To Tame a Wolf Read online

  A loud moan broke out, a good-natured battle to change the big man's mind. For some strange reason, his words quieted her mind and she relaxed her posture enough for her eyes to close as she leaned back against him, letting him worry about keeping her upright.

  She woke when he swung off the saddle, stepping down and picking her up in his arms. Wulf was dragged from Hermes, two men carrying him into a crude hut set back in the forest proper. Rose glanced around as she was also carried inside, seeing nothing but the hut and a small well out back. There were no stables, no other huts, no discernable paths.

  "Welcome to your new home, my Lady,” he said, settling her down upon one of two chairs in the one room dwelling. “You shall be staying here until your intended pays up, good and proper. But I promise, if he agrees to pay, you shall be treated fairly and with grace. If he doesn't?” His eyes grew hard, sending a tremble of fright through her. “Well, then, me and the boys will be compensated in other ways."

  He pulled the cloth from her face, helping her to spit out the gag. “Do you understand me, Lady?"

  "Y...yes. What of Wulf? Is he to be ransomed too?"

  "Is he worth anything?"

  "I...I do not know. We only met two days ago, sir.” She felt her face heat again, thinking of the compromising position in which they had found the two of them.

  He chuckled, understanding the reason for her blush. “'Tis not surprising, a girl of your innocence finding such a handsome rogue as your little knight irresistible."

  "B...but my intended...” Rose ducked, unable to look at her captor.

  "If he pays, he need never know in what circumstances you were found.” He laughed as she looked up, gratitude and embarrassment mixed in the blue of her eyes and the pink of her cheeks. “I can understand his being enchanted with you, lass. You are quite the pretty piece.” His huge hand stroked over her soft, mussed curls, his thumb wiping the traces of her tears from her cheeks. “I don't think your man will mind if I sample a bit,” he murmured, almost as if speaking to himself.

  Rose gasped, finding that big hand clamped against the nape of her neck, lifting her easily despite her bonds. He brought her up flush against his chest, her feet dangling inches off the dirt-covered floor. She kicked out at him as he dropped his head, his mouth seeking her lips.

  "Do not!” a hoarse voice rang out.

  Her captor looked up, but did not drop her back into her seat. “Ah, the little knight awakens and is as demanding as ever. You have a problem with me kissing this beautiful lass?"

  "I do. Let her go or else face me.” Wulf forced himself upright; his eyes squinted against the pain. He was still bound, seemingly helpless against the giant of a man who held Rose so easily in one hand. It deterred him not.

  Their huge captor dropped Rose, who shrieked as she suddenly fell back into the chair. He threw his head back, laughing uproariously. “It is too bad the sun rises soon. I should very much like to see what your man there would think to do to me, trussed up as he is. Perhaps tonight,” he said, cocking his massive head to the side and gazing down at the two of them.

  "You're leaving?"

  "Yes, my pretty. T'would not do for me and my men to be seen dallying around such parts during the light of day. But do not fear, you shall be well looked after.” He knelt before her, untying her ankles before using that length of rope to bind her to a small hook in the stone fireplace. He wrapped the other end around one of her ankles, hobbling her to the fireplace. Then he loosed her arms, watching as she rubbed the marks of the ropes from her wrists.

  "Food will be brought to you. A guard will be stationed front and back. There is no possible way for you to escape, even if you could undo my knots.” He backed away, brandishing a courtly bow. “Enjoy the day, my lady. Perhaps tonight you shall be free."

  "But what of Wulf...” she called to his retreating back. The slamming of the door was her only reply.

  * * * *

  "Missing? What do you mean, my bride's gone missing?” Geoffrey lashed out in rage, slamming his fist into the man's face. He fell to the ground, blood pouring from his nose. “Find her!” he shouted, angered beyond thought at the fact this one girl was disturbing his plans.

  "She cannot have gone far, Lord Geoffrey,” his man at arms said soothingly, backing away quickly as Geoffrey sent him a scorching look from beneath his stormy brow.

  "I do not care how far she has gone. I want her found. Rally the men, send out riders, gather the dogs. She must be found—now."

  "It shall be done, Lord.” The man saluted, turning on his heel to fulfill his duty. He felt sympathy for the tiny girl, who had never once complained at the indifferent treatment since they had been on the road home. She had every right to complain, for while Lord Geoffrey and his men dined on the best, she'd been given stale bread and moldy cheese. While his Lord had claimed the softest bed and the warmest of robes, she'd been given a miserly blanket and a pad that should have been thrown away last season.

  No, Geoffrey had done the girl foul. If she'd run from him, it would be his due.

  He rounded up the men, purposefully taking just a bit longer than necessary to give the lady more time. But he could not dawdle long, for if she'd been spirited away by some mean force, she would need their help.

  The dogs were given the pad she'd rested upon the night before. Their noses pushed against it to gather her scent, then they were off like a shot to the clearing's edge, stopping about six feet into the forest proper, their noses to the ground as if they'd lost the scent.

  Trackers found a single set of footprints, too large to have made by the dainty feet of Lady Rose. A party was assembled and sent out to search the woods. For every second of daylight that went by, Geoffrey fumed more. His schedule was completely ruined. She would be made to pay when she was found.

  He rose from the fire, turning towards the forest, hand on his sword. A flash of color caught his eye. He ducked backwards as an arrow thudded into a tree not two feet from his head. A bit of parchment wrapped the quivering arrow and he reached for it.

  "Find that archer!"

  His growl turned to a snarl as he read the words upon the parchment. “My intended has been kidnapped.” He looked up as Wilmot came to his side. “To get her back, I must pull my men out of D'Enington Castle, release the village and its people.” His eyes blazed as he stared down at Wilmot. “You know who is at fault here, do you not?"

  "Yes, Lord Geoffrey.” The man sniffed as if he smelled something foul. “It is the Wolf."

  * * * *

  Wulf hung his head after the huge man had left, trying to control the throbbing pain in his temple. He wanted to vomit up his innards.

  "What will we do?” Rose asked, cursing in a most unladylike manner as her fingers grew sore on the hard knots that bound her to the wall.

  "Whisper,” Wulf pleaded, lifting his head to squint over at her. “Can you reach me?"

  She rose, stepping toward him. The rope halted her a good three feet from where he sat. “No,” she whispered. “Can you roll to me?"

  It jarred his head and he had to bite back the curse that wanted to spew from his lips. But he finally made it to her. She worked on his arms first, fighting the stubborn knots. Finally they loosened at the cost of a torn fingernail, ripped to the quick.

  She pushed the wounded finger between her lips, sucking on the blood that welled from the torn flesh. Wulf shook his hands free of the ropes, turning and taking her hand, gently kissing her finger and giving her his kerchief to wrap around the bleeding finger. Then he reached down, pulling loose his ankles in half the time it had taken her to free his wrists.

  "Let me look at your wound,” she whispered, before he could rise.

  "'Tis fine, Rose. Naught but a bump and nothing to concern yourself over.” He started to turn away but was stopped by the look in her eyes. He sighed heavily and sat in front of her. Her slender fingers picked through the bloody matted mess of his hair, carefully untangling so she could reach the lump at the back
of his head.

  "It's more than a bump. You've a wide gash here that needs a good cleaning and sewing shut,” she said furiously, her face growing pale. She took a deep breath and then another in apparent dismay at the sight and scent of his bloody wound. “You must look around, see if you can find a needle and thread. And water."

  "We have no..."

  "We do, Wulf. This wound needs stitching and I mean to stitch it."

  He rose to his feet, muttering under his breath about bossy misses. “You wouldn't order Lord Geoffrey around this way,” he growled.

  "No, ‘tis more than likely I'd be the cause of his wound than the one treating it,” she snapped back. “Now hush and hurry. We must be gone before they get back."

  He searched through the few shelves, finally finding what she wished, tucked away in a basket. A nice sharp pair of scissors was there as well. Staring back at her, he slid the scissors back on the shelf, well out of her line of sight. Then he brought her the needle and thread.

  "Oh,” she said, looking through the small basket. “I had hopes of finding some scissors as well, something that would cut these ropes."

  "I found nothing sharp enough for that, Rose. I shall look again."

  "No. No, come sit. Let me clean this and get it stitched. Then, if we cannot find something to free me, you can go and bring Lord Geoffrey to me.” She held out her hand, urging him to once more settle in front of her.

  Wulf felt a jolt of guilt at her words. He wouldn't leave here without her and he wouldn't go for Lord Geoffrey, even if she were free to go with him. That man would take her spirit and leave her naught but a broken shell of a woman. He wouldn't let that happen to Rose. He couldn't. Sinking down in front of her, he felt her tug on his hair, and then the softness of her touch as she ran a wet cloth over the wound, cleaning away the matted blood and gore.

  Her fingers were gentle as she finished cleaning, but shook as she took up the thread and needle,.breathing deeply. Carefully, she held the two side of the wound together, taking her first stitch.

  Wulf's eyes betrayed the pain, but they were not visible to her. He did not flinch, unwilling to let her know he felt her stitches. She tied off the last one, checking the neatness of the six tiny stitches before putting the needle to the side. Using her teeth, she bit through the thread as close to the wound as she dared.

  "It needs bandaging to keep it clean,” she said, mostly to herself.

  "It will be fine, Rose. My thanks to you,” he said, moving to his knees in front of her. His hand rose to touch the softness of her cheek, seeing the paleness of her skin. “You should rest, my love."

  Rose let herself lean against his hand, enjoying the heat of his touch, the safety of his presence. “I don't know that I could. But you should be away, before they come back. Go to Geoffrey, Wulf. He will bring men to come and get me."

  "I cannot leave you here alone, love. What kind of man would I be if I ran away, leaving a sweet lady such as yourself to face your captors alone?” He feathered a kiss across her eyebrows and down the straight, slender length of her nose before finding her lips. “Do you really wish to go back to Geoffrey?"

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  Chapter Four

  "I have no choice."

  Rose looked down at her hands, unable to bear the disappointment in his eyes. She felt it herself, wishing with all her heart that Wulf had been the man her father had chosen. But that would be impossible. Wulf had neither the connections nor the coffers that her father found necessary in a husband for her.

  "What if I gave you no choice?” Wulf whispered to her bowed head.

  Her brows furrowed, but her face lifted to his. “What do you mean?"

  His eyes grew heated, moving from hers to her lips and throat and then onward to the beauty of the curves of her breasts, visible in the low cut gown. “If I made you mine now, Geoffrey would repudiate any contract, Rose.

  "Y...you mean if you were to...to make love to me..."

  "Yes,” he said huskily, his hands going to her hips, moving slowly over the soft fabric of her gown and the even softer flesh under it. “Would you like that, my love?"

  "But my father..."

  "...isn't here, Rose,” he finished, his head drawing ever nearer her mouth like a moth to the flame. His lips parted to sear across hers, burning with need. She shivered against him, trembling with naive desire. A growl sounded low in his throat, an animalistic sound that betrayed his need for her, his urgency to part her soft thighs beneath the rutting of his hips, his cock splitting the virginal barrier that kept her from becoming his.

  His hand rose to the small fastening that kept her cloak together, pushing the thin garment from her shoulder, baring one sleek curve with his hand. His fingers traced that curve, brushing over and then down, slipping beneath the thick swing of her hair and tracing her spine as he slid his tongue into her mouth.

  He toyed with her lips, with her tongue, tantalizing with sultry sensual strokes until she moaned against him, lifting to her toes to find more.

  "You do want me,” he groaned at the gasp of her breath and the erratic beat of her heart against his chest.

  "Yes,” she whispered, her fingers tracing over his high slashing cheek bones, the whiskered skin bristling against the sensitive tips. “You must not do this, Wulf."

  "Why, when it is what we both want? Can you tell me you don't long for my hands to touch your naked form or to caress these frustrated peaks that beg for my attentions? You feel this thing between us, I know you do. Why should we fight it?” His hands rose, cupping her face, bringing her lips back to his before she had a chance to answer.

  This kiss was different, filled with heated desire. He poured his soul into her, letting her know his passion, his need, his want. She clung to him, her hands fisted in the material of his jerkin, pressing her body ever closer to his.

  "Yes, Rose,” he growled, his fingers unraveling the laces that held up her gown. “I want you."

  The gown slid from her arms, catching on her elbows, holding the gem-encrusted bodice so that it barely covered the tips of her breasts. The sheer undertunic, designed to be revealing, was a scant barrier to the heat of his eyes.

  "You are so beautiful,” he growled, his fingers sliding under the neckline, teasing one firm tip with a brush of his finger. He watched her shock displaced by pleasure, her beautiful blue eyes closing as he continued the playful caress. Her back arched, the gown sliding further down, her nipples pressing against the sheer fabric.

  His fingers shook as he reached for the ties that held the tunic closed at her breast. He pulled them free, so that both gown and shift slid to her feet like magic, leaving her gloriously naked.

  "Oh,” she cried, covering her breasts with one slender arm, the other shielding the delicate triangle at her thighs.

  "No, Rose,” he whispered, his hands slowly guiding hers to her side. “Don't cover your beauty, don't hide from me."

  "But...” she shivered under the heat of his gaze, her face flushing at the lust in his eyes. “It's a sin. What of Geoffrey?"

  "'Tis not a sin, my love. Not if I offer marriage, to contract with your father.” His hand reached out, cupping one soft breast, his thumb rubbing gently against her hardened nipple. As she watched, his tongue slipped across his lips and his head bent, coming ever closer to it.

  "Wouldn't marriage to me be preferable?” he whispered only seconds before she felt the soft brush of his lips, drawing her into the heat of his mouth. A gasp of shocked pleasure left her mouth and her hands slid through the slick strands of his golden hair.

  Rose didn't know whether to tug him away or draw him closer. The sensations he evoked inside her sent fire to her womb, a tugging impression that matched every move of his mouth. The heat grew, bursting into a ball of flames in her loins, a wetness to soak her thighs that had her strangely embarrassed. “Oh, what is this you do?” she cried, her head falling back as his arm came ‘round her waist, holding her up to his mouth. “I feel so...so
strange."

  His teeth and tongue plied against her nipple, making it throb. Her limbs grew heavy, her body languorous—except between her thighs, where a counter throbbing cried out her need. “Please,” she whimpered as he released one hard nipple only to lathe kisses across her satiny skin to the other hard peak.

  "I am making you mine,” he growled around that taut nub. “I am making you ache for me, for me alone. Geoffrey could never make you want him this way, not the way you want me."

  "Geoffrey sends bile to my throat,” she cried, unable to stop herself. When Wulf looked up at her she was pleased that she hadn't. His eyes shone with need, the green gaze glittering like the hardest of emeralds.

  "You say such, then think to deny what we wish for most?” His hands wrapped around her slender waist as he fell to his knees in front of her. “I want nothing more in this world than to feel your thighs clasp my waist as I make you mine in truth. I want it more than my next meal, my next breath, my next instant of life. Will you deny me what I need to live, Rose?"

  "I-I do not understand.” The softness of his hair brushed against her naked belly. His hot lips slipped lower and lower, until she felt the first brush of them against the soft curls that hid her sex. She shivered and her knees gave way, her hands clutching at him.

  He stood quickly, going to the small bed that sat off to one side. Moving it easily, he lifted her, laying her on the crude coverlet and following her down.

  "I need the taste of you on my tongue, Rose, the scent of you in my nose. I want to bury myself in your softness and never leave. Please, my love. If you have any care for me at all, please, say me true. Let me make you my own."

  His fingers trailed across her breasts, slipping over the hard pink buds of her nipples. His heavy body on hers did not frighten her, not even when her legs opened of their own accord and she felt the hard ridge of him pressed so intimately against her.

  "You wish us to wed?"

  "Yes,” he groaned, then captured her lips with his own.

  Her fingers clawed against his back, raking over the softness of his shirt, trying to find the skin beneath. He rose long enough to pull it over his head then was back, his naked skin pressing against her breasts. The sensation made them both gasp. She craved more, gripping him almost harshly in her need.