Wolf Bride (23 page)

Susannah had taken a step back at her outburst. Now she stared at Eloise blankly, her lip trembling. ‘It is not you who is accused.’

‘Not yet, no . . .’

Eloise was thinking out loud, the fear nearly driving her mad, just as it had done in the night, lying alone in her cold bed with nothing to do but remember the queen’s secret kisses and forbidden liaisons at court.

‘But what if they claim I had secret knowledge of the queen’s adultery that I ought to have shared with one of the king’s advisors? If she is condemned, and I kept silent where I should have spoken, then I . . .’ She tapped her chest, suddenly finding it hard to finish her thought. ‘Then I could be held as guilty as Her Majesty, and pay for it with my life.’

She fell into silence, unable to go on, staring at nothing.

A voice spoke coldly from the door. ‘And is it true? Do you have secret knowledge of Queen Anne’s adultery?’

Eloise turned, almost dropping the lace-trimmed foreskirt she had been trying to fold into the too-narrow chest.

‘Wolf,’ she breathed, relief flooding through her at the sight of him. His presence always dominated every room he entered, she realised. Even the grey dawn was suddenly brighter and clearer because he was there. Then she realised what he had asked, and belatedly registered the icy chill of his words.

Angry, she thought abruptly. He was angry with her.

‘No,’ she said at once, and straightened her back, forcing herself to sound more certain. If she could not convince her own husband, she would never convince Sir Thomas Cromwell, whose hard eyes saw everything. Besides, it was a half-truth at least. Perhaps even more than that. ‘That is, I saw the queen talk closely with many courtiers, and laugh with them in sport, as is the fashion at King Henry’s court. But I cannot be sure if . . .’

‘If any of them shared her bed?’

Eloise nodded, nervously running the tip of her tongue along dry lips, and saw Wolf’s gaze focus on that tiny gesture.

His eyes narrowed, and his gaze lifted slowly, studying her face with a fierce concentration as though he had never seen it before.

She felt a sudden rush of heat between her thighs, recalling their time alone at the hunting lodge, how he had kissed and touched her, giving her such pleasure she had thought she would die of it.

It was a struggle not to show that intimate memory on her face.

For a moment she thought she had succeeded, then saw him shift as though uncomfortable, his face tightening, a slight colour coming into his cheeks, and guessed that he had read her thoughts and was growing hard again.

Wolf gave an abrupt nod and crossed his arms. His head lowered, his whole body grew tense, and he watched the packing away of her clothes as though it was suddenly fascinating.

‘Very well.’ His gaze flickered to Susannah, unemotional. ‘I am sorry you cannot accompany us to court, but I am sure you will understand this is not an auspicious occasion for a first visit. After all, you can hardly be presented to Her Majesty while she is residing in the Tower, can you?’

Her sister said nothing, not quite daring to speak as sharply to Lord Wolf as she had to Eloise. But there was defiance in her eyes as she curtseyed to her new brother-in-law and turned to help Eloise finish packing her clothes.

Hurriedly, Eloise laid out the heavy foreskirt in the chest as best she could, not entirely caring if it would be crushed by the time they arrived, then turned to ask Wolf if she could speak with him in private.

But Wolf had gone as silently as he had appeared.

She stood a moment in silence, biting down hard on her lip. Her mind was uneasy, for she had lied to Wolf.

Had he guessed it?

If they had been alone, she could have spoken more freely. But it was not for Susannah to hear what she knew of the queen’s illicit dealings behind the king’s back. Safer for her younger sister to know nothing, for ignorance would save her from accusation, just as Eloise hoped that dishonesty would save her own neck.

She only hoped her guilt would not show in her face when she was called to give her testimony before Cromwell. For she had seen Queen Anne both kissed and kissing, on many occasions, and suspected that some of the queen’s favourites had been more than just friends. Yet if she held such information locked in her heart, others must hold it there too. The court was not a private place. And there were many among the queen’s ladies who had held Anne in contempt, for she had always favoured a few and cut others adrift.

Sooner or later, some terrible knowledge would come before the king, and then poor Queen Anne’s life would be forfeit . . .

She glanced impatiently at Susannah, who seemed lost in her own world, standing motionless in the middle of the room.

‘If you do not wish to help me, Susannah, then I suggest you get one of the grooms to drive you back to Father’s house in the donkey cart. It will be light soon.’

Her sister shook her head. There was an odd, martial light in her eyes as she seized a fine lace shawl from Eloise’s pile of clothing, folded it three times very poorly, then bundled it into the chest with all the rest. ‘No, I shall wait and see you off. Father does not know about this summons anyway, so he will not miss me for hours yet. Besides, I wish to bid a proper farewell to Master Beaufort.’

Now there was the true heart of her distress, Eloise thought, and felt sorry for her sister. ‘You are in love with Hugh, aren’t you?’

‘In love with Hugh Beaufort, the king’s clerk?’ Susannah stared at her, then laughed rather wildly. ‘Of course I am not. Whatever would make you say that?’

Eloise went in search of Wolf after her chest had been packed and carried downstairs by two of the servants. She hurried downstairs, expecting to find her husband out at the stables, or perhaps talking with his men by the entrance. But he was not in either place. The cavalcade was already assembled outside, the lead horses being held by grooms, their breath steaming out in clouds in the early chill, harnesses jingling as they shifted impatiently, though no one had yet mounted. It seemed everyone was waiting for Wolf, the sky growing lighter and lighter by the minute.

She found Morag on the stairs, instructing a man who was still struggling down with one of the heavier cases. Eloise embraced her old nurse, who had only recently come to live at the hall, and asked again if Morag would accompany her to court. But once again her nurse begged to be excused, saying she was too old for such a long journey, and indeed Eloise did not think she looked well.

‘You are already taking Mary with you,’ her nurse pointed out, kissing her on the cheek. ‘She will know how to look after you. You do not need two of us snapping at your heels.’

Indeed, Mary was waiting for her in the covered litter, much to the maid’s excitement, for the girl had not taken to country living and was quite homesick for court.

‘But it is your advice I value most,’ Eloise told her, tears in her eyes at the thought of what might lie ahead. ‘What if . . .?’

‘Hush,’ Morag leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. ‘If things get bad, it is your husband to whom you must turn now. Lord Wolf can protect you far better than I.’

‘Have you seen Wolf?’ she asked wearily, rubbing a hand across tired eyes.

Morag looked at her strangely. ‘No, but you could try the room at the top of the west tower.’

The west tower?

Heading reluctantly in that direction, an older part of the house that she had only visited once before, Eloise had to grope her way, finding the corridors and passageways unlit. The flooring was thin and ragged in places, with no pictures or tapestries on the wall to keep out the draughts. The west tower itself was dark, the crumbling stone staircase narrow and winding, with arrow slits at every turn that let in the chill air. The whole place felt unwelcoming and neglected.

With curiosity in her heart, she climbed the stairs, sure that Morag must be mistaken. With everyone waiting below for his order, why on earth would Wolf be up here?

But when she reached the room at the top, Eloise stepped silently through the half-open door and stopped dead, amazed to find Wolf there after all.

He was seated at a desk with his back towards her, quill in hand, writing something, his head bent over a sheet of paper in utter concentration, as though he intended to remain there for hours yet. The tower room was dusty and circular, and stood empty except for his desk and a tall candle beside it, its flame extinguished.

Light streamed in through a series of thin slits in the stone wall, one bright strip of early sunlight falling directly across his bent shoulders and desk.

She had not meant to break the spell. Yet she must have made some inadvertent noise, for Wolf suddenly stiffened and turned his head.

He had not expected to see her. In that unguarded moment before the shutters came down, masking his expression, she met a scorching intensity in his gaze that took her breath away. She was suddenly reminded how dangerous he could be, not just for her heart and soul, but physically. His whole body exuded power and sexual confidence, but his eyes were the key to that power, the gateway to his soul.

Staring back at him with the same intensity, she knew that if Wolf ordered her to strip off her gown right here and kneel before him, to take him in her mouth as she had done last night, she would obey without question. It was only a matter of days since their marriage, and only hours since her husband had possessed her for the first time. Yet it felt as though she had belonged to this man forever, as though they had been made for each other.

Under that dangerous gaze, her body felt new and tingling, her breasts fuller, her hips more inclined to sway, and between her thighs . . .

His touch had wrought this sudden, miraculous change in her. Eloise could not imagine how it would feel to be with him forever, to be always in his bed, groaning out her pleasure. Perhaps she would die of that bliss, her heart eventually outstripping her body’s strength. But what a death that would be!

‘Eloise,’ he growled, standing up abruptly. His chair fell backwards with a crash but Wolf paid it no heed. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Looking for you,’ she said huskily.

‘Clearly,’ he agreed, his voice terse. ‘But how did you know where to look for me?’

Dodging that awkward question, she looked past him at the writing desk, where a vellum-bound book still lay open beside his discarded quill. It looked like a small ledger, like one of the books used for the household accounts.

‘What are you writing?’ she asked, curious to know why he had come all this way up the tower simply to make some notes in that book.

‘That’s none of your business.’ Wolf slammed the book shut, then tucked it inside his black jacket where she could not see it.

Turning back towards her, he ran a hand through his thatch-dark hair, leaving it rough and dishevelled; his skin was taut over his cheekbones. There was a searing anger in his voice that shook her to the core. ‘This is my private place. I do not permit anyone else to come up here, not even the servants. Who told you I would be in the tower room?’

Eloise blinked, thinking hard. She did not want to get Morag into trouble over this.

‘No one,’ she whispered, backing away as he came limping violently towards her. ‘I couldn’t find you, that’s all. So I kept looking until . . .’

He grabbed her by the elbow. ‘Who told you, Eloise?’

Staring into those ice-cold blue eyes, Eloise knew that she was not forgiven. Not forgiven for having been one of the queen’s ladies, for forcing him into this arduous journey back to court, for having been summoned before the Star Chamber like a criminal. He had married a plain northern maid, thinking she would live here quietly in the country, bear his children, and calmly await his returns from campaign. Instead, they had barely been wed a sennight when she had been summoned to appear before the highest lords in the land, for having been privy to the queen’s dealings with other men. Soon every man and woman at court would know the name of Lady Wolf.

No wonder he was looking at her with such hostility. She had resisted him on their wedding night, then had not known how to please him, and now this terrible scandal was waiting for her at court. He must be wondering how to rid himself of such a turbulent wife before she put him out of favour with the king.

Fear of losing him made her throat close up. She had only just learnt how to please him. Now it seemed their marriage would be over before it had properly started. But she would not leave without a fight. His friend King Henry might know a dozen ways to cast off a wife or mistress, but Wolf would find her a difficult woman to dislodge.

She swallowed, refusing to let him see her fear. Nor would she allow him to bully her into revealing it was Morag who told her where to look for him.

‘No one, my lord,’ she repeated, biting out the words so he could see what she thought of his behaviour. If Wolf could become this angry over some trifling matter, so could she. ‘I was passing the stairway below and thought I heard a noise. You must forgive me, I did not know this was your private place.’

He looked down at her as though he hated her, still gripping her elbow, his sapphire-blue eyes hard and unyielding. She thought she had never seen him so furious.

‘Don’t come up here again,’ he ordered her harshly. ‘Do you understand me?’