To Tame a Wolf Read online

  "She loves you, John.” Wulf spoke the words softly, knowing how John felt about Wulf's mother, the Lady Liana.

  "I know she does, Wulf. It's all that keeps me sane some days."

  Wulf was one of the few aware of all John had gone through to gain his freedom. He understood the big, proud man and liked him. More importantly, he trusted him, something that was almost painful for Wulf.

  "Have you told her Geoffrey is your kin?” John asked out of the blue, nodding at the small bundle of woman Wulf held in his arms.

  "She is but a woman, John. She wouldn't understand.” There was a harshness in his voice that hadn't been there before and Rose, roused by the men's voices, forced herself to be still, wondering if he would say more.

  "They understand more than you give them credit for, Wulf. This one is smart; I've seen her da and her together. He speaks to her as an equal."

  "His mistake. Women are to be spoiled and treasured, taken care of and fawned upon. But speak to them as equals and they try to rise above their stations in life. Look at the Queen and how she speaks to her council, men of import, all of them. Yet she thinks herself their equal in intelligence. It makes me wonder if she wouldn't like to don a pair of breeches and lift a sword in combat as well. No, women need to stay in their place and let men worry about matters of government and the like."

  "Don't let your lady mother hear you speak such,” John laughed. “She'd take a stick to your ass or maybe a branch to your brain for spouting such nonsense."

  In the distance, horns rang out. Rose felt Wulf stiffen under her slender weight. “He dares much,” Wulf said bitterly.

  "He dares more and more every day he is left as master of Red Thorn."

  "His days there are numbered, John. I vow this upon my father's sword, the same sword that will split Geoffrey in two. Then, we shall have back what is rightfully ours, as well as the spoils of the day. This I promise.” He glanced down at Rose, then dug his heels into Hermes side. “Come, we must get to the village well before Geoffrey."

  Rose jerked forward and would have fallen if not for the strength of the arms surrounding her. “Do not fight me, Rose. We must ride swiftly if we are to be hidden in time."

  "Hidden?"

  "Yes. The village is loyal to me, but they must play the game and bow to Lord Geoffrey. We must hurry if we are to take our places before he and his men ride through. I thought they'd still be looking for you, but it seems they gave up the chase quicker than I'd believed they would."

  "I told you, Geoffrey cares little for me.” She spit the hair out of her mouth as it whipped in her face. Hermes ran like the god he was named for, as if he had wings upon his sleek feet.

  "It matters not."

  Rose sighed. It did matter; it mattered greatly. Once more, she was being treated as property. The wind whipped past her face and the ground flew by. They passed through a pair of wide gates and Wulfgar brought Hermes to a stop, tossing his reins to a young boy and grabbing Rose around the waist to pull her off the saddle.

  "Where is the boy taking him?” she gasped, shocked by how fast the horses were spirited away.

  "Hermes will be safe. Come, we must get inside. Now.” He took her by the hand, dragging her into a small crofter's hut. He pushed open the door, startling the woman inside so that she put her hand to her throat.

  "Must you barge inside like some kind of animal?” she scolded, hurrying forward and placing her hands upon Wulf's cheeks. “I worried.” Her voice was soft and her eyes searched him for injuries. “You're not hurt?"

  "No, mother. I bring you my bride-to-be.” He smiled, drawing Rose forward. “Lady Liana, this is Lady Adaira Rose, eldest and only daughter of the Black Hawke."

  Rose dropped into a small curtsey, her manners too strictly ingrained for her to fight with Wulf in front of his mother. “Lady Liana."

  "Your bride-to-be?” Liana asked, surprised.

  "John didn't tell you?"

  "No. We haven't had time to speak."

  They were interrupted by the sound of horses arriving outside. Wulf stiffened and he looked over his shoulder at the door.

  When Rose opened her mouth to ask what he feared, his hand clapped over her mouth and he pulled her into his arms. “You mustn't speak.” His words were scarcely audible in her ear, barely even a whisper.

  The horses stopped in front of the small hut. They heard the sound of men milling around and orders being shouted before the men rode off again. Wulf slowly released Rose's mouth but kept his arm around her waist, pulling her back flush against him. She felt the hard ridge that pushed at her buttocks and knew what it was. That he could become aroused, now? In front of his mother? She gasped and pulled away. The smile upon his face seemed almost rabid.

  "Your Lady Mother has it right. You are an animal."

  "More than you know,” Wulf grinned, reaching for her hand and bringing it to his lips, despite her struggles.

  "Wulf?” Liana called, watching the girl struggle against her handsome son. “Is there aught I should know?"

  "Your son had me kidnapped, my lady. He tricked me into coming with him, then your man John kidnapped us.” Rose glared at Wulf.

  "Oh, Wulf,” Liana said, shaking her head, a smile touching her lips. “You take the tradition too far."

  "Tradition?” Rose asked, surprised by the lackadaisical response to her revelation. She'd expected shock, perhaps outrage; not humor.

  "Yes, it is a tradition amongst his father's people to steal away with the female they decide to have as mates. It's actually something the men demand. It proves the males superiority and determination. My son must have strong feelings for you to have gone to such lengths."

  Liana patted Wulf on the cheek, then went to the corner of the tiny cottage. She lifted a small square rug to reveal a metal ring in the floor. Wulf rushed there before she could lift it, setting her to the side and opening the cellar hatch. “Come,” he said to Rose, who still stared in consternation at Liana. “I will show you where we stay this eve."

  "Underground?"

  "Yes.” Wulf came back to her, grabbing her hand. “Come, it isn't as bad as you might think."

  "You don't know what I think.” She looked up at him once then turned her head, determined to ignore him. “Take me back to Geoffrey, to my intended."

  "What is this? You stole this poor girl from her intended? Wulfgar!"

  "Did you hear who her intended is? Geoffrey, the man who stole our home, who mutilates and kills our people. I will not take her back to him, Mother. I will not let her be a pawn in any of his games."

  "But you will make her a pawn in this war between you and Geoffrey?"

  "What war? I plan to slice him in two. There will be no war."

  "What of her people?"

  "The Black Hawke is her father."

  "I may be old, my son, but I am not deaf. I heard you identify her father before. I know of the Hawke. He and your father had dealings.” She turned from her son to address Rose. “Your father is an honorable man, my dear, one of great integrity."

  "Thank you, milady.” Rose bobbed a quick curtsey, as low as Wulf's hand would allow. “When he learns I've disappeared, he will come looking for me."

  "By that time, we shall be married,” Wulf interrupted.

  "I will not marry you."

  Wulf looked from Rose to his mother, then surprised both by putting a hand on Rose's flat stomach. “But what of our child?"

  "There is no child,” Rose snapped, hearing Liana's gasp and knowing that any help she had hoped to find in that quarter had just vanished.

  "There could be a child, my dove. Tell me, you don't remember the last night spent in my arms begging me for more?"

  Rose and Liana both turned a bright shade of red. She lowered her head, unable to look at Wulf's mother. “Take me to my room,” she said softly, humiliated.

  "I knew you'd come around, Rose."

  Rose ground her teeth, eyes glaring holes into Wulf's back as he led her to the hole. A stur
dy ladder led past where the light reached, leaving the bottom shadowed.

  "I will go down first to light your way.” He disappeared into the cellar and she heard the hiss of a flame. A candle was lit, then another, until they chased the shadows back and she could see the bottom of the ladder and the dirt floor. “Come now, Rose. I won't let you fall."

  Rose gave a very un-ladylike snort of derision. She lifted her skirt and stepped down onto the first rung, then quickly made her way down. She saw his face and rolled her eyes at him, not answering his unasked question. She looked up as the trap door thumped shut. She heard the rug replaced and then Liana's light footsteps going back to her rocker before the fire.

  "Your mother isn't coming?” Rose asked uneasily.

  "No, she cannot handle tight places. But Geoffrey leaves her be as long as she has foresworn me."

  "She has foresworn you? What deeds must I accomplish to be given the same privilege?"

  Wulf chuckled, enjoying her sharp wit. “You, my dove, are not allowed to foreswear any part of me."

  He stared at her and she felt the pull of his charm tugging at her heart, making her wish she could turn back time, recover how she'd felt before she'd found out about his duplicity. “My room?” she asked suddenly. She wanted away from him, to catch her breath.

  "This way, dove,” he said softly, taking her hand in his once more. In his other, he carried a torch which he held in front of them as he pulled her toward a doorway. Opening the door, he had to duck his head to continue. The tunnel was tall enough for the petite Rose to walk upright.

  "What is this place?” The smoothness of the walls and the doorways that dotted the tunnel every few feet made it clear that it was man-made, not a natural formation.

  "Many of my people have had to go into hiding because of Geoffrey's treachery. To their credit, they didn't want to leave. Thus, we set about building these. It was difficult, but has been well worth the effort. He stopped in front of one doorway and pulled a ring of keys from his cloak. Opening the door, he let her go first, coming in behind her and lighting candles from his torch.

  Rose looked around the room. A soft rug lay under her feet, thick enough to keep away the cold. A four poster bed sat in the center, with thick bed curtains tied back and out of the way. A wooden wardrobe stood against one dirt wall. Against the other rested a floor to ceiling mirror.

  The room smelled much less musty than she would have expected. A slight breeze touched her cheek, and she held up a hand to search for its source. “How?” she asked, turning to look at Wulf.

  "Air vents,” he said, pointing to one corner. There was a small hole in the ceiling.

  The room was close but with the venting, it was palatable. At least, until Rose noted the clothing strewn on a chair in the corner. Men's clothing. Wulf's clothing.

  "This is your room?” It was more of an accusation than a question.

  "Yes. You will be my wife, Rose."

  She glared at him. “I may have to become your wife. Until that time, I will sleep alone.” She crossed her arms over her breasts. His eyes flashed, glowing dangerously. “I won't be bullied on this."

  * * * *

  Geoffrey strode into Red Thorn Castle, his sword clanking against the armor on his thighs. He yanked off his helm, tossing it to a young boy, who hurried out of the room with it. Seconds later, he returned, a tray almost as big as he was in his arms. He struggled under the weight of the food and drink, taking it to the Lord ‘s Table where Geoffrey sat. His foul mood was clearly visible upon his handsome face.

  The tray set before Geoffrey, the boy moved to stand behind his Lord, ready to jump at the least command. He crossed his arms over his flat chest and stood with his legs spread, preparing for a long night.

  "Where is my mother?” Geoffrey shouted to no one in particular.

  "She is being told of your return now, sire."

  "Inform her that I am desirous of her presence,” he growled at the servant who'd answered him.

  "Yes, sire.” The servant bowed, walking backwards from the room, keeping his eyes averted from Geoffrey. He turned to hurry up the stairs, stopping when he saw the lady in question making her way down.

  "Simon, my son has returned?"

  "Yes, my lady.” Simon bowed again, letting the pale blonde enter the great hall in front of him. She walked slowly, her every move languid and graceful.

  "My son?” Lady Solana cooed. “I hadn't thought you would return so soon. Did you tax your poor intended terribly to get her here? Young girls deserve care and consideration."

  "My intended has been stolen from me, Mother."

  The harsh tone of the words caused Lady Solana to wince, but she didn't back down. She wasn't immune from her son's wrath or monstrous moods, but he was her son and she would not forsake him. “Who has stolen her, Geoffrey?"

  "Who do you think?” He picked up a gauntlet from beside his plate and rose, throwing the heavy leather and metal glove against the wall. The resulting clang could be heard throughout the suddenly quiet hall, causing the servants to flinch in fear of his anger.

  "Lord Wulfgar.” It wasn't a question, but a statement. “How did this occur?"

  "Mother, now is not the time for me to speak. My anger is too close to the surface."

  "This I can see,” Solana said calmly, folding her hands in front of her with a serenity Geoffrey would never feel.

  "I do not understand how you can speak of him so calmly, mother. He is an abomination. He should have never been born. His very name should make you pale."

  Solana nodded, though her expression didn't change. Many years ago, dealing with Geoffrey's father, she'd learned that a calm expression could hide many emotions and help keep her sane. “He is your half-brother, Geoffrey. Perhaps it may behoove you to make peace with that fact... and with him."

  "Never,” Geoffrey vowed, picking up the chalice set in front of him. He drained it, slamming it back on the table. “I cannot believe you would even suggest such, mother."

  "What happened was not Wulfgar's fault, any more than it was yours, my son. Your father did the deed and he now lies dead because of it."

  "I do not wish to speak of this anymore.” Geoffrey rose to his full height, eyes scanning the people who toiled and leisured in the great hall. Spotting the fiery hair of the one he sought, he moved quickly toward her, watching his vassals scurry out of his way.

  "Belle,” he said softly. Her green eyes widened, then her head lowered and she curtsied before him.

  Geoffrey grabbed the serf girl around the waist and lifted her to his armored shoulder. He heard her breath leave her lungs in a solid gasp and grinned, turning and leaving the hall. He called back behind him.

  "Mother, please have a bath sent up for me. I wish to rid myself of the stench of horse ere I ride this wench.” His hand came down hard on her padded behind and he laughed heartily at her screech.

  "Yes, but Geoffrey...” Solana watched as her son disappeared up the stairs. She heard the heavy sound of his door close before she continued. “But what of your intended?"

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  Chapter Seven

  Rose watched as the door closed behind Wulf. An anguished wave of despondency washed over her. How could she have gone from a man who treated her as if she didn't exist, to one who only wanted to use her?

  What happened to the man who had so tenderly and gently taken her virginity, giving her such indescribable pleasure? He'd been wonderful, sweet and kind, understanding. Rose felt her cheeks heat as she remembered the things they had done to each other, the way she'd touched him. Even now, she could feel the heat of his chest under her fingers, the softness of the small line of hair that trailed from his navel to the wiry thatch that surrounded his cock.

  She whirled around the room, looking for a way to escape her thoughts. A moan escaped her lips as she remembered his reaction to the first touch of her fingers against his sex. He'd gone mad, pulling her up and over him, cupping her ass in his hands and
drawing her over his mouth.

  She'd been so startled, she'd almost fallen. Her next instinct had been to fight, until his mouth found her clit. He sucked that hard nub of nerves into his mouth and she'd been lost. He'd wrung cries of pleasures and screams of release from her until she couldn't think and her body felt like a wrung out cloth.

  Then he'd thrown her on the bed, lifting her hips in his hands and plunging into her from behind. He thrust over and over until she begged for mercy, coming again and again.

  Her name dropped from his lips in a growl when he finally filled her womb with his seed. He'd held her against him and she'd felt him shaking with emotion, his lips sliding over her shoulder until she turned her head and kissed him.

  It had been one of many bouts of passion that night. He'd been unable to keep his hands off of her. Even in his sleep he'd held her close, caressing her gently.

  With the emotions of the day, the ride on Hermes and the unaccustomed activity of the night before, Rose was tired and sore. She wished for nothing more than a hot bath and a bed. Even the rumble of her stomach ran a dim second to the thought of clean soft sheets. She stared down at her shift and bliaut. They were rumpled and ruined, looking nothing like the beautiful gown her mother had helped her into what seemed so long ago.

  With a sigh, she went to the wardrobe, hoping to find at least a robe she might slip on and perhaps a brush to finagle the mats out of her thick hair. It had barely stayed up, though she'd lost many of the pins upon the road.

  Wolf's clothing filled the small wardrobe, his shirts and breeches folded neatly upon three shelves. Jerkins hung from pegs hammered into the back and his shoes and two pair of riding boots rested upon the floor. Everything was well made though not of a costly material. The stitches were fine and lovingly done, the seams made to withstand battle vigor.

  Rose pulled a shirt and a pair of breeches from the lot. They would be big, but at least she would be out of her dirty shift. She wore only the shirt when she heard the door open behind her. She screeched, turning to see a startled Wulf. Steam rose from a pitcher he carried, along with a basin. He smiled at the sight of her in his shirt, the hem barely reaching her mid-thigh. The undone laces at the neckline showed a bit of rounded cleavage.