“And whether he feel good or ill,
the palace shall reflect his will.
Finally, by grace of the powers above,
let this curse be broken by the blessing of love.”
Annelise laughed. “But you, sir, do not believe in love.”
“We have loved with vigor each and every night...”
“That is the act of love,” she said, interrupting him. “And it is common enough that it cannot be the means to break a curse. No, sir, you must open your heart to me as I must open mine to you.”
“But that makes no sense. What will be the tangible measure of that love? How will anyone know when it has been achieved?”
She thought about that for a moment, looking around the courtyard. “Perhaps this strange palace will know when I lose my heart to you, sir.” She lifted her gaze to his, her eyes shining with delight. “But I will know, sir, when you surrender your heart to me.”
Before Rolfe could think of a reply, Annelise closed the distance between them. She slipped one hand around his neck and pulled his head down to her kiss. She was in his arms, pressed against him, her kiss demanding more from him than she had thus far, and he forgot djinns and curses and everything except the lady in his arms. He was breathless when she broke her kiss, awed by her passion, and his heart thundered that she could be both wife and ally.
“Let me seduce you this night, sir,” she whispered, her words husky. “Let me share with you all that I have to give.”
It was an invitation Rolfe could not refuse.
Annelise had not intended to seduce her husband so thoroughly and she certainly had not intended to delay their evening meal. But his fledgling trust in her had so pleased her and she had wanted to reward him in a way he understood.
She would leave him in no doubt that she was delighted by his confidence.
Their mating was wild and thrilling as it had not been before. It clearly pleased him when she took the lead and so Annelise did, touching him and tasting him, teasing him as he had teased her, until finally the fury of desire claimed them both.
She fed him in the great bed, finding his lips with her fingertips. When she missed and dripped the sauce upon his chest, she licked it off, leading to another enthusiastic bout of lovemaking.
The third time was slow and sweet, so intense that Annelise almost wept. She felt that their bodies and their souls had merged, that they were each part of the other, that it was impossible to think of being without him. Night had fallen completely by the time she nestled in his embrace, dozing against his warmth.
He was protective.
He was gentle and he was kind.
He liked her impertinence and her passion, instead of finding fault with her nature.
He was the perfect man for her.
Annelise smiled as she heard his breathing slow. When had he slept since their marriage? Where had he slept? It was only right and good that he should sleep here, in their nuptial bed, with her. His heartbeat slowed beneath her cheek and she was glad to have offered him a haven, even for the rest of this night.
But Annelise was wide awake. She thought of his confession that he was cursed. She thought of the book. She thought of his fear that she would change her thinking about him if she looked upon him, and she knew she had to be certain.
In a way, it felt wrong to look upon him in his sleep.
In another, Annelise knew one peek would bolster her confidence to argue against his concerns.
She would be so quick. He slept so deeply. He would never know.
Before she could reconsider, she eased from his embrace. His hand fell heavily upon her hip when she rolled to her side, as if he would stop her. Annelise jumped, certain he had guessed her plan, but he nuzzled against her back, drawing her against him again.
“Rosalinde,” he mumbled.
Rosalinde? Who was Rosalinde?
Was he thinking of another woman while he loved her?
Was this why he feared that love could not save him? Because he loved another woman?
Annelise was outraged. That single utterance was all the encouragement she needed to slip from the bed. She fetched the candle and struck the flint. The wick sputtered to life. She caught her breath and cupped her hand around the flame. She swallowed then turned to face her spouse.
There was nothing wrong with his face.
Quite the contrary, in fact.
God in heaven, but he was a very handsome man. His wavy hair was as black as jet, and his brows were dark, too. His face was tanned, as his hands had been and his jaw was square with determination. His nose straight and narrow, his lips full enough to make her flush in recollection of his kisses. There was a faint shadow upon his jaw and she reached to touch his cheek, half-fearing that her eyes deceived her.
He awakened with a cry of alarm.
His eyes were of different colors. One was blue and one was silver-gray.
“Annelise!” he cried and snatched the candle from her grasp. He cast it onto the floor and the chamber was plunged into darkness again.
Annelise’s heart stopped cold. Only in hindsight did she realize what she risked. His fury reminded her of the incident she struggled to forget.
She was once again a little girl who had seen too much.
“Annelise,” he whispered, disappointment in his tone. “You promised.”
Annelise could not reply. She cowered at the foot of the bed and trembled in terror.
Now he would beat her.
In the darkness, when she could not see his face.
Would he kill her?
Who would ever know her fate?
Annelise’s heart raced and her mouth went dry. She wished, too late, that she had curbed this particular impulse.
“You said you would not betray me,” His voice was low, and Annelise shivered at the danger in his tone.
Now she would pay the price.
He had encouraged her confidence. He had prompted her trust, by showing her such kindness and gentleness. Because of what she had learned of her husband, Annelise had not believed he would respond in anger.
But she had erred and he would teach her another lesson. She covered her face with her hands and awaited the blow.
Her spouse swore with vehemence, but then shoved himself from the bed. She heard him snatching up his garments, moving quickly in the darkness. It was a curious choice, but perhaps nudity made him feel vulnerable. No doubt he would turn upon her once he was dressed, beat her senseless and leave her weeping on the floor.
But he simply marched out of the chamber.
Annelise lifted her head in shock and peered after him. She saw his cloaked silhouette as he entered the courtyard, then he rounded a corner and disappeared from view.
He would come back. Certainly. He only fetched a switch.
But his footsteps faded to silence.
And he did not return.
Long moments later, she exhaled.
Her husband had simply turned away. Words had been his weapon of choice.
What manner of man had she wed?
A man who was gone. Annelise swallowed.
He had left her because she had broken her word.
She left the bed, her knees trembling, and donned her chemise. There was no sign of him, not in the chamber beyond, not in the garden.
Certainly, her spouse appeared to be of a different ilk than her father.
Indeed, Annelise could think of no one who had ever treated her with such kindness. She had been fed, sheltered, protected, introduced to lovemaking with a tenderness unexpected in marriage to a stranger.
And how had she rewarded his kindness? A lump rose in Annelise’s throat. She had defied the request he had made of her. She had known he would see such a small thing as a betrayal. She had believed she knew better. She had believed she made a choice for the greater good.
But he had left and she would have no opportunity to argue in her own defense. She looked down at his ring, still upon her hand. They had ex
changed marriage vows, but there had been no witnesses. Would he deny her after all they had done together? Would she be cast from the gates of his palace to fend for herself? She was a maiden no longer—what if she bore his child?
Annelise sat on the side of the bed, more fearful of the future than she had ever been.
What would be her fate now?
Betrayed!
Rolfe was furious, though his anger was directed as much at himself as his wife. He paced the length of the stable and railed at Mephistopheles.
“Seven kinds of fool!” he said. “How could I have trusted her? I should never have trusted her! I should never have trusted anyone! Have I learned nothing in this life?”
Mephistopheles rummaged in his feed bin. Rolfe strode to the side of the stall and leaned over in an effort to catch the beast’s attention. He had to talk to someone or go mad, but Mephistopheles seemed indifferent.
“Was it not enough for me to be cursed?” he demanded. “No, I had to insult a djinn and have the curse redoubled. It is one thing not to believe in the unseen, quite another to tell a djinn as much!” He shook his head. “And was that enough? No, even once warned, I had to trust Annelise that I might be betrayed!”
Mephistopheles continued to chew complacently.
“One might argue that I believed I had a good reason to trust her.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Oh, yes, it was a fine reason, and I shall share it with you. The lady is attractive and possesses a rare passion.” Rolfe turned on his heel to pace the length of the stable again. “Is that not adequate reason to entrust my life to her keeping?”
He waved a hand. “Oh, yes, lest I forget, she also appreciates a venison stew.” He shoved his hand through his hair, sick with the knowledge that he had been his own worst enemy in this.
The sad truth was that he did not know enough about Annelise. He could unerringly find every mole upon her flesh in the deepest darkness. He knew precisely how to caress her to send her scaling the highest cliffs of pleasure. She had a passion for life and a sharpness of wit that captivated him. Rolfe liked how she laughed and appreciated that she was the first woman with whom he had ever been able to talk.
His mother would have noted that he did not know sufficient about the lady’s history and family to take her to wife.
Rolfe enumerated what he did know. She was Quinn’s sister. She had been raised in a convent after her mother’s death. He could not imagine that she had enjoyed her time there. Yet she had chosen to return to the convent rather than accept an arranged marriage, proof of her determination to keep her vow to wed only for love.
Where had she come by such a conviction? Certainly, no father or overlord would teach a daughter such a notion, and Rolfe doubted the sisters of Ste. Radegund would have endorsed such a view.
Was he right that she had been afraid when he snatched away the candle? To be sure, he had been angry, but he had never injured her. Why would she fear him?
She had broken her promise to him, but Rolfe wanted to return to the bedroom, to console her and make her smile. Annelise had a power over him that was not entirely welcome, for it reminded him of Rosalinde.
One would think that Rolfe would remember how deceptive women could be. One would think that he could manage to recall that Annelise had just tricked him.
Rolfe stepped to the door of the stables and heard the sound of a woman weeping. His heart clenched and again, he yearned to go to Annelise, to talk to her, to console her, to find out whether she truly had been afraid of him and to discover why.
But the djinn’s curse echoed in his thoughts, halting him in his steps.
And let the one in whom he confides,
Lead a killer to his side.
Would she?
Could she?
Rolfe could not imagine as much, but then, he had not expected Annelise to try to steal a glimpse of him. Was his trust misplaced? Was she like Rosalinde? He wanted to believe otherwise, but had need of proof.
“The only place she knows to find me is in this palace,” he reminded Mephistopheles, who was not particularly interested in anything beyond the bottom of his feed bin. “She knows nothing of my transformation or where I go in the day.”
Rolfe paced the length of the stables and back, aware that the stars were already fading. “I must leave and watch the palace from the forest.” His decision made, Rolfe packed a few belongings. He had only to wish for the things that were not in the stables to have them appear. He was by no means certain that feat would work beyond the palace walls.
There was an abandoned tower not far away that he would use as a refuge. He dared not take a horse, for the steed would be undefended during the day.
“Farewell, my friend,” he said to Mephistopheles and scratched the destrier’s ears. “I shall return for you when I can.” The stallion nosed in his oats, his tail swishing, apparently indifferent. But then, it was comfortable here and Annelise ensured that the destrier was ridden.
Perhaps she would be happy without him.
Rolfe strode toward the gates with his pack on his shoulder. The palace seemed to glow in the light of the moon, as if it were an illusion, and he could not help but pause to look back at it.
The sound of Annelise’s weeping was louder and turning away from her distress was the most difficult thing Rolfe had ever done. He reminded himself that Annelise had deceived him, as Rosalinde had done—perhaps also for her own gain.
He could not abandon her completely as she was his lady wife. But Rolfe could and would retreat to a safe distance and watch what Annelise would do in his absence.
It was the right thing to do, he told himself. The prudent choice.
But even knowing that did not make it easy to walk away.
Dawn brought a new sense of purpose to Annelise.
Her husband had shown his true measure and left her for her mistake. He had not struck her or even chastised her much.
How could she regain his trust?
She had already seen evidence of her spouse’s agile thinking, as well as his keen sense of humor. Surely half a night of solitude would have calmed him enough to accept her apology. After all, harmony could be found between two people only by discussion and compromise. Annelise was certain he would understand and not be unreasonable. He had been angry and justifiably so, but an apology should set matters to rights.
All she had to do was find him to offer it.
She shivered in the chill of the morning and donned her familiar russet kirtle. It seemed unfitting to seek him out in the new garb he had supplied. She was cold enough to tug on her old, heavy wool stockings, as well. Annelise wished that she had thought to close the doors to the courtyard the night before. She pulled her fur-lined cloak over her shoulders and hurried down the corridor, realizing only after she left the chamber that something was different.
The courtyard had been silent.
The fountain did not splash.
Annelise frowned and stepped into the gardens at the front of the palace.
A large wet snowflake landed upon her nose. She stopped and stared at the garden in amazement.
It had been transformed. The lush plants were disappearing under rapidly falling snow. There was a thin sheen of ice on the surface of the pond, and the red flowers she had grown to love had curled up at the abrupt change in the weather.
It was colder than it had been since she arrived here.
Indeed, the weather seemed to be the same as that outside the palace walls.
What did this mean?
Annelise’s heart began to pound with the conviction that her spouse had abandoned her and his palace. She would have no chance to apologize or explain.
She rushed to the stables to be sure. Relief made her knees weak when she spied all of the horses still in their stalls.
“Good morning, Mephistopheles,” she said. “Have you seen your lord this morn?”
The stallion fixed her with an accusing eye, his breath making a white plume in the chilly a
ir. Annelise saw horse blankets with the rest of her spouse’s equipment and hastily covered the horses.
Her spouse’s equipment. Annelise eyed his armor, wishing she knew more about all the various bits and pieces. There was nothing missing, as far as she could determine. Did this mean that her husband had not abandoned her? Why would it snow, then?
Annelise resolved to check every inch of the palace to find out.
“It is time for our daily ride, Mephistopheles,” she informed the destrier, and reached for his saddle. If her husband was still here, Annelise would find him within the palace walls.
And if he were not, she would somehow find a way to open that gate and pursue him.
She would not be condemned without a chance to defend herself.
Annelise quickly confirmed what she had suspected all along.
She was alone.
And she was trapped inside the palace.
If the palace reflected her husband’s will, then the weather was an echo of his feelings for her. She had offended him, and Annelise was determined to make matters right. Her husband had left, so she had to seek him beyond the walls.
Where exactly she would seek him once she did manage to leave the palace was a problem to solve later.
First, she had to discover how to open the gates.
As she had noted before, they had no visible means of being opened or closed. There were no handles or bars, no latches or hooks. Annelise knew that the gates opened in the middle, swinging into the courtyard. Each individual portal was both higher than she could reach and wider than she could stretch.
Annelise propped her hands on her hips. This was a djinn’s palace, which meant there was sorcery at work. Or there had been, before her husband’s departure. She would not consider that she might be trapped forever in his absence.
Words might be her salvation.
“I command the gates to open immediately,” she said, summoning as much authority as she could.
There was not so much as a rustle in response. Annelise tried again, with no result. She changed her tone and her wording, but nothing worked.
She knocked on one door and raised her voice. “Let me out!” she cried. “I wedded your lord, as I promised, and now would leave!”
One Knight Enchanted Page 15
