Chapter 12
Their lovemaking felt celebratory to Rolfe that night. Indeed, he wanted to reward Annelise for being so worthy of his trust. It seemed to him that she was more passionate, more giving, more welcoming than she had been yet, and he wanted only to please her. It was a delight to watch her abed and he knew no other woman would ever have such a hold over his attention. Rolfe had never felt so bound to another, and yet, their partnership felt right to him.
When she approached the crest of her pleasure, he smiled in anticipation of her release. She clutched him tightly, gasping and trembling as the tumult made her shake like a leaf in the wind. The gentle touch of her lips to his cheek pushed him over the edge and he held her close as his release went on and on.
She whispered his name and he liked the sound of it well.
Then she whispered three words that shocked him.
“I love you.”
Annelise’s confession was as soft as a whisper. She was sliding into sleep, dozing against him, perhaps unaware of what she had said. Rolfe was both awed and terrified by her confession. He was honored to have won her heart, but he feared that her love might not survive all of his truth.
The second djinn had insisted that love would break the curse, but Rolfe had little faith in the efficacy of her spells. How abiding was Annelise’s love? Would she continue to love him if the curse was not broken? What if she witnessed his transformation? He could not imagine that any tender feelings could survive the sight. The change was agonizing and could not be easy to watch. And he knew well enough that it was one thing to be aware of a truth, and yet another to see it before one’s eyes.
Could the price of the curse be his wife’s love?
Rolfe hated to even consider the possibility. He could not conceive of a life without Annelise. He tucked her against his side and she sighed as she slept, confident that he would defend her against any peril.
She was right. He would do as much. Rolfe would readily risk his own life to see Annelise safe. But what of love? What of their future? He knew in his heart that this challenge was not yet behind them, though he could not discern a resolution. He listened to her sleep and stared at the canopy overhead, aware of the sounds of the palace around him.
And the threat that was secured in the chamber beside the stables. He did not like or trust Enguerrand and could not wait for that man to be gone. He feared trickery from the other knight, or deception. Rolfe knew that this parting would not be the last of Enguerrand. He suspected that some ploy would be launched that might gain Enguerrand an advantage—and put Annelise in jeopardy. It might even occur before Enguerrand’s planned departure.
For Rolfe was vulnerable and he knew as much. He wondered how much Enguerrand suspected of his situation and feared it was too much. With Rolfe’s transformation at the dawn, he would be unable to defend Annelise within the palace, so he had to ensure that Enguerrand had departed by then.
It was yet several hours to the dawn. Rolfe knew he would not sleep, not with the other knight within his walls.
Perhaps it was time for his hospitality to come to its end. He disliked being ungracious, but Annelise must be defended from the other knight’s malice. Rolfe rose from the bed and dressed quickly, leaving his lady to sleep.
Enguerrand knew there was something odd about the palace. Its location made no sense. The weather within its walls made no sense. The lack of servants yet the provision of every comfort made no sense—just as the sudden appearance of servants with the lord’s return made no sense.
The bard’s tale had to be true.
But if it was, then why was Rolfe de Viandin not a wolf?
Enguerrand could not reconcile the tale with his host’s appearance. Being cursed to take the form of a wolf had been the price of gaining the palace from the djinn. How had he broken that curse? Was their host a sorcerer himself? Or was he an illusion? That seemed a whimsy beyond all.
It was not whimsy that had barred the portal of their chamber from the outside. Enguerrand had tried to leave the chamber, after the rest of his party fell asleep. He was certain that some hint of the truth could be found in the palace, but the portal had been secured.
That meant he was right. Rolfe de Viandin had secrets and they could be unearthed.
And why had Rolfe decreed that Enguerrand and his fellows must leave before the dawn? Such an hour of departure was unknown. There had to be a reason and Enguerrand wanted to remain through the dawn to find out what it was.
His host, however, had anticipated him.
Enguerrand jumped when the portal was suddenly flung open. He spun to find his host silhouetted in the portal, the moonlight shining into the garden behind him. “The storm has stopped,” that man said grimly. “You will leave immediately.”
“But my men sleep.”
“They can sleep at Beauvoir. You should hurry, as there may be more snow before midday.” Rolfe stepped into the chamber and Enguerrand saw the determination in his gaze. There was steel in his tone. “I would not have you caught between sanctuaries in such weather.”
Such curious eyes the man has. One blue and one silver-gray. Enguerrand had never seen the like and he found Rolfe’s steady gaze unsettling. The other knight seemed capable of reading his thoughts or guessing his intentions, and Enguerrand knew he did not imagine Rolfe’s disapproval.
“My men will need time to shave and arm themselves...”
“I think less time than you believe,” Rolfe said, shaking each one in turn. “Rise! You have a short opportunity to ride for Beauvoir! Make the most of it, lest you meet your fate in the winter forest.”
The men stumbled to their feet, their eyes bleary from their indulgence in the wine.
“Boys!” Rolfe roared. “See to your knights, and make haste.”
“There is no need to do as much,” Enguerrand protested, sensing his host’s urgency to see them gone. But the squires scampered this way and that, packing saddlebags and gathering armor, following Rolfe’s command instead of Enguerrand’s.
“The horses must be tended,” Enguerrand protested.
Rolfe smiled but there was no warmth in his expression. “You will find them saddled and stamping to leave by the time you reach the stables,” he said smoothly.
What secret did he want to keep from Enguerrand?
It did not matter in the end, for all objections were dismissed. The rest of Enguerrand’s company seemed to take on their host’s urgency and it was not long before they were riding toward the gates under Rolfe’s watchful gaze. Enguerrand tried to delay their departure with fulsome thanks, but Rolfe gruffly interrupted him and bade him make haste.
Their host eyed the sky. “Yes, the blizzard will return threefold by midday. Ride! Ride now for Beauvoir while you may!” He slapped the rump of one destrier as the gates opened and the knights lunged through the open portal. The palfreys followed the stallions, prancing in their desire to run.
Enguerrand reined in his steed with difficulty and eyed Rolfe. “I thank you for your hospitality,” he said, his tone acid. “No doubt we shall meet again.”
His host smiled. There was something hungry about Rolfe’s expression, something that made Enguerrand shiver.
“No doubt,” that man said. “But know this, Enguerrand de Roussineau, you will never threaten my lady wife again and survive to see the next dawn.”
“I have never threatened Annelise!”
“Have you not?” Rolfe stepped closer to the gates. “She was fearful when I returned and uncertain of your intent. That is a poor reward for her grace in inviting you to take refuge from the snow.”
“I cannot imagine why she should have been concerned,” Enguerrand said. “We are old friends, Annelise and I...”
“You are a declined suitor, one whose offer was found inadequate,” Rolfe said, interrupting Enguerrand with resolve. Enguerrand did not appreciate the reminder of his failure.
“And what of you?” he challenged. “You keep her imprisoned here, far from
society, beyond the reach of her overlord, hidden from her family. Only a dishonest man would do as much.” He dropped his voice low. “Or a man with a fearsome secret.”
Rolfe laughed. “You are a fool, Enguerrand, to put such faith in the tales of bards. Any man of sense would know that such fables are entertainment alone.”
“Any man of sense would know there is something amiss with this palace.”
Rolfe stepped closer. “Any man of sense would know when he had exceeded his welcome.” The gates began to close and Enguerrand’s destrier moved toward the forest of its own volition.
“I will tell Tulley of this!” Enguerrand cried.
“I invite you to do so,” Rolfe said. He pointed. “Beauvoir and Tulley lie that way.”
He stood there, indomitable and determined as the gates closed. Enguerrand eyed the smooth expanse of pale stone and his conviction that there was more to this situation grew. A few snowflakes fell and he spurred his horse, riding after his party. They were already a good distance away.
But it did not take long for Enguerrand to decide that there might be an easy way to discover why Rolfe wished him to leave before the dawn.
He would linger and watch.
The cursed man had an ability to delay matters beyond expectation. It was close to the dawn by the time the sound of the party’s horses faded. Rolfe could not wish Enguerrand far enough away. He paced in the garden, unwilling to awaken Annelise but wanting to talk to her as well. He had never been so conflicted in the past, so caught between his desire and his knowledge of the rational choice.
He sighed and turned, only to find his lady in the portal in her chemise. “I said it,” she whispered. “And you are displeased.”
Rolfe strode to her side and smiled. “On the contrary, I am delighted by your confession.”
She studied him, those wondrous eyes almost glowing. “But you do not respond in kind. Do you not wish to break the curse?”
“I do not believe matters to be so simple.”
“Whyever not?”
Rolfe sighed and bowed his head. “I fear that there are things you could witness that might change your thinking.”
Annelise shook her head as he knew she would. “No! Love is true and good. Love is unchanging and steady. A heart once surrendered is lost forever.”
“But what if it is not fully surrendered or captured?”
“How can you suggest that my love is not enough?”
He bent and brushed his lips across hers. “I feel the change coming, my Annelise. The curse is not broken, so therefore, love has not broken it.”
“Because you do not love me.”
“Because your love is not complete.”
Annelise’s lips tightened, even as she took two fistfuls of Rolfe’s shirt and tried to shake him. “Oh, if ever I meet this Rosalinde, I will have words for her!” she said with ferocity.
“What has she to do with the matter?”
“She taught you that women could not be relied upon.” Annelise poked a finger in his chest. “I will teach you that she alone could not be relied upon and that you can trust me.”
“I do trust you...”
“Not completely, Rolfe. I will wager that love must be reciprocal to break the curse. Because you do not believe, it is not broken.” A determined glint claimed her eye. “Tell me what I could do to dismiss the last of your doubt.”
Rolfe knew the only reply there could be, but he was reluctant to utter it aloud.
What if his worst fear came true? What if she was revolted by his change and then by him? What if she spurned him and he lost all that he had gained?
At the same time, he felt the dawn’s approach just as he always did. Something began to change within him, shifting in preparation for his transformation. Within moments, the sky would lighten and he would have a tail. Then the fur would sprout and his ears would lengthen, even while he was pushed to the gates by some unseen force.
“You must watch,” he whispered, knowing that this lady would have the strength to do as much.
What Rolfe could not guess, though, was how she might respond to the sight.
Watch.
Annelise understood precisely what Rolfe meant. She knew from his expression that the transformation must be horrific and saw in his eyes that he feared the sight of it would destroy every shred of love in her heart.
“Does it hurt?”
He nodded once, making no issue of the matter. “It is done soon enough, I suppose, although it feels endless.”
She glanced at the sky. “Soon?” she asked, then saw that he had a tail. It was long and graced with silver fur, the tip of a paler hue than the rest.
The first light of the dawn had stolen over the horizon.
The gates groaned as they opened.
Annelise caught her breath as Rolfe’s shape altered. As horrible as it was to watch his nose darken and his ears sprout, it was equally fascinating to witness the change.
She stared in amazement as his limbs shortened and his body transformed. She could see the anguish in his expression, then he moved suddenly to the gates as if he was to be flung through them. She ran after him, even as he dropped to all fours and was forced from the palace.
The rising sun painted the palace and the snow beyond the gates with rosy gold light. The stars disappeared, and the wind nudged the barren trees as it, too, seemed to awaken.
Then the wolf turned to fix her with a steady look.
He had one blue eye and one silver-gray.
He was daring her to accept what she had seen.
Annelise swallowed her instinctive fear with difficulty. This was Rolfe, the man who granted her shelter, who made her flesh sing with desire, who spoke to her with an understanding she had never known. This was the man whose ring she gladly wore.
Annelise stepped through the gates with resolve.
The wolf did not move.
She continued, her heart hammering, realizing that she was more afraid of the wolf than the change. This time, he did not wag his tail to encourage her, and there was no resemblance to the ostler’s puppies.
This time, it was a test.
Annelise crouched in the snow before him and gazed into those unusual eyes. “I love you, Rolfe de Viandin,” she said with conviction. “I love all of your truth, and I know I always will.”
He held her gaze for a long moment, as if incredulous, then bent and licked the back of her hand. She reached to sink her fingers into the thickness of his fur and marveled that this was her husband.
Another wolf howled in the distance and Rolfe’s head snapped up. Annelise saw the yellow gleam of a pair of eyes in the fading shadows. Rolfe’s lip lifted in a menacing snarl and then he barked with vigor.
The second wolf disappeared, abandoning her to seek other prey.
It was clear that in either form, her husband defended her.
Rolfe nudged her elbow with his nose, urging Annelise to her feet. He pushed her toward the gate but she held her ground. “If you are in peril, then I will remain with you,” she said, thinking her offer most reasonable.
Rolfe growled in disagreement. He trotted to the gate of the palace, then back to her, effectively telling Annelise what he intended.
She folded her arms across her chest. “I am not going back in there without you.”
Rolfe snarled and increased the speed of his pacing between Annelise and the gate.
“No,” she insisted. “As long as you remain out here, then so will I.”
Rolfe glanced in the direction that the other wolf had disappeared, then growled at Annelise.
She leaned over and tapped him smartly on the snout. “You do not frighten me, husband of mine.”
Rolfe dove behind Annelise and pushed her in the direction of the gate with his head. She shook her head at his determination, pivoting to face him.
“I wish to remain with you.” She raised her voice. “Close!” she called to the gates and they did. “Let me fetch my cloak and my boo
ts. We will remain together in the forest.”
Rolfe backed up, shaking his head from side to side as he did so. He settled on his haunches and dropped his nose to rest on his paws. He looked to be annoyed with her, but that was only fair, as she was irked with him.
“Vexing man.”
He exhaled in a low growl, his eyes gleaming. Indeed, the resemblance to him when he was a man and annoyed with her was so striking that Annelise almost laughed out loud.
“Who commands the gates of my palace?” a woman demanded, her voice low and resonant. A shiver ran up Annelise’s spine at the sound and she spun to find a dark shadow looming over her. It was a woman, but not a woman, for she was both there and not there. Annelise could see the closed gates through the woman’s form, but the force of her glare was not inconsiderable.
Her palace.
The djinn.
Annelise took a reluctant step back. Rolfe leaped in front of her, teeth bared as he snarled at the apparition before them.
The djinn laughed, exhibiting an array of brass teeth. “You think you are clever, Rolfe de Viandin, because you have been fortunate. Do not imagine that I will permit you to break the curse.” She slowly grew taller, until she towered over the walls of the palace and Annelise like a storm cloud. She turned her gaze upon Annelise. “Have you a name, mortal?”
“I am Annelise de Sayerne, wife of Rolfe de Viandin, lord of this palace.”
The djinn glared and the fur on the back of Rolfe’s neck bristled. “I am the only owner of this palace, not you, mortal, or your companion.”
Annelise cleared her throat. “I believe that you have made a gift of this palace to my husband.”
The djinn’s eyes flashed like lightning. “A loan, and a reluctant one at that. Just because I was forced to surrender it to a mortal man does not mean that he will be at peace!” She swirled, and the wind swept around them, pelting Annelise and Rolfe with cold chunks of snow as she shouted.
One Knight Enchanted: A Medieval Romance (Rogues & Angels Book 1) Page 25
