Annelise’s husband had one blue eye and one silver-gray.

Just like the wolf.

No. It could not be so.

He held her gaze steadily, as if inviting her to make the most remarkable conclusion.

“The wolf that drove me through the palace gates had eyes like yours,” she whispered, hoping he would argue with her. He did not. “And that same wolf showed me the tracks of Yves’ horse today, then led me to this tower.” She looked past his shoulder, just to be certain, but was unsurprised to see that the wolf was gone.

She understood where the wolf had gone, even though all logic fought against it. She recalled snippets of childhood tales about those who changed form. They were chilling tales, told on windswept winter nights and intended to keep children huddled in their beds.

He had confessed to being cursed, but still, it seemed too strange to believe.

“No,” she murmured, hearing the doubt fade from her own tone. “It cannot be.”

“But it can be,” he said with quiet conviction. “Because it is so.”

“You said you were cursed.”

“Would you not count this fate as one?”

Annelise nodded, still amazed.

“And what do you think, Annelise, now that you know the truth?” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Do you want to leave? Would you prefer to be released from our match than to hear my tale?”

“No,” she said immediately and knew it was true. “I want to know all of your truth.”

He held her gaze for a long moment. “And if I refuse to tell you?”

“I will leave.” Simply saying the words caused a lump to lodge in Annelise’s throat. “It must be this night that there is a full confession between us.” Annelise was surprised that she had no doubts, even knowing what she already did about her spouse. Despite the unconventionality of their match, this man treated her with more respect and tenderness than anyone she had ever known. She had vowed to help him find a solution to his woes, though she had not guessed their full extent at the time.

“I do not want to leave,” she confessed when he did not reply. “Tell me the truth instead.”

“And yet it is a fearsome tale,” he admitted. “It seems unreasonable that I should share my truth, while your secrets remain locked within your heart.”

“I have no secrets,” Annelise said, then raised a hand to her lips at the realization that the words were not true.

She had one.

Her spouse shook his head, his gaze knowing. “Why did you cower, my Annelise? I have never shown you cruelty, but you expected it of me. There is a secret behind your fear, to be sure.”

She swallowed and nodded. “I do have one secret,” she admitted softly.

“And I have one.” He offered his hand. “And so, a bargain, wife of mine. Your secret for mine.”

Annelise met his steady gaze and knew that the future of their marriage depended upon her choice in this moment. She had never wished to share this tale, and yet, there was no choice. It was worth the price to give her match with this man a chance of a future.

“You will not pacify me with the tale of some hunting romp, sir,” she scolded, teasing him in the hope of making him smile. “I will have the tale of your curse or no other.”

“I doubt that you could ever be pacified, Annelise.” His smile was fleeting but enough to make her heart leap. “Nor would I want you to be.” He arched a brow, his admiration for her making his eyes glow. “And your tale must be of equal worth, not a confession that you have always been fond of apple tart.”

Annelise laughed. “Fair enough, sir.”

He offered his hand to her and Annelise swallowed, then placed her hand within his. His fingers closed over hers, his grip sure and his skin as warm as the glow in her eyes. She felt awareness of him kindle and grow, and she swallowed that she could find him so very handsome, despite his curse. Their gazes locked and held, the small tower chamber seeming to heat between them as she found an answering desire in his own eyes.

Perhaps she would feel less alone if someone else knew her secret.

Annelise took a deep breath. “I take your bargain, sir.”

He smiled, then tugged her closer, pulling her into his embrace. “This, my lady, is a wager that must be sealed with a kiss.”

His kiss was as passionate and commanding as ever, his touch sending heat and desire surging through her. Nothing could have reassured her so much as her husband’s touch, and when he deepened his kiss, slanting his mouth over her own, Annelise knew she had made the right choice.

* * *

Rolfe’s heart tightened as he watched his bold bride prepare to tell her tale. She composed her features with a care that revealed the importance of what she meant to confess. He granted her the time she seemed to need, feeding the fire and seeing to her comfort as well as he could. Her expression was impassive and Rolfe knew that she was lost in some painful recollection.

It humbled him that she intended to share the tale with him. She could not be giving a performance, as Rosalinde would have done. Rolfe could see that this telling would be painful for Annelise—and her trust bode well for their future.

Indeed, there was much about his wife that fed the admiration he had originally felt for her. He admired her boldness, her outright bravery, the way she lifted her chin when she did not want him to guess at her fear. He liked the passion with which she greeted life, the way she threw her heart into everything she did.

Rolfe recalled the sweet press of Annelise against him. She had been relieved to see him. She had been glad of his survival and the certainty of that launched a warm glow within him. He had been wrong to doubt her.

Rolfe refused to consider the last part of the djinn’s curse. No, he would not let a threat keep him from the prize of a marriage filled with trust.

He would not let the djinn cheat him of Annelise.

He sat on the opposite side of the fire, wanting to watch her as she told her tale. Annelise kept her gaze fixed on the dancing flames.

Finally, she began her tale.

“Once upon a time, not that far from where we sit, a woman was given as bride to a lord. I do not know whether she was happy with the match or whether it was simply the arrangement of her parents. Perhaps she did not particularly care who she wed as long as she would be kept in comfort. It matters little what she thought, for the reality was destined to be vastly different from what any woman might hope to gain from marriage.”

Annelise frowned and clasped her hands tightly together. Rolfe knew that this was no abstract tale, but was content to let her tell it in her own way. Was she the noblewoman in question? Or was this a tale of her parents?

“Her lord husband, she soon learned, was possessed of a temper. When he did not have his way, he beat anyone he could, and his wife, since she was convenient to his hand, soon came to bear the brunt of his anger.”

Rolfe anticipated the direction of the tale. He hoped with all his might that Annelise had not been so abused, but then, he had been certain that she was a maiden when they first met abed.

“At first, it was an infrequent occurrence, and when the lady bore a son to her husband in short order, she escaped his wrath for a goodly time. It was said the lord was in uncommonly good spirits for several years.”

This could not be Annelise’s own tale, Rolfe reasoned. He knew she had not borne a child. How then did she know this unfortunate lady? It was clear she cared about her.

Annelise shook her head. “But those years passed, and the lady did not ripen with the lord’s seed again. Worse, matters did not proceed well between him and his son; soon the boy defied him openly. It was said they were two of a kind, though some insisted the son was more cruel than his father. The lord was furious, however, at the boy’s defiance, and began to vent his wrath on both son and wife. The overlord, who was a perceptive man or perhaps one who heard many rumors, intervened suddenly. He arrived at their gates, insisting he must take the son beneath his care. The tale was that the boy would begin his training as a knight, but the father dared not protest too much, as he was owing his tithes to that same lord.”

It was a common enough practice for a nobleman’s son to be trained for his spurs by another nobleman, though Rolfe imagined this boy might have been younger than was typical.

“The boy also was the lord’s sole heir. When the overlord refused to confess where the son would train, this vexed the lord mightily. The tale was that he had not yet decided which of his liege lords would do the honor, but in time, it became clear that the overlord had no intention of sharing the truth with the father. The concession and the secrecy enraged the lord. I have no doubt that the lady bore the brunt of her spouse’s frustration after the departure of their guest.”

Annelise swallowed. “Of course, the overlord did not trust the father to leave the son in peace, but the violent lord perceived himself to be without issue, an affront to his pride and his fortunes. He demanded another son of his wife, but the lady’s womb did not ripen.”

Rolfe expected the tale to worsen and he proved to be right.

“When the lord drank—and he did so often—his displeasure made itself known, and the servants would hear the lady cry out in the night,” Annelise confessed. “In the morn, she would sport bruises, usually hidden but always noted by her maids. No one dared to interfere, however, for fear that they would bear the weight of their lord’s fists themselves.

“The lord accused his wife of all manner of evil, even in front of the servants. She was a witch; she was a sinner; she was an adulteress; she deliberately denied him his sole desire or she was being punished for her sins—and he was the one to pay the price. The lady bore his abuses silently, probably because she did not dare incur yet more of his wrath by challenging him outright.

“Remarkably, despite all this abuse, or perhaps because she knew there was only one way to make it stop, the lady bore fruit once more. The lord, needless to say, was delighted, and made great plans for this son.”

Annelise swallowed, and Rolfe watched the light play over her features. Her voice, when she continued, was tight.

“The son, sadly, showed the poor grace to be born a daughter.”

Rolfe had a very good idea who that daughter must have been.

The boy then would have been Quinn, taken from the household before Annelise had even been conceived.

She fell silent for a long moment, then finally cleared her throat to continue. “The lord, of course, was enraged by the defiance of this infant and also that of his lady wife. To his thinking, all in his household should have done their utmost to ensure his satisfaction, so he felt that both child and wife had betrayed him. The overlord, though, had sent an armed guard to watch over the lady while she nursed the babe. The lord took out his vengeance upon his villeins, and the land soon abounded with his bastards and his bruises.

“None of those sons were good enough, though, for none bore the stamp of legitimacy.”

Annelise flicked a glance at Rolfe, and he did not look away from the pain in her eyes. He could not imagine that this sweet lady had endured a childhood with such a father and not turned out to be much like him. His admiration for her redoubled and he did not hide his feelings from her. She stared into his eyes for a long moment, then swallowed and frowned into the flames once more.

“The armed guard, of course, could not remain forever. When the daughter was weaned at two years of age, the soldiers left.” Her brows arched and her voice broke slightly, though she did not look up. She traced a pattern on the floor with her fingertips. “They left the lady and her child alone in that keep with a lord who was good at saving his anger.”

Annelise flicked a glance around the barren tower as if recalling her urge to escape. Rolfe saw tears gleam on her lashes. “They say a small child cannot recall events.” Her gaze locked with Rolfe’s. “They are wrong,” she said bitterly. “I recall every moment of that night. It is carved upon my memory so clearly that it might have occurred just hours ago.”

She spoke more quickly, and Rolfe hoped that sharing the tale would lessen its power. “I remember the fear on my mother’s face when he knocked. I remember the sweet cajoling of his voice as he lied, to convince her to unlock the door. I recall every heartbeat of the time that it took her to cross the chamber, then to lift the latch. Even then, I sensed her doubt.” Annelise shook her head. “But I suppose she did not feel she had the right to refuse her rightful husband entry to his own solar. And perhaps she believed he would not harm her in front of me.”

She fell silent.

“Your mother was wrong,” Rolfe guessed gently.

Annelise nodded. “She was wrong.” She looked smaller and more vulnerable, a mere shadow of the bold wife he knew so well, and Rolfe moved to her side. No wonder she had wanted to marry a man whose love she could rely upon! He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and drew her close, then captured her hand in his. She was cold and he felt her tremble at her memory.

“I can see him still as he leaped through that doorway, as drunken and disheveled as ever he was,” she confessed, her voice thick with unshed tears. “I can see him lock the portal behind himself, sealing us into the chamber with him. I can see my mother retreating and hear his bellow that she had shirked her obligation to grant him a son.” She shook her head and Rolfe saw tears fall.

“And then he began to beat her,” she whispered. “It was horrifying to watch, for he derived pleasure from making the pain last. My mother bled, she wept, she cried, she begged, but nothing could turn him from his path. His eyes glowed, I swear to you he laughed. His curses continued until my mother fell to the floor. When she did not move again, he kicked her, but she was utterly still.”

Tears streamed down Annelise’s cheeks, and Rolfe held her tightly. He sensed that she needed to purge herself of this tale, and he was honored to be the one entrusted with it. He would not risk interrupting her, though his heart ached for what she had witnessed.

And she had seen this a child. It was beyond wicked.

“The solar was silent. The blood seeped from her limp body. I do not know whether she was dead or whether she lingered in a haze of pain.” She shook her head, burrowing her face against his chest. “It was odd then, the change I saw in him. He whispered her name, but she made no sound. He bent over her, touched her throat, straightened. The anger melted from his face, leaving a much smaller man. He looked suddenly like the child I was, lost and certainly confused. Then fear flickered across his face, fear that he would be caught at what he had unwittingly done.

“He glanced around the solar, and I remember well the cold dread that clutched my heart when he saw me standing in my cradle.”

Annelise’s hands grasped fistfuls of her kirtle. Rolfe wished there might have been something he could do to reassure her, yet knew the best salve was to let her talk, and to hold her fast against his side.

“His eyes blazed with anger again and I knew he would kill me, too. Even at that age, I understood that I had seen something I should not, and I feared the consequences. I flinched, I tried to hide in my cradle as I heard him start across the room. I even tried to climb out of the small bed to save myself.

If he had touched Annelise, Rolfe knew he would hunt down her father and force a reckoning from him.

“Then there was a knock at the door.” Annelise caught her breath. “He halted and we both stared at the wooden panel. The châtelain had brought the warmed goat’s milk my mother had begun to give me at night in lieu of her own milk. ‘For the heiress,’ the châtelain said from the corridor outside, and the bloodlust faded from my father’s eyes.”

Annelise exhaled shakily. When she continued, her voice was flat and matter-of-fact. “He had no heir without me and the châtelain had reminded him in the nick of time. I knew then that he would not kill me, but it was only much later that I understood why.”

She fell silent and Rolfe felt her trembling.

“Did he beat you?” Rolfe asked, fighting to keep his own anger from his tone.

Annelise shook her head. “Never. I was always afraid that he would. Although truly, I wonder now whether he feared that I might tell my tale out of spite if he beat me.” She shrugged. “It ended up that he had not the chance.”

“Surely your mother’s death was discovered?”

“But it was explained with a lie. My mother apparently had an accident when riding alone with my father early the next morn. I expect he carried her out of the solar and flung her from her horse’s saddle in the forest, then lied to all and sundry.”

“They must have guessed. Or someone must have seen.”

“All feared Jerome de Sayerne and, rightly so, if he would kill his own wife.” Annelise took a deep breath. “The overlord, when he heard—and I do not know exactly how much he heard, for even my father could not have silenced all of his servants’ gossip—arrived with great haste at our gates. Tulley insisted to my father that a daughter had need of feminine influence in her upbringing. I was consigned to a convent within the week and spent my childhood in the nuns’ fine care.”

The stress Annelise laid on the word fine told Rolfe her true opinion of the convent life. Still, he was grateful to Tulley and to the sisters of the convent. Their custody had ensured that his lady had not been beaten. He wondered how much of a donation this overlord Tulley had made to the convent, and whether he would desire something of Annelise in return.

Rolfe was astonished that such an experience should have left so few scars upon Annelise. She had trusted him and only now he saw how difficult that must have been for her, and what a measure of the strength of her nature. It seemed that survival of hardship had only forged Annelise into yet a stronger woman than she might have been otherwise. She had a rare determination to savor life, which he could only admire.

A weaker soul might have become bitter or conniving.

Not unlike Rosalinde.

But in the wake of her confession, it was time to make her smile. Rolfe deliberately made his tone teasing. “I must confess that is a difficult image for me to conjure,” he said.

Annelise glanced up, a question in her magnificent eyes.

Rolfe smiled down at her. “You in a convent. Silent. Biddable. Spending hours at embroidery.” He rolled his eyes and she began to smile.

“You should not have wed me if that was the kind of woman you wanted.”

“On the contrary.” Rolfe lifted her chin with a fingertip, compelling her to see the truth in his eyes. “I should find such a woman insufferably boring. I have no doubt that she would think me unworthy of rescue, and I know I would be unable to rely upon her aid in any matter of import. I like your passion and your impulsiveness, my Annelise, and I know I shall never desire you to be otherwise.”

She flushed scarlet but appeared to be pleased. “The nuns were glad enough to be rid of me when my father summoned me home. Their switch was worn out, after all.”

Rolfe did not miss the fleeting reference to her father and felt his eyes narrow. “And why did he summon you? How could he have done as much? Or did your overlord forget you?”

“Tulley did not forget. Perhaps he thought my father had learned his lesson. As to why, my father was considering the possibility of recognizing a bastard son several years younger than me. Perhaps he wanted to see what kind of woman I had become.”

“And whether you had forgotten what you had seen,” Rolfe guessed.

“In all likelihood.” Annelise pleated her kirtle between her fingers. “Tulley escorted me home to Sayerne and he stayed a week. When he rode out, he left two men behind, the tale being that my father had need of more warriors to defend his walls. I do not believe any of us were fooled.” Rolfe nodded approval of this Tulley and his schemes. “I tried to avoid my father, but once or twice in that year before he died, I flinched when he approached me. I fear he guessed the truth. He was unresolved as to what to do about Yves when he died.”

“I hope your father died as befits a man of his deeds,” Rolfe said, and heard the thrum of anger in his words.

Annelise glanced up. “He died alone in his sleep, abandoned by his villeins, his property sliding into ruin about him. He had taken to abusing the holding and the tenants, for lack of any family to bear the brunt of his anger, and they had fled when they could. He was impoverished and the holding was no better than a ruin.”

Rolfe felt satisfaction at this. A man who raised his hand against his wife deserved no less. “What happened to Yves? And your older brother?” He pretended to know nothing of Quinn, wanting to know more of what Annelise believed to be true of that man. “What was his name? Did he ever return?”

Annelise held up a single finger, familiar fire in her eyes. “One tale. We agreed to trade tales, one for each, sir. I have not heard yours, yet you demand a second from me.”

The lady’s opinion of that was more than clear, though Rolfe could not regret his own curiosity. He wanted to know all of her tales and learn her every secret. How many others could have approached marriage to a stranger with as little reticence as Annelise, after having lived the tale she had? Rolfe was astonished that she had not been more cruelly scarred by her father’s actions.

He met her gaze and saw an uncommon resilience in those eyes. He felt a glow of pride that this woman was his wife. The trust he had been so reluctant to grant now seemed inevitable.

“Forgive me, my Annelise. I want only to know what has made you the fascinating woman you have become.”

She blushed again. “Do not say what you do not mean.”

“I never say what I do not mean.”

Annelise stared at him as though she did not dare to believe him. Rolfe could not deny the impulse to press a kiss into her palm. “I have never met a woman like you.” As soon as the words had left his mouth, Rolfe recognized the resonance of truth within them.

“Not even Rosalinde?” she asked.

Rolfe was shocked. “Rosalinde?”

How could Annelise know about Rosalinde?

What did Annelise know about Rosalinde?

“You call her name in your sleep,” Annelise said, her eyes narrowing as she watched him.

“I do?”

Annelise nodded. “Who is she?” she asked, hurt in her tone. “Do you love her?”

“I knew her long ago,” Rolfe replied.

Annelise folded her arms across her chest and her expression took on a familiar resolve. “You do not answer my question. Do you love her still?”

“No,” Rolfe confessed, because it was true.

“Indeed? To whom do you make love when you touch me?”

Rolfe was amazed. “Annelise!”

Annelise scrambled to her feet and crossed the chamber, regarding him from the other side of the fire. “I will know this truth, sir.” She raised a finger. “And it will not replace the telling of your tale.”

Rolfe was vexed, then realized that Rosalinde made trouble again, even when she was absent.

He stood and faced Annelise, holding her gaze so she would see that he spoke the truth. “Rosalinde was a woman who deceived me with her charms, then cast me aside. It was long in the past and has nothing to do with what is between us, save that she was the one who taught me to be wary of granting my trust.”

Annelise frowned. “Why did she cast you aside?”

“If I am to have but one tale of yours, then you may have only one of mine,” he reminded her firmly. “Choose which it shall be.”

Annelise, evidently reassured, smiled. “You know which tale I desire.” Her eyes twinkled in a most delightful way. “Surely you do not mean to break your promise, sir?”

No. He did not. It was time to trust his lady wife.

“Of course not. A wager made is a wager kept.” Rolfe indicated the place where they had been seated just moments before. “Will you join me, Annelise?”

* * *

Annelise wrapped her arms about her knees as her husband fed the fire. He frowned as he completed the task and it was clear he was considering how to present his story.

She took advantage of his diverted attention to study him. He was as finely wrought as her fingers had told her during those nights at the palace, and she tingled with the awareness that this man had touched her so intimately.

Who would have guessed that she might have gained so fine a husband by chance alone? It was more than appearance, for he was honorable and kind. He treated her well, he spoke to her with respect, he promised her safety in his presence.

And now, apparently, he intended to explain himself to her, in a manner unprecedented by men Annelise had known.

She could easily become accustomed to such indulgence.

He crouched on the opposite side of the fire and rocked on the balls of his feet, his hands loosely locked before him and his gaze fixed on the fire. “I shall tell you what happened, although you may not believe it to be true.”

Annelise knew she would.

He cleared his throat and began without meeting Annelise’s gaze. “These past years I have been in Outremer, on crusade, and on my last night there, was given a gift of farewell. It was a bottle of unusual design.”

He hesitated, and Annelise asked a question to urge him along. “A gift from whom? And what was inside it?”

Her spouse flicked a glance her way. “I could not know what was inside, for it was sealed. It was the keeper of an inn we frequented. He gave each of the knights in our company a gift. The bottle was said to have the ability to make dreams come true.” He shrugged. “I decided that I would give it to my brother, for I was certain he would admire it, in the hope that he might grant me a holding from his estate.”

“Because you are the younger son.”

“Exactly. Although, I was curious about its contents, I felt it would be unfitting to open it.”

That was most appropriate. Annelise smiled and nodded approval. “What happened to the others in your company?”

“We divided into two groups, for we had differing notions of the best path homeward to pursue. I sailed from Acre for Brindisi with two comrades, but as the snow began, they chose to remain in Milan. I wished to be home for the Yule, so rode on alone.”

This was consistent with what he had told her before.

“As I traveled northward and it grew colder, I noticed that the wax seal had broken on the stopper. I decided to satisfy my curiosity, as none would be the wiser, and I opened the bottle. Truth be told, I was chilled to my marrow and some eau-de-vie would have been welcome.”

“Eau-de-vie?”

“A beverage made by the Saracens by some skill they hold. It is potent beyond belief and burns all the way down a man’s gullet. We call it eau-de-vie, the water of life, because it often revives a fallen man, proving that he yet lives.”

Annelise nodded, marveling that such a substance should exist.

Her husband’s voice dropped. “But there was no eau-de-vie inside. There was a djinn.”

“The one who owned the palace.”

“The very same.” Her spouse seemed surprised by her attitude. “I would not blame you if you thought my tale a lie, for I was skeptical of her claim myself.”

“Did she not emerge from the bottle itself?”

“Yes.”

“Then why were you skeptical? You had seen the truth with your own eyes.”

“But it defied belief. One does not expect childish tales to prove true.”

“Whyever not? You said that the bottle was unusual. You could not have expected it to contain something mundane, like perfume or water, or even this eau-de-vie.”

“But that is precisely what I did believe to be inside it,” he confessed.

“Then you must have been pleased to have been wrong.”

He regarded her for a moment, then leaned closer. “Do you not see that it is illogical for something invisible to change my life?”

“I do not, not at all.” Annelise smiled at him. “Of course, matters invisible affect our lives. What of faith? You were in Outremer on crusade. What drove the crusade other than faith?”

Her spouse grimaced. “You are innocent, my Annelise. Greed and a hunger for power are the greater forces there. Otherwise, why would knight and bishop both grasp all that they could in the Holy City itself?”

“You will not convince me,” Annelise insisted. “Things unseen can be powerful indeed. What of love?”

“We have loved every night we have been together.” He raised a hand to her cheek. “I have seen you and touched you.”

“This is but an act to express the emotion,” Annelise chided. “Love itself is unseen. It fills the heart.”

He was still wary of that notion. “And how do you know it exists?”

“Because I have felt it. I have seen its influence.”

“Not in your father’s abode.”

“No. The merit of love is one thing I learned at the convent. Their love was for the Lord above and his son, but that love gave meaning to their days. They made choices for love, and sacrificed their own welfare for it. Love is selfless and lifts us to selflessness.”

Her spouse granted her an intent look. “And this is why you said you wished to wed a man who loved you?”

Annelise nodded. “My father could not have treated my mother as he did if he had loved her.”

Her husband considered this and she wondered if there had been no affection between his parents. To be sure, at crusade, he would have seen much of hate and wickedness. It would be easy to lose sight of love when at war.

“What happened when the djinn was freed?”

“Ah, she did not take kindly to my doubts about her nature. She was less happy that a curse upon her compelled her to surrender her palace to me, since I had freed her from the prison of the bottle.”

“What did she do?”

“She cursed me.” Her spouse’s gaze locked with hers again. “She condemned me to become a wolf.”

“But you are not a wolf now.”

“That is due to the intervention of the second djinn.”

“A second djinn? There were two in the bottle?”

“Yes, but fortunately, the second had a more kindly manner.” He paused and gazed thoughtfully at Annelise. “You truly believe this tale,” he said, as though amazed.

“Of course. It makes perfect sense.”

“Perfect sense?” he echoed, then flung out a hand. “There is nothing that makes sense about it! Whoever heard of a djinn changing a man to a wolf because he uncorked a bottle? Whoever heard of a man changing to a wolf at all?”

“One hears it all the time,” Annelise replied.

“In children’s tales.”

“And who is to say that they are not true?” she asked. Her spouse had no reply. “It only makes sense that if you insulted her, she would take offense and act accordingly.”

“I did not intend to insult her,” he said. “She claimed to be a magical, often invisible being who had been trapped in that bottle for several centuries. Clearly, this tale could not be true.”

“But you saw her come out of the bottle.”

He shifted uncomfortably and averted his gaze. “Yes.”

“And you did become a wolf?”

“Yes,” he acknowledged with reluctance.

Annelise smiled, sensing that his notions of the world were in tumult. “What happened next?”

He paced as he spoke. “I was less than pleased when the second djinn arrived. You see, the first djinn’s curse had begun to take effect.”

“You were changing to a wolf?”

He nodded.

“What did you say to her?” Annelise almost dreaded his reply.

“I begged shamelessly for her aid.” He winked across the fire in an abrupt change of mood that made Annelise’s heart flutter. She knew that, in that djinn’s place, she would have been hard-pressed to deny him anything he asked of her.

“A women might easily succumb to such an entreaty,” she said.

Her husband laughed suddenly, as though she had surprised him. “But not you?”

“I am not certain. You have yet to beg me for anything, sir.”

Their gazes locked and held over the dancing flames. He smiled slowly, the expression softening his features and making her heart beat faster. Annelise was not fooled that his had been an easy life. She could see the evidence of his livelihood in the few faded scars that marked his skin. She recalled the well-used but meticulously maintained armor in the stables, as well as the fine warhorse. It was easy to imagine that her spouse would be a formidable foe in battle.

But he smiled for her. He loved her sweetly and tenderly.

And he had given her his guarantee of protection.

It was enough to tempt a woman to lose her heart.

“And what did the second djinn do?” she asked.

Her husband averted his gaze. “She changed the curse slightly and made me a wolf only by day.”

“That seems somewhat less than desirable.”

He laughed. “It does! I was less than enamored of her solution.”

“And you had already begged shamelessly.”

His quick glance revealed that the twinkle was still resident in his eye. “But that did not stop me from trying again.”

“Yet she resisted you?” Annelise could not help but tease him a little. “Perhaps your charm is less persuasive than might be ideal, sir.”

“Perhaps.” His eyes glowed and his voice dropped low. “Can you resist me, Annelise?”

Annelise stared into his eyes for a long moment, then recovered herself. “The question is whether the djinn could resist you.”

“No. She only granted me some hope of reprieve.” Her spouse frowned, but Annelise was delighted with his confession.

She repeated the words he had shared with her.

“Yes, that is it,” he acknowledged, watching her.

“You were the wolf that chased me to the palace,” Annelise guessed. “Why?”

“I saw the other wolf attack your steed.” He shook his head. “I could not let you perish like that.”

Annelise’s heart skipped. “You did not even know me.”

His jaw set and he stared straight into her eyes. “I am a knight, Annelise. I have pledged to protect those in danger, particularly those weaker than myself. I fulfill that pledge regardless of my own circumstance. It was the only honorable course and I did as well as I could, under the circumstances.”

Annelise was ready to abandon her heart to him in that very moment. A man of honor was not readily found in these times, let alone one who stood by his vows, and treated his wife as a thinking creature—never mind one who had shown her such kindness.

He pushed a hand through his hair. “I forgot that the djinn had insisted that the first woman to cross the palace’s threshold would be required to wed me.”

“A man cursed to become a wolf half the time.”

“Indeed.” He granted her an intent look. “What manner of marriage is that?”

Annelise knew. She closed the distance between them and reached for him, noting how he watched her, how wonder dawned in his eyes. She let her fingers slide over his shoulders and around his neck. She pressed herself closer, stretched to her toes, and was gratified to feel the accelerated beat of his heart when she brushed her lips across his.

It reassured her to know that he was not immune to her touch.

“I think this might be the best kind of marriage,” she whispered, then kissed him.

He caught his breath, but his hands closed around her waist and he deepened their kiss. The heat surged between them and he lifted her from the ground, feasting upon her mouth as if he would never get enough of her. Annelise hoped he would not. When he lifted his head, she smiled at him, loving how he whispered her name.

“I warned you that I meant to win your heart,” she said.

He smiled. “You did, indeed, give fair warning, my Annelise.”

“And I think the breaking of the curse upon you would be a fine start.”

He smiled with obvious reluctance, his eyes glowing as he looked down at her. “Do you?”

“I do. Tell me just one thing,” she urged before she kissed him again.

“No. No, Annelise. Ask me no more.”

But he halted to stare as she unlaced the sides of her kirtle. He inhaled sharply as she shed the woolen dress, then loosened the neck on her chemise. His eyes brightened when she bared her breasts to view and his gaze fixed upon one nipple as it tightened to a peak in the cold. She lifted his hand and curved it around her other breast, feeling his heart race as he watched the nipple respond to his touch.

“Perhaps it is not so surprising that you believe in magic,” he murmured, his words husky. “For you, my Annelise, readily cast a spell over me.” Before she could reply, he bent to touch his lips to that nipple. Annelise arched her back and closed her eyes with pleasure.

With an effort, she recalled the one thing she wanted to know most of all.

“Tell me just your name then,” she murmured.

He stiffened at her suggestion, then tried to hide his response. Instantly, Annelise knew that she had found an issue.

“I cannot.” He released Annelise abruptly and backed away, his expression wary.

This was no good. Annelise was determined to dismiss his curse and she needed his help to do as much. It was promising that he had confided as much as he had this night.

But she would have more.

There was one thing she could offer, one deed for which her spouse clearly had a weakness. Annelise was not above using the weapons she had.

She shook off her chemise, tossing her shoes and hose aside. When she stood nude before him, his heated gaze danced over her. He licked his lips and she smiled.

He wanted her. It was a start, but Annelise needed more from marriage.

She wanted this man to love her.

She was going to ensure that he did. She would break his curse and earn his love. She walked slowly toward him, pulling the pins from her hair and shaking the tresses out, and smiled.

“Then I shall guess your name, husband of mine,” she whispered.

His eyes widened. “You cannot. You should not.”

Annelise savored how his gaze burned when she stopped directly before him. She immediately set to unlacing the front of the shirt he had donned.

“But I can.” She kissed his chest, liking when he caught his breath. “And I will,” she vowed, then kissed him upon his mouth. It took him only a heartbeat to respond. His hands found their way around her waist and he lifted her against himself, slanting his mouth over hers in a most satisfactory way.

“Be warned, sir. I am good at solving puzzles,” she whispered when he lifted his head.

Her spouse chuckled. Annelise glanced up to see him smiling down at her and the intent in his eyes made her heart beat faster. “I cannot dissuade you, can I?” he murmured.

Annelise shook her head. “No. I like you best as a man.”

He laughed.

His shirt was discarded in short order and she began to unlace his chausses, her touch silencing his laughter.

“But Annelise...” he began to argue, until her busy fingers made him gasp aloud.

“Is it Michel?” she whispered. “Antoine? Richard? Gautier? Christophe?”

“No, Annelise.” He groaned beneath her caress. “No, no, no...”

“Didier? Bayard? Edouard?”

“Annelise!” he protested when her fingers closed around him. He whispered her name again as she caressed him, and Annelise pulled his head down for a soul-shattering kiss.

It was some time before her husband had enough breath to argue with her again.