Castle of the Wolf (20 page)

Fenris’s muscles tensed. “Oh really? Care to discuss the point further?” Cissy could well picture him giving them a wolfish smile. His blade danced through the air, softly swishing in a graceful, deadly arch.

The trio stared.

Perhaps it was the aggressive power he emanated, or perhaps it was the fact that he had a sword and they had not. “Bah. Too much trouble for a silly chit,” one of them finally mumbled. The others muttered their agreements and backed away. Then they shrugged, turned, and sauntered back to the town.

Cissy heaved a sigh of relief. “Well, that was—”

Snarling a violent oath, Fenris thrust his blade back into the sheath hanging at his side. Whirling, he grabbed her arm and dragged her on into the forest.

“W-what—”

“
Shut up!
” His grip tightened painfully. “How could you have been so damn stupid to go to town today? Have the crows picked out your brains?”

“I—”

“And what the hell are you wearing?” He scanned her body and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Have you completely taken leave of your senses?” he yelled. “To run around in a bloody nightgown when the bloody town is swarming with bloody drunkards?”

Annoyance replaced her gratitude. How dare he treat her like this? Especially when she never saw him. “I—”

“And what’s this? A bloody nightcap?” He yanked it off her head and flung it into the forest.

“Hey, that was—”

“A bloody nightcap when it’s still so chilly? Do you want your ears to fall off with the cold?” He fumbled with his coat and drew out a woolen cap, which he proceeded to plunk on her head.

Cissy tried to ward him off. “This is much too warm. We’re walking and—”

“Leave it on!” he snarled at her. And with his chest heaving, he actually bared his teeth.

Cissy blinked.

Perhaps he had the rabies? She opened her mouth. Closed it again. “Well,” she finally said. “Where have you come from, anyway? And with a sword on top of it!”

Which, she realized, was a mistake, because it set him off all over again. So he dragged her on and snarled and shouted about how he had gone to search for his ninnybrained wife because, like any normal human with some brains, he had known that carnival spelled trouble and that stupid little chits from the other side of the world had better stay away from it.

“And how should I have known?” she yelled back, all her anger and frustration finally bubbling over. “When Mr. High-and-Mighty never deigns to show his face in my presence and goes skulking on the ramparts instead? I thought it would be
fun
when Marie told me about this day—”

They stopped again. “And where is your maid now?” Fenris rounded on her.

“Er…” Cissy blinked rapidly. He was so near that she could smell the warm scent coming off his body. Sandalwood and musky sweat—how utterly distracting! It reminded her of the kiss they had shared, of resting her head in his lap. Of the cards she kept hidden in one of the drawers of her dresser. She heaved a dreamy little sigh.

“What?
What
?”

Her eyes snapped open. Did he
have
to be so loud? “I…um…lost her.”

“You lost her!” Fenris threw up his hands, nearly dislocating her arm. “God, you’re even more stupid than I thought!” He turned and walked on. “I guess Marie can take care of herself,” he muttered darkly. “After all,
she’s
got some brains.”

Cissy had finally had enough. She dug in her heels and wrenched her arm free. “Why do you have to be so mean?” she shouted at him. With grim satisfaction she watched his eyes widen in surprise at her attack. “Yes, I wanted to have some adventure, some fun! Is that so bad? And yes, I have learnt my lesson, thank you very much. But do you have to rub it in? Do you have to harp on and on and on? Can’t you just…” She bit her lip. “I know it could’ve been ugly, yes, I know that now. So can’t you just… I mean…” Her voice trailed away as she realized that she was all alone in the forest with her husband. A husband who clearly cared on some level about her. And thanks to her cards, she knew that there were possibilities… Given, it was a little bit cold, but she was willing to make some small sacrifices. Perhaps she should just try a different strategy with her spouse.

She cocked her head to the side and gave him a pleading look through her lashes. “Hug me?” she whispered. “And perhaps kiss me better, and—”

He gave her a look of utter disgust and stamped farther up the hill.

Cissy stared after him. After a long moment, she took a deep breath and exhaled noisily. “Well, I guess not.” Apparently, danger would not further intimacy with the demon wolf. Instead it made him mad as hell. “Drat.”

With a sigh, she went to follow him back to his den.

Chapter 16

Some more weeks passed, and finally Cissy’s patience with her bugbearish husband snapped. He couldn’t just be nice and sweet one day and go snarling at her the next. Or buy her the sweetest present and then avoid her like the plague. Or rescue her and immediately afterwards start yelling at her like a madman. No, she wouldn’t put up with the antics of this demon wolf any longer!

When she thought about the moments when he had been tender and protective, when he had kissed her with such sweetness, her heart always melted with longing.
This
was the man she wanted. This was how their marriage could work—and she
wanted
it to work. She simply had to force the demon wolf to cooperate.

It was, Cissy thought, very simple: she needed a plan. How to seduce your husband in ten easy steps. Thanks to Mrs. Chisholm’s present, she already knew a little about steps five through ten. And she knew that Step Two—getting undressed; Step Three—getting your husband undressed; and Step Four—getting into bed, were not really obligatory. Indeed, if the cards were to be believed, one never fully undressed for these matters. Why, all the men wore at least shirts…even if they actually made it into a bed!

This point of her ponderings always left Cissy rather dissatisfied. For she remembered the sight of her husband’s naked chest and the intriguing whorl of hair around his navel with much fondness. How was she supposed to properly admire his chest when he was wearing a shirt?

She wondered whether the shirt was somehow negotiable.

Yet before she could put Step Three into action, she needed to take care of Step One—getting hold of your husband. Thus, one afternoon she went to the library and chose a strategically favorable window seat that overlooked the courtyard. There she settled down with a book and awaited her husband’s return from his daily ride. She lost herself in the adventures of Peter Schlemihl, who sold his shadow to the devil for a magical purse producing unheard-of riches. She grimaced. Her husband’s snooty brother would probably sell his shadow, too, if it would lead him to the dratted Wolfenbach Hoard.

Cissy snorted.

If the hoard had ever existed, the Wolfenbach ancestor must have hidden it so well that his descendants would never find it. A little bit like a squirrel hiding its nuts. Only, no young trees would ever sprout from gemstones and gold.

Chuckling, she read on.

An hour or two later, she finally heard the clatter of hooves down in the courtyard. She leaned forward and looked outside.

Fenris had not bothered to wear a hat, so the sunlight made his tousled hair shimmer like raven wings. The wind had stained his cheeks with ruddy color, and for once he looked almost carefree and happy. And he wasn’t wearing his wooden leg, Cissy noted. The saddle seemed to have been modified to help him with his balance.

As Cissy watched, Johann walk outside to meet rider and horse. As soon as the valet reached up to help his master dismount, Fenris’s expression changed. The happiness dimmed, the sparkle of carefree joy died. Leaning heavily on his valet, he slid out of his saddle and to the ground, before he took the crutches Johann had brought.

Cissy’s heart contracted. Like a bird whose wings had been clipped and broken, her husband hobbled over the cobblestones.

Cissy touched her fingertips to the window as he walked up to the door and disappeared inside. Uncertainly, she bit her lip. Perhaps she should set her plan into motion on another day, at another time. She looked down at her book. Should she follow Peter Schlemihl’s story and find out to which wondrous lands his seven-league boots would carry him? It seemed…safer.

Listlessly, she turned the page. From Tibet through Asia to Africa Peter went, following the course of the sun to Egypt and the pyramids. Cissy sighed.

Twirling a loose strand of hair around her finger, she wondered whether it was really true that Napoleon’s soldiers had cut off the nose of the Sphinx. If the Sphinx had to lose her nose, why couldn’t it have simply broken off and dropped onto that detestable little Frenchman? It would have spared many people a whole lot of grief.

She thought of her husband, who surely carried an enormous burden.

She looked down at her book. “Drat it all!” She closed it with a snap and sprang up. She was heartily sick of Peter Schlemihl and his story. How could anybody be so bird-witted as to sell his shadow and not think about the consequences? And how could any groom be such a pea-goose as to try and evade his wedding night?

“Men!” Cissy muttered darkly as she went to put the book back on its shelf. A woman wouldn’t have been so foolish as to sell any old man in gray her shadow for a purse! Ha! A mere purse? No, a woman would have taken the mandrake and thus would have secured for herself not only great riches, but also love and happiness. But no, the nodcock male had to go for the obvious. Snorting, Cissy stomped out of the library. Well, she would show her husband that a woman went for it all. Yes, she had married him to keep this castle and probably wouldn’t have married him at all if not for her father’s will. Who would want to marry a snarling demon wolf? But…

She frowned.

Of course, he could be a rather sweet demon wolf at times. Like when he had done battle with the ribbons for the Christmas tree. He had been so utterly adorable. And later, when he had kissed her…

Her steps faltered. She touched her mouth, remembered the feeling of his lips on hers. She sighed dreamily.
Beautiful.

But still, it had been just a little kiss, which was now only a pale memory. And Cissy had enough of pale memories and little kisses. She wanted it all! She wanted friendship and company, and yes, the joys and delights that Mrs. Chisholm’s cards promised.

Determinedly, she marched up the stairs to her husband’s room. Taking a deep breath, she raised her hand and knocked at the door. There was no answer.

She cocked her head to the side and knocked again. Though she listened carefully, there was still no answer.

Cissy chewed on her lower lip. She looked up and down the hallway.

“All right,” she murmured. “Three time’s lucky.” And she knocked again.

No answer.

Cissy chewed on her lip some more. Then she sniffed and wriggled her nose. “But he
must
be in there!”

Without her volition, her hand came to rest on the door handle. The next moment, the door swung open with a loud creak.

Cissy winced. Here was another door that needed to be taken care of. But first…

Carefully, she took a step forward and peeked into the room. It was dark-paneled, with a frieze depicting a hunting scene on the upper third of the wall. Lush, red Persian rugs covered the stone tiles on the floor. In the corner was the obligatory hunter-green tiled stove. When she had last been in this room, after Fenris’s fall, she had had neither time nor inclination to take it all in. But now…

Cissy took another tiny step forward.

Now she could also see the enormous four-poster bed with drapes of dark green velvet.

Her husband, however, was nowhere to be seen. Unless…

Another tiny step and Cissy could peek around the door.

Unless he hid in the enormous wardrobe. Which she doubted. He was, after all, not a
total
lumpkin.

From a small doorway on the other side of the bed came the sounds of splashing water.

It was, she knew, terribly naughty to enter other people’s rooms without being invited, and yet the temptation proved too great. He was, after all, her husband.

Cissy tiptoed fully into the room and closed the door behind her to shut out any witnesses of her indiscretion. Though what witnesses there might be in this almost deserted castle was anybody’s guess.

The door screeched in protest.

Drat!
She closed her eyes.

“Johann, is that you?” came the muffled voice of her husband from the other room, amidst more splashing of water.

She grimaced.
No, not exactly
. She opened her eyes again, rubbed her nose.
Courage, Celia. Courage
.

She crept forward, toward the intriguing doorway.

Another step…and another…around the bed… My, wasn’t it large?

Shivering a little, Cissy thought of the intriguing possibilities a large bed provided. Like the ace of diamonds. Or the eight of spades. Or…the two of clubs!

“Oh my!” she breathed as hot tingles spread through her body.

Hastily, she took another step forward and came to an abrupt halt in the doorway. Her mouth fell open. Her right hand reached up and covered her frantically thumping heart.

For in front of her, her husband stood with his back turned to her, and all he was wearing were his tight moleskin riding trousers and his wooden leg. Muscles bunched and flowed in his shoulders and back as he sponged himself down. His skin glistened wetly, while sweat and dust still clogged his hair. At his nape, the strands lay damply against the skin.

Utterly fascinated, Cissy watched how a droplet of water fell onto a shoulder blade. For a moment it hovered there like a tiny diamond, then Fenris moved, his muscles rippled, and the water slid down toward the groove of his backbone, gained momentum, swept along tiny drops clinging to his skin, slithered down and down and disappeared into the waistband of his trousers.

Cissy drew in a much needed breath of air.
Oh my!

“Johann?”

Starting wildly, she couldn’t prevent a tiny squeak from escaping. Fenris’s head snapped around. His green eyes widened.