Wolf Bride (16 page)

‘Please, Eloise,’ Susannah begged, shielding her face with her hand. ‘The sun is grown so scorching, I must return at once to the hall. But I do not wish you to spoil your pleasure. I know his lordship brought you here so specially.’

‘Very well,’ Eloise agreed, but watched in some consternation as her sister turned her skittish chestnut mare back the way they had come and set off home without even a farewell, Hugh Beaufort riding close behind her. Susannah was planning something, she felt sure of it. But it was clear she would not easily be gainsaid, not if her heart was set on the king’s clerk.

‘They will not come to any harm,’ Wolf murmured, swinging effortlessly out of the saddle.

‘I hope not.’

‘Your sister may be young and inexperienced, but she is the daughter of a gentleman and not without friends. Do not distress yourself,’ Wolf reassured her, beginning to lead his horse towards the stables. ‘Hugh Beaufort has a sound head on his shoulders. He will do nothing to jeopardise his good reputation at court.’

When both horses had been safely stabled and watered, Wolf wandered back to where she was waiting and suggested they take a tour of the old hunting lodge.

‘There’s usually a servant or two living here during the winter months, to look after the place and manage the grounds. Perhaps we could take some wine and refreshments before heading back to the hall,’ he murmured, glancing sideways at her. She felt the heat in that gaze and shivered, suddenly aware of him again as her husband. ‘The ride was longer than I remembered. And it is a hot day.’

‘Whatever you wish, my lord.’

But after some minutes of banging the brass knocker to no reply, Wolf frowned and stepped back.

‘Strange,’ he remarked, staring up at the silent building. ‘But perhaps they are out in the grounds in this warm weather. Let’s walk round and see if we can find someone to let us in.’

‘And if no one is here?’

‘Then someone deserves a whipping for deserting their post. But we can still go inside.’ He smiled at her expression. ‘I happen to know where the key to the kitchen quarters is kept.’

She sensed that this deserted place was important to him for some reason, so did not argue but followed him through the soft swish of knee-length grasses to the rear of the building. The once-bright paint of its front façade had peeled away, its wooden frame sagged, and some of the main beams were cracked across. Even the roof thatch had become thin in places. Swallows had built their nests under the gable-end, swooping gracefully back and forth in the air as they passed beneath.

Eloise wondered if the interior was in the same disrepair. Peering up against the sun, she noted that the high, narrow casements of the upper floors had been shuttered against the elements, their metal struts rusting in streaks. So there was a good chance that the lodge was sound and dry inside, despite its unhappy looks.

The back yard was dusty and still in the sunshine, not even a solitary hound guarding the place.

Eloise looked up and down, but the shady, tree-lined walk to the fields was quiet, and even the small herb garden with its gnarled hedges of yew and bay was empty. There did not appear to be anyone about.

Having thumped his gloved fist on the kitchen door several times and gained no reply, Wolf slipped away to fetch the key from its hiding place in an old dairy. He returned more slowly, his blue gaze on her face.

‘Not a pretty sight, is it? I’ve let the place go somewhat,’ he admitted, frowning up at the sagging beams and tufted thatch. ‘But I’ve been away from home so much these past ten years it hardly seemed worth the cost of repairs. Now that I am married, it would be good to see the old lodge returned to its former glory. My father and grandfather used to hold great hunting parties here. Yes, the place was magnificent in its day. They say old King Henry, our king’s father, even came here once or twice with the court. Now look at it.’ He kicked aside a broken spar fallen from some decayed casement. ‘I did not care to honour my father while he was alive. We were not close enough for that. Perhaps now he is dead, I can at least restore one of his favourite places.’

She said nothing, but laid a hand on his arm. They were still strangers, despite their marriage, despite sharing the same bed every night. But that did not mean she could not understand his pain – and let him know that she did.

Wolf glanced down at her hand, then managed a lopsided smile.

‘Shall we look inside?’

The kitchen quarters were vast and ancient, full of battered pots and pans hanging from the walls on gigantic hooks, and dried herbs dangling in bunches from pulleys. The whole place was dusty and unkempt, but the floor had recently been swept near the back door, and although the bread oven stood open and cold, the hearth contained the fresh remains of a log fire.

Wolf stooped and rubbed some of the ash between finger and thumb. ‘Less than a week old, I’d say.’ He straightened, looking about the kitchen. ‘Fresh water in the bucket there, and not much dust on that candle stump. So there has been a servant keeping house here. But for some reason, they left the place unattended some days ago.’

‘When we were married, perhaps?’

He turned to her at once, his face lightening. ‘Of course. All the servants would have been needed at the hall last week.’

‘So no one needs to be whipped for this.’

He grinned. ‘My lady, if it is your pleasure they should not be whipped for desertion, then they shall escape punishment.’

‘Thank you, my lord.’

He put a finger under her chin, raising it. ‘So soft-hearted. You would not last two minutes on a battlefield.’

‘And I am grateful not to be tested in that way,’ she replied, rather more sharply than she had intended. Seeing his raised brows, she stumbled over her words, trying to explain herself. ‘A . . . a woman’s strengths are fortitude and patience. Not brute force. I was born to bear children, and that pain will be enough for me when it comes.’

His gaze steadied on her face, oddly intent. ‘Born to bear children?’

‘Aye, my lord.’

‘But on our wedding night . . .’ He hesitated, then took a step forward. Their bodies were suddenly very close, almost touching. ‘I thought you did not welcome my attentions.’

‘I did not say that, my lord.’ Eloise could hardly breathe. She found herself whispering, her voice too loud in the vast empty kitchens. ‘I was scared, that first night. I did not mean to push you away. You took me off guard.’

His gaze lowered to her mouth, searing her with its heat. ‘I did not “take you” at all,’ he muttered hoarsely.

‘My lord . . .’

Wolf grabbed her by the shoulders and bent his head, kissing her so fiercely she felt her head spin. Then she realised why. He had lifted her in his arms and was carrying her out of the kitchen quarters.

‘Where are we going?’

He did not reply, but she saw his eyes glitter in the darkness and was afraid.

The lodge was quiet and unlit, all the windows shuttered. He made his way unerringly through the darkened hall, then up a narrow staircase and along the upper landing. The air smelt cold and musty upstairs. It was like being inside a tomb, she thought, and was glad of his arms about her.

All the doors stood shut in the darkness. Wolf kicked one open, breathing heavily, and entered the room.

Eloise blinked. Sunlight was streaming through a gap in the broken shutters. There was an old curtained bed with ornate posts, pushed against the wall, the mattress long since stripped of its covers. He put her carefully on her feet, then turned to a wooden chest in the corner. After throwing open the lid, he withdrew a rich red-and-green silken coverlet from the chest and lay it across the bed to cover the bare mattress.

‘There,’ he muttered, ‘now it is a bed fit for my bride. And no one for miles around to hear our pleasure.’

She stared, her face suddenly hot as she realised what Wolf intended to do. Thoughts and questions raced through her head, leaving her in confusion.

Had he known the lodge would be empty? Is that why he had allowed Hugh to ride back to the hall with Susannah unaccompanied? Because he had intended this seduction all along?

What a fool she had been. And yet she had wanted this too. He was her husband, after all. The marriage had to be consummated, or she could not bear him an heir. It was her duty, and she had accepted it when she accepted his offer of marriage. But not like this: to lie together for the first time in a strange place, no one within earshot, only the two of them alone in this dusty hunting lodge. It was not what she had envisaged for her first experience of love.

‘Did you plan this?’ she asked, her voice shaking.

‘Does it matter?’

The blood was beating so loudly in her head she could not hear herself think.

‘I don’t know.’

Wolf stripped off his gloves, then held out his hand to her. She hesitated, then forced herself to take it. The moment could not be put off forever. And he was right; at least here they could be private.

He raised her palm to his mouth and kissed the warm skin. ‘My lady,’ he muttered. ‘I promise I shall not hurt you.’

‘Of course you will. I am a maid.’

‘Then I shall make amends for your hurt.’ He pushed back her sleeve, kissing the pale skin on her wrist where a pulse beat wildly. ‘I will teach you the exquisite pleasure of love, a pleasure you cannot possibly guess at now, being still a virgin. But only on one condition.’

She stared, unsure what to expect. ‘Condition?’

‘Yes, on one simple condition,’ he repeated, his voice almost as unsteady as her own. He bent his head again, kissing her forearm. ‘I want you to beg me to make love to you.’

‘You want me to beg?’

‘For love, yes.’

She gasped as his mouth found the tender spot in the crook of her arm, kissing it gently.

‘I . . . I cannot.’

‘Why not? Are you too proud to beg?’ He gazed at her, a challenging look in his eyes, then bent his head again. This time his tongue traced a confident line down her throat towards her cleavage. ‘There can be no pride between us now we are man and wife. This is the natural state of things. You panting for my cock; me pumping my seed into you.’

His words shocked and thrilled her with their crudity. His hands tugged determinedly on her bodice, dragging it lower until her breasts were free, her nipples already engorged with excitement.

He did not touch her breasts, but stared down at them through narrowed eyes. ‘Do what comes naturally, Eloise. Beg me to make love to you.’

To make love to her? Did her husband even know the meaning of the word love?

He meant lust, she told herself dizzily, struggling to hold on to what was real here. What he meant was carnal longing, the kind of violent physical desire that had brought King Henry to the edge of madness when he met Anne Boleyn and could not bed her until she was his Queen. And yet, the line between love and desire was already blurring in her mind as Wolf’s lewd words aroused her, deafening her to reason. His hands played skilfully with her body, reminding her how much she needed this, how deeply she was in his power.

She shook her head rebelliously, though her cheeks grew hot at the sound of him whispering her name. Wolf had called her not ‘my lady’, nor ‘my bride’, but ‘Eloise’. She thought of running away, but knew she would not get far. Besides, if he did not make love to her soon, she would die of frustration. Her body knew that, even if her mind would not admit it.

She wanted him. She needed him. But it would mean nothing if he did not love her. If all this was to him was a means to an end.

‘You don’t mean love,’ she finally managed.

He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Maybe I don’t. But I thought you would prefer the word.’

‘I prefer the truth.’

‘Very well then, my fearless lady, you shall have it. There will be no more sweet lies between us, no more courtly pretence. Only the naked, unadulterated truth . . .’

Wolf gathered her in his arms and kissed her face, then her bare throat, then the fragile skin above her breasts. His kisses were light and hot, driving her out of her mind. He teased her, stroking a finger slowly round the curve of her breast, making her wait for his attention.

‘No,’ she moaned, and her nipples stiffened in the cool air, aching for the touch of his lips.

‘Yes,’ he countered, and slipped a firm hand round the nape of her neck, not to caress his bride but to hold her still so she could not escape.

‘Please, Wolf, not like this.’

‘Eloise, you want this consummation as much as I do,’ he said thickly, lowering his head to her breast, ‘and this day I intend to make you admit it. Now beg me to fuck you.’

CHAPTER NINE

Eloise stood very still and tried not to breathe too deeply, for his powerful body, pressed close to her own, and its leathery, masculine scent were driving her senses wild. Yet there was no escape from the sensual desire that had her locked in its grip, and Wolf knew it.

His mouth closed about her breast, sucking on her nipple. A sharp hot surge of lust crashed from her breasts to her loins, charging her with a deep, shuddering excitement. She clutched at his shoulders, and had to repress a sudden violent desire to arch her back and mew like a cat in season.