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

by Claire Delacroix

  He knocked firmly on the gates. “Open and admit the lady!” he cried.

  The gates did precisely that. Did they also obey her husband’s will?

  There was an intriguing thought.

  Her spouse simply pressed a kiss to her brow. “Be good,” he murmured, and gave her a little shove toward the palace.

  “When will I see you?” she asked.

  But he was already gone and gone so completely that she was afraid he had never been there at all. The gates creaked and Annelise darted into the courtyard, fearful they would leave her locked out in the cold and alone.

  Only when they slammed shut behind her did she realize that the scent of the air inside had changed. Rivulets ran across the damp ground, all that remained of the snow that had drifted here when she left. The air was mild and humming with the sounds of insects.

  It was incredible. Annelise stared in awe, touching the flowers that only the night before had been bent beneath the weight of the snow. The sky was clear blue overhead and a bird swooped low over her.

  He had done this for her.

  Annelise laughed and strolled through the garden to the palace, certain she was wed to a wonderful, if enigmatic, man. A steaming bath awaited her, along with clean linen and another kirtle. There were boots of fine leather, boots that would be ideal for riding a horse.

  Annelise smiled. Not only did her husband attend to her needs, but he cared about her comfort. He had changed the weather within the palace walls purely to please her.

  Perhaps he came to love her already.

  She would guess her husband’s name. She would convince him to trust her. She would win his reprieve from the djinn’s curse.

  And then this marriage would be precisely as she had always hoped wedlock would be.

  Was Rolfe becoming the same pathetic suitor who had brought gifts to Rosalinde like a hapless pup? He had sworn he would never play the fool again, especially for a woman. Rosalinde had deceived him, as had the first djinn and possibly the second, as well.

  As might Annelise.

  Yet he had changed the temperature inside the walls of the palace, simply to please his wife. He had entrusted her with the tale of the two djinns and had very nearly told her all about himself.

  Was he too trusting?

  Or was Annelise worthy of his trust?

  Surely, her every thought showed in her expressive eyes.

  Rolfe spent the day as a wolf, a wolf pre-occupied with thoughts of a certain lady. Did he dare return to her that night? Would she guess his name or learn more of his secrets?

  Would she betray him?

  Every instinct within Rolfe told him to go to Annelise, to make love with her, to talk to her, to confess the full tale to her.

  But he should not risk it.

  He could not risk it.

  The djinn’s curse warned him of the price he would pay for trusting anyone. What manner of fool was he to doubt what these beings could do, given what they had already done to him?

  Annelise was determined to guess his name. What would happen if she discovered his identity in his absence? She had already found his horse and might have seen his shield with his family’s insignia.

  If she knew his name, she could go to his family and tell them of his fate. If she knew his name, he could not hide from her anywhere.

  Nor from the killer the djinn threatened would seek him out.

  By sunset, he had chosen his course. He must somehow convince his wife to abandon her determination to know more about him. He did not imagine that battle would be easily won.

  He would certainly have to entreat her.

  Surely it was only a knowledge of the risk that made his pulse race as he drew near the palace and Annelise, and not the promise of her company.

  Rolfe recognized the truth as soon as he entered the palace gates. Annelise was in the long pool lined with blue tiles. She was nude and singing to herself, so beautiful that desire halted him in his steps. Rolfe swallowed and stared at his wife.

  Her skin was creamy and smooth, her curves ripe. Water splashed over her breasts and ran over her belly as she emptied an urn over herself. The moonlight made her skin seem to glow, and Rolfe watched the water as it fell over her.

  He wanted her.

  In that moment, Rolfe realized that he had never wanted Rosalinde the way he wanted Annelise. It was not enough to possess Annelise physically; he wanted to talk to her, to confide in her, to learn every secret that hid within her mind.

  This was more than desire, far more.

  Could it be love?

  He must have made some slight sound, for Annelise turned abruptly. Her eyes widened when she saw him, though she did not speak. Their gazes locked and held for a potent moment, one during which Rolfe forgot to breathe, then she smiled a welcome that warmed him to his toes.

  When she crooked her finger and beckoned to him, Rolfe knew he was lost.

  He strode, fully clothed, into the shallow pool, with an uncharacteristic abandon for his boots. He could not help but smile when he finally caught Annelise in his arms.

  “Waiting for someone?” he teased.

  She smiled at him, then her arms slipped around his neck. She was pressed against him from chest to knee, his arms were full of her softness, and the fragrance of her skin rose to tease his nostrils.

  “Only you, husband,” she whispered. A twinkle glimmered in her eyes as her fingers locked into the hair at his nape. “I guessed that you would come.” She smiled mischievously. Before Rolfe could respond, she pulled down his head for a demanding kiss.

  Her ardor took him by surprise, as it had once before, then her tongue was between his teeth. Her hands were locked in his hair and her leg twined around one of his own. It seemed that she wrapped herself around him, inviting him ever closer. It was astonishing to realize that she could give him so much more passion than she already had. Rolfe was so overwhelmed by her kiss that it was all he could do to remain on his feet while he savored it.

  When she reached beneath his shirt and ran her hands over his skin, he thought the fire she had launched through him might be too much to bear.

  Annelise granted him no reprieve, though, for her agile fingers slid into his chausses. Rolfe gasped her name as she caressed him, then met the gleam in her eyes.

  “Temptress,” he murmured.

  Annelise laughed. “I give you no more than you have given me.”

  It was all the encouragement Rolfe needed. He caught his wife around the waist and lifted her to her toes. “We shall see,” he whispered in mock threat. Annelise gasped and gripped his shoulders as his fingers slipped between her thighs.

  Rolfe watched with delight as Annelise arched her back in pleasure, and he wondered what had possessed him to sacrifice the sight of her in lovemaking. Her skin pinkened with a rosy flush as she approached her crest; her nipples tightened; her lips parted as she moaned.

  Rolfe could not resist her. He kissed her, loving how she responded in kind. He swallowed her moans, savored her trembling, and was enticed by the way she locked her legs about him.

  It was magical how her arousal fanned the flames of his own.

  Then Annelise tore her lips from his. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders and her blazing golden gaze locked with his own.

  “I want you within me,” she whispered with an urgency that Rolfe could not resist.

  Rolfe shed his boots and chausses, kicking them from the pool. He lifted his wife and her buttocks filled his hands. She wound her legs around his waist and Rolfe was surrounded by her sweetness. Her scent tantalized him, her breasts were crushed against his chest, and her warmth drew him deeper within her.

  Rolfe moved slowly at first, but Annelise soon began to echo his rhythm. Her wet skin slid against him in an intoxicating manner. He could think of nothing but his desire, his Annelise. Their lovemaking nigh overwhelmed him; indeed, it was more potent each time and he began to think he would never have his fill of her. He managed to last until she r
eached her pleasure, but in the moment she cried out, he could wait no longer.

  He roared with the force of his release. He strained for the heavens even as he felt Annelise do the same. He gave her his all, his heart warming with the awareness that she was his equal in every way.

  There was only they two. Rolfe was barely aware of himself falling to his knees in the shallow pool. He gathered Annelise protectively to his chest and they sank together into the water, their mutual bliss complete.

  The man might have invented lovemaking, for all his skill with it.

  Annelise nestled against her spouse, more than glad that he had returned to the palace. It seemed quite decadent to embrace in the pool in the moonlight but it was lovely.

  If they broke the curse, would the palace disappear? She wondered.

  As much as she liked it, she wouldn’t mind. She wanted her husband’s curse broken more than anything else.

  And his heart in her possession, of course.

  She caressed his shoulder, smiling at the wet state of his chemise, then kissed his ear. He seemed to be dozing a little, but then, he would have been active in the forest all day in his wolf form.

  He stirred and gave her a sleepy glance, then smiled.

  “Is your name Ethelbert?” she asked.

  He blinked as if startled, then abruptly stood up. The water splashed, but he set her upon her feet, his agitation clear. He even stepped away from her, bending to retrieve his wet chausses. “Annelise! You cannot guess my name!”

  She watched him, wondering. “You could just tell me what it is.”

  “You know that I cannot.”

  “No,” she said with care. “I know that you will not. That is different.”

  He glared at her. “You do not know what is at stake.”

  “And I am unlikely to know, if you refuse to tell me more,” she replied, keeping her tone calm. “Indeed, sir, if I had to guess, I might conclude that you did not trust me.”

  He shoved one hand through his hair. “I told you about the curse.”

  “Yes, but I suspect that you confided only half the tale,” Annelise replied.

  His gaze flew to hers and Annelise saw his fear.

  “Yes, I see the truth in your eyes, husband of mine. There is more to this tale than you would have me believe, and I would know the truth. How else can I help you?” She raised a hand when he would have protested. “Our lives are bound together, no matter how much you would prefer that they were not.”

  “Annelise! I do not prefer that.”

  “And how would I know as much? Surely a woman should know her husband’s name?”

  He frowned down at his wet boots, then met Annelise’s eyes. “I cannot tell you my name.”

  “Because you do not trust me.” She said it, hoping he would deny it, but saw the truth in his eyes. Annelise inhaled sharply. “I must have my freedom, then.”

  He stared at her. “You mean to seek an annulment?”

  “Why? Is that what you desire?”

  “No, Annelise.” He shook his head with reassuring vigor. “Never that.”

  “Neither do I,” she confessed, taking a step closer to him. She laid one hand lightly on his arm, and saw the uncertainty in his gaze. Someone had dealt a cruel blow to his heart, she was certain. If ever she met this Rosalinde, she would have harsh words for that creature. “But I must be able to come and go.”

  “You mean to leave?” The notion seemed to trouble him.

  “Just for some time during the day. I would ride Mephistopheles in the forest, for example, that he might have a better run.” She cast a glance over her shoulder to the palace and grimaced. “I dislike the sense that I am a prisoner, as fair a prison as this might be.”

  “But you mean to return by nightfall?”

  Annelise met his gaze. “Do you not trust me, husband?” she asked deliberately.

  He looked toward the gates and did not reply.

  Which was answer in itself.

  “I suspect that if you do not take a risk, sir, the curse will not be broken.”

  He heaved a sigh, and Annelise was certain he would refuse her again. But he took a deep breath and turned to meet her gaze with a smile. He bent and brushed his lips across hers. “I would not have you abandon me, my lady,” he murmured. “Nor would I see your situation here steal the fire from your eyes.”

  She smiled, sensing a victory.

  “You must be within the gates before nightfall,” he said sternly. “Otherwise, my pledge to defend you will be worthless. The forest is not safe for a woman alone in the dark.”

  His stern manner could not steal her sense of triumph. She knew it had not been an easy choice for him, and she was encouraged that he had decided in his favor. “But I had thought to meet you at the tower tomorrow eve,” she whispered. “You had said this morning that you did not wish to return here.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Do you propose a tryst, my wanton lady wife?”

  “I do, sir.” She smiled and he laughed.

  “If you bring food and a blanket then we will have greater comfort than last night,” he agreed and Annelise laughed with pleasure.

  “Oh, you will have more of a feast than you bargain for, husband of mine,” she teased before she kissed him once more. The familiar heat rose between them once again and she knew with sudden certainty how she would reward him for his choice.

  “The bed awaits, sir,” she whispered when she had a chance, smiling that she did not have to make the suggestion twice. “I want the chamber lit with candles that I might see you fully.”

  “It is my desire to see you, my Annelise, so you will find it is already so.”

  He swung her into his arms and carried her to the bed they had shared on so many nights. Indeed, he loved her with such enthusiasm that Annelise could only believe that her victory was more than half won.

  Rolfe was outside the gates the next morning when he felt the change come upon him. He winced as he was transformed to a wolf once more, wishing that he could have remained with Annelise this day.

  By giving her command over the gates, he was trusting her not to abandon him.

  The very possibility stole his breath away. He could not imagine his life without his passionate and lively bride. He wanted to keep her captive forever, to ensure that she awaited him, just as she had the night before.

  Yet he had realized when she made her request that if he denied her, if he kept her cloistered, that might steal the sparkle from her eyes. Had she not despised the convent, where women lived in seclusion from the world? Annelise, his Annelise, needed to be free to possess the vigor that he so admired in her.

  But what would she do with her newfound freedom?

  Where would she go?

  How could he ensure her safety when she left the palace?

  There was only one good solution.

  Rolfe would have to watch over his lady by day as well as by night.

  Annelise awakened to bright morning sunlight and an empty place beside her in the great bed. In truth, she had not expected otherwise, though she ran a hand over the linens, wishing her husband might be there one morning.

  Had he kept his promise to her?

  She dressed in haste and raced through the garden, hastening to the great gates. They were closed, but she had not expected them to be standing open.

  She took a deep breath, straightened, and hoped. “Open,” she commanded.

  The gates yawned wide, opening slowly and majestically, revealing the snowy forest to her view. The sky was clear over the forest, and the wind crisp. The sunlight made crystals in the snow sparkle like jewels beyond the walls, and a bird called to its mate as it swooped low through the barren branches of the trees.

  He had kept his pledge.

  He trusted her.

  Annelise clasped her hands together and smiled, her heart pounding as if it would burst. “Close.”

  The gates obeyed her once again, and she shouted in triumph.

  “I com
mand you to open!” she said.

  It worked again. Annelise strode beneath the broad archway of the gates, hesitating only when she made to step over the line where the closed gates met.

  That wintry wind stole around her bare ankles, reminding her only too well that the weather outside varied from inside.

  What if the gates closed and locked her out?

  Annelise retreated inside. “Close,” she commanded and the gates did her bidding again. She hurried back to the palace. She donned all her traveling garments—even the wool stockings, which clung to her skin in the heat of the palace— and draped her fur-lined cloak over her arm. Heart in mouth, she returned to the gates.

  “Open,” she said and they swept wide open. Her heart raced as she stepped through the portal. Annelise realized just how tall the gates were, how broad the entryway, how high and unassailable the palace walls.

  She felt very small and wondered whether these massive gates would continue to obey her. She paused to consider the clear line where the snow of the outside world began and the green grass of the courtyard ended.

  Annelise took a deep breath and stepped into the snow. It crunched as her foot sank into its whiteness.

  As soon as she had taken the second step, the gates slammed behind her.

  Annelise stumbled forward a few steps from the force of their closing, then pivoted to find them closed against her again. Panic flooded through her.

  “Open!” she cried, hearing the desperation in her own voice.

  The gates opened without hesitation.

  Annelise lunged back through the portal, clasping her hands together as the gates closed behind her. She inhaled deeply of the garden scent within the walls, then smiled in her relief.

  She could come and go as she wished.

  Her husband cared about her. There could be no doubt. He had trusted her enough to give her something she desired and that was no small thing.

  She would take Mephistopheles for a ride, just as she had promised.

  And she would reward her husband richly at the tower that night. Annelise strode toward the stables, planning the feast she would offer to him.