Annelise would have been glad to sleep through the morning, but her husband woke her before the dawn. It was dark and cold in the tower chamber, for the fire had burned down to embers. Their nest within her cloak already chilled with his absence. She reached for him in the darkness, but he evaded her touch and continued to dress.

“It is time to leave,” he said with resolve.

Annelise propped herself up on her elbows and gazed around the small tower room. As romantic as their time in this place had been, it was easy to yearn for the luxury they had enjoyed previously at the palace. “This place lacks somewhat in comfort. Could we sleep at the palace tonight?”

Her spouse’s lips thinned as he dressed with haste. “No. I dare not return there.”

That statement captured Annelise’s attention and she sat up, fully awake. “Am I not to see you again?”

“Annelise, I do not know.” He appeared to be distressed.

“Why do you not know?” she asked, her alarm rising. “Why not return to the palace? It is much more comfortable than this place—at least it was before it became so cursedly cold. And if we were together, regardless of the snow, we might manage to warm the bed.”

He pivoted with sudden interest, his eyes bright. “It is cold there now?”

“Yes, the same as here. The garden is covered with snow. Did you not know?”

“No.”

Annelise rose with a sigh and tugged on her stockings and chemise. “It is sad to see the garden. The flowers were so pretty, but I suppose winter had to come at some point.”

“Would you prefer it was warm?” He spoke with such intensity that Annelise glanced up at him.

“Of course. There is not a shutter in the place and the snow drifts inside. For all its discomfort, I might as well remain here with you.” She fought with the knotted string in her chemise for a moment, then flicked a glance in his direction. “I would rather remain with you in the daytime, sir.”

“You cannot.” His tone was that of a man used to making decisions and standing behind them. “You will return to the palace for the day.”

“Will you come tonight?”

“I am not certain.”

Annelise folded her arms across her chest “What if I refuse to go?”

He glanced pointedly at the window. “Then you will not be safe. I have already told you that I take my vows seriously, and I pledged to keep you safe. Get dressed, Annelise, and hasten. We must be back at the palace before the dawn. Make haste!”

Annelise tugged on her boots. She hastened down the stairs, vexed with him beyond belief, and began to retrace her steps toward the palace. She could still see her own footprints in the snow as well as those of the wolf.

Her husband.

His hand closed around her elbow and he hurried her onward.

They strode onward in silence until the palace gates loomed ahead of them. Annelise briefly considered fleeing the prospect of being imprisoned there again.

Then her husband turned to face her, lifting her chin with one finger when she refused to look to him. She knew he would kiss her, and her anger melted at that prospect. His gaze was solemn. He meant to ensure her safety and did not think of her freedom.

“How would you prefer it to be in the palace?” he asked.

“I cannot see how or why it matters. There are many more important issues that we might discuss—”

His finger landed firmly over her lips, and—curse him— his eyes twinkled.

“Warm like summer?” he asked, as though she had said nothing.

Despite herself, Annelise had to smile at his determination, but she smothered the smile as soon as she could. “Not too warm. Like late spring, as it was just after I arrived.”

He turned to glare pointedly at the gates and Annelise followed his glance uncomprehendingly. “I wish that it was so,” he said, and she recalled that the palace was supposed to reflect his will. Then he looked down at her and smiled so that she could not take a full breath. “I entreat you to take Mephistopheles for a ride for me, please, and give him my regrets for my inattention.” He studied her. “Will you?”

“You have yet to entreat me.”

His smile was quick and wicked. “Please, my Annelise, see to the welfare of my horse.”

“I already do,” she replied. “I would rather see to your welfare during the day, sir.” He silenced her argument with a potent kiss, one so heated that she nigh forgot her own name. Annelise felt her annoyance with him fade away. She was breathless when he broke his kiss and warm to her toes.

He knocked firmly on the gates. “Open and admit the lady!” he cried.

The gates did precisely that. Did they also obey her husband’s will?

There was an intriguing thought.

Her spouse simply pressed a kiss to her brow. “Be good,” he murmured, and gave her a little shove toward the palace.

“When will I see you?” she asked.

But he was already gone and gone so completely that she was afraid he had never been there at all. The gates creaked and Annelise darted into the courtyard, fearful they would leave her locked out in the cold and alone.

Only when they slammed shut behind her did she realize that the scent of the air inside had changed. Rivulets ran across the damp ground, all that remained of the snow that had drifted here when she left. The air was mild and humming with the sounds of insects.

It was incredible. Annelise stared in awe, touching the flowers that only the night before had been bent beneath the weight of the snow. The sky was clear blue overhead and a bird swooped low over her.

He had done this for her.

Annelise laughed and strolled through the garden to the palace, certain she was wed to a wonderful, if enigmatic, man. A steaming bath awaited her, along with clean linen and another kirtle. There were boots of fine leather, boots that would be ideal for riding a horse.

Annelise smiled. Not only did her husband attend to her needs, but he cared about her comfort. He had changed the weather within the palace walls purely to please her.

Perhaps he came to love her already.

She would guess her husband’s name. She would convince him to trust her. She would win his reprieve from the djinn’s curse.

And then this marriage would be precisely as she had always hoped wedlock would be.

* * *

Was Rolfe becoming the same pathetic suitor who had brought gifts to Rosalinde like a hapless pup? He had sworn he would never play the fool again, especially for a woman. Rosalinde had deceived him, as had the first djinn and possibly the second, as well.

As might Annelise.

Yet he had changed the temperature inside the walls of the palace, simply to please his wife. He had entrusted her with the tale of the two djinns and had very nearly told her all about himself.

Was he too trusting?

Or was Annelise worthy of his trust?

Surely, her every thought showed in her expressive eyes.

Rolfe spent the day as a wolf, a wolf pre-occupied with thoughts of a certain lady. Did he dare return to her that night? Would she guess his name or learn more of his secrets?

Would she betray him?

Every instinct within Rolfe told him to go to Annelise, to make love with her, to talk to her, to confess the full tale to her.

But he should not risk it.

He could not risk it.

The djinn’s curse warned him of the price he would pay for trusting anyone. What manner of fool was he to doubt what these beings could do, given what they had already done to him?

Annelise was determined to guess his name. What would happen if she discovered his identity in his absence? She had already found his horse and might have seen his shield with his family’s insignia.

If she knew his name, she could go to his family and tell them of his fate. If she knew his name, he could not hide from her anywhere.

Nor from the killer the djinn threatened would seek him out.

By sunset, he had chosen his course. He must somehow convince his wife to abandon her determination to know more about him. He did not imagine that battle would be easily won.

He would certainly have to entreat her.

Surely it was only a knowledge of the risk that made his pulse race as he drew near the palace and Annelise, and not the promise of her company.

* * *

Rolfe recognized the truth as soon as he entered the palace gates. Annelise was in the long pool lined with blue tiles. She was nude and singing to herself, so beautiful that desire halted him in his steps. Rolfe swallowed and stared at his wife.

Her skin was creamy and smooth, her curves ripe. Water splashed over her breasts and ran over her belly as she emptied an urn over herself. The moonlight made her skin seem to glow, and Rolfe watched the water as it fell over her.

He wanted her.

In that moment, Rolfe realized that he had never wanted Rosalinde the way he wanted Annelise. It was not enough to possess Annelise physically; he wanted to talk to her, to confide in her, to learn every secret that hid within her mind.

This was more than desire, far more.

Could it be love?

He must have made some slight sound, for Annelise turned abruptly. Her eyes widened when she saw him, though she did not speak. Their gazes locked and held for a potent moment, one during which Rolfe forgot to breathe, then she smiled a welcome that warmed him to his toes.

When she crooked her finger and beckoned to him, Rolfe knew he was lost.

He strode, fully clothed, into the shallow pool, with an uncharacteristic abandon for his boots. He could not help but smile when he finally caught Annelise in his arms.

“Waiting for someone?” he teased.

She smiled at him, then her arms slipped around his neck. She was pressed against him from chest to knee, his arms were full of her softness, and the fragrance of her skin rose to tease his nostrils.

“Only you, husband,” she whispered. A twinkle glimmered in her eyes as her fingers locked into the hair at his nape. “I guessed that you would come.” She smiled mischievously. Before Rolfe could respond, she pulled down his head for a demanding kiss.

Her ardor took him by surprise, as it had once before, then her tongue was between his teeth. Her hands were locked in his hair and her leg twined around one of his own. It seemed that she wrapped herself around him, inviting him ever closer. It was astonishing to realize that she could give him so much more passion than she already had. Rolfe was so overwhelmed by her kiss that it was all he could do to remain on his feet while he savored it.

When she reached beneath his shirt and ran her hands over his skin, he thought the fire she had launched through him might be too much to bear.

Annelise granted him no reprieve, though, for her agile fingers slid into his chausses. Rolfe gasped her name as she caressed him, then met the gleam in her eyes.

“Temptress,” he murmured.

Annelise laughed. “I give you no more than you have given me.”

It was all the encouragement Rolfe needed. He caught his wife around the waist and lifted her to her toes. “We shall see,” he whispered in mock threat. Annelise gasped and gripped his shoulders as his fingers slipped between her thighs.

Rolfe watched with delight as Annelise arched her back in pleasure, and he wondered what had possessed him to sacrifice the sight of her in lovemaking. Her skin pinkened with a rosy flush as she approached her crest; her nipples tightened; her lips parted as she moaned.

Rolfe could not resist her. He kissed her, loving how she responded in kind. He swallowed her moans, savored her trembling, and was enticed by the way she locked her legs about him.

It was magical how her arousal fanned the flames of his own.

Then Annelise tore her lips from his. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders and her blazing golden gaze locked with his own.

“I want you within me,” she whispered with an urgency that Rolfe could not resist.

Rolfe shed his boots and chausses, kicking them from the pool. He lifted his wife and her buttocks filled his hands. She wound her legs around his waist and Rolfe was surrounded by her sweetness. Her scent tantalized him, her breasts were crushed against his chest, and her warmth drew him deeper within her.

Rolfe moved slowly at first, but Annelise soon began to echo his rhythm. Her wet skin slid against him in an intoxicating manner. He could think of nothing but his desire, his Annelise. Their lovemaking nigh overwhelmed him; indeed, it was more potent each time and he began to think he would never have his fill of her. He managed to last until she reached her pleasure, but in the moment she cried out, he could wait no longer.

He roared with the force of his release. He strained for the heavens even as he felt Annelise do the same. He gave her his all, his heart warming with the awareness that she was his equal in every way.

There was only they two. Rolfe was barely aware of himself falling to his knees in the shallow pool. He gathered Annelise protectively to his chest and they sank together into the water, their mutual bliss complete.

* * *

The man might have invented lovemaking, for all his skill with it.

Annelise nestled against her spouse, more than glad that he had returned to the palace. It seemed quite decadent to embrace in the pool in the moonlight but it was lovely.

If they broke the curse, would the palace disappear? She wondered.

As much as she liked it, she wouldn’t mind. She wanted her husband’s curse broken more than anything else.

And his heart in her possession, of course.

She caressed his shoulder, smiling at the wet state of his chemise, then kissed his ear. He seemed to be dozing a little, but then, he would have been active in the forest all day in his wolf form.

He stirred and gave her a sleepy glance, then smiled.

“Is your name Ethelbert?” she asked.

He blinked as if startled, then abruptly stood up. The water splashed, but he set her upon her feet, his agitation clear. He even stepped away from her, bending to retrieve his wet chausses. “Annelise! You cannot guess my name!”

She watched him, wondering. “You could just tell me what it is.”

“You know that I cannot.”

“No,” she said with care. “I know that you will not. That is different.”

He glared at her. “You do not know what is at stake.”

“And I am unlikely to know, if you refuse to tell me more,” she replied, keeping her tone calm. “Indeed, sir, if I had to guess, I might conclude that you did not trust me.”

He shoved one hand through his hair. “I told you about the curse.”

“Yes, but I suspect that you confided only half the tale,” Annelise replied.

His gaze flew to hers and Annelise saw his fear.

“Yes, I see the truth in your eyes, husband of mine. There is more to this tale than you would have me believe, and I would know the truth. How else can I help you?” She raised a hand when he would have protested. “Our lives are bound together, no matter how much you would prefer that they were not.”

“Annelise! I do not prefer that.”

“And how would I know as much? Surely a woman should know her husband’s name?”

He frowned down at his wet boots, then met Annelise’s eyes. “I cannot tell you my name.”

“Because you do not trust me.” She said it, hoping he would deny it, but saw the truth in his eyes. Annelise inhaled sharply. “I must have my freedom, then.”

He stared at her. “You mean to seek an annulment?”

“Why? Is that what you desire?”

“No, Annelise.” He shook his head with reassuring vigor. “Never that.”

“Neither do I,” she confessed, taking a step closer to him. She laid one hand lightly on his arm, and saw the uncertainty in his gaze. Someone had dealt a cruel blow to his heart, she was certain. If ever she met this Rosalinde, she would have harsh words for that creature. “But I must be able to come and go.”

“You mean to leave?” The notion seemed to trouble him.

“Just for some time during the day. I would ride Mephistopheles in the forest, for example, that he might have a better run.” She cast a glance over her shoulder to the palace and grimaced. “I dislike the sense that I am a prisoner, as fair a prison as this might be.”

“But you mean to return by nightfall?”

Annelise met his gaze. “Do you not trust me, husband?” she asked deliberately.

He looked toward the gates and did not reply.

Which was answer in itself.

“I suspect that if you do not take a risk, sir, the curse will not be broken.”

He heaved a sigh, and Annelise was certain he would refuse her again. But he took a deep breath and turned to meet her gaze with a smile. He bent and brushed his lips across hers. “I would not have you abandon me, my lady,” he murmured. “Nor would I see your situation here steal the fire from your eyes.”

She smiled, sensing a victory.

“You must be within the gates before nightfall,” he said sternly. “Otherwise, my pledge to defend you will be worthless. The forest is not safe for a woman alone in the dark.”

His stern manner could not steal her sense of triumph. She knew it had not been an easy choice for him, and she was encouraged that he had decided in his favor. “But I had thought to meet you at the tower tomorrow eve,” she whispered. “You had said this morning that you did not wish to return here.”

His eyes twinkled. “Do you propose a tryst, my wanton lady wife?”

“I do, sir.” She smiled and he laughed.

“If you bring food and a blanket then we will have greater comfort than last night,” he agreed and Annelise laughed with pleasure.

“Oh, you will have more of a feast than you bargain for, husband of mine,” she teased before she kissed him once more. The familiar heat rose between them once again and she knew with sudden certainty how she would reward him for his choice.

“The bed awaits, sir,” she whispered when she had a chance, smiling that she did not have to make the suggestion twice. “I want the chamber lit with candles that I might see you fully.”

“It is my desire to see you, my Annelise, so you will find it is already so.”

He swung her into his arms and carried her to the bed they had shared on so many nights. Indeed, he loved her with such enthusiasm that Annelise could only believe that her victory was more than half won.

* * *

Rolfe was outside the gates the next morning when he felt the change come upon him. He winced as he was transformed to a wolf once more, wishing that he could have remained with Annelise this day.

By giving her command over the gates, he was trusting her not to abandon him.

The very possibility stole his breath away. He could not imagine his life without his passionate and lively bride. He wanted to keep her captive forever, to ensure that she awaited him, just as she had the night before.

Yet he had realized when she made her request that if he denied her, if he kept her cloistered, that might steal the sparkle from her eyes. Had she not despised the convent, where women lived in seclusion from the world? Annelise, his Annelise, needed to be free to possess the vigor that he so admired in her.

But what would she do with her newfound freedom?

Where would she go?

How could he ensure her safety when she left the palace?

There was only one good solution.

Rolfe would have to watch over his lady by day as well as by night.

* * *

Annelise awakened to bright morning sunlight and an empty place beside her in the great bed. In truth, she had not expected otherwise, though she ran a hand over the linens, wishing her husband might be there one morning.

Had he kept his promise to her?

She dressed in haste and raced through the garden, hastening to the great gates. They were closed, but she had not expected them to be standing open.

She took a deep breath, straightened, and hoped. “Open,” she commanded.

The gates yawned wide, opening slowly and majestically, revealing the snowy forest to her view. The sky was clear over the forest, and the wind crisp. The sunlight made crystals in the snow sparkle like jewels beyond the walls, and a bird called to its mate as it swooped low through the barren branches of the trees.

He had kept his pledge.

He trusted her.

Annelise clasped her hands together and smiled, her heart pounding as if it would burst. “Close.”

The gates obeyed her once again, and she shouted in triumph.

“I command you to open!” she said.

It worked again. Annelise strode beneath the broad archway of the gates, hesitating only when she made to step over the line where the closed gates met.

That wintry wind stole around her bare ankles, reminding her only too well that the weather outside varied from inside.

What if the gates closed and locked her out?

Annelise retreated inside. “Close,” she commanded and the gates did her bidding again. She hurried back to the palace. She donned all her traveling garments—even the wool stockings, which clung to her skin in the heat of the palace— and draped her fur-lined cloak over her arm. Heart in mouth, she returned to the gates.

“Open,” she said and they swept wide open. Her heart raced as she stepped through the portal. Annelise realized just how tall the gates were, how broad the entryway, how high and unassailable the palace walls.

She felt very small and wondered whether these massive gates would continue to obey her. She paused to consider the clear line where the snow of the outside world began and the green grass of the courtyard ended.

Annelise took a deep breath and stepped into the snow. It crunched as her foot sank into its whiteness.

As soon as she had taken the second step, the gates slammed behind her.

Annelise stumbled forward a few steps from the force of their closing, then pivoted to find them closed against her again. Panic flooded through her.

“Open!” she cried, hearing the desperation in her own voice.

The gates opened without hesitation.

Annelise lunged back through the portal, clasping her hands together as the gates closed behind her. She inhaled deeply of the garden scent within the walls, then smiled in her relief.

She could come and go as she wished.

Her husband cared about her. There could be no doubt. He had trusted her enough to give her something she desired and that was no small thing.

She would take Mephistopheles for a ride, just as she had promised.

And she would reward her husband richly at the tower that night. Annelise strode toward the stables, planning the feast she would offer to him.

The man would have no doubt that she was pleased.

* * *

The wind was crisp in Annelise’s face as she rode the destrier. Though it was cold outside the palace walls, it was a fine day. The sky was blue, the snow sparkled, and a contented Mephistopheles thundered through the forest.

She found herself smiling at the destrier’s pleasure, for he ran with abandon.

They rode to the east until the sun was high overhead, then Annelise turned Mephistopheles back toward the palace. She would not become lost in this forest again. She kept the sun on her left and followed the imprints of the destrier’s hooves in the snow. The sun was warming her shoulders through her cloak when the palace’s smooth walls appeared in the distance ahead. She could see the white walls even through the trees.

A surge of satisfaction rolled through her as she urged Mephistopheles onward.

Then Annelise heard the clink of horses’ trappings.

How could there be horses and riders at their remote location?

Mephistopheles flicked his ears and slowed slightly at the sound. She peered through the trees, wondering whether her ears had deceived her. They had not, for she caught glimpses of color as someone or something moved back and forth before the palace gates.

Someone waited there.

Perhaps admission had been requested, but there had been no response.

Perhaps a lone traveler sought shelter for the night.

Did the gates remain closed because she was away, or because her husband did not wish this visitor to enter?

How could she return to the sanctuary of the palace without passing the visitor?

Annelise pulled the destrier to a halt. She saw flashes of silver catch the sunlight and spied green cloth. She guessed there were no fewer than four steeds, although it was difficult to see them clearly through the forest.

A man called out and two men responded, their voices making Annelise feel curiously vulnerable.

Voices, not a single voice. At least three men and four horses. Her heart skipped with the realization that she was outnumbered. Annelise peered through the trees once more and saw that at least one man had dismounted.

Clearly, they had no intention of leaving soon.

The sun disappeared behind a cloud and the wind became chilly. The destrier shuddered and she knew he had to be brushed down.

Perhaps they had business with her husband.

She should act as hostess in his absence.

That thought sent Annelise’s heels digging into her steed’s side. She had a responsibility as lady of the palace. Her spouse would find neither her manners nor her boldness lacking.

And surely no harm could come to her within the walls of a palace so attuned to her husband’s wishes?

The men turned as she approached, but their helmets concealed their faces from her view. She rode through the last of the trees proudly, noting the stance of their leader.

There was something familiar about his garb, about that deep green, about the silver diamond emblazoned in the middle of his shield. Annelise struggled to recall, but the details of life before her arrival here were elusive.

Then he doffed his helmet and her heart sank. “Lady Annelise de Sayerne!”

“Enguerrand de Roussineau,” she replied with much less pleasure.

“Well met, my lady!”

Annelise might have argued that. She had no desire to see this man again, and disliked the notion of inviting him inside the gates. She inclined her head politely. “Good day, Enguerrand. What brings you to this part of the forest?”

Enguerrand strolled through the falling snow toward her. His two accompanying knights watched avidly, their trio of squires peering out from behind the party’s mounts.

Three men, three boys and six steeds. God in heaven, what would she do?

The clouds gathered overhead with greater speed but Annelise raised her chin proudly.

Enguerrand lifted a gloved hand to stroke Mephistopheles’ neck, admiration in his eyes. The destrier snorted and stepped aside. The knight arched a brow as he met Annelise’s gaze. “A surprisingly skittish creature for his size.”

Annelise smiled as sweetly as she was able. How she disliked this man! It was more than his evident self-interest, for her distrust of him was deep and instinctive. “He is in need of a brush after his ride,” she said. “I must not linger.”

“He is a markedly fine beast for a lady.” His gaze flicked to hers. “Especially one destined for a convent when last we met. Do the nuns ride such valuable destriers these days? Or have you found an accommodating patron?”

The insinuation was most inappropriate.

Annelise felt her eyes narrow. “I do not believe my situation is of your concern, sir,” she said. She tugged Mephistopheles’ reins, and the steed stepped smartly toward the gates. “I have already asked what brings you this way, yet you have given no response.”

Enguerrand bowed low. “It was most churlish of me not to answer, fair Annelise.” He folded his hands behind his back and regarded her. “It seems that Bertrand, and hence Tulley, were concerned about your arrival at the convent. No word was returned, you see, and there were doubts as to your safety.”

But the tracks showed that Yves and the others had ridden toward Beauvoir. Had they not reached that stronghold? Or did Enguerrand tell her only part of what he knew?

Annelise guessed it was the latter.

“I am safe, as you can see.” She sat straighter. “I am surprised that you should undertake the quest to be certain.”

“Sweet Annelise, my admiration for you knows no bounds.”

Annelise did not reply to that.

“You should have wed me when you had the chance.”

“Alas, that opportunity has been lost.”

Enguerrand arched a brow. His gaze dancing over her garb, the horse, and the palace gates before them. “What cozy nest have you found for yourself, Annelise?”

His men snickered and her mouth went dry. “Make your accusation clearly, sir.”

“I make no accusation.” Enguerrand’s eyes grew cold. “I have only questions. Yours is lavish attire for a bride of Christ.”

“I am not a bride of Christ, after all.”

“I thought you chose the convent over me?”

“I did, but matters changed.”

Enguerrand leaned forward, his gloved hand closing on Mephistopheles’ reins. The destrier nickered and stamped but the knight held fast. “Because you chose to warm a man’s bed rather than take your vows?”

“I took vows of another kind,” Annelise replied. “I chose my husband over both convent and you.”

“Husband?” Enguerrand’s eyes flashed. He was sufficiently surprised that Annelise was able to snatch the reins from his grip.

She rode toward the palace gates with Mephistopheles, then turned the horse adroitly. The party of men watched her. Enguerrand’s gloved hand clenched in a fist as he glared at her. Annelise did not believe for a moment that Enguerrand had come out of concern for her safety.

Then Enguerrand’s dark eyes narrowed, and Annelise knew Enguerrand sought the prize he had desired all along. Quinn must not have returned as yet. Perhaps Tulley grew impatient with the delay. Enguerrand cared nothing for her, and Annelise knew instinctively that once Sayerne was under his hand— if indeed that possibility ever came to fruition—he would have no use for the woman who had brought him the prize.

Should Quinn subsequently return home, even more woe would have fallen upon the sorry bride Annelise might have been. As Enguerrand’s wife, she might have shared her mother’s fate.

Gratitude flowed through her that she had not been fool enough to accept his offer.

“You are wed in truth?” Enguerrand demanded.

“Do you suggest that I lie, sir?”

He frowned. “No, it cannot be so. You could not have wed another.”

“I assure you, sir, that I have done so.”

Enguerrand folded his arms across his chest as he watched her. “No. I will need more than your bold assertion to convince me, Annelise.”

Annelise tugged her glove from her left hand. The garnet winked as she held it up to view. One of Enguerrand’s knights coughed under his breath, evidently impressed with the token. “This is my husband’s ring, placed upon my finger at my nuptials,” she said. “And this is our home.”

Enguerrand’s gaze roved over the high walls. “If this place is your home, why then are the gates barred against you?”

Annelise took a deep breath, hoping against hope that the gates would not choose to be fickle at this precise moment. She murmured her command. “Open.”

Enguerrand’s eyes widened as the broad gates swung back with no sign of a keeper. Annelise rode through the portal. “You were wrong, Enguerrand,” she called over her shoulder. “This is my home.”

She had not expected Enguerrand to recover so quickly. He dove suddenly for the gates and slipped through them before they closed behind her.

“You dare too much!” she said, shocked by his audacity.

The knight, though, smiled. “Fair Annelise!” He gestured to the darkening sky, then to the courtyard of the palace. “Surely you would not condemn my party to a wintry night when your abode is so large.”

Annelise had no ready argument for that. Hospitality was a Christian duty.

No matter how much she despised the man.

He could not know that she was alone within these walls.

Surely her husband’s desire would protect her?

Annelise hoped as much.

Enguerrand continued with such confidence that Annelise wished she had a reason to deny him. “It is too late to return to Beauvoir before the twilight, and it is said there are hungry wolves abroad this year, since the winter came so early.”

Annelise knew she had a responsibility to uphold her spouse’s reputation. She cleared her throat. “I apologize for my rudeness, Enguerrand. You must understand that your appearance surprised me.”

“But of course, my lady.” As he bowed low, his gaze roved, as if he would assess the value of the holding. “There is no need for apologies between friends such as we two.”

Friends. The very suggestion made her shudder. Annelise could not bear the thought of having Enguerrand within these walls any longer than absolutely necessary, but there was little choice. Surely first thing on the morrow, he could return to Beauvoir.

Annelise would be certain the suggestion was raised at dinner.

She inclined her head. “I thank you for your understanding. Welcome.”

Enguerrand beckoned to his party with a flick of his wrist. He eyed the garden, sniffed the air, then cast a questioning look in Annelise’s direction. “May I conclude that the rest of your party chose to remain here rather than return to chilly Beauvoir?”

“No,” Annelise admitted, guessing from his tone that he knew precisely what had happened to Yves. “Our party was scattered by a pack of hunting wolves. My husband saved my life.”

“How gallant.” Enguerrand glanced out over the lush gardens with a thoughtful frown. “And we shall meet your inimitable spouse this evening at the board, I suppose?”

In that moment, Annelise recalled her vow to tryst with her husband at the tower. He would not be returning this eve—and she had to concoct a tale. “Unfortunately, my husband enjoys the hunt this week. I am not certain of the timing of his return.”

“Ah, how unfortunate that we may miss him.” Enguerrand smiled, clearly thinking the very opposite. “I shall hope for his early return.”

Dread rose within Annelise as she commanded the gates to open and watched Enguerrand’s party move inside the walls. She led the way to the stables, wondering what manner of difficulties would result from showing hospitality to Enguerrand.

It was unsettling to have him within these walls, and Annelise knew she would not sleep this night. How could she keep her tryst with her spouse? She dared not risk leaving Enguerrand alone in the palace. Nor could she afford to lead him to her spouse, not without knowing his intent. Would her husband fear that she had no desire to see him? Surely not!

Surely he would see the reason for her actions when she explained.

She would be the dutiful wife, guard his home, and confess all to him as soon as she could.

Perhaps he would come to the palace when she did not appear at the tower.

Annelise would hope for that.

* * *

Rolfe was at the tower before the sun even touched the western horizon. The sky was overcast and snow had begun to fall. He bit back his disappointment when he discovered that Annelise was not there.

Of course, she had not arrived as yet. He circled the tower in his wolf form. She knew that he did not change shape until dark, and he had forbidden her to watch his change.

But still Rolfe paced, impatient for night to fall. He worried about her making the journey in the darkness and wondered if he should meet her at the palace gates. But he had pledged to meet her here, at the tower. He had said he would await her and seeking her at the palace might make her believe he did not trust her. The kernel of dread that had lodged within him that morn outside the palace gates had haunted him all the day.

What if Annelise left him?

What if she betrayed him?

What would he do without her?

Rolfe paced as he watched the sky, relief flooding through him when the last vestige of the sun’s light was gone and he became himself again. He charged up the tower’s stairs and seized his clothes. Hauling his shirt over his head as he crossed the room, he peered anxiously toward the palace.

There was not a flicker of movement in the forest.

But she would come. Rolfe paced the tower room restlessly, haunted all the while by recollections of loving Annelise beside the small fire here.

When next he glanced out the window, the sky had darkened to indigo and was filled with myriad stars.

Still there was no movement in the forest below.

Trepidation rose within him. Why did she not come?

He knew the gates had obeyed his dictate, although he should have expected nothing else. He had watched her in the morning as she tried the gates. Her radiant smile had convinced Rolfe that his choice had been a good one. At the time, Annelise’s obvious joy had been enough to dispel all of Rolfe’s doubts. Now, in darkness and solitude, he was no longer certain.

What could keep her from his side, other than a lack of regard for him? Perhaps she felt she had no need of him any longer. Perhaps she did not burn with the same desire for his company that he felt for hers.

Every passing moment fed Rolfe’s doubts.

He had followed her and Mephistopheles only until she turned back with the destrier. Convinced of her safety, he had retreated to a burrow to sleep in the forest.

What if Annelise had not returned to the palace? What if she had been injured?

Rolfe stared into the blackness as the snow began to fall, and his hands clenched on the base of the window. He had pledged to wait for her here, so to seek her out at the palace would imply that he thought little of her word.

He had chosen to trust the lady and trust her he would. No doubt she had fallen asleep or some such and would come along shortly. He could not imagine how or why that might have occurred, but the possibility that she might be in peril troubled him deeply.

Rolfe would wait until the moon rose, then seek his missing bride.

Until then, he paced the chamber in the tower, impatient to ensure his lady’s safety.