The wind was crisp in Annelise’s face as she rode the destrier. Though it was cold outside the palace walls, it was a fine day. The sky was blue, the snow sparkled, and a contented Mephistopheles thundered through the forest.
She found herself smiling at the destrier’s pleasure, for he ran with abandon.
They rode to the east until the sun was high overhead, then Annelise turned Mephistopheles back toward the palace. She would not become lost in this forest again. She kept the sun on her left and followed the imprints of the destrier’s hooves in the snow. The sun was warming her shoulders through her cloak when the palace’s smooth walls appeared in the distance ahead. She could see the white walls even through the trees.
A surge of satisfaction rolled through her as she urged Mephistopheles onward.
Then Annelise heard the clink of horses’ trappings.
How could there be horses and riders at their remote location?
Mephistopheles flicked his ears and slowed slightly at the sound. She peered through the trees, wondering whether her ears had deceived her. They had not, for she caught glimpses of color as someone or something moved back and forth before the palace gates.
Someone waited there.
Perhaps admission had been requested, but there had been no response.
Perhaps a lone traveler sought shelter for the night.
Did the gates remain closed because she was away, or because her husband did not wish this visitor to enter?
How could she return to the sanctuary of the palace without passing the visitor?
Annelise pulled the destrier to a halt. She saw flashes of silver catch the sunlight and spied green cloth. She guessed there were no fewer than four steeds, although it was difficult to see them clearly through the forest.
A man called out and two men responded, their voices making Annelise feel curiously vulnerable.
Voices, not a single voice. At least three men and four horses. Her heart skipped with the realization that she was outnumbered. Annelise peered through the trees once more and saw that at least one man had dismounted.
Clearly, they had no intention of leaving soon.
The sun disappeared behind a cloud and the wind became chilly. The destrier shuddered and she knew he had to be brushed down.
Perhaps they had business with her husband.
She should act as hostess in his absence.
That thought sent Annelise’s heels digging into her steed’s side. She had a responsibility as lady of the palace. Her spouse would find neither her manners nor her boldness lacking.
And surely no harm could come to her within the walls of a palace so attuned to her husband’s wishes?
The men turned as she approached, but their helmets concealed their faces from her view. She rode through the last of the trees proudly, noting the stance of their leader.
There was something familiar about his garb, about that deep green, about the silver diamond emblazoned in the middle of his shield. Annelise struggled to recall, but the details of life before her arrival here were elusive.
Then he doffed his helmet and her heart sank. “Lady Annelise de Sayerne!”
“Enguerrand de Roussineau,” she replied with much less pleasure.
“Well met, my lady!”
Annelise might have argued that. She had no desire to see this man again, and disliked the notion of inviting him inside the gates. She inclined her head politely. “Good day, Enguerrand. What brings you to this part of the forest?”
Enguerrand strolled through the falling snow toward her. His two accompanying knights watched avidly, their trio of squires peering out from behind the party’s mounts.
Three men, three boys and six steeds. God in heaven, what would she do?
The clouds gathered overhead with greater speed but Annelise raised her chin proudly.
Enguerrand lifted a gloved hand to stroke Mephistopheles’ neck, admiration in his eyes. The destrier snorted and stepped aside. The knight arched a brow as he met Annelise’s gaze. “A surprisingly skittish creature for his size.”
Annelise smiled as sweetly as she was able. How she disliked this man! It was more than his evident self-interest, for her distrust of him was deep and instinctive. “He is in need of a brush after his ride,” she said. “I must not linger.”
“He is a markedly fine beast for a lady.” His gaze flicked to hers. “Especially one destined for a convent when last we met. Do the nuns ride such valuable destriers these days? Or have you found an accommodating patron?”
The insinuation was most inappropriate.
Annelise felt her eyes narrow. “I do not believe my situation is of your concern, sir,” she said. She tugged Mephistopheles’ reins, and the steed stepped smartly toward the gates. “I have already asked what brings you this way, yet you have given no response.”
Enguerrand bowed low. “It was most churlish of me not to answer, fair Annelise.” He folded his hands behind his back and regarded her. “It seems that Bertrand, and hence Tulley, were concerned about your arrival at the convent. No word was returned, you see, and there were doubts as to your safety.”
But the tracks showed that Yves and the others had ridden toward Beauvoir. Had they not reached that stronghold? Or did Enguerrand tell her only part of what he knew?
Annelise guessed it was the latter.
“I am safe, as you can see.” She sat straighter. “I am surprised that you should undertake the quest to be certain.”
“Sweet Annelise, my admiration for you knows no bounds.”
Annelise did not reply to that.
“You should have wed me when you had the chance.”
“Alas, that opportunity has been lost.”
Enguerrand arched a brow. His gaze dancing over her garb, the horse, and the palace gates before them. “What cozy nest have you found for yourself, Annelise?”
His men snickered and her mouth went dry. “Make your accusation clearly, sir.”
“I make no accusation.” Enguerrand’s eyes grew cold. “I have only questions. Yours is lavish attire for a bride of Christ.”
“I am not a bride of Christ, after all.”
“I thought you chose the convent over me?”
“I did, but matters changed.”
Enguerrand leaned forward, his gloved hand closing on Mephistopheles’ reins. The destrier nickered and stamped but the knight held fast. “Because you chose to warm a man’s bed rather than take your vows?”
“I took vows of another kind,” Annelise replied. “I chose my husband over both convent and you.”
“Husband?” Enguerrand’s eyes flashed. He was sufficiently surprised that Annelise was able to snatch the reins from his grip.
She rode toward the palace gates with Mephistopheles, then turned the horse adroitly. The party of men watched her. Enguerrand’s gloved hand clenched in a fist as he glared at her. Annelise did not believe for a moment that Enguerrand had come out of concern for her safety.
Then Enguerrand’s dark eyes narrowed, and Annelise knew Enguerrand sought the prize he had desired all along. Quinn must not have returned as yet. Perhaps Tulley grew impatient with the delay. Enguerrand cared nothing for her, and Annelise knew instinctively that once Sayerne was under his hand— if indeed that possibility ever came to fruition—he would have no use for the woman who had brought him the prize.
Should Quinn subsequently return home, even more woe would have fallen upon the sorry bride Annelise might have been. As Enguerrand’s wife, she might have shared her mother’s fate.
Gratitude flowed through her that she had not been fool enough to accept his offer.
“You are wed in truth?” Enguerrand demanded.
“Do you suggest that I lie, sir?”
He frowned. “No, it cannot be so. You could not have wed another.”
“I assure you, sir, that I have done so.”
Enguerrand folded his arms across his chest as he watched her. “No. I will need more than your bold assertion t
o convince me, Annelise.”
Annelise tugged her glove from her left hand. The garnet winked as she held it up to view. One of Enguerrand’s knights coughed under his breath, evidently impressed with the token. “This is my husband’s ring, placed upon my finger at my nuptials,” she said. “And this is our home.”
Enguerrand’s gaze roved over the high walls. “If this place is your home, why then are the gates barred against you?”
Annelise took a deep breath, hoping against hope that the gates would not choose to be fickle at this precise moment. She murmured her command. “Open.”
Enguerrand’s eyes widened as the broad gates swung back with no sign of a keeper. Annelise rode through the portal. “You were wrong, Enguerrand,” she called over her shoulder. “This is my home.”
She had not expected Enguerrand to recover so quickly. He dove suddenly for the gates and slipped through them before they closed behind her.
“You dare too much!” she said, shocked by his audacity.
The knight, though, smiled. “Fair Annelise!” He gestured to the darkening sky, then to the courtyard of the palace. “Surely you would not condemn my party to a wintry night when your abode is so large.”
Annelise had no ready argument for that. Hospitality was a Christian duty.
No matter how much she despised the man.
He could not know that she was alone within these walls.
Surely her husband’s desire would protect her?
Annelise hoped as much.
Enguerrand continued with such confidence that Annelise wished she had a reason to deny him. “It is too late to return to Beauvoir before the twilight, and it is said there are hungry wolves abroad this year, since the winter came so early.”
Annelise knew she had a responsibility to uphold her spouse’s reputation. She cleared her throat. “I apologize for my rudeness, Enguerrand. You must understand that your appearance surprised me.”
“But of course, my lady.” As he bowed low, his gaze roved, as if he would assess the value of the holding. “There is no need for apologies between friends such as we two.”
Friends. The very suggestion made her shudder. Annelise could not bear the thought of having Enguerrand within these walls any longer than absolutely necessary, but there was little choice. Surely first thing on the morrow, he could return to Beauvoir.
Annelise would be certain the suggestion was raised at dinner.
She inclined her head. “I thank you for your understanding. Welcome.”
Enguerrand beckoned to his party with a flick of his wrist. He eyed the garden, sniffed the air, then cast a questioning look in Annelise’s direction. “May I conclude that the rest of your party chose to remain here rather than return to chilly Beauvoir?”
“No,” Annelise admitted, guessing from his tone that he knew precisely what had happened to Yves. “Our party was scattered by a pack of hunting wolves. My husband saved my life.”
“How gallant.” Enguerrand glanced out over the lush gardens with a thoughtful frown. “And we shall meet your inimitable spouse this evening at the board, I suppose?”
In that moment, Annelise recalled her vow to tryst with her husband at the tower. He would not be returning this eve—and she had to concoct a tale. “Unfortunately, my husband enjoys the hunt this week. I am not certain of the timing of his return.”
“Ah, how unfortunate that we may miss him.” Enguerrand smiled, clearly thinking the very opposite. “I shall hope for his early return.”
Dread rose within Annelise as she commanded the gates to open and watched Enguerrand’s party move inside the walls. She led the way to the stables, wondering what manner of difficulties would result from showing hospitality to Enguerrand.
It was unsettling to have him within these walls, and Annelise knew she would not sleep this night. How could she keep her tryst with her spouse? She dared not risk leaving Enguerrand alone in the palace. Nor could she afford to lead him to her spouse, not without knowing his intent. Would her husband fear that she had no desire to see him? Surely not!
Surely he would see the reason for her actions when she explained.
She would be the dutiful wife, guard his home, and confess all to him as soon as she could.
Perhaps he would come to the palace when she did not appear at the tower.
Annelise would hope for that.
Rolfe was at the tower before the sun even touched the western horizon. The sky was overcast and snow had begun to fall. He bit back his disappointment when he discovered that Annelise was not there.
Of course, she had not arrived as yet. He circled the tower in his wolf form. She knew that he did not change shape until dark, and he had forbidden her to watch his change.
But still Rolfe paced, impatient for night to fall. He worried about her making the journey in the darkness and wondered if he should meet her at the palace gates. But he had pledged to meet her here, at the tower. He had said he would await her and seeking her at the palace might make her believe he did not trust her. The kernel of dread that had lodged within him that morn outside the palace gates had haunted him all the day.
What if Annelise left him?
What if she betrayed him?
What would he do without her?
Rolfe paced as he watched the sky, relief flooding through him when the last vestige of the sun’s light was gone and he became himself again. He charged up the tower’s stairs and seized his clothes. Hauling his shirt over his head as he crossed the room, he peered anxiously toward the palace.
There was not a flicker of movement in the forest.
But she would come. Rolfe paced the tower room restlessly, haunted all the while by recollections of loving Annelise beside the small fire here.
When next he glanced out the window, the sky had darkened to indigo and was filled with myriad stars.
Still there was no movement in the forest below.
Trepidation rose within him. Why did she not come?
He knew the gates had obeyed his dictate, although he should have expected nothing else. He had watched her in the morning as she tried the gates. Her radiant smile had convinced Rolfe that his choice had been a good one. At the time, Annelise’s obvious joy had been enough to dispel all of Rolfe’s doubts. Now, in darkness and solitude, he was no longer certain.
What could keep her from his side, other than a lack of regard for him? Perhaps she felt she had no need of him any longer. Perhaps she did not burn with the same desire for his company that he felt for hers.
Every passing moment fed Rolfe’s doubts.
He had followed her and Mephistopheles only until she turned back with the destrier. Convinced of her safety, he had retreated to a burrow to sleep in the forest.
What if Annelise had not returned to the palace? What if she had been injured?
Rolfe stared into the blackness as the snow began to fall, and his hands clenched on the base of the window. He had pledged to wait for her here, so to seek her out at the palace would imply that he thought little of her word.
He had chosen to trust the lady and trust her he would. No doubt she had fallen asleep or some such and would come along shortly. He could not imagine how or why that might have occurred, but the possibility that she might be in peril troubled him deeply.
Rolfe would wait until the moon rose, then seek his missing bride.
Until then, he paced the chamber in the tower, impatient to ensure his lady’s safety.
Chapter 11
Within a very short measure of time, Annelise tired of inventing answers to perfectly reasonable questions. Enguerrand asked after every detail, finding the flaw in every quality of the palace. She had explained the lack of an ostler with a vague wave, saying that the man must be slumbering. She excused the lack of squires with the suggestion that they would be along momentarily. Enguerrand’s knights had been clearly skeptical as they set their own squires to the task of unsaddling and brushing down their steeds.
She used he
r husband’s tale of quick and silent servants who stayed out of view when they returned to the palace to find a sumptuous meal spread for them in a chamber Annelise had never used before. She could only hope that her urge to see to the comfort her guests was strong enough to have it done.
Enguerrand’s curiosity was relentless and his suspicion open. Annelise was aware of the avarice in his dark eyes as he assessed the treasures of this place.
Before they even sat at the board, she had tired of his queries. What was the name of this holding? When had it been built? From whence had her husband’s family earned its wealth? How many brethren had he? Why had none heard of their existence in this forest?
Annelise fought to create evasive answers that told her curious guest nothing, knowing full well that the others attended her every word even as they ate.
Soon she would not be able to keep track of what she had said and what she had not.
Sadly, Annelise was not accomplished in the art of deception. Her head throbbed with the effort. Under other circumstances, she might have simply blurted out the truth and let consequences fall as they may, but she had to protect her spouse.
It was illogical, but she sensed that Enguerrand posed a threat to her husband that she could not readily name. And she had no intention of being less than true to the man who had treated her well.
Worse, the snow beyond the walls fell with increasing vigor. When one of the knights jested that they might be her guests for a long while, Annelise had to retreat to the chamber she shared with her husband to compose herself. She wanted nothing more than to be alone, but she did not trust Enguerrand enough to leave him unattended, either.
When she returned, it seemed that even her brief absence had been too long.
Annelise had never expected Enguerrand to find the book. She stepped into that chamber and he saluted her with the tome, malice bright in his eye.
“And what is this, fair Annelise? A collection of secret potions? We have decided that your hospitality here reeks of involvement in the dark arts, for nothing else can explain all we see around us.” His men chuckled, though their interest in her reply was clear.
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