“I do not know what to do,” Annelise admitted when Rolfe broke his kiss.

“Nothing,” he murmured against the softness of her cheek. “Simply enjoy.”

She took a deep breath and released it slowly, and he felt the tension ease out of her shoulders. He took one himself, wanting to be sure to seduce her slowly.

“Very good.” Rolfe whispered the words into her ear.

Annelise shivered then giggled. “That tickles!”

It was as good a place to begin as any. “And this?” Rolfe pressed a slow kiss into her ear. The lady quivered again, as he had guessed she would.

“That is a tickle of a most wicked kind,” she said, her words breathless.

“How so?”

“It awakens something deep within me.”

“Something good?”

“Yes, my lord.”

To Rolfe’s surprise, this time it was Annelise who stretched to brush her lips across his. He liked that she wanted to participate and deepened their kiss, even as he planned how to encourage her. He trailed kisses down her cheek and she tipped her head back with a purr of satisfaction. He ran his teeth across her earlobe. “And this?”

Annelise gasped. “I do not know what to call how that feels.”

“Good or bad?”

“Oh...” Her laugh was throaty. “More than good.”

Her enthusiasm made Rolfe chuckle again. “Then perhaps we should try the other ear.” He took his time with that kiss, savoring the way she melted against his chest. The darkness made the scent of her skin seem more potent.

More beguiling.

Annelise locked her arms around his neck and kissed him fully, showing an expertise unexpected. He caught his breath that she learned so quickly. The night promised to be even more delightful than he could have imagined.

Her breath tickled as it fanned his ear. “Good or bad?” she whispered, mischief in her tone.

“More than good,” Rolfe growled, liking her playfulness as well. He ran his hands down her sides and feigned surprise. “You are still fully garbed, my lady.”

As though she had just realized that he was not, Annelise’s hands moved from Rolfe’s neck to touch his bare skin. Her fingers fanned out as she tentatively ran her hands across his shoulders. Rolfe let her explore, sensing that she needed to know something about him before they were intimate.

He heard her take a deep breath as her hand slid downward. When she found the mat of his chest hair, she bounced her fingers playfully upon it, then slid them through its tangle.

“Furry,” she pronounced, then skimmed her fingertips over his nipples. Rolfe inhaled sharply at her light touch and Annelise, noting his reaction, paused to caress his nipples. “You like this,” she whispered.

“As I expect do you.” Rolfe cupped her breast in one hand, then teased the nipple with his fingertips. Even through the heavy woolen cloth, he felt it tighten to a peak.

“So I do,” Annelise admitted, then stepped back from him, her hands stroking him. Rolfe closed his eyes, awash with pleasure from her touch. Her fingertips eased lower, where the hair thinned near his waist, then halted at the drawstring of his chausses.

She hesitated.

“My turn,” Rolfe whispered. Before Annelise could protest, he bent and rapidly unlaced the sides of her kirtle. He lifted the garment over her head and cast it aside, then the chemise she wore beneath it. The warmth of her skin greeted his exploring fingertips and he slid his hands over her upper arms.

“Your hair,” he whispered, knowing that he would never find all the pins in the darkness. Rolfe heard them tinkle to the floor as she removed them quickly, then the heavy mass of her hair fell over her shoulders and his hands.

It was thick and almost straight. Rolfe could imagine the shimmer of it and remembered its rich auburn color. He buried his hands in its thickness, then pulled her into his embrace.

With those amber eyes, she should be garbed in emerald green, in samite and satin heavy with golden embroidery. She needed veils of the finest cloth of gold to highlight the richness of her coloring.

Indeed, her worn travel garments scarcely did her credit. With such vivacity and life, Annelise dressed as a queen would be a stunning sight.

The fullness of her breasts pressed against his chest as he explored her. Her waist was delightfully narrow under his hands, her curves ripe enough to fill his hands. Rolfe’s heart leaped when her hair moved over his hands, evidence that she had tilted her head back. He bent and captured her tempting lips beneath his own, swallowing her sigh of satisfaction.

Rolfe kissed her gently, savoring her. He felt Annelise catch her breath, then caressed her bottom lip with his tongue. She parted her lips, welcoming him, and Rolfe sampled her deeply, loving the taste of wine mingled with her own honeyed sweetness.

She was all sweet curves and femininity, her skin soft no matter where he touched her. Rolfe kissed her leisurely and thoroughly, taking his time with the feast she offered. Annelise was his wife and his salvation both. He could give her no less than his all.

His hand moved in her hair, caressing her jaw, tracing the curve of her ear. Annelise shuddered and her hands locked around his neck. He lifted her to her toes, cupping her buttocks with one hand and pulling her against the heat of his arousal. She moaned softly and rolled her hips against him with a need that thrilled him.

Desire surged through Rolfe. He kissed Annelise with new fervor, fearing he would spill his seed early if she rolled her hips again, but he could not step away. He would have liked to have seen her but the darkness was complete.

“Oh,” Annelise whispered as her lips moved against his throat. Her voice was unsteady.

It amused Rolfe that this woman of so many words could only conjure that one small exclamation to describe this. “Oh?” he repeated with a smile.

“I...I had no idea.”

Rolfe could not help but chuckle at the wonder in her voice. The affection he already felt for her surprised him with its intensity. Rolfe could not recall ever being so aware of a woman so quickly before.

“And still you have not, wife of mine,” he murmured. “We have only begun.”

He bent quickly and took one of her feet in his hands. It was so slender and small, so delicate compared to his own, that he halted for a moment in silent appreciation.

Annelise’s hands landed on his shoulders, and Rolfe quickly unlaced her shoe. He discarded it, noting with interest that she did not wear hose.

She had been in a hurry to seek him out. That made him smile.

Her foot fit perfectly in his palm and Rolfe could not resist caressing its arch. The darkness served only to heighten his awareness of her.

The other shoe was shed and Rolfe paused with both hands wrapped around the lady’s graceful ankles. He glanced up and her fingers dug slightly into his shoulders.

“There must be more,” she whispered, her impatience urging him on.

Rolfe eased his hands slowly up her calves, feeling the shape of her. His lips followed suit, tasting and caressing as he progressed. Had she worn stockings, he would have removed her garters with his teeth.

Her thighs were slender, and when he approached her hips, the sweet perfume of her arousal tempted him. That mingled with the scent of the roses was more intoxicating than the finest wine. Rolfe filled his lungs with the heady scent and caressed her as his lips meandered onward.

She gasped when he reached the apex of her thighs and Rolfe buried his nose in the nest of curls. His tongue danced against her and he knew he had found the prize he sought when Annelise gripped his shoulders.

“Oh!” she gasped. “Sir!”

Rolfe pulled her closer, one of his fingers rising to caress her even as he continued to tease her with his tongue. Her enthusiasm fed his own passion as nothing else could. He wanted more of Annelise; he wanted all of her. He wanted to make her collapse on top of him. He wanted to feel her wrap herself around him and demand more. He wanted to hear her cry out as she found her release and know that he was responsible. He felt her skin heat and her pulse race. A quiver passed over her flesh, but she did not pull away.

She trusted him, which was the finest aphrodisiac Rolfe had ever known.

He gripped her waist, loving how his hand spanned her back there, and held her captive to the pleasure he intended to give. The woman would drive him mad with desire. She writhed against him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her wet sweetness flooding his senses.

When her hips began to buck, Rolfe held her more resolutely. He drove her higher, demanding more, caressing her with more vigor.

Suddenly, Annelise arched back. She gave a little cry as she strained for the heavens and found her release, then wilted and sagged against him, her breath coming in quick spurts.

Luckily for the lady, Rolfe was not finished pleasuring his bride just yet.

* * *

“That was a marvel,” Annelise whispered, unable to believe the power of the tremor that had nigh overwhelmed her.

“That, wife of mine, is only the beginning,” her husband murmured then he ran his tongue over her tenderness once more.

Annelise gasped, then laughed a little. “You know my sources of pleasure better than I do,” she charged and he chuckled.

“Should a husband not do so?” He trailed kisses across her skin. He tickled her navel with his tongue but Annelise was impatient to grant him pleasure, too. She caught his head in her hands and pulled him upward. He caught the weight of her breasts in his hands and turned his attention to her nipples, teasing them with his fingers and lips until they were aching and taut.

Annelise moaned softly as she rocked on her feet, powerless beneath his touch. The man was a sorcerer. He wove a spell to enchant her completely. He would make her a slave to the pleasure that only he had ever given her.

And Annelise did not mind.

Indeed, she was increasingly certain that her husband bore no disfigurement at all. His hands were strong and well-formed. She felt no scar on his chest or his shoulders, and the sole thing unusual about his mouth was its unholy power to give pleasure. His legs were muscular and he possessed both of them.

Was it his face that was scarred? It could not be fearsomely so, not from what she had felt. He possessed both ears and they were shaped as they should be. She felt no scar upon his jaw or his cheek.

Was it his nose?

One eye?

He pinched her nipple so that she gasped in pleasure then swept her into his arms. She guessed that he strode for the bed, but had no opportunity to ask for he kissed her. His tongue danced with hers, his kiss shaking her to her very marrow—as she already came to believe that every good kiss should. She felt her desire rising again, that seductive shimmer beneath her skin making her anticipate whatever would come next. They tumbled onto the mattress which was soft and thick.

Annelise landed on her back with her husband beside her. He held her fast against his side and leaned over her. If not for the darkness, she would surely have seen his face. His hand swept over her thigh, then found the spot where his caress had given her such pleasure just moments before. He eased one knee between hers, and she wrapped herself around him, wanting him to be closer.

She could not help but note that every bit of him she touched was perfectly normal.

Then his fingers and their wicked dance obliterated all such concerns from her thoughts. Annelise felt that she was a slave to sensation and she adored it. She arched against her husband’s strength, rubbing her breasts against his chest, feeling his heart beat faster. He emanated a heat that seemed to hint at his own excitement. She pressed kisses to his chest, then grazed his shoulder with her teeth. He growled with satisfaction and she bit him a little, making him chuckle in a way that thrilled her.

He shifted her beneath him and eased between her thighs. Annelise felt a hardness against her thighs as he braced his weight above her, and wished mightily that she might be able to see him in this moment. She parted her thighs to welcome him, for theirs was an agreement made, and heard him inhale sharply.

“Annelise,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “My lady Annelise.”

He eased inside her, moving slowly and pausing often to kiss her temple. Annelise held on to his shoulders, waiting for the anticipated pain. She felt full and stretched, but also so very close to him. It was an intimacy beyond anything she had experienced before and one that made tears rise to her eyes. They were two become one, their flesh pressed together from shoulder to toe, their lives bound together until death did they part. Annelise lifted her hips against him, then realized he moved no deeper.

“And that will be the worst of it,” he murmured to her, kissing her lips quickly. “How does it feel?”

“Wondrous in a new way,” she confessed, feeling that there could be no secrets between two people who had joined thus in the night.

“Did it not hurt?”

“Only a little, sir,” she confessed. “Will you show me more?”

“Of course, my lady. Your wish is my command.” His voice sounded taut and she wondered if he held something back to ensure her pleasure. Then he moved and she heard herself gasp aloud at the brush against that sensitive spot. She squirmed beneath him and he groaned, a most delicious sound of surrender and one Annelise wished to hear again. She locked her knees around his waist, pulling him closer, and on his next thrust, he sank more deeply inside her. Annelise tightened her arms around his neck. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, and her nipples were teased by the hair on his chest.

He moved slowly, then with increasing speed. Annelise felt his pulse increase and his skin heat. She heard the rasp of his breath and felt an answering arousal within herself. They moved together, driving each other on to some crescendo she could not name but did not want to abandon.

All too soon, the heat rose furiously within her again. He rubbed against her and Annelise cried out in pleasure. She knew that her nails tore into his back as she arched against him and found her release once more.

“Sir!” she cried, feeling she had betrayed him somehow.

But her husband roared with a pleasure that could not be feigned. He reared back, clutching her buttocks tightly as the heat of his seed poured into her. He was strong and taut, a perfect warrior in every way, and his release made Annelise feel that they had tasted magic together.

“Oh!” she said softly and heard him chuckle.

He rolled to one side, landing on the mattress beside her, and held her fast against his side. “Oh!” he mimicked, then kissed her temple.

“Did I do what I should?” she asked.

“You were perfection itself, my Annelise,” he said, satisfaction resonating in his tone. He brushed the hair back from her face with his fingertips, and she wondered if he could see in the darkness for his touch was unerring. “Did I do what I should?”

“I am not certain, but it was quite a marvel,” she admitted and he laughed.

Annelise liked that sound well. She propped herself up on one elbow and touched his shoulder, peering down to where she knew his face had to be.

What would she have given to have seen his eyes in this moment of moments?

On the other hand, it was easier to ask bold questions when she did not have to look him in the eye.

“Is that how other people consummate their marriages?” she asked.

“That has always been my understanding,” he confirmed, amusement in his tone.

Annelise leaned over him, pressing her breast against Rolfe’s ribs. The tumble of her hair landed on his chest and she felt his hand move into its length. She liked that he was not immune to her charms, such as they were, and dared to ask an even bolder question.

“Can we do it again?”

He laughed more heartily than he had yet and Annelise smiled at the sound. “It would be my pleasure, my lady,” he replied and rolled her to her back before he claimed her lips once more.

His kisses proved to be more powerful each time. Annelise was breathless when he raised his head and her heart was thundering. She stroked his broad shoulders and smiled with satisfaction. “Perhaps it would be mine, sir,” she replied and he laughed again.

“I wager we will both be well pleased, my Annelise.”

“I would not wager against you on such terms,” she said, prompting his laughter once again. His kiss was quick and thorough.

“Then you have no complaints, my Annelise?”

“Not about this, sir,” she began but had no chance to continue for her husband kissed her to silence.

And within a heartbeat, Annelise did not care.

* * *

Rolfe awakened before the dawn, eager to begin his first day free of the curse. He would be a man in daylight again and could explain all to his marvel of a wife. They could decide whether to remain in the palace or ride for Viandin.

The fountain tinkled merrily in the courtyard and the chamber was still dark. Annelise burrowed against his side. He could feel her hair strewn over her shoulders and savored her sweet warmth pressed against him. He eased a tendril away from her cheek with a fingertip, affection swelling within him.

What a wife this palace had brought to him! Rolfe was jubilant that they had sent his curse on its way in such a resounding fashion. He would never have anticipated finding a woman of such passion as Annelise simply by chance, much less having such a woman as his wife.

The bottle truly had made his dreams come true. He had a palace, a wife and obvious wealth. They could raise a family within these walls, if she desired. They might like to return to Viandin, but it was a relief not to be reliant upon Adalbert’s good will to build a future.

On this morning Rolfe would eliminate the secret between them and share his truth with Annelise.

It was possible that she might hold a small grudge. Rolfe considered that her eyes might flash that he had not initially confided all of the tale. He kissed her forehead and decided he would ensure she was in a receptive mood for his confession.

Flowers were a well-established path to a woman’s heart. Reluctantly, Rolfe slipped from the warmth of the bed. The palace was filled with the warm air of a summer morn but it was his wife he did not wish to leave.

He walked to the garden without donning a chemise. In truth, there was advantage in having no servants or others in the palace. He cut more of the same red roses that had perfumed her bath. Their scent already evoked the sight of Annelise’s smile to Rolfe and the taste of her skin. He smiled in anticipation of the aftermath of his confession.

Their celebration might be an exhausting proposition.

Rolfe could hardly wait. Even the memory of Rosalinde’s scorn could not color his optimism this morn. Annelise was different, Rolfe was certain. They would make a good life together, here in this remote palace. He would invite friends and artisans, perhaps establish a village with a mill. Their children would prosper in this place.

He hurried to arrange the roses in the chamber where Annelise slept, determined to surprise her when she awakened. Rolfe surveyed the result and decided he needed more blooms. The dawn drew near as he hastened back to the garden one last time.

The first rays of the sun lit the roof of the palace and Rolfe watched the sky lighten in the east. For the first time in over a month, he could savor the dawn without fearing the curse. He smiled as the sky lightened and took a deep breath of the morning air.

He savored his first day as a man again.

Then the morning breeze slid through his tail.

Rolfe spun around and his heart sank when he saw the truth.

How could this be?

Even as he struggled to understand why the change was occurring, an unseen force propelled him across the garden toward the gate. Rolfe fought against it every step of the way. He knew he was not permitted within these walls in wolf form, but he should not have become a wolf this day. He should have been able to remain with Annelise and tell her the truth!

Love was supposed to be his salvation.

What had gone awry?

Rolfe quickly found himself flung through the gate. When he landed on his four paws, he ran toward the open gate, but they closed against him.

He sat down in the snow, perplexed.

The curse had not been lifted by his efforts.

Had the second djinn been wrong? Had he misunderstood her terms? Or had she deceived him, promising a reward then stealing it away when he had earned it? There was a lesson there on the deceptiveness of women, mortal or djinn, of which Rolfe should not have needed a reminder. Rosalinde had taught him that lesson, after all.

He was a fool to have trusted the djinn and a worse fool for beginning to trust Annelise. And now he would have considerable time to consider his error.

Alone.

In the snow outside the palace walls.

He lifted his head and howled in frustration.

* * *

Annelise awoke feeling warm and content. She snuggled beneath the coverlet in the great bed and let her fingers ease between the linens in search of her amorous husband.

He was gone.

She sat up in surprise, her hair falling over her shoulder as the linens dropped to her waist.

“Sir?” she asked, then shouted more loudly. “Sir? Where are you?”

There was no reply.

Annelise was alone.

She got out of bed to look for him, noting that there was no sign of his clothing. That great cloak was gone and so were his boots. She wondered how he could have abandoned her after the night they had spent together.

Then she noticed the flowers. They were scattered all over the bed and cast across the floor surrounding it. Annelise smiled with the certainty that her husband had left them for her. Their scent was familiar, both from her bath and from the garden last evening, but still she did not recognize the blossoms.

For an ogre who used such unusual means to find a wife, Annelise’s new husband had a definite measure of charm.

She picked up one blood red bloom and fingered its soft petals. She buried her nose in it and closed her eyes in recollection of the night before.

Just the day before she had left Beauvoir’s bailey with the dawn. Had she truly wed the lord of this palace since then? Or had it all been a dream?

The red stone winked in the ring on Annelise’s left hand as though it would confirm the truth to her. She supposed it must be a garnet, which was a valuable stone, and knew it was as real as she.

She noticed the dried blood stain on the linens and considered it. It was clear she was a maiden no longer and she had not dreamed it.

She bent and smelled her husband’s skin upon the linens, then shivered in recollection of his caress in the darkness.

She was wed.

The match was consummated.

Her husband had promised to reveal himself to her this morning. Annelise was more than ready to learn the worst about him and to see his truth. She would look upon him and not give any sign of revulsion, no matter how scarred he might be.

He had been tender with her. Gentle. Kind. Her heart swelled. The measure of a man was not in his features but in his heart. She would tell him so, if he doubted the truth.

But where was he? Annelise considered the empty room again, then smiled as she guessed.

It was his chivalry at root again. He had let her sleep and was waiting for her to join him to break their fast together. He could not yet know that she was inclined to rise with the dawn. That he did the same was yet another trait they held in common.

That realization was all the encouragement Annelise needed to rise, wash, and dress.

Draped across a chest was another surprise. The kirtle of emerald green was so dark and rich that Annelise had never seen the like. She touched it tentatively, guessing that it must be a gift for her. There was no other lady in this abode, after all. There were fine ochre shoes of smooth leather fit for a queen, a sheer chemise embellished with fine embroidery, a cloud of cloth of gold for wimple and fillet.

Annelise found a steaming bucket and a cloth, and smiled. She washed then donned her new garments. They fit perfectly and were of such fine material that she could not believe her good fortune. She spun happily in the middle of the room. She could easily become accustomed to her husband’s generosity.

It seemed she had not made such a bad match, after all.

But there was a great deal Annelise wanted to ask her spouse. She certainly had not felt any evidence of disfigurement the night before and she thought she had made a fairly thorough investigation.

It was time to find him and learn the truth, whatever it might be.

* * *

The palace proved to be as deserted as it had been when Annelise arrived. No matter how loudly she called, only the echo of her own voice sounded in response.

What of the servants her husband had mentioned? She found no sign of them.

Had he lied to her?

Annelise did not like that prospect at all.

And where had he gone? The pleasure of her surprises dissipated when she could not locate him.

She did find a simple meal, left for one. The scent of fresh bread drew her to a room alongside the chamber they had shared. As before, there was butter and cheese, as well as a rosy apple and a cup of golden ale. She ate, assuming that he had already done as much. Then she embarked on a thorough investigation of the palace, resolved that she would not rest before she found her spouse.

The palace was not infinite. She was certain she could explore every nook before midday.

* * *

The sun was high by the time Annelise had explored all of the rooms of the palace.

She had not found another living soul.

Where had her husband gone? Where could he be hiding?

She wondered whether there was only one gate in the entire circumference of the surrounding wall. There might be another gate for the servants to use. There might be a watchtower at some point where she could overlook the grounds and see what she had missed. She decided to walk the entire circle of the wall.

It was not long before she reached the stables once more and she hurried into their shadows. Her husband might have taken refuge here, in the company of his horses.

The palfrey she had ridden the day before nickered at the sight of her. She greeted the beast and checked its flank, relieved to see that the wolf’s bite was healing already. The other palfrey in the stall greeted her with enthusiasm and she gave each of them a brushing. They had been tended very well, but she knew that horses enjoyed the attention. There were oats aplenty for both horses, and water, as well.

As she worked, she recalled the day before, which seemed like a distant dream. What had happened to the rest of the party? What of Yves? Had he been taken by wolves? Annelise recalled hearing one man’s scream, although she could not have identified the voice.

She should have spoken to Yves instead of trying to provoke him into granting her desire.

She should have sought him out instead of waiting for him to cede to her.

Annelise had been so certain that she could accompany him, but he had been adamant. She had to admit that Yves would know more of what lay before him when he rode to tournament than she could guess. She had been raised in the shelter of a convent, while he had trained with men of war.

All she had been able to think was that she had not wanted to wed either Enguerrand or Hildegarde’s son.

And now, Yves might be lost. She might have no one in her life, save her elusive husband.

This palfrey nuzzled her hair and Annelise wiped her tears. She had been right in that, at least. She could not believe that either of those suitors would have made her first mating as pleasing as her husband had. They had been men with their own objectives—or their mother’s—who cared nothing for her.

Whereas the husband that Annelise had gained by fate was one who desired her for herself.

She was not solely responsible, after all. If nothing else, Yves and Bertrand had played a part in what had happened. Either could have listened to her. Yves had admitted as much himself.

In future, though, she would try to discuss matters openly.

Annelise scratched the palfrey’s nose and peeked into the other stall. The largest destrier she had ever seen occupied it, his coat blacker than midnight. He flicked an expressive glance her way and stamped a hoof.

“Well, hello to you, sir,” she said, giving him a pat, as well.

Her husband had admitted to being a knight, and here was the evidence.

The stallion’s ears flicked and he nosed the contents of his feed box impatiently. It was not empty, Annelise noticed. He could not be hungry, although she wondered if he might be bored. He snorted and scattered oats about the stall, then glanced back at Annelise.

He was probably used to activity. As though to reinforce her thought, the destrier stamped his feet restlessly.

Annelise folded her arms across the top of the rail and dropped her chin on them. She watched the horse toss his head. “You seem to need a run. Does my husband not ride you daily? My father oft said that a good steed should be ridden frequently.”

The beast nickered and tossed his head as though approving of the notion. Memory sobered Annelise and she stepped back from the stall.

“Before you decide that my father was a wise man, you should know that he applied the same axiom to women. Whether they were good or bad was not a consideration for him.”

She frowned at the straw on the floor, determined not to recall another troubling incident so quickly. Still, she had broken her own pledge to wed only for love. Her husband could not love her, but he had been kind to her. Would that last? Would it be sufficient to spare her the fate of her own mother?

Annelise did not know and she would not find out by standing in the stable all day.

She looked about herself with curiosity. What else could she learn about her husband from the stable? The horses were well-tended, a sign of the same generosity and kindness he showed to her. The stable was neat and the stalls had been swept out, even though there was not a soul to be seen. The destrier’s trap was hung along the opposite side of the stable, and her gaze danced over the familiar gear.

She refused to think about Yves.

If this was her husband’s horse and his equipment, she reasoned, certainly there was nothing about the saddle to indicate any deformity. The stirrups were hung at precisely the same length.

A glint caught her eye and she ventured deeper into the stables. A knight’s mail was carefully stored there. It was in excellent repair and polished to a gleam. Annelise squinted at it, trying to envision the height of the man to whom it had been fitted.

It could readily belong to her spouse. He was, after all, lord of the keep, and this mail was finely wrought. It was the armor of a knight and nobleman.

Annelise knew that there were not two noblemen inhabiting this place.

Feeling as though she was prying, but continuing nonetheless, she examined the mail. There were a few nicks and scratches, as one might expect from equipment used in battle. On one shoulder it looked to have been repaired with newer rings.

But its silhouette was that of a perfectly normal man.

Remembering her theory that he might have a scarred but previously handsome face, Annelise examined his helmet. It was without blemish beyond the usual scratches and minor dents. There was evidence of nothing that could have granted him a major disfigurement.

Was it possible that there was nothing amiss with her spouse?

Why would he hide his identity from her?

Annelise drummed her fingers on his helmet. The nuns had taught her that every riddle had a key, and she knew she could solve this one. Her husband could be a villain, an outlaw wanted for some heinous crime. That would explain his reluctance to reveal himself until after the match was consummated.

No. Annelise shook her head firmly. The man who had treated her so kindly could not have a black heart.

Could he be married already? Snared in a loveless match? Annelise considered that possibility for a long moment even though she disliked it intensely. It would mean that he had tricked her—but why? No man had need of two wives.

Unless his wife was barren and he was without a son and heir.

Annelise bit her lip. But then, where was this barren bride? Surely she would be resident at his home? Annelise knew she was alone in this palace.

She refused to consider other possibilities along that line. Her host and husband could have simply seduced her, if he had been driven by desire alone. It had not been necessary to marry her, much less to surrender his ring to her.

No, she refused to believe that he was already wed.

He could be falsely accused of a crime. That was a promising possibility. But who might bring a false charge against a man evidently so honorable?

Perhaps a woman spurned.

If so, her spouse might not be certain which side she would take in the fray.

But she was his wife. And he had ensured that she had no grounds for an annulment. Annelise’s skin tingled with the memory of his touch. Her spouse had seen to her earthly needs in a way far beyond any expectation and had given her hope for a marital future blessed with love.

Annelise was wed, for better or for worse, yet she would not abandon her hope of love in marriage.

Indeed, if he feared that she might recoil from some truth in his nature or his past, she could prove otherwise to him. His battle could be hers. What better way to earn his love than to banish whatever demon haunted him? She would aid him, clear his name, appeal to the king, do whatever was necessary to have him fully as her spouse.

But first Annelise had to discover precisely who her husband was.

She examined his belongings, telling herself that the greater cause justified the intrusion. He could have simply confided in her, but clearly had chosen not to do so.

He had promised to tell her the truth this morning and had not.

Annelise was in the right—even if she felt that she was wrong.

His tunic was rich indigo and trimmed with white silk that looked somewhat the worse for wear. There were the caparisons of a size to garb the destrier in the same fabrics and colors.

Annelise recalled the callus on his hand. Clearly, her spouse was not just a knight. He was a warrior who actually engaged in battle. As she ran a fingertip over the scarred leather scabbard of his sword, she wondered where he had fought.

His shield was emblazoned with a white griffin on the navy ground. One of the beast’s claws was extended as though the talons would shred an attacker. Its wings were spread high, its scowl fierce.

A silver branch embellished with what Annelise thought were oak leaves hung from the griffin’s beak. A row of tiny silver-and-white fleurs-de-lis ran along both top and bottom edges of the crest.

She traced the emblems with her finger, noting the nicks and scratches upon them. She did not recognize his insignia, but that said little, for Annelise paid scant attention to such matters of war. If nothing else, she recognized that the fleurs-de-lis signified his family’s pledge to the king of France. He was far from his origin, then.

How had he come by this palace in the forest? Who was his overlord?

His packs were virtually empty, with the exception of various masculine miscellany that told her little. She touched the dagger and spare shirt, found his comb, his flint, a small and very sharp knife, a coil of rope, then grimaced when she discovered some cheese that he had evidently forgotten.

Annelise disposed of the cheese and surveyed the stables again. Clearly, she would have need of her ingenuity to discover the identity of her enigmatic spouse.

“Would you like to go for a ride?” she demanded of the destrier.

His ears flicked with what Annelise chose to regard as interest. She lifted the saddle to his back with some difficulty and harnessed the large beast. For once, she was glad of the days she had hidden in Sayerne’s stables to avoid her father.

“We shall check the wall,” she informed the destrier.

What Annelise had to do was concoct a plan and she knew that the most successful plans were reliant upon the most complete information.

Before the sun set, she would know every secret of this palace.

Perhaps there was an advantage in her solitude within these walls: there was no one to stop her from her quest.