defense of our industry, struck our people with inconsolable grief, which was compounded by a cruel twist of fate. Alas, we were not able to remember him and recognize his achievements, properly, as we know not what became of his remains.”

  “Ah, yes.” With a finger, Titus tipped her chin and pressed his lips to hers. “My dear, before we departed Wolflee, I dispatched a missive to London, requesting the return of your father’s body, that he might rest in the family crypt.”

  “What?” Emitting something between a sob and a sigh, Rosenwyn reached for him, which startled the mare. As she toppled, he lunged, caught her beneath the arms, and pulled her into his lap. “Oh, you sweet, beauteous man.”

  As she showered his face in kisses, Titus de Wolfe, warrior knight, servant of the Crown, son of the great Lion of the North, and descendant of William de Wolfe, just sat there and grinned. When she stretched the limits of his self-control, he ended the tempting tryst.

  “Am I to presume I made you happy?” Cradling her head, he pulled his cloak about her, when a gust of wind buffeted them. “Because I want to please you, my lady.”

  “Wherefore?” The pain in her expression brought him low. “I am the defeated. I am property. My happiness is of no account.”

  “That is not true, and you are not property. You are my wife.” As his father’s counsel echoed in his ears, Titus nudged her nose with his and stole another kiss. “In so many ways, you are my greatest strength, and I admire your spirit. With your permission, I would rely on your knowledge and include you in many aspects of the estate duties, which you already maintain, unless you prefer to surrender your responsibilities.”

  “Oh, no.” As he expected, she perched upright, her excitement evident. “While I will relinquish whatever you ask, I would be of use, as I know everyone. And I understand the miners, because I often accompanied my father, so I can provide information when you negotiate with the workers. After all, I am a Burville.”

  “But you were born to be a De Wolfe.” With care, he returned her to the mare. “Shall we continue?”

  “Aye, my lord.” When she gave her attention to the road, he studied her elegant features and realized he never wanted any woman more than he wanted Rosenwyn, though he knew not wherefore he found her so appealing. Even when the local whores plied their wares, they inspired naught but disgust, as he desired none but Rosenwyn. Was she not the same as any other lady?

  Of course, not.

  She was his wife, to protect and defend, as only a husband could guard her. As Papa stated, Rosenwyn manifested the supreme challenge, and her heart was the greatest reward. As a De Wolfe, pride demanded he seize her. As a man, he had to have her. Thus, he would conquer her, and in so doing they would both win.

  “What is the overseer’s name?” At a rise, he drew rein and surveyed the tin streaming operation, in the valley below. “And how long has he worked for your family?”

  “He is called Credan, and he has been in the employ of the Burvilles since before I was born, as was his father, before him.” She guided Titus down to the impressive operation, which utilized a maze of wooden ramps to divert water and separate the sand and silt from the heavier tin. “My lord, although we are vanquished, Truronians are proud men. I would have you consider that, when you address them.”

  “Wise counsel, my beauteous bride.” He winked, and she giggled. “Shall we make our approach, and I will follow you?”

  “I suggest we ride past, as they are about their tasks.” His lady handled the mare as an expert, and he envied the grace with which she managed the downhill stretch. “Papa always conferred with Credan, in brief, to ensure all needs were met but did not disturb them too long.”

  “Then I shall do the same, my dear.” Drawing his stallion to a halt, Titus waved to the overseer. “Good morrow, Credan. And how are you?”

  “Lord Vael.” Credan bowed and snapped his fingers, and the miners ceased their labors. “How may I be of service?”

  “Actually, hither I have traveled to offer my services.” Titus acknowledged various miners, who stopped to greet the new earl and his bride. While he genuinely enjoyed Rosenwyn’s company, he had another reason for asking her to accompany him, and that was to reassure her people that she was well treated. “Lady Vael informs me that the previous Lord Vael relied on you to manage the stream mining.”

  “Indeed, my lord.” Credan nodded. “If you wish to alter the arrangement, I will not protest.”

  “But I would protest.” Titus chuckled, in hopes of dispelling any tension, as the workers gathered near, because he wanted to make a good impression. “Unless you have need of me, I rely on your expertise in the industry, to ensure we produce enough tin to fulfill our obligations. In regard to the business, I have no plans to change anything, without your recommendation.”

  “So I am to maintain my position?” Credan raised his voice when he spoke, as though he alerted the miners. “Naught will change?”

  “Only by your authority.” A chorus of murmurs circulated through the miners, and Titus smiled at the overseer. “And if there is anything else you require, you have only to ask.”

  “Gramercy, my lord.” Credan shuffled his feet. “I had thought of increasing our yield, by mining copper and clay, if your lordship is amenable. Given the outcome at Blackheath, numerous men have need of work, and the additional ores could provide more income for the estate.”

  “That is a wise proposition.” Titus noted the relief in countless faces. “Come to dinner, Thursday next, at Tharnham, and we will discuss how to move forward with your plan.”

  “I will do so, Lord Vael, and I look forward to it.” Again, Credan bowed and then gave his attention to Rosenwyn. “Lady Vael, on behalf of the men, allow me to congratulate you on your wedding.”

  “Gramercy, Credan.” She turned the mare to face the crowd. “It is good to be home, and I am fortunate that His Majesty has seen fit to bless me with a kind and generous husband. Indeed, his lordship petitioned the Crown, that we might receive my father’s remains and honor him, properly.”

  Another series of hushed undertones circulated through the miners, but they quieted, when Credan splayed an upraised palm, and Titus availed himself of his bride’s influence. As she talked to the miners, he realized his bride was a skillful negotiator, and he would do well to employ her abilities, in future dealings with the miners.

  “May I inquire after your mother, the former Lady Vael?” the overseer inquired, with a half smile.

  “Mama is well, but she misses my father.” Rosenwyn averted her stare. “Whether or not my father’s body is returned to us, we will arrange a ceremony, and you will all be invited to pay respects.”

  In that moment, Credan stared at Titus, as if assessing his reaction.

  “I shall ask the vicar to dedicate a service and designate an official period of mourning.” Titus shifted in the saddle. “And we will celebrate the late Lord Vael’s life and achievements, with a feast at Tharnham.”

  “We will be there, my lord,” a young miner replied.

  “Then we should away, as Lady Vael promised to escort me about Truro.” Titus turned his destrier, and his wife followed in his wake. As the miners bade farewell, he steered toward the village. “That was inspiring, my lady wife.”

  “Husband, I could not agree more, and the feast is a lovely idea.” She pulled alongside, as he slowed his stallion. “If I may, will you bathe prior to dining, this eventide?”

  “I will.” That question caught him unaware, but did not altogether surprise him, as she always avoided their chamber when he tended himself, and he met her gaze, anticipating trepidation. What he spied remained rather unfamiliar. “Wherefore do you ask?”

  “If you wait until after I check with the cook, regarding the meal, I will wash your back.” In the sunshine, she glowed, and his heart pounded in his chest, as it was the first time she expressed an interest in fostering intimacy. “It is my duty, is it not?”

  ~

  A sennight pas
sed since Rosenwyn assumed a particular marital responsibility, and still she could not bring herself to consummate her vows. As she stood at the table in the kitchen, cutting a root to season the cameline sauce for brewets, Titus’s favorite dish, in preparation for the feast to welcome the miners, she revisited the sweet kisses they shared, the previous eventide, as she washed his impressive chest. What she did not anticipate was the effects of her tender ministrations, because she possessed no real knowledge of the male form.

  After a few moments of bliss, wherein she feared she might swoon, given the assault on her senses whenever their lips met, he drew her hand to that part of his body that fascinated her, and one touch of her fingers to his most bellicose protuberance inspired a strong reaction. When she assumed she broke something of importance, he explained, much to his obvious mortification, that his was but an inadvertent emission, proof of his uncontrollable desire for her.

  “Jenifry, whither is the firkin of Lord Vael’s ale?” Rosenwyn composed a list of items with which to treat her husband, that eventide, as she wished to make amends for his embarrassment. While she regretted causing his distress, the power she wielded posed an irresistible lure, and she longed to know more, yet she delayed the consummation. Endeavoring to show her husband that she appreciated him, she resolved to pick the perfect moment to seal their vows. “And we should make some of the herbed bread he prefers.”

  “Aye, my lady.” The scullery maid narrowed her stare. “And the ale is in the undercroft, near the wine.”