Chapter Four

The morning suns shone brightly upon the small village, reflecting off the coating of ice that frosted the grasses and trees of the surrounding fields and forests. Winter birds called defiantly to each other, pecking at the trees for the insects burrowed deeply into the bark and searching for the heat that lay deep within each tree.

The animals called to each other, and soft knickers, guttural grunts, clucking and cooing could be heard throughout the village. The deep stream gurgled lustily, playing over rocks and tree branches, breaking through the thin layer of ice that coated its banks as it hurried to spill into the massive lake that was its destination.

Danielle hastened to the village square, a basket of baked goods slung carelessly over her arm. Cool winds carrying the hint of winter played around and under her skirts, trailing over her legs with frigid fingers. She pulled her thick blue cloak more closely around her shoulders as she rushed along the small path and sidestepped puddles rimmed with ice that was trying to form despite the heat of the suns.

Her mind lay not upon her task but with Lukas. He’d stolen more than her virtue that golden morning in her clearing. With his green eyes and gentle hands, he’d also stolen her heart. She felt a shiver of pleasure at the memory of his heated kisses and talented fingers. The momentary pain of the parting of her maidenhood had been nothing compared to the joyous rapture that had followed.

Her hand moved to her stomach, resting against the still-flat surface. His seed had been potent, finding fertile ground to sow itself within her belly. She’d missed her moon time, and this morning, she’d been sick again, the fourth morning in a row that the smell of her mother’s cooking had sent her rushing from their hut. She’d bear his child, and, despite ridicule, she’d do it proudly.

But she would be ostracised from the village, sent out and banished when it was discovered she was with child. Her family would be shamed, her father would turn his back on her and it would be as if she were dead.

She should have met with Lukas that night. She should have gone with him, stayed with him. She should have…

“Stop it,” she hissed to herself. There was naught to do now but to prepare for the worst. She had a few months, her skirts would hide her burgeoning stomach, and she could possibly stay until the frozen season was over. She’d have a better chance of survival in the warmer months of the beginning season.

A shadow fell over her, and she looked up just before she bumped into a solid object.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, reaching out at the same time that the object grabbed her arms. It held her close for a moment longer than necessary, and she pushed away looking up and into a face she hadn’t wanted to see today.

“Danielle, you should be more careful.” The large man let loose of her arms almost reluctantly.

“I beg your pardon, Tannis. I did not see you.” Danielle dropped into a slight curtsey then tried to hurry around the village elder. She did not wish to seem rude, but she didn’t want him to think she sought his company. He was recently widowed, the father of six children and just coming from the morning period. It would be expected for him to take a new wife and mother for those children, and rumor was, he fancied Danielle.

“You seem lost in thought and in a hurry, Danielle.” Tannis stepped up his pace to match hers, his hand reaching out to take the heavy basket of baked goods she was carrying to the village shop.

Danielle held tight and pulled back. “I wish to get these goods to the shop before the cold takes away too much of their warmth. My mother’s baked goods are so much better warm, sir.” She tried once more to hurry away, but he kept pace and seemed in no hurry to leave her side.

“‘Tis rumored that you also have a gift for baking.” He tried once more to take the basket, this time retaining his hold until she relented.

With a heavy sigh, she resigned herself to his company, hurrying her step until he caught her arm to slow her down.

“One would get the idea that you wish not to be seen with me, Danielle,” he said, his smile forced.

She barely covered her sigh of relief beneath a smile as her father bustled her way. “There you are, girl. Your mother is fretting about her baked goods, and I told her I would hurry you along.” He turned to the man with Danielle. “Tannis, my good friend. How are you today?”

Tannis returned the basket to Danielle, watching as she made her way swiftly into the village shop without so much as a backward glance.

“I’m well.” He watched until the last fold of her skirt disappeared through the rough doorway then looked to Danielle’s father. “Harold, I wish to hand-fast with your daughter.”

A small smile came to Harold’s rugged features as he waited to speak, a ploy meant to make a prospective groom nervous. It had been the way of things for decades, and he wouldn’t change the ritual now. “What do you bring her?” he asked, as was the custom of his people.

Tannis smiled to himself. If Harold hadn’t been willing, he would have ended the subject immediately with a scratch upon either his head or his chin and said something to the effect that he would have to think upon the matter. Harold’s question, also based upon Tannis’s answer, was tantamount to a yes.

“I bring to your daughter all of myself, my children and our future children, sir. She will have a home, one to be proud of. She will never want for food upon her table and in her larder. My position among the villagers is set. I have no need of an heir from Danielle. My last mate gave me many. So Danielle will never worry for anything, Harold.”

“And to my wife and I? What do you bring to us?”

A bride’s price was something to give serious thought to. If the price accepted was too little, it brought shame upon the family. If too much, it brought doubts upon the bride herself.

“My flock has done well this year, Harold. Your choice of the finest amongst them, sir, is what I could pay. And you and your wife will be welcome at my hearth—”

A commotion from ahead interrupted the two men as a huge white carriage barreled through the tiny village. Massive hooves dug into the icy dirt of the roadway as the driver hollered and cursed at the huge beasts, reining them to a stop in the centre of the village.

The coach had been seen before inside of the village limits, but it was always late at night or early in the morning, and always outside the widow’s quarters on the very edge of the village. This was a first, the gleaming coach shining in pearly splendor in the cool, bright light of day.

The coachman hurriedly climbed down, pulling open one of the curved doors while doffing his hat. He held out his hand but was ignored as the passenger lithely jumped to the hard-packed dirt.

Harold stared at the stranger who was now the centre of everyone’s attention as they streamed out of the crude huts that made up the village. He seemed familiar in an eerie sort of way.

Squinting his eyes, Harold looked harder at the stranger, trying to remember where he’d seen that black hair and those fine features. The eyes, jade green, intelligent, and questing gave the older man pause.

The wolf! Those eyes were the same as those of the wolf he’d come upon in the forest on a night not too far past. He’d been prepared to strike, to take the wolf’s pelt, as it would warm his daughter’s bed very well in the upcoming season. But the look the wolf had given him had caused him to still the hand that was poised to strike. There was a look of misery, a look of abject loneliness that seemed almost human to Harold.

They had stared at each other, man and wolf, taking the other’s measure. Then the wolf, seeming to give a small bow, leapt out of the path, racing almost silently through the dense underbrush. Harold hadn’t been able to get the wolf out of his mind and had mentioned it to his mate the next morning, putting up with her ribbing since then.

The man seemed to be searching the villagers, looking for—

Harold’s breath caught in his chest when he saw his daughter step through the shop’s front door, her mother following closely behind her. The man’s eyes zeroed in on Danielle, and he strode towards her, the villagers parting in front of him.

Harold hurried forward, intent upon stopping the stranger, Tannis hard upon his heels.

Danielle’s breath caught in her throat, her heart fluttering in her chest as she looked up to see the cause of the commotion that had caught everyone’s attention. Lukas stood before her, staring down at her, a hard to read expression upon his face.

“Lukas?” she whispered, her hand coming up almost of its own accord, touching the rough skin of his cheek before she remembered herself. “Oh, my lord, I am sorry.” She dipped a curtsey, deeper than the one she’d given to Tannis. Her eyes were locked upon his features, trying so hard to see what he was thinking in his eyes.

“I’ve come for you, Danielle,” he said so softly she thought she’d imagined it until he continued. “You will come with me now.”

It wasn’t a question but an order, and her heart leapt at the thought of going with him.

“Danielle, what is this? Who is this man?”

“Father—”

“Sir, my name is Lukas de Arrone. I wish to take your daughter as my wife.” Lukas cut off Danielle’s words with no hesitation.

“No.” This came from Tannis as the older man hurried forward, determined to stake his own claim. “I have already petitioned Harold.”

Lukas stared at the older man, his eyes steady. “Whatever he’s offered for her, I will double it, sir.”

“Lukas de Arrone? From the manor on the hill?” Harold’s voice rose in question, and he then turned and stared at Danielle. “Where did you meet my daughter, sir?”

“In the glade that she likes to go to in the evening. She stumbled upon me as I was on the last section of my trek home, sir. I’ve not been able to get her from my mind since that night.” He held out his hand to Danielle and was amazed when she trustingly laid hers upon it. He pulled her forward. “If she has any say in the matter, sir, and wants to go with this man instead of me, I shall withdraw my proposition.”

“Danielle?” Harold turned to his daughter, seeing her answer in the look in her eyes. “You want this man?” he asked in astonishment.

Lukas looked down at the beautiful blonde maiden whose deep blue eyes seemed to sparkle with secrets.

She stared back at him, wishing she could see past the shuttered eyes and look into his heart. Was he here because he wanted her, or was he here because she hadn’t come back to him?

She nodded, not taking her eyes from the tall man, still a stranger to her in so many ways. “Yes, father, I do want this man.”

Harold threw his hands into the air. He stared at his wife, silently seeking her council. She looked between the two young people then back to her husband. A quiet nod was her only indication of assent with Danielle’s wishes.

Lukas took Danielle’s hand, speaking softly to her. “Come with me now. I live in the white manor on the hill you so like to look at. My father is there, along with the servants who raised me. They will all welcome you as my wife and as their mistress.”

Danielle stared at her parents for a moment, her heart torn.

“Your parents can come to visit at any time,” Lukas said hurriedly, wanting to reassure this girl who held his heart in her small palms. She could drop it into the dust, turn from him and leave him desolate. He desperately wanted to believe in her, wanted to be able to trust in her.

She looked into his eyes, and a small smile blossomed on her face. At her nod, Tannis reached into his waistband, pulling out the sharp dagger all village men carried. Nine inches long and wickedly sharp, the metal gleaming in the bright light of the morning suns.

Danielle had time but to gasp before Lukas turned, throwing up his arm to block the blow that might not have killed but would definitely have maimed him. His hand grasped the shorter man’s wrist, struggling against Tannis’ strength.

The dagger tipped back and forth as the men fought. Tannis, his face ruddy with exertion, his dark eyes now even blacker with anger, had the advantage over the thinner man. He grunted as he fought, struggling to keep his feet under him in the slippery mud of the village street.

Lukas’ emotions tilted, and he felt the pull of the wolf as his ire slipped from his control. This man dared to stand between him and his mate, a situation he would not countenance. He’d fought others for her and won. He would win this day also. A growl arose in his chest, and he felt the first crackle of bone that signified the change.

Panic caused sweat to pearl on his brow as he fought both Tannis and his own inner demon. The black hair on his head stood on end, and a rippling of shorter, thicker hair surfaced along the ridge of his spine. His eyes started to glow, jade fire that burned into the shorter man.

With a burst of strength, partially due to the wildness of the wolf that howled to be set free from deep within him, he pushed back Tannis, watching as the man slid to the ground, his arm striking a rock and the dagger bouncing just out of his reach. Growling, Lukas grabbed his sword, the steel singing as it was freed from leather. He stood over the village elder, the tip of the sword resting lightly upon Tannis’ chest.

“Danielle is mine,” he said brutally, his voice, already deep, going guttural as he fought to control the emotional surges that wanted to be freed. “She is mine and no concern of yours from this day forward. Is that understood?”

Tannis glared up at the slender lord, nodding his head once then scrabbling to his feet as soon as Lukas removed the tip of the sword from his chest.

“I will overlook your actions of this day, considering the prize you have lost. But if you come near Danielle again, the very least you will see is the inside of White Stone castle’s dungeons.” Lukas stepped back, watching as the village elder bristled under the loss of his dignity.

Tannis seemed to hesitate, and Lukas saw the need that battled inside him, the need for blood, for appeasement to what he seemed to see as personal insult. With one last stare at Danielle, Tannis turned away, limping off towards his hut. He slammed into his hut, seeking refuge to plot and lick his wounds, to mourn the loss of the beautiful young girl whom he had lusted over even before his mate’s unfortunate accident.

In the village square, Lukas took Danielle’s arm in his hand, grasping her firmly. His chest heaved as he stared at the other men of the village, waiting to see if another suitor would step forward and make some claim on his mate. When none did, he glanced down at the beautiful girl with a hard look that caused her to shiver under his hand. Then with a nod to her father, he urged her forward, helping her into the white coach and climbing in behind her.

With a sad cry, Harold hurried into the pathway, his hand held out as if to stop the horses that were whipped forward with purpose. His last glimpse of his girl was her face at the glass, a hand raised in a gesture of farewell, a last glinting of her golden hair, a last meeting of deep blue eyes to his dark ones.

And then she was gone.