Chapter Five

The air inside the carriage was musty with age. Supple leather cushions softened every jounce of the quickly moving coach. Draperies swung at the glass windows, hung upon rods of gold. The crest of the manor, the large white lion of the northern regions surrounded by a circlet of blood-red roses, was embroidered upon every cushion, every curtain and painted upon the wooden walls of the coach.

Danielle sat where she’d been placed, staring across at the man she’d just promised the rest of her life to. He, too, sat, but his chest heaved, and his head was bowed. He seemed in pain, and Danielle wanted to reach out to him. But she was afraid.

The growl he had given during his fight with Tannis had seemed inhuman. The teeth he had clenched together had looked too sharp to be human. And his eyes… The green of them had glowed with unearthly light. Was he man? Or was he something else? Who was this she’d pledged to? For she was his now. Her assent spoken amongst the members of her village was deemed, by her people, almost as binding as a ceremony in front of a holy man.

The silence stretched until it seemed to chomp at her nerves. She finally sat forward, her hand reaching out tentatively to touch his dark head. “Lukas?”

His head snapped up, startling her. His eyes stared at her in the dim light of the coach, pinning her to her seat. But they were human eyes, not glowing or strange as she had thought she had seen.

“You didn’t come back.”

It was a statement given in a terse, bitter voice, but it demanded an answer. An answer Danielle wasn’t certain she knew how to give.

“I-I wanted to,” she began.

“Then why didn’t you?” he asked bluntly, anger coloring his words. Even as his eyes urged her to speak, to tell him why she’d broken the vow she’d given him, he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer. If she lied, he’d know, and all trust between them would be broken. His heart begged her to have care, speaking to her through his eyes as he stared across at her.

“When I returned to the village, my parents were so upset about what had happened, about my not coming home that night, they forbade me to return to the forest. I couldn’t go against them, Lukas.” Her eyes stared into his, begging him to believe her.

“I waited for you for days. I called to you at dusk from the edge of the forest. Danielle, did you not hear my call?”

She remembered the wild song of the wolf, the strange yearnings its undulating notes had drawn from her. She remembered the wildness inside herself, and the pain she’d felt at denying herself that which she had wanted the most. She’d been desperate to go to him, to feel his arms around her, to answer that untamed call with wild cries of her own. It had haunted her, making her wish he would leave. But when the calls had finally stopped, their absence had wounded her worst of all.

Tears threatened in those deep blue eyes as she stared up at him. “Yes, Lukas, I heard the cry of the wolf, and I knew. I wanted to come to you. I wanted to be with you again, as we were in that clearing, and so much more than that.” She reached out to him again, this time touching the roughness of his cheek with her fingers. “I didn’t know how to get word to you. I couldn’t leave, Lukas. No matter what, they’re my parents.”

Lukas felt her soft fingers touch his face, and he closed his eyes at the emotions that rose inside of him. The wolf howled with joy, the knowledge that his mate was with him once more heating his blood, bringing him happiness and a completeness the like he’d known before just that once in a forest glade. The wolf didn’t feel the bitterness of the man, didn’t know the hurt or the loss of trust the man felt. But even through those feelings of betrayal, the man also could not resist her pull.

Lukas reached out, drawing Danielle forward and into his arms, his mouth unerringly finding hers. His lips were gentle at first, his hands tender as they stroked her slender back. She responded with the same passion he’d dreamed about, her lips clinging to his, her tongue finding his and dancing sweetly against it. He growled into her mouth, the wolf too close to the surface for him to remain gentle for long.

He wanted her. That had never been an issue. But knowing she wanted him too drove him past the limits of his restraint. He slid his hand under the long blue cloak she still wore, pulling it away from the softness of her body and exposing her sweet curves, covered in homespun fabrics, to the gaze of his green eyes.

“Danielle,” he moaned into her mouth, teasing himself and her with small scorching forays of his tongue into the dark heat of her mouth. He heard her gasp, felt her breasts rise on a sigh of pleasure and brush against the hardness of his chest. “Gods, I’ve missed you.”

His hands roamed with intimate knowledge over her, clutching at her skirt to draw it up. Her hands pulled at his shirt, desperate to find the skin hidden under the white folds. His mouth devoured her, his hands finding the smooth length of her legs, gliding over them and urging apart her slender thighs. Long fingers parted swollen lips and slipped between to tease flesh dewed with passion.

Her every sigh was a sweet song. He felt her every gasp and moan in his depths. Her head fell back, baring the sweet lines of her throat to the ravishment of his lips. A small keening cry escaped her as his fingers moved into her wet flesh, stretching and teasing that area that had taken him so blissfully in their glade.

He tasted her, the savory flavors of her skin tantalizing the wolf within that howled at the restraints Lukas imposed upon him. Her scent was imprinted upon his brain, the musky smell of her arousal mixed with the spicy fragrance of her soap. It was more appealing than the most exotic perfume, more intoxicating than the strongest of brews, and it swirled through his head until he forgot where they were, forgot the bouncing of the coach beneath them, forgot everything but the woman in his arms.

Laying her back against the warm leather of the coach seats, he hurriedly undid the fastening of her cloak, letting the soft blue fabric land in a heap on the floor. She lay there, her arms beckoning him, her legs still parted from his hand. His moan echoed throughout the small interior as he gave into her pull, cradling his hips in the softness of her thighs, his lips taking hers with a demand she willingly gave in to.

Danielle felt the soft wool of his breeches against her naked loins, the hard ridge of his manhood pushing insistently against her. Her hands fisted in the soft linen of his shirt and ran through the fine heaviness of his hair, pulling him closer as her hips moved under him. She was almost feral in her need, pushing against him, rubbing against that bulge as she tried to assuage the seemingly unceasing fire that burned within her body.

He tore his mouth from hers, his breath rasping hoarsely from his opened mouth, one hand sliding down to her soft hip to hold her still.

“Danielle,” he moaned, his voice calling to her, making her open her eyes and look up at him.

What he saw there, in the dark, deep pools of her eyes, was more than he had expected, more than he had hoped for when, in the village, she’d agreed to go with him. She stared up at him, desire dancing like fire against the cool blue of her gaze, her emotions open for him to see.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his hand catching in the golden curls she’d tied back in a long tail that morning. He pulled free the piece of leather she’d used to hold the thick fall of hair, letting the long tresses cover his hand in cool waves of silk. Lifting a handful to his nose, he buried his face in the flaxen mass, breathing in her scent and letting it entangle his mind.

Her skin gleamed almost copper, lightening to pearly white over the smooth curves of her breasts, still hidden by the garment that barred his way. His hand, unsteady with his need, traced the line of her gown, sliding over golden skin to the paleness of her breast, one finger slipping under the curved neckline to slide over beautifully shaped globes that plunged to a dark shadowy cleavage.

Pulling gently but determinedly, he eased down the bodice of the dress until the tips of her full white breasts were freed, her nipples hardening quickly under his heated gaze. His tongue slipped out, moistening lips gone dry with desire before settling over one turgid bud.

Danielle cried out, her eyes on the dark head poised over her breast, his hair caressing the skin he had bared as he suckled and licked the sensitive tip. She reached up, tangling her hands in his hair and holding his head to her as sensations simmered inside, igniting into flames in her loins. She moaned a protest as he pulled away from her breast, only to murmur and stir under him even more as he attacked the other with wicked intent.

Lukas’ hand cupped the other breast, fingers pulling and twisting delicately at her nipple until she cried out his name, her hips churning against him as she sought that pleasure he’d given her so easily before.

“Lukas,” she moaned, her hands clutching at his shoulders and tangling in his hair. “Please, I need…I…” Her head thrashed against the seat. “Please,” she pleaded.

His lips curled with a dark passion as he heard her cries of desire. He was rock-hard, and his physical needs battled against his will, throbbing with a yearning to plunge into her golden heat and thrust until his own ecstasy poured over him. He fought those powerful needs, determined to show her how he felt, to put her passions ahead of his own.

He slid down the seat, his lips finding the smooth curve of her belly. He felt her inhale as his tongue explored her slender shape, his teeth nipping at the taut flesh of her hip. Her body writhed under his ministrations, her hands wild upon his head and shoulders as she sought to draw him back to her.

He resisted, trailing his tongue in a straight line, from the dimpled curve of her navel to just above her sleekly pelted mons. The scent of her here—musky tang, sweet feminine sweat, and spicy soap—drove him wild, and he pushed her legs further apart, his tongue parting golden curls to find the heart of her sex.

“What are you—” Danielle’s voice rose in alarm. She stiffened as she felt the first long taste he took of her sex, her mind shying away from what he was doing. “Oh, Lukas, no, stop.”

He laid his hand gently on the soft skin of her stomach, feeling the satiny give of her flesh as he held her still. Looking up into her surprised, passion-flushed face, he grinned, a decidedly wolfish expression on his handsome face. “Lie back, love. I promised once that no harm would come to you. I ask that you trust me now.”

“But…” Danielle began, only to stop in mid-thought as, holding her hips steady with one hand, he moved his mouth back to her heat, his tongue sweeping over her wetness, finding the rigid proof of her desire and torturing it with tiny flicks and jabs.

Her mouth pursed, a mewl of surprised bliss startled from her. Her hips jerked under his hand, and her thighs tensed next to his head as he pushed her further. Slowly, he wet the middle finger of his free hand in the slickness of her slit then pushed it gently inside her, feeling the walls of her channel contract around his invading digit. He moved it slowly, his lips capturing and suckling the stiff knot of her womanhood, nibbling with his teeth.

Danielle felt a huge spiraling tension in her stomach, an urgent need that she’d felt once before but not with this intensity, not with this all-encompassing vastness. Her hand clenched at his head, urging him on with soft cries. She felt him flex his fingers inside herself, thrusting first with just one finger, then another while she writhed under the hand holding her captive. The spiraling grew and grew, overwhelming her until she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, but could only feel his mouth and his hand.

She grew rigid under him. As with the need that had just preceded it, pleasure unlike any she’d ever felt before rocketed through her. His name escaped her lips as her head dropped back on the seat, her body shaken by the sensations he caused. Waves of bliss swept over her until she couldn’t breathe but could only feel.

Lukas groaned as wetness flowed over his hand from her pleasure. He was drowning in her, the scent of her in his nostrils, the taste of her on his tongue and in his mouth, her soft-skinned thighs going lax around his face. He moved over her as she lay limply against the seat, small tremors shaking her slender frame.

He kissed her, his tongue thrusting deeply into her mouth, giving her the taste of herself that covered his lips and mouth. He pushed her hair from her face, then slid his hand down the side of her neck and over her shoulder, cupping her breast. His thumb rubbing with tender urgency at her distended nipple. He groaned as she whimpered and arched into him as his hands possessed her once more.

He reached down, pulling at the buttons of his breeches and freeing his straining cock with a relieved moan. Lukas had never felt so aroused, never felt this kind of need to be with any woman. But Danielle wasn’t just any woman. She was his, his mate, his bride-to-be. She was his forever, and the wolf in him panted in excitement and howled its glee.

The head of his cock rubbed gently at her sopping labia, then pushed against her tight opening. She moaned, feeling a sudden spurt of renewed pleasure as his shaft started to fill her. His body tensed as he again tried to hold his control.

Before he could go further, Lukas lifted his head, cocking it to the side as he listened intently. His nostrils flared as he scented the air like the half-wild being he was. A sudden pounding at the roof of the coach had a long line of curses spewing from his lips.

Danielle tensed, staring up at him, not understanding what was going on. All she knew was that he had stopped, and she wanted more. She shifted, lifting her hips and trying to recapture him between her thighs.

Lukas groaned, his body surging forward as her tight channel trapped his cock in its silken heat. He grabbed her hips, pulling away, his body fighting his will as he dragged himself off of her. The air felt cold on his exposed manhood, making him feel the loss of her warmth even more acutely.

“We have to stop, love. We’re home.” His voice was hoarse, his body complaining as he struggled to fix his breeches, then reached over to help straighten her dress. Her body took longer to understand what he was saying, and she blushed as he pulled her skirt down over her still splayed thighs.

Sitting up, she struggled with the bodice of her gown, covering her breasts. They both reached for her cloak at the same time, their hands touching over the smooth fabric. Their eyes met, and Lukas smiled in encouragement.

“My father will be waiting for us, Danielle.” He covered her shoulders with the cloak, pulling her long hair free of the material. Running his hands through the mussed tresses, he smoothed it as well as he could. They both heard the change of sounds as the hooves of the horses struck the hard, cold marble of the courtyard. The coach slowed and finally pulled to a stop in front of the long, white steps that led to the front door.

“Welcome to your new home, my love. This is White Stone castle.” He pushed open the door, jumping down to turn and help her alight. One only had to look at the rosy blush on her cheeks and the flush that bloomed across the tops of her creamy breasts to guess what had occurred inside the coach.

The huge doors at the top of the stairs opened slowly as Danielle stared in rapt amazement at the marble courtyard and the many statues and stained glass windows that adorned the area. She almost missed seeing the man walking with careful steps down the long stairway. He was dressed in deep purple robes, a cloak of white fur draped carelessly across his thin shoulders. His hair was long and snowy white, blending beautifully with the fur.

He wore a smile upon his face, his eyes never leaving Lukas, and Danielle saw a strange shadow that seemed to cross his face as if another being slid onto his expression. He held his hand out, reaching for Lukas.

“My son, I can’t tell you how happy I am that you made this decision.”

Lukas looked at the hand on his shoulder then back into the face of his father. He smiled, seeming to Danielle to be ill at ease, even as he spoke.

“I’m happy that the decision is made also. Father, this is Danielle. She has agreed to be mine.” He reached over, his hand grasping Danielle’s upper arm, drawing her forward. “Danielle, my father, the Lord of White Stone, Lord Jourick.”

Danielle curtsied, her skirts billowing out around her as she dropped gracefully to the marble step. She kept her head bowed, wondering at the feelings that flooded her, erasing the wonderful sensations of Lukas’ lovemaking as if it had never happened. She felt cold, almost frozen and brittle, as if one small touch would send her shattering into the tiniest of pieces to land at their feet.

When she rose, she felt Jourick’s eyes upon her. With as much courage as she possessed, she turned her face up to stare at this man who had sired her Lukas. He bore no resemblance to her lover, shared no familial traits she could draw upon to create some kind of recognition. Instead, his face was angular planes, thin to the point of being emaciated. Wrinkled skin was visible at the sides of his eyes, at the corners of his mouth and around his chin. His eyes themselves were hard and cold, an ice-blue shade that showed no sign of warming until he looked at his son.

But even then, Jourick’s eyes never showed love. Instead, there seemed to be a wanting, a desire that sparked behind the mask he used to cover what was really there. He stared at Lukas as if he were something to be desired and not a son to love.

Danielle shook away her thoughts. She did not know this man or his ways. She’d seen the coach, heard the rumors but had never given thought to the owner of them. Her smile was forced, and she reached out and took the hand Jourick offered her, though she had to keep the chill from shivering down her spine at the coldness of his hand.

“My Lord,” she said, slightly breathless. When his lips brushed the back of her knuckles, that shiver turned to revulsion. “It’s a…pleasure to meet you.”

“And to meet the woman who has returned my son to me. I owe you much thanks, Danielle. Please, both of you, come in and warm yourselves by the fire. I will have Jasper bring refreshments, then we can see about making you comfortable in your new home, my daughter-to-be.”

Danielle had to force her knees to bend, to make her feet walk up those long steps, her hand now wrapped upon Jourick’s arm, held under his hand.

Lukas followed closely behind them. These two relationships were so new to him, father to son, man to mate. He’d thought them both lost this morning, had not dared to hope that things would turn out the way they had, and he now refused to give into the almost animalistic warnings that screamed through his body.

Those warnings warred with his dreams of a life with his lady and a life he could live here, at the castle of his birth, amongst the people who had loved him the best. His father had seemed different than the man he had been when Lukas had been forced to run. He seemed less the wizard, more the lord. Maybe he had changed, maybe Lukas’ leaving had made the lord think. Lukas knew not, but he could hope.

Jasper was at the door to meet them, taking Danielle’s long, cloak and the lord’s fur mantle. He bowed deeply to Danielle, greeting her with a smile that did not reach his old eyes. In them, she saw an abject worry that he was trying to hide. She noted he didn’t meet the lord’s eyes when Jourick spoke to him.

“Jasper, have refreshments made and brought to my solarium. I wish to become better acquainted with Lukas’ Danielle.” His eyes swept over the golden-haired maiden, feeling the same appreciation of her form he had felt when he’d spied upon the village.

She’d stood out, with her bright-yellow hair streaked with strands of the palest of blondes to the gold of the sun. Her slender body, gently curving, graceful and supple, had intrigued him. She was so different from the squat, square bodies of the other villagers. He’d thought her a changeling, or a foundling, and had questioned at length the widows that he had brought here.

Of course, he had always erased their memories of those questions, not wanting his interest in the darling of the village to be known. And now his son had brought that same girl into his home and intended to make her his bride. It seemed a stroke of fate.

They chatted in the solarium, Jourick at his most charming, recounting details of Lukas’ youth that had laughter echoing in the room. Danielle laughed, teasing Lukas with gentle words. She had been seated next to him on the small chaise and would reach out, touching his arm or his face, resting her forehead upon his shoulder as she laughed. Her eyes shone brightly when she spoke to him or he to her, and Jourick felt their love as almost a physical presence.

When Danielle yawned, covering it with a delicate hand, Jourick rose.

“My son, I think your lady has had enough of us for a while. Perhaps, she would like a nap and a bath before dinner. I will have one of the maids come up and bring her a selection of dresses to chose from if that is agreeable?”

“Oh, but—”

“That would be splendid, father,” Lukas said, rising and holding out his hand to Danielle.

“You are in your old room, Lukas, and I thought perhaps Danielle would like the room across the corridor. I had it aired for her.” Jourick watched as Danielle rose, her hand curling around Lukas’s fingers, twining with them. “My dear, rest and don’t worry about clothing. There is much to choose from in the vaults under this castle, as many ages of warriors fought and gathered riches, depositing them for future generations. And with luck, you will be the mother of one of those generations.” He smiled. “Isn’t it but a trifle to ask that a daughter accept a gift from her father by marriage,?”

Danielle struggled to return his smile. “Then you have my thanks, my lord,” she said softly.

She couldn’t help but feel relieved that Jourick didn’t come with them. Instead, he went to the strange book she had noted sitting upon a beautiful ivory column in the centre of the room. The book was open, a stained glass dome sitting upon the floor next to the pedestal. As they left the room, Danielle took one small glance back and saw him standing before the book. He watched her, a smile upon his lips, his hands held out just above the open pages.

Dark magick? She wondered and longed to ask, but Lukas seemed too excited, losing the blasé manner he’d had at every one of their meetings. He seemed younger, eager to share every secret and treasure of his home. When she finally stood before the doorway to the bedroom that had been given her, he took her hand, bringing it to his lips.

“You will sleep here, Danielle. But only for the few days until I can arrange our marriage. Then we will finish what we started in the coach, my love.” He leaned down, kissing her with exquisite tenderness before opening the door to the room.

Danielle walked into a room that would have easily swallowed her parents’ entire hut. It was opulent, luxury seeming the standard as it was in every room she’d been shown in this huge place. Gold, satiny material covered the floor-to-ceiling windows and was pulled back to let in the sun. The walls were painted, tiny trailing vines with small gold and red flowers covering the upper half. The lower portion of the walls was paneled wood painted white and trimmed with a gold cord that ran just above the wainscoting.

A huge bed, placed upon a platform, dominated the middle of the room. A thick gold comforter, the exact color of the tiny roses, covered an immense feather-stuffed mattress, with dozens of satin pillows in shades of gold and red taking up the top fourth of the bed. A canopy, long material draped and pulled back at each intricately carved post, gave the bed an aura of privacy.

A small settee and two gilded chairs sat around a fireplace which burned cheerfully. To the side, a huge wardrobe, doors open and gowns of every color spilling out, took up most on the wall. A dressing table with an oval-shaped mirror in a gilded frame above it was on the other wall. Bottles and jars neatly lined up on the surface, and a small round stool in front of it.

The room seemed to be waiting for its mistress, as if she’d stepped out and would be back momentarily. Nothing was empty and barren, as she’d been afraid it might be. She walked into the room, spinning slowly to take in the wonderful paintings gracing the walls. Going to the window to gaze over a vista of trees, she saw her own tiny village surrounded by the deep waters of the rivers in the distance.

Turning, she spotted Lukas, a smile upon his lips as he watched the amazement in her eyes. “Will it do?” he asked, teasing her.

Danielle smiled back at him then ran to him. He caught her in his embrace as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “It’s beautiful, Lukas. Wonderful. I feel as if I am dreaming.”

“Well, if you are, let’s hope we don’t wake up.” He dipped his head the few inches separating them, sipping at her lips with a restraint he felt hard pressed to maintain. He felt her lips linger, parting slightly, and he pulled away, barely hiding the moan he felt building at the disappointed look on her face.

“I’ll leave you to your rest, my lady,” he said, releasing and giving her a teasing bow. “And I shall find your lady’s maid and send her to you. If you need anything, my love, I am in the room across the way.” With one final kiss upon her soft lips, he left her, closing the door quietly behind himself.

* * * *

The days before the wedding passed quickly, Danielle finding the lifestyle of a lady of the manor slightly boring. She was restricted to the confines of the manor’s walls, not allowed to roam at will as she had those idyllic summer months before. But each time the spirit to roam the forest pulled at her, she’d look at Lukas, lose herself in the gleam of his jade-colored gaze and find every reason to resist.

She learned duties, for every lady needed to know certain things. She learned the layout of the rooms, the different status of each and arranged flowers for them—the bedrooms, especially, were considered symbols of power by the classes, and the greater the status of a guest, the more ornate the room was.

History lessons about the de Arrone genealogy were given to her by Jourick himself. He was proud of his line, being able to trace it to the very first settlers who had founded the planet so many years ago. He arrogantly explained all this to her, for the first time seeming to look down his elegant pinched nose at her. Their line was pure, no trace of any but the finest blood had been allowed to mix within the family.

Danielle’s ire had risen at that lesson, and she had been about to open her mouth when Jourick had changed the subject. Seconds later, Lukas had let himself into the room, coming to sit next to her and to listen to his father expound upon the great deeds done by each generation of his family.

And that wasn’t the only time Jourick had made her feel inferior. Tiny things kept adding up until Danielle burst to tell someone of Jourick’s feelings towards her. But whom could she tell? Lukas? He’d just been reunited with his father. She couldn’t hurt him like that. And if she did tell him, would he believe her?

So she stayed silent and learned the lessons, striving to do what she could to better herself. Her parents had been poor villagers, but they’d taught their daughter manners and taught her to respect those deserving it.

And there was Lukas. He stirred her blood and her emotions, sneaking into her dreams with his addictive kisses and caresses. They were to be wed tomorrow in the small chapel adjoined to the castle. Lukas had taken her there, shown her the ancient beams of wood, the seats worn smooth through the years. The altar was large, a gold cross hanging above the linen-draped table. The crucifix had been brought with the first of the explorers and had hung there from before the castle had been added to this modest building.

It would be an intimate ceremony. Lukas had asked Jourick to perform the wedding as was his right as lord of the land. There would only a few of the family servants and Danielle’s parents there to witness the event, but Danielle didn’t wish for more. She was content.

The day blossomed as one of those few cold but clear days that made one believe it was possible to see forever. Ice lay like snow upon the grass and the now barren trees. It glinted like sparkling diamonds on the ground and the leaf-stripped branches. Danielle sat in front of her dressing table as her maid, a young girl who had been raised in the castle, slowly ran a brush through her golden curls.

“It’s a beautiful day, my lady. A wonderful day for your wedding to the fine young lord,” she chattered nonstop.

Danielle didn’t mind as it kept her from having to respond to the inane gossip. She felt the tug of the brush and tried to let it relax nerves that were as taut as bowstrings. Was she nervous about Lukas? Her heart answered that quickly. No. He’d treated her with the utmost care, with infinite patience, with tender love. She could never be nervous about joining her life with his.

Was it the baby? Her hand settled on her still-flat belly as she thought about what Lukas would say when she told him tonight. He had talked to her of having a big family. Would he be content to start it this soon? She hoped so but had fears of what his reaction would be. She was happy to carry his son.

What had her feeling as if a dark cloud covered the suns, sending gooseflesh to dot her arms?

Another maid brought a tray of fruit, a light repast to hold her over until after the wedding when there would be a feast in the dining hall and the castle would open to the villagers for the first time in Lukas’ lifetime.

The hours flew by, and suddenly, it was time for her to slip on the gown she had decided upon for the ceremony. The maid settled it over her upswept hair, lacing it tightly over her growing breasts. They filled the low-cut bodice, the pale mounds of flesh seeming to almost overflow the tight neckline. It hadn’t been so tight the first time Danielle had tried on the pale blue gown.

When the maid had finished, ringing Danielle’s neck with precious stones, clipping them to her ears, and slipping them over her wrist, Danielle stared at herself in the mirror. The gown was outdated, but the style was becoming, with a high waist and straight skirt that fell to the floor. A thick blue ribbon wound just under her breasts and tied loosely in the back, the tails also hanging to the floor. Off- the-shoulder sleeves barely brushed her arms, exposing more skin than Danielle ever had before.

The maid clapped her hands together in delight. “You look beautiful, my lady, like the pictures my mother shows me in her books of the ladies from long ago.”

A knock at her bedroom door sounded, and the maid let in Jasper.

“My lady,” he said, with utmost dignity in his deep voice, his eyes sparkling with joy. “I’m to take you to the chapel.”

She entered the chapel to complete silence. No music played, for this was a sombre ceremony, filled with the pomp of the ancient race. No one spoke, not even her parents who were decked in their finest clothing that still couldn’t rival the least of what the servants wore. But her father smiled at her, and her mother clasped her hands in joy under her bosom to see her daughter looking so fit, so beautiful, in her finery.

She smiled at them before looking beyond to where Lukas stood, his eyes filled with nothing but her. He was handsome in tan breeches and white shirt, a jade-colored jacket the exact color of his eyes moulding his strong shoulders. He smiled at her, and she beamed with happiness, doubts receding under the love in that green gaze.

He took her hand when she reached him, lifting it quickly to his lips, then they turned to face his father.

The first words of the ceremony out of Jourick’s mouth were said in a shaky voice, the older man looking quite pale and ill. Lukas reached out a hand but was shaken off with a smile as Jourick took a deep breath and continued.

Vows of love and fidelity were spoken, gifts exchanged between the bride and groom. Danielle smiled as the weight of the white fur of Lukas’ gift fell softly upon her bare shoulders, and she rubbed her cheek upon the sleekness of the fur. She recognized it as being of the hinterbeast and knew it was a costly garment. But the cost didn’t matter to her, what mattered was the love in Lukas’ eyes and his pride at giving her such a gift.

Her gift to him was of the more traditional variety, foodstuffs that she had prepared herself in the vast kitchens of the castle. It was to show the value of the bride, of her talents at cooking or sewing, that these gifts were given.

A thin metal armband was presented to Lukas by his father which Lukas in turned placed around her slim arm, making it snug against the muscle. The intricate design worked into the metal proclaimed that she was his. And any woman seeing it would know that he was Danielle’s also by that same design. She studied it for a moment, seeing the embossed wolf, his head raised, his muzzle pointed towards the moon as he howled.

Turning back to his father, Lukas looked up, suddenly feeling lightheaded. He closed his eyes, shaking his head as if to clear it. When he looked back at his father, he realized Jourick was mumbling something that Lukas couldn’t hear, his hand resting on the dark blue stone that lay against his chest. The stone glowed ominously as it had only one other time that Lukas could remember. The day his father had called down the curse of the wolf upon him.

The dizziness grew worse, and he tried to go to Jourick, to stop him somehow, but he felt weak and ill. His body seemed frozen. Jourick opened his icy blue eyes, looking deeply into Lukas’s green gaze as he said the last words of his spell.

Lukas felt a tug and then lightness, the illness slipping away. For a brief moment, he felt freer than he’d ever felt before, and then, with a painful lurch, that feeling shot from him. His body ached, his head hurt, and he felt so tired he could barely stand.

He turned, opening his eyes, trying to find Danielle, to warn her, to say something. But she was gone.

“Danielle,” he croaked, his voice sounding different to his ears.

“Yes, my lord. Are you well?”

Lukas turned, confused to find her on his other side, and suddenly, he stopped in shock. He was staring at his beautiful Danielle, and as he watched, he saw Lukas pick up her hand, kissing her knuckles.

How? Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he felt his consciousness deserting him. He felt hands reach out to him before darkness covered his sight.

Danielle reached out for Lord Jourick as he fell, feeling Lukas grab his father’s other side and support the unconscious man. They laid him down upon the steps of the altar, servants running to bring water for their Lord.

“Danielle…” the lord muttered one more time.

“Lord Jourick? Sir?” Danielle knelt next to the unconscious man, concern in her voice. And confusion. Why had he called out for her?

Lukas knelt there also, his hand covering his father’s that grasped the stone around his neck. “Help me get him to his chambers,” he said to the servants, watching as they hoisted the man to their shoulders, carrying him carefully out of the chapel. He turned to his wife of just a few minutes, “I must go with them. Can you…?”

“Go, please. I hope he is well.”

She watched Lukas leave the chapel, as well, her heart thudding with a strange fear she couldn’t explain.