Within a very short measure of time, Annelise tired of inventing answers to perfectly reasonable questions. Enguerrand asked after every detail, finding the flaw in every quality of the palace. She had explained the lack of an ostler with a vague wave, saying that the man must be slumbering. She excused the lack of squires with the suggestion that they would be along momentarily. Enguerrand’s knights had been clearly skeptical as they set their own squires to the task of unsaddling and brushing down their steeds.

She used her husband’s tale of quick and silent servants who stayed out of view when they returned to the palace to find a sumptuous meal spread for them in a chamber Annelise had never used before. She could only hope that her urge to see to the comfort her guests was strong enough to have it done.

Enguerrand’s curiosity was relentless and his suspicion open. Annelise was aware of the avarice in his dark eyes as he assessed the treasures of this place.

Before they even sat at the board, she had tired of his queries. What was the name of this holding? When had it been built? From whence had her husband’s family earned its wealth? How many brethren had he? Why had none heard of their existence in this forest?

Annelise fought to create evasive answers that told her curious guest nothing, knowing full well that the others attended her every word even as they ate.

Soon she would not be able to keep track of what she had said and what she had not.

Sadly, Annelise was not accomplished in the art of deception. Her head throbbed with the effort. Under other circumstances, she might have simply blurted out the truth and let consequences fall as they may, but she had to protect her spouse.

It was illogical, but she sensed that Enguerrand posed a threat to her husband that she could not readily name. And she had no intention of being less than true to the man who had treated her well.

Worse, the snow beyond the walls fell with increasing vigor. When one of the knights jested that they might be her guests for a long while, Annelise had to retreat to the chamber she shared with her husband to compose herself. She wanted nothing more than to be alone, but she did not trust Enguerrand enough to leave him unattended, either.

When she returned, it seemed that even her brief absence had been too long.

Annelise had never expected Enguerrand to find the book. She stepped into that chamber and he saluted her with the tome, malice bright in his eye.

“And what is this, fair Annelise? A collection of secret potions? We have decided that your hospitality here reeks of involvement in the dark arts, for nothing else can explain all we see around us.” His men chuckled, though their interest in her reply was clear.

“I do not know what you mean,” Annelise responded. She kept her eyes on the table as she slid into her place and resumed her meal.

Enguerrand leaned closer. “It is clear that something most unnatural is at work within these walls.”

“Do not be ridiculous,” Annelise scoffed.

“Ridiculous? Explain to me if you will, fair Annelise, why the weather within these walls varies so much from outside?”

She swallowed her bite of bread with difficulty, then took a long draught of wine, hoping the delay would give her time to conjure a response.

“It is a trick of the wind,” she said, feeling the explanation to be inadequate. She smiled at the surrounding knights, hoping to cajole them with her explanation. “We all know that there are places in the mountains where warm winds are trapped and the weather differs from the surrounding area.”

Enguerrand shook his head. “You speak of isolated valleys, not simply the space within a wall arbitrarily constructed.”

Annelise forced a laugh. “Who are we to say what is arbitrary and what is by design? Perhaps the builder of the palace simply took advantage of a natural effect.” She chided Enguerrand. “Cleverness in choosing a site is not the same as sorcery.” The knights murmured to each other, one shrugged, and they returned to their meal, much to her relief.

Enguerrand, though, shook his head slowly. “It is not so, and you know it as well as I.” His gaze brightened and she caught her breath. “Why will you not admit as much? Who do you seek to protect?”

“Who would I protect? You see worries where there are none, Enguerrand. Truly, I did not think you were such a whimsical man.”

“There is no one else here and only the rumor of your spouse. Is he truly at hunt, Annelise? Or does he hide from his guests?”

Annelise did not trust the gleam in Enguerrand’s eyes.

“What does he want to keep us from knowing?” he whispered, before tapping the book firmly. “Is this his collection of black spells?”

“The wine is clearly too potent for you,” Annelise said sweetly, and one of the knights chuckled.

“Annelise! I think only of your safety and happiness! Surely you can understand that this situation is most unusual and that my concern is only for you.” His eyes widened with mock concern. “If you had fallen into the hands of some sorcerer, who better than me to rescue you?”

Annelise chose not to reply to that. It was time to put this nonsense to rest. She held Enguerrand’s gaze and spoke firmly. “You have nothing to worry about upon that score. My husband is no sorcerer. The man is at hunt.”

With that, she bit into a piece of fruit, although it might as well have been wrought of dust for all she tasted.

Enguerrand’s fingertips slid over the book. “Then this is not a book of spells?”

Annelise laughed aloud. “Spells? What manner of nonsense fills your head, Enguerrand? It is nothing but a book of tales to entertain children.”

The others in Enguerrand’s party relaxed visibly at both Annelise's bold tone and her explanation. She reached for the volume, but Enguerrand flipped it open.

“Why then is it written in coded script?”

The weight of the knights’ and squires’ gazes fell heavily upon Annelise. She saw immediately that the book had reverted to its original form. Annelise would not touch the page for it might change as it had for her husband and that would only feed Enguerrand’s suspicions that there was magic afoot.

Instead, she closed the book and claimed it before Enguerrand could protest.

“It is not coded!” she said with a laugh. “This is written in the language of the Saracens. Did I not mention that my husband reads in many languages?”

Enguerrand’s eyes narrowed. “Then how do you know what lies within these pages?”

Annelise shrugged as easily as she could and slid the book onto her lap. “My husband has entertained me with these tales on many evenings. I suppose you have only my word as to its contents.”

With that, she held Enguerrand’s gaze steadily, hoping that she guessed aright his unwillingness to challenge her.

“Do you not trust me, Enguerrand?” she asked pointedly. Her gaze met that of each of the others in turn then she lowered her voice, as if speaking her thoughts aloud. “Why a man would propose marriage to a woman he found untrustworthy, I cannot guess.”

The two knights nudged each other, the gesture breaking the tension. To Annelise’s relief, Enguerrand cleared his throat and looked away for a moment before glancing over the company. His voice dropped and his manner became confidential.

“You may think my suspicions unreasonable, Annelise, but there have been strange tales afoot of late. Those may well be fanciful stories for children, but these tales are reputed to be true.”

“Indeed?”

“Tell us a tale, Enguerrand!” One of the knights lifted his goblet and took a long draught. “A stormy night is a good one for a rousing piece of fancy.”

The second companion knight settled back with a full goblet of wine, clearly more than ready for entertainment. The pair had shed their mail immediately, the weather and the wine combining with the evident security of the high walls to put them at ease as men of war were seldom capable.

Night had fully descended in the garden and there was a pleasant hum of insects carrying through the arched and open windows. Had it not been for the company, Annelise might have thought the setting idyllic.

Enguerrand frowned as he gazed into the courtyard. “I am reminded of one tale in particular, told by a bard visiting Tulley’s court just the other evening. It was a tale of a vengeful djinn. This minstrel insisted he had been told the tale by the djinn herself when he had the misfortune to cross paths with her.”

A djinn? Surely Enguerrand could not know... Annelise set the last of her meal aside, her appetite lost.

“A djinn?” A squire looked confused. “And what might that be?”

“A djinn is an evil and immortal creature, invisible for the most part but able to wreak havoc upon the lives of mortals by choice,” Enguerrand said. Annelise watched him through her lashes, noting how he enjoyed telling the tale. There was a definite malice in his manner and she feared his intention. “This one was said to have been of particularly foul temper.”

The squire’s eyes shone as he listened. Annelise’s mouth was dry and she shared little of the boy’s enthusiasm, although she strove to hide that fact.

Enguerrand’s gaze fixed upon Annelise. “It was said that this djinn had been imprisoned in a bottle before ‘once upon a time’ and cursed to surrender her palace to whoever opened the bottle and granted her release. The djinn was evidently a selfish sort and schemed all the years she was locked away as to how she would take vengeance upon this unfortunate.

“The bard insisted that a knight returning from the Crusades had acquired the bottle, perhaps in innocence, and opened it near Tulley’s estates.” He waved. “Perhaps even in this vicinity.” Annelise looked down at her trencher. “The djinn was compelled to grant her palace to the knight, but then she took her revenge.”

Enguerrand sipped at his wine, clearly enjoying how the men waited in anticipation of his words.

Annelise felt ill.

“What did she do?” asked the squire.

“She cursed the knight and made him a wolf. Imagine, to be condemned to take the form of a wolf when a wondrous palace had been granted to you as a gift!” Enguerrand laughed and Annelise hated him all the more. “The bard insisted that the djinn had forbidden the knight from entering the palace, yet condemned him to prowl around it for the remainder of his days.”

His gaze drifted out the window to linger on the splendor of the garden. All eyes followed his gaze, then Enguerrand cleared his throat. “How fortunate we are to wait out the blizzard under such fine circumstances.”

To Annelise, his implication was startlingly clear.

“But why would the djinn do such a thing?” demanded the squire.

“It was meant to be a reminder of what he had been,” Enguerrand explained. “And a curse most vindictive, for he was doomed to remember his lost state. He was a wolf with the memory of the man he had been, and powerless to change his situation.”

“God’s blood!” breathed the squire. “That is foul indeed!”

The knight beside him smiled and ruffled the lad’s hair. “You cannot believe all you hear when tales are told, boy. Undoubtedly, this bard had need of a warm meal in his belly and concocted the tale on the spot to tempt the lord’s hospitality.”

The boy looked crestfallen, but Enguerrand held up a finger. “No! Not this time, for he gave us the name of this unfortunate, and there were those in the hall who knew of him.”

Annelise yearned to ask the man’s name, just as she knew she could not risk it. Enguerrand took a sip of wine, then remarked upon its quality.

“Well? What was his name?” the squire demanded.

“It was said to be Rolfe,” Enguerrand said, again watching Annelise closely.

Annelise knew that nothing showed in her expression, for she did not know if that was her husband’s name or not. “A pretty tale, Enguerrand, if a whimsical one,” she said and lifted her cup to him in salute.

One of the knights snorted. “And a common-enough name. How could any know for certain that the Rolfe of their acquaintance was this same one? Did the bard not supply the name of the knight’s estate?”

“No,” Enguerrand admitted.

The knight rolled his eyes, muttering “bards” under his breath, and indicated the platter of roast meat. His squire hastened to place the most choice morsels remaining on his knight’s trencher.

“But this Rolfe was said to ride a great black destrier,” Enguerrand added. “Indeed, Annelise, it was your spouse’s steed in the stables that reminded me of the tale.” He smiled and she braced herself for whatever he might say next. “Whyever would that beast remain here while your husband hunted?”

“He took another,” Annelise said hastily.

Enguerrand raised a brow. “Indeed? I saw evidence of no beast other than the two palfreys and destrier there.”

Annelise laughed and lied again. “His favored steed is scarcely here long enough to leave a mark.”

The other knights looked less than convinced by her explanation and she tried to think of another subject that might interest the men.

Enguerrand gestured toward the courtyard. “I must admit that this place, with its Eastern air and remarkable clime, also made me think immediately that we had stumbled upon the very place of which the bard sang.”

The knights, to Annelise’s dismay, shifted in their seats and glanced uneasily about themselves. The candles flickered and the wail of the winter wind could be faintly discerned. It would have been easy—especially under the influence of the wine—for even the most level-headed individual to give consideration to Enguerrand’s conclusion.

“Does that mean there is a wicked djinn here?” whispered the one squire.

“Of course not!” Annelise said, laughing again. This time, she feared she sounded a little shrill. “More of the wine?”

Enguerrand leaned forward. “Tell us first, fair Annelise, what is the name of your husband?”

The entire party caught their breath and waited.

* * *

The very moment that Rolfe strode through the palace gates, he was aware that something was amiss. The garden still bloomed and the temperature was still warm, but he could hear voices from the palace.

Male voices.

He refused to consider that his lady might have proven herself unworthy of his trust. Rather than revealing himself immediately, he went to the stables to learn about his guests. There were three destriers and three more palfreys stabled there, and the armor of three knights. Only one destrier had caparisons, and they were green and silver, graced by an insignia Rolfe did not recognize.

Three men and three squires! Why had Annelise allowed them to enter? Did she know them? He considered the snow that had been rapidly falling beyond the walls and considered that she might have felt compassion for a company lost in the forest during a storm.

To be of aid would be the inclination of his lady.

Rolfe wondered what they discussed and wished he could hear the conversation at the board. The palace, as he should have anticipated, fulfilled his hope and he heard them as clearly as if they were in the stable with them.

The sound did not improve his temper. It was clear to Rolfe that Annelise both knew and disliked the one man who spoke the most. Rolfe himself heard how provocative that man was, and disliked him as well, without even the benefit of having met him.

Enguerrand, she called him.

Rolfe wished he knew what lies she had been compelled to tell on his behalf and the earlier part of their conversation filled his thoughts like a memory. So, he was at hunt. That was a clever notion on her part. And she had invited them into the palace out of compassion, though he heard the uncertainty of the wisdom of her choice in her tone.

He wished for heavy garb, such as a man would wear to hunt, and found it at his fingertips. He tugged on the heavy boots and the leather jerkin, then pulled his mail hauberk over it. He pulled on heavy gloves and a thick cloak lined with fur. A small bow hung from his side and there was a quiver upon his back. He donned his belt, with his quillon dagger in its sheath. With a look and a thought, there was blood on the blade. Rolfe raised the hood, thinking he should be embellished with snow if he had just arrived, and found that he was so. He wished for more horses, and a kill for his fist.

As he was walking to the palace with his burden of hares and partridges, he had a thought that might have come to him earlier. He wished for a bevy of servants, eager boys who had accompanied him to hunt, a captain-at-arms, an ostler, and a steward. His wish filled the stables with their horses and trap, and their noise echoed through the courtyard. He wished for two of them to be carrying a dead boar, its feet bound to a pole, to give him a tale for his late arrival.

He strode to the palace, well pleased with his scheme even as he heard this Enguerrand imply that some bard’s tale was the truth of Rolfe’s palace. It was the truth, but Enguerrand had no right to know it.

He certainly had no right to worry Annelise.

“Annelise!” Rolfe roared, like a man coming home. “What a day! We return in triumph, lady mine.” He had a moment to note that the board was loaded with food and wine, and to take satisfaction in the bounty of his hospitality. He noted the three knights, two of which were nearly besotted, and easily identified the one who made trouble for Annelise.

Rolfe decided to let the cur wait. He would ignore him for as long as possible.

“Sir!” Annelise cried, her relief more than clear. She ran to Rolfe, her eyes alight, and he caught her close, swinging her around with satisfaction. She was trembling ever so slightly and he yearned to shred the man responsible for his lady’s concern. She reached up and kissed him, then leaned her cheek against his own. “I feared for you in the storm,” she confessed, though he knew there was more at root than that.

“Ah,” he said heartily. “I forgot myself. I owe you an apology, Annelise.”

“But you had a successful day, it appears.”

“It was a charmed hunt, to be sure. Look at that boar!” He chuckled. “But you know how I can never leave a matter be. Even the boar was not sufficient to satisfy me.” Annelise smiled up at him, apparently also content to let Enguerrand wait. “There was a buck of such majesty that I felt compelled to pursue it. He was clever, though, and wily.”

“Even more wily than the boar?” Annelise asked.

Rolfe nodded. “Even so.” He sighed and touched her cheek with his fingertip. “I confess I failed to bring you more venison in the end, my Annelise.”

“It is sufficient for me to have you home and hale,” she said softly, her eyes shining.

Rolfe kissed her again, well aware that their guests watched him with interest. He lifted his fistful of game and called to one of the boys. Annelise’s eyes widened ever so slightly as the company of his servants came into view. “Boy! Take these to the kitchens, then all of you, come and restore yourselves. We have had a long day of riding.” The servants surged forth, taking their seats at the board, and the hall filled with the sound of their chatter. “But tell me, Annelise, who owns the six steeds new to the stables?”

“We have guests, my lord,” she said and gestured to the men. Rolfe pretended to have just noticed them. “This is Enguerrand de Roussineau and his companions.”

“Guests on such a night as this,” Rolfe exclaimed. “Who would have anticipated as much?” He shed his gloves and shook the hands of the knights, showing no expectation of a reply. He noted that Enguerrand was a little discomfited and was glad of it. “Welcome. I trust you have refreshed yourselves?”

Enguerrand did not move. “I did not catch your name, sir.”

Rolfe met the other man’s gaze, ensuring that his own was steely. “Rolfe de Viandin.”

“Viandin?” Enguerrand raised a brow. “Is that the name of this palace?”

“No, no,” Rolfe said easily, distrusting the other knight’s interest. “Viandin is the inheritance of my brother, Adalbert, who administers it. It is to the north and west, in Burgundy, near Cluny.” He was well aware that this was news to Annelise, but would never have guessed as much from her expression.

“The land is said to be rich there.”

“It is a well-established holding,” Rolfe acknowledged. “And Roussineau? Forgive me but I am not familiar with it.”

“Sworn to the Lord de Tulley, on the other side of the Beauvoir Pass. We mine silver.”

Annelise’s eyes widened ever so slightly and Rolfe did not miss this hint from his lady wife. “Indeed? How fortunate to have a holding with such wealth to call its own.” He moved to sit at the board, nodding to the other knights. Annelise brought him a cup of wine, but Enguerrand was not prepared to abandon their conversation.

“But why do you have a palace here?” that knight asked. “So far from the main road and your home estate?”

“Who would abide beside the main road, given a choice?” Rolfe asked, then turned to Annelise. “Do not tell me that we have civet of hare this night?”

“We do, my lord,” she said with a smile. She fetched the dish for him, acting as his squire. He was glad to have her close by his side, for this Enguerrand struck him as a serpent. “It is most fine, but I confess I am glad that you brought more hares.”

“Do you have a taste of it yourself, my lady? I know how you like to ensure that your guests are sated first, but it smells wondrous. Did you give the cook access to the spices again?” Rolfe smiled at her and she sat at his left, letting him put stew on her side of the trencher.

“I did, my lord.”

Rolfe fed her a morsel, enjoying Enguerrand’s growing impatience. He stole a quick kiss, making the excuse that there was sauce upon her lip, and she flushed prettily.

“But your name is Rolfe,” a squire said and Rolfe did not have to feign astonishment that the boy was so outspoken. “And you have a palace in the forest, one that appears to be magical, just like the one in the tale. Were you cursed by a djinn? Did you win this palace from her?”

Rolfe stared coldly at the boy, who flushed and dropped his gaze, then sat down as if he wished he could shrink to invisibility. “What is this?” he demanded, letting anger touch his tone.

Enguerrand was either an audacious man or a fool, for he did not retreat. “I heard a tale at Beauvoir of a knight cursed by a djinn, given her palace but compelled to be a wolf. That knight was said to be named Rolfe and was returning from crusade.”

“Do I look like a wolf?” Rolfe asked, biting off the words.

“No, but you must admit that it is an extraordinary coincidence...” Enguerrand protested.

“I feel compelled to admit no such thing.”

“Sir, you would deceive us all!” the other knight cried. “Explain to us how this palace can be, why it is located in this place, and why the weather is so fine within its walls. Annelise refuses to explain any of it.”

Rolfe let there be a long moment of silence. He washed his hands and wiped them with care, then stood, liking that he was taller and broader than his guest. “And so my wife has shown more discretion than you.” Enguerrand would have protested, but Rolfe continued, easily speaking over the other man’s objections. “You are a guest in my abode, and unless the world has changed a great deal while I was on crusade, that situation calls you to a measure of polite behavior.” He gestured to the board. “You have eaten your fill; your companions have drunk a considerable measure of wine, unless I miss my guess; you are warm and sheltered from the storm and your horses are so, as well. Yet you harass my wife with your demands for more. You insult me with your insinuations. And you violate your responsibility to these boys entrusted to your care for training by filling their thoughts with whimsy and foolery.”

“I did not harass your wife!”

“You most certainly did. I knew the moment I laid eyes upon her this night that she was upset, and I see no other cause for such a situation than you, sir, and your impertinent questions.” Rolfe swept to his feet and took Annelise’s hand in his. “You are fortunate, Enguerrand de Roussineau, that I am a temperate man. You may have abused your welcome here, but I will not cast you into the forest in the night. You will, however, leave before the dawn.”

“You cannot do this!” Enguerrand protested.

“I most certainly can. This is my abode and you would do well to recall that you are my guest. I feel no compunction in ending my hospitality to you, given the treatment of my lady wife in her own abode.”

“But we cannot be turned into the forest in the night! There are wolves...”

Rolfe leaned closer to the other man. “When did you arrive at my gates?”

“Just before the sun set,” Enguerrand admitted.

“And as you have noted, this palace is distant from the road. What was your plan for accommodations this night, sir? Did you plan to force yourself into my palace? Did you know of its location?” Rolfe watched Enguerrand flush a dull red. “Or did you, perhaps, mean to seek sanctuary with the Sisters of Ste. Radegund? That is the sole other establishment that I know within any proximity.”

Their gazes locked and held, then Enguerrand took a step back and bowed stiffly. “I apologize, sir, if my questions have given offense, either to you or your lady wife.”

To Rolfe’s thinking, the apology was late and insincere, but he inclined his head. “I accept your apology,” he said though. “My palace is distinct and I suppose it is no surprise that its very essence prompts questions.”

Enguerrand smiled. “Then we can stay?”

“Oh no,” Rolfe said easily. “I am a man of my word, sir.” He let his voice harden. “You will be gone by dawn, Enguerrand, or you may never leave this palace alive.” He smiled coolly. “Perhaps I do have a trait in common with the wolves, for I do like to hunt.” Rolfe’s gaze did not waver and he did not blink. He watched Enguerrand consider the merit of defying him, of saying more in his own defense, of protesting anew or of asking more questions. The knight had the wits to abandon all those courses of action and beg leave to retire.

“There is a chamber near the stables that you can use this night,” he said, his tone resolute. “The accommodations are simple but fighting men such as yourselves will require nothing more. When I rise on the morrow, sir, I expect you to be gone.”

He stood with Annelise, waiting and watching while they left the hall, then wished that the door to those chambers would be barred behind their guests.

Once they were out of sight, Annelise exhaled and leaned against him, her relief evident. “Will they come in the night?” she whispered.

Rolfe shook his head. “The door to the chamber will be barred behind them.”

“Good!” She smiled at him, her eyes glowing with such relief that his heart skipped a beat. “I was never so glad to see another living soul,” she murmured as he gathered her close.

“Tell me everything about him,” Rolfe said. “Every detail you know and every possibility you suspect.”

“Of course, my lord.” She smiled shyly and met his gaze. “Rolfe.”

Rolfe could resist her no longer but bent and kissed her soundly before carrying her off to bed. A simple wish ensured that the hall was cleaned and the servants disappeared, then there was only their great curtained bed and the sweetness of his lady wife.

He decided that her confidences about Enguerrand could wait a few moments, for it was high time that he did remove her garters with his teeth. He had trusted the lady and she had proven herself worthy of his confidence.

Such a feat called for a reward, and Rolfe knew the one his lady liked best.

* * *

Annelise was relieved beyond all else. After she had been thoroughly seduced by her husband, she found herself nestled in his lap with candles burning around them. He had eaten little at the board in Enguerrand’s presence, so she fed him from the dish of stew that had appeared after their lovemaking and told him about their guest.

Rolfe de Viandin was his name.

He listened avidly, his gaze locked upon her features. She did not doubt that he heard what she did not say aloud about her reaction to Enguerrand’s suit for her hand. She told him about the depleted mines at Roussineau and gave voice to her sense that Enguerrand wished to wed her for the sake of Sayerne itself.

“He thinks my brother Quinn will not return from Outremer,” she explained. “And if he does not, Tulley may endow the holding upon me.”

“Or your younger brother.”

Annelise shook her head. “I do not think there was any prospect of that. Yves is young, for one matter, and has only seen sixteen summers. But I think that if there had been any such possibility, Tulley would not have encouraged Yves to seek his fortune at tournament.”

Her husband nodded. “That is reasonable. I could not help but note how closely Enguerrand asked after Viandin. He seems much concerned with material matters.” He considered her for a long moment.

“There is some other detail, is there not?” Annelise asked. “Some other part of the curse you have not told me?”

He touched his fingertip to her mouth, sliding it across her bottom lip in a slow caress. “I like how you say my name, my Annelise. I should have told you sooner.”

Annelise smiled beneath his touch. “Yes, you should have.”

His smile flashed. “Say it.”

“Rolfe,” she said, then kissed his palm. “My husband, Rolfe de Viandin.”

His gaze darkened and he lifted the empty bowl from her lap, setting it aside and rolling her beneath him. He kissed her lingeringly then raised his head to survey her again. “I want to hear you shout it when you find your pleasure,” he murmured and Annelise shivered in anticipation.

But she tapped him on the nose. “You, sir, would change the subject.”

He smiled but did not argue.

“Once again, you avoid telling me the whole of the truth,” she insisted. “Is there another part of the curse?”

He grimaced and rolled to his back, pulling her against his side. His fingers twined in her hair and Annelise braced herself on her elbow to look down at him. He regarded her with admiration. “Of course, there is. You cannot be fooled, lady mine, and I am glad of it.” Before she could ask again, he raised a hand and spoke again.

Annelise gasped. “A killer?”

Rolfe only nodded.

She raised a hand to her lips, thinking furiously. “Surely, he would not...”

“I think he is precisely the manner of man who might think it a good plan to see you widowed. Why, you could be married again before reaching Beauvoir to consult with your overlord, Tulley.”

While Rolfe was calm, Annelise was outraged. “The fiend! If he believes that I would accept him under any circumstances, let alone after he did such a feat, then he is a fool...”

Rolfe’s finger landed upon her lips, silencing her. “I do not mean to die, my Annelise.” He spoke with complete conviction, but Annelise was afraid for him.

“I do not doubt that you could defend yourself well in this form, sir, but what about during the day?”

“I confess that is why I was reluctant to confide in you.”

“That is only half the tale,” Annelise guessed, and his gaze flicked to hers so quickly that she knew she was right. “What did Rosalinde do to you?”

Rolfe shook his head. “Why should we taint a fine night abed with such discussion? We have already talked about Enguerrand for longer than he deserves. I would hear you make that cry, my Annelise...” He pulled her down for a kiss, but Annelise only brushed her lips across his, bracing her hands on his chest.

“You evade my question again,” she charged and he smiled slowly.

“And I am caught again.” He lifted a brow, looking mischievous, wicked and utterly alluring. “What price will you demand of me, my lady?”

“The truth.”

He made a face and sat up, lifting her into his lap again. “Make a less predictable choice, Annelise,” he said.

“Tell me about Rosalinde and then I will,” she countered.

He laughed. “Make it worth my while, Annelise.”

“I will.” Their gazes held for a charged moment and Annelise’s heart squeezed tightly at even the possibility of her losing this man from her side. She realized in that moment that she had utterly lost her heart to him, that with his trust, her capitulation was complete. Would that break the curse and ensure that he was a man from this night forth? Annelise ardently hoped as much.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, tangling them together, and she knew he was choosing his words. She had complete faith that he would confide in her and waited patiently.

“Rosalinde was a beauty beyond compare,” he said finally. “I met her at the home of my maternal uncle, where I trained for my spurs, near Vézelay. She was a cousin of his wife, so I saw her first at the Yule. She had hair of brightest gold, a lovely sweet face, and eyes as blue as the midsummer sky.” The admiration in Rolfe’s voice as he recalled this woman made Annelise’s mouth go dry. “I had never seen a maiden who was so very beautiful and I was lost with but a glimpse.”

Annelise leaned her face against his chest to hide her expression. She reminded herself that she had demanded this tale, and that she doubted it would end well.

“I was astonished when she smiled at me. I thought she was merely polite, but over the following year—at Easter, at St. John’s Day, at the feast of the local saint in the parish church—each time I saw her, she granted me encouragement. She gave me a ribbon from her hair the next Yule and I was overwhelmed. At Epiphany, she gave me a kiss upon my cheek.”

His hand rose to tangle in Annelise’s loose hair. “I was young. I was seduced by a pretty face and a charming smile. I knew nothing of her nature or her heart, but desire burned within me. In hindsight, I am certain she knew it and tempted me apurpose, though at the time, I thought our pairing might be destined to be.”

A cup of wine appeared beside the bed and Rolfe took it in his hand, offering Annelise a sip before he drank some himself. “It was Midsummer when we rode to her family abode for her older brother’s wedding. I had earned my spurs and would be returning to Viandin after this journey—my uncle had invited me to linger to add another knight to the splendor of their party. Of course, once I saw Rosalinde, all the rest was as dust to me. She sought me out over those three days, time and again. She admired the sword my father had sent for my knighting. She confessed herself to be impressed by the destrier my uncle had bestowed upon me as a gift. There was a tournament to celebrate the wedding, and she tied her ribbon to my spear, cheering for me as I competed.”

“Did you win?” Annelise dared to ask. She felt him nod.

“I did. And she claimed a token of my affection as her reward. She led me to the garden where she granted me a kiss that set my very soul aflame.”

Annelise blinked, but Rolfe chuckled and tightened his grip upon her. “It was a chaste kiss, Annelise, but my first from a beauty. It was novelty that made it potent, I fear, not the lady’s allure or even her amorous skills. I dared to ask for her hand in marriage in its wake.”

He fell silent then and Annelise wondered why. She eased back and looked up at him, seeing that he was lost in the memory.

“She changed,” he said softly, then shook his head. “The sweet maiden I had seen was banished and in her place was a clerk of stern visage. She demanded to know the precise amount of my wealth and my prospects. I admitted that I was a younger son and landless, that I would have to seek my fortune. I dared to take her hand and confess myself glad that we would have affection between us and that love might light our future.”

Again he fell silent. Annelise put her hand over his. “She did not agree?” she prompted.

Rolfe shook his head. “She laughed. She mocked me for such folly. I persisted, despite the change in her manner which worried me mightily.”

“You are not a man to readily abandon your path,” Annelise said quietly.

Rolfe chuckled. “Not me. I said I would ask my father to entrust a small holding to my care. I said I would ride to the tournaments and seek my fortune. I said I would do whatever was necessary to see her happiness complete.” He shook his head. “She told me I was not worthy of cleaning her shoes, that she saw sufficient poverty amongst the villeins of her father’s estate and that she would never wed a man who was not rich beyond all.”

He grimaced. “I did not believe her. She told me she would wed an elderly neighbor of her father, a baron who had more wealth than he could count. This was a change from what I knew of her, though indeed, I knew little. I confess I remained incredulous that the beauty I so adored could possess such avarice. I saw her eyes glint with malice, though I did not immediately guess why.”

“What did she do?”

“She screamed and tore her own kirtle before my eyes. She cried that I attacked her, that my lust had made me indecent. She roused her father’s guards and they set upon me, like a common thief.” Rolfe’s gaze chilled as he looked down at Annelise. “I was humiliated before my uncle and patron, because our host believed his daughter.”

“You were not the sole one deceived, then,” Annelise whispered.

“I was not, but I never forgot that day, and how my trust of a beauteous maiden led me false.”

“Do you fear that will happen again?” Annelise had to ask and her heart pounded as her husband smiled down at her.

“Not with you, Annelise, for your beauty goes to your very marrow.” He spoke with conviction and awe, his fingertips trailing over her cheek as he surveyed her. His voice was husky. “You are a marvel, my Annelise, for you have taught me the merit of trust once again.”

“Perhaps you were simply waiting for me,” she dared to say and he laughed aloud.

“Tell me of destiny, my lady. Tell me our match was fated to be.” He lifted his brows. “I do come to consider as much myself.” He kissed her so thoroughly that she could have no doubt of his sincerity. It was on the tip of her tongue to confess her love, but Annelise feared he might not be ready to respond in kind—and she knew it would devastate her if he could not do as much.

“And now, Annelise,” he murmured against her throat. “I believe we have a task that needs to be done. I would hear you call my name in your pleasure.” His eyes gleamed with sensual intent as he looked down upon her and she felt a quiver of anticipation. “Where would you have me begin?”