One Knight Enchanted: A Medieval Romance (Rogues & Angels Book 1)

by Claire Delacroix

  She wondered if the wolf was hungry.

  She was so very glad to know that Yves had survived. Surely that knowledge was worth whatever her own fate might be this night?

  A wolf howled in the forest, not nearly as distant as Annelise would have liked. Her wolf ran back to her, urging her to greater speed. His protectiveness was unexpected and quite welcome. She managed to run faster and he barked approval. She realized why when she saw the outline of a tower above the silhouetted trees ahead. Relief flooded through her at the sight.

  Her spirits lifted and her step lightened. If nothing else, she would have shelter this night. With luck, she would find something to bar the entrance against intruders.

  The wolf ran back and forth excitedly at the door, then sat to one side as Annelise drew near. It was clear he intended for her to enter but she frowned when she noticed the tower’s advanced state of disrepair.

  Would she be safer within or without? Annelise considered the crumbling tower, the stars visible in the sky overhead, then looked at the wolf.

  “You mean for me to go inside? This place does not look solid enough to last the night.” Just saying the words fed her fears.

  The wolf barked. He ran in a tight circle around her, then went back to the door, sitting beside it once more. His gaze never wavered from her face.

  “What is in there?” she demanded, her voice rising in her uncertainty. “Who is in there?”

  Some of her fear must have been audible, for the wolf trotted through the open doorway. He disappeared into the shadows within, reappearing moments later with snow on his snout. He barked and wagged his tail, standing to one side as though inviting her onward. The snow made him look adorable and unthreatening.

  Annelise frowned. The forest was already filled with shadows. She could not return to the palace before dark, and she did not know if she could open the gates once there. One last finger of light framed the doorway in gold as though it, too, would invite her to enter. Annelise shivered and wondered whether she would live to see the morn.

  “It is evident I have nothing to lose,” she murmured and entered the portal.

  The tower was made of heavy, square-cut stones, reminding Annelise of the Roman road that passed through Beauvoir. It was clear from the skill of the masonry that it had once been grand, if splendidly isolated. She wondered how old it was and what its purpose might have been.

  Silence buffeted her ears as she stepped fully inside and, as her eyes adjusted, she made out the steps of a staircase. It must curve along the wall to the summit. With a wolf at her heels, Annelise climbed the stairs.

  The single room at the top was round and possessed four small windows. Annelise was glad to see that the roof was intact. The dying light fanned through one window. The floor was illuminated with its golden gleam, and a sharp line was drawn between light and darkness. What Annelise could see of the room was unfurnished, save for a small lump of textiles beneath the west-facing window.

  She crossed the room to examine the pile, lifting the first garment into the light. They were men’s chausses, made of a dark wool, and they looked vaguely familiar.

  Annelise knew well enough that she had only seen one man’s chausses of late. She flicked a glance at the wolf, who settled on his haunches in the doorway, and she shivered to find his gaze fixed upon her. The shadows had claimed that side of the room, and only the gleam of his eyes and teeth were clearly visible.

  The hairs on the back of Annelise’s neck prickled. There was something about the weight of the wolf’s stare, something not canine in his expression, something that made it easy to believe he might be capable of a wink.

  He looked almost smug, as though he knew something she did not and dared her to discover it.

  Solitude was clearly making her fey. Annelise’s hands shook as she lifted a white linen shirt from the pile, then stopped mid-gesture at the scent that surrounded her.

  It was the aroma of a man’s skin, of a particular man’s skin, and her heart skipped in recognition. Annelise would have recognized that scent anywhere in Christendom.

  It was her spouse’s flesh she smelled.

  “Mother of God,” she whispered. Tears blurred her vision as she touched the boots resting beneath the shirt.

  These were her husband’s clothes.

  And he evidently had no need of them any longer.

  This wolf had devoured him.

  Annelise clutched his chemise to her chest and spun to face the wolf, even as her tears began to fall.

  “Fiend!” Annelise cried in fury.

  She pulled her small eating knife and lunged for Rolfe in his wolf form. He could only admire her bravery, even as he evaded her blow. He bared his teeth and she was so startled that she dropped the knife.

  He kicked it so that it clattered down the stairs. He would retrieve it later, but he had no desire to be injured.

  “If you mean to attack me, then do not make me wait,” Annelise said, her manner grim. She backed against the wall, staring at him in horror.

  The last finger of sunlight slipped below the horizon, and the room was suddenly plunged into evening shadows. Rolfe was glad that she would not have to witness his transformation, for he imagined it was as disconcerting to see as to feel. He sighed with relief as he changed to his human form, though his lady’s fear was tangible.

  Then he stepped into the shaft of moonlight to reveal himself to her. “I shall attack you with pleasure, wife of mine, but not in the way you are imagining.”

  She gasped and seemed overwhelmed. “You. You!”

  “Yes, me.”

  “But how? Where?” She looked between him and the portal where the wolf had been, her fear evident and her uncertainty clear. She seemed to be at a loss for words.

  “Do not tell me that you of all people are speechless, my Annelise?” Rolfe asked. “You will leave me doubting that you are my wife, after all.”

  She gripped his clothing, clearly still shocked. “But, sir...”

  “Perhaps you are not glad to see me, after all.”

  The lady’s lips trembled. Rolfe knew he had compelled her to run quickly and far in the cold and did not doubt that she was exhausted. He crossed the small chamber and caught her close, feeling how she trembled. She leaned her cheek against his chest and gripped his shoulders as she began to weep.

  He massaged her nape. “Why these tears?”

  “I never cry,” she mumbled, though evidence to the contrary wet his skin.

  Rolfe stifled a chuckle and rocked her in the warmth of his arms. “Of course not,” he agreed.

  “My lord,” she whispered. “I am so sorry that I broke my promise to you. I thought you would not know...”

  “And you were curious beyond all.”

  “I was.” She sighed. “I erred, sir. I wanted to know as much as I could in order to help you.”

  Rolfe was awed by her words. “And I erred in hiding myself from you, so perhaps we are even.”

  “Truly?”

  Rolfe smiled, though she did not lift her head. “Truly.” He tugged at the pile of his clothing that she held tightly. “I shall need these if I am to be decent in the presence of a lady.” he reminded her in a murmur.

  “I am so glad that you are alive!” She reached up and kissed him, initiating their embrace in the way that fired his blood.

  “Yes, Annelise. I am alive,” he whispered into her hair. “Surely you did not believe otherwise?”

  “But you have been gone all this time. And there was the wolf.” She started and tried to stare past him as she dropped her voice to a whisper. Her hands clutched at him. “Is he gone? One attacked my horse, that first night that I came to the palace, and it was terrifying...”

  “Hush.” Rolfe stroked her shoulder, knowing that when she calmed and began to think the matter through, she would see the answer. “The wolf will not trouble you.”

  “But he was just there, right inside the door. You must have seen him when you came in.”


  His thumb slid across her lips, silencing her. He cupped her chin in his hand and tipped her face up to his. “Did I not promise to see you safe?”

  The fight went out of her shoulders and she dropped her gaze, demure as he had never expected her to be. “You did.” Then she shook her head and he watched as her fear receded. Just as he anticipated, she began to reason through the puzzle. “But why are you without your clothing? And where is the wolf?” She made an exasperated sound. “How did the wolf know to show me that Yves had ridden away? Why did the gates open for the wolf?”

  Rolfe turned away to quickly don his clothes as she spoke her thoughts aloud. Her conclusion was inevitable and by the sound, she would reach it quickly. He struck the tinder and lit a fire, but Annelise stared out the window toward the palace, her fingers drumming on the sill.

  “I cannot explain it, but every puzzle has a key.”

  Rolfe closed his hands over her shoulders. He touched his lips to her neck, relieved that her skin was warmer. She shivered, but he guessed it was for another reason. and she shivered despite herself. “It seems I must believe in destiny, after all, my Annelise. I have never been so fortunate as to have known a woman like you before, and yet you are my wife.”

  “What manner of woman is that?” she asked, her words husky.

  “A passionate one,” he confessed, punctuating his word with a slow kiss beneath her ear. “A loyal one.” Another kiss on her ear prompted Annelise to sigh. “One who would make my battle her own.”

  “Then you have been unfortunate, sir,” she whispered.

  “Indeed, I have been, but my fortunes changed with the taking of a bride.” He turned her in his embrace but Annelise kept her gaze lowered. “Will you forgive me?”

  “Will you trust me?” she countered.

  “I will,” Rolfe said, knowing it was past time to take a chance. “If you can endure it, Annelise, I will confess the entire tale to you.”

  “Truly?” She glanced up then and met his gaze.

  She gasped, then took a step backward in her surprise. Rolfe knew that the puzzle had found its key.

  Chapter 9

  Annelise’s husband had one blue eye and one silver-gray.

  Just like the wolf.

  No. It could not be so.

  He held her gaze steadily, as if inviting her to make the most remarkable conclusion.

  “The wolf that drove me through the palace gates had eyes like yours,” she whispered, hoping he would argue with her. He did not. “And that same wolf showed me the tracks of Yves’ horse today, then led me to this tower.” She looked past his shoulder, just to be certain, but was unsurprised to see that the wolf was gone.

  She understood where the wolf had gone, even though all logic fought against it. She recalled snippets of childhood tales about those who changed form. They were chilling tales, told on windswept winter nights and intended to keep children huddled in their beds.

  He had confessed to being cursed, but still, it seemed too strange to believe.

  “No,” she murmured, hearing the doubt fade from her own tone. “It cannot be.”

  “But it can be,” he said with quiet conviction. “Because it is so.”

  “You said you were cursed.”

  “Would you not count this fate as one?”

  Annelise nodded, still amazed.

  “And what do you think, Annelise, now that you know the truth?” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Do you want to leave? Would you prefer to be released from our match than to hear my tale?”

  “No,” she said immediately and knew it was true. “I want to know all of your truth.”

  He held her gaze for a long moment. “And if I refuse to tell you?”

  “I will leave.” Simply saying the words caused a lump to lodge in Annelise’s throat. “It must be this night that there is a full confession between us.” Annelise was surprised that she had no doubts, even knowing what she already did about her spouse. Despite the unconventionality of their match, this man treated her with more respect and tenderness than anyone she had ever known. She had vowed to help him find a solution to his woes, though she had not guessed their full extent at the time.

  “I do not want to leave,” she confessed when he did not reply. “Tell me the truth instead.”

  “And yet it is a fearsome tale,” he admitted. “It seems unreasonable that I should share my truth, while your secrets remain locked within your heart.”

  “I have no secrets,” Annelise said, then raised a hand to her lips at the realization that the words were not true.

  She had one.

  Her spouse shook his head, his gaze knowing. “Why did you cower, my Annelise? I have never shown you cruelty, but you expected it of me. There is a secret behind your fear, to be sure.”

  She swallowed and nodded. “I do have one secret,” she admitted softly.

  “And I have one.” He offered his hand. “And so, a bargain, wife of mine. Your secret for mine.”

  Annelise met his steady gaze and knew that the future of their marriage depended upon her choice in this moment. She had never wished to share this tale, and yet, there was no choice. It was worth the price to give her match with this man a chance of a future.

  “You will not pacify me with the tale of some hunting romp, sir,” she scolded, teasing him in the hope of making him smile. “I will have the tale of your curse or no other.”

  “I doubt that you could ever be pacified, Annelise.” His smile was fleeting but enough to make her heart leap. “Nor would I want you to be.” He arched a brow, his admiration for her making his eyes glow. “And your tale must be of equal worth, not a confession that you have always been fond of apple tart.”

  Annelise laughed. “Fair enough, sir.”

  He offered his hand to her and Annelise swallowed, then placed her hand within his. His fingers closed over hers, his grip sure and his skin as warm as the glow in her eyes. She felt awareness of him kindle and grow, and she swallowed that she could find him so very handsome, despite his curse. Their gazes locked and held, the small tower chamber seeming to heat between them as she found an answering desire in his own eyes.

  Perhaps she would feel less alone if someone else knew her secret.

  Annelise took a deep breath. “I take your bargain, sir.”

  He smiled, then tugged her closer, pulling her into his embrace. “This, my lady, is a wager that must be sealed with a kiss.”

  His kiss was as passionate and commanding as ever, his touch sending heat and desire surging through her. Nothing could have reassured her so much as her husband’s touch, and when he deepened his kiss, slanting his mouth over her own, Annelise knew she had made the right choice.

  Rolfe’s heart tightened as he watched his bold bride prepare to tell her tale. She composed her features with a care that revealed the importance of what she meant to confess. He granted her the time she seemed to need, feeding the fire and seeing to her comfort as well as he could. Her expression was impassive and Rolfe knew that she was lost in some painful recollection.

  It humbled him that she intended to share the tale with him. She could not be giving a performance, as Rosalinde would have done. Rolfe could see that this telling would be painful for Annelise—and her trust bode well for their future.

  Indeed, there was much about his wife that fed the admiration he had originally felt for her. He admired her boldness, her outright bravery, the way she lifted her chin when she did not want him to guess at her fear. He liked the passion with which she greeted life, the way she threw her heart into everything she did.

  Rolfe recalled the sweet press of Annelise against him. She had been relieved to see him. She had been glad of his survival and the certainty of that launched a warm glow within him. He had been wrong to doubt her.

  Rolfe refused to consider the last part of the djinn’s curse. No, he would not let a threat keep him from the prize of a marriage filled with trust.

  He would not let the djinn cheat him of Annelise
.

  He sat on the opposite side of the fire, wanting to watch her as she told her tale. Annelise kept her gaze fixed on the dancing flames.

  Finally, she began her tale.

  “Once upon a time, not that far from where we sit, a woman was given as bride to a lord. I do not know whether she was happy with the match or whether it was simply the arrangement of her parents. Perhaps she did not particularly care who she wed as long as she would be kept in comfort. It matters little what she thought, for the reality was destined to be vastly different from what any woman might hope to gain from marriage.”

  Annelise frowned and clasped her hands tightly together. Rolfe knew that this was no abstract tale, but was content to let her tell it in her own way. Was she the noblewoman in question? Or was this a tale of her parents?

  “Her lord husband, she soon learned, was possessed of a temper. When he did not have his way, he beat anyone he could, and his wife, since she was convenient to his hand, soon came to bear the brunt of his anger.”

  Rolfe anticipated the direction of the tale. He hoped with all his might that Annelise had not been so abused, but then, he had been certain that she was a maiden when they first met abed.

  “At first, it was an infrequent occurrence, and when the lady bore a son to her husband in short order, she escaped his wrath for a goodly time. It was said the lord was in uncommonly good spirits for several years.”

  This could not be Annelise’s own tale, Rolfe reasoned. He knew she had not borne a child. How then did she know this unfortunate lady? It was clear she cared about her.

  Annelise shook her head. “But those years passed, and the lady did not ripen with the lord’s seed again. Worse, matters did not proceed well between him and his son; soon the boy defied him openly. It was said they were two of a kind, though some insisted the son was more cruel than his father. The lord was furious, however, at the boy’s defiance, and began to vent his wrath on both son and wife. The overlord, who was a perceptive man or perhaps one who heard many rumors, intervened suddenly. He arrived at their gates, insisting he must take the son beneath his care. The tale was that the boy would begin his training as a knight, but the father dared not protest too much, as he was owing his tithes to that same lord.”