"Aye. I - "
"Well then, what the devil are you still doing here? You should be off guarding her."
"Off guarding her?" Hugh exclaimed. "Is she not here?"
"Nay. She left several minutes ago."
"What?" he thundered, then peered into the gloomy cottage behind her, unwilling to believe what she said. The chit had to be here. How could she have left without his seeing her? He was guarding her, for God's sake!
"Aye. Oh, she'll be alright," the hag continued, noting the alarm replacing his surprise. "Baldulf saw her go and followed. But, I must say, considering your vow, it does seem rather sloppy of you to be sitting here while she is traipsing about with Baldulf and those beasties of hers."
Cursing, Hugh whirled to make a run for his horse, his aches and pains forgotten.
" 'Tis fine, Baldulf. Better than fine." Willa rubbed her cheek against the soft black material he'd just presented to her. When she'd sent him in search of cloth for a mourning gown, Willa had fully expected Baldulf to bring back material of the same coarse quality she had worn for years in her guise as peasant. But the cloth she now held was the finest ebony silk, soft and shiny.
"It befits a lady to wear silk," the old man said gruffly as he took back the cloth. He wound it clumsily into a ball and stuffed it back in the sack hanging from his saddle. Willa winced at his cavalier treatment of the delicate cloth, but refrained from comment.
"You must honor Lord Hillcrest with the fine black gown of a lady," he announced firmly, once the material was stored safely away. They began to walk along the path again.
Willa smiled sadly, but merely nodded. She had been pleased when Eada had looked around from her position at the door to announce that Baldulf had returned. After dressing, Willa had looked out for herself and found him talking to Hugh. With the new lord's back to her while the two men spoke, it had been little trouble for her to slide outside, offer the older soldier a silent nod of greeting, and slip around the cottage into the woods. She'd known even as the forest swallowed her that Baldulf would follow. The only uncertainty in her mind had been whether he would bring Hugh with him. Willa had been grateful when he'd ridden up alone and dismounted to join her.
"He was asking me how to please you."
"Was he?"
"Aye. He wishes to soften your heart so you will marry him."
"What did you say?"
Baldulf shrugged. "That you were not like other women, but that my wife liked trinkets."
Willa smiled slightly at that, then said, "Eada says he must crawl to me on his stomach ere I relent and marry him, else he will die."
She glanced over to see the doubt on Baldulf's face as he said, "I have never known Eada to be wrong. Yet I do find it difficult to imagine Dulonget crawling for anyone. Or anything for that matter."
"Aye." Willa frowned. "He is too proud to crawl. But Eada says he will, and I must await that or see him dead ere the next full moon."
"Hmmm." He looked as troubled as she felt at this news.
They continued in silence until the path came out at the river's edge. Willa picked a comfortable spot and settled in the high grass. She began digging meat out of the basket she'd brought with her as Baldulf saw to his horse.
"For Wolfy and Fen?" he asked as he settled himself on a nearby rock. It was his usual spot when they came here, allowing him to survey the surrounding area and watch for possible attackers. Despite the intervening years without trouble, Baldulf had never given up his vigilance in guarding her. In fact, that vigilance had made it difficult for Eada and Willa to convince him to go in search of the mourning cloth they needed. They had managed to do so only after promising Willa would never stray far from the cottage, whether Wolfy and Fen were with her or not.
"What will you do about the beasties?" he asked as he watched her divide the meat into two separate piles.
Willa made a face at the question. It was one she had been asking herself repeatedly since Hillcrest's death. Wolves were pack animals who hunted as a group. Wolfy and Fen's pack had either abandoned them, or simply disbanded, when the male was injured. Only Fen had remained with her mate. Hunting alone, she could not bring down the larger animals, such as deer. She had been reduced to chasing down rabbits and other smaller creatures. Knowing that a lone wolf had trouble finding enough food for herself, let alone for an injured mate, Willa had started supplying meat for them. She had kept Wolfy in the cabin the first several nights, taking food out and leaving it at the edge of the clearing for his mate to find. At first she hadn't seen the animal. Willa had known she was there only by her baying in the evenings, Wolfy's weak attempts to respond, and the fact that the food was always gone in the morning.
Once Wolfy had recovered enough to show an aggressive desire to get out of the cabin, Willa had let him go. However, she'd continued to leave food at the edge of the woods. The two wolves had stuck around, accepting her offerings as Wolfy healed. Willa supposed she'd expected them to leave once the male was completely well again, but they had stayed. The pair had shown themselves to her more and more until one day she'd fallen asleep in this spot by the river and woke to find Wolfy lying not far away and Fen down at the river's edge, lapping up the cool water. The moment she had moved, both animals had slunk off into the woods. But they came around again and again, getting closer, staying longer, accepting her more and more until now they seemed to have adopted her.
As affectionate and doglike as they had become, Willa never made the mistake of forgetting that they were wild animals. And that was part of the problem. As Lady Hillcrest, she would have to move from the little cottage that had sheltered her for so long. But she could not take the wolves to the castle with her. Their very presence so close to so many strangers could endanger both themselves and the castle inhabitants. She could not risk that.
On the other hand, they had been part of her life for several years now, and had proven themselves to be as protective of her as she was of them. She supposed that they had adopted her into their pack. Willa was not at all certain that they might not follow her to the castle and attempt to establish a lair near by, where they might be in danger from hunters.
"You cannot take them with you," Baldulf said.
Despite the fact that Willa had been thinking the exact same thing, she scowled.
"Ah. I think perhaps I should take the cloth to Eada now and then see to settling my horse."
Willa glanced up in amazement at Baldulf as he stood and moved toward his mount. Other than this last necessary trip, the man never left her side unless she was safely inside the cottage. She could not believe that he would simply leave her there in the glen alone. It wasn't that she feared attack, but she did not know what to make of his odd behavior.
It was the way he gazed narrowly over her shoulder as he mounted that drew her own glance around. The sight of Dulonget riding swiftly up the path was not completely unexpected. Willa had known the man would eventually discover her absence and seek her out. After all, he was supposed to be "guarding her." Willa was just surprised at how quickly he had discovered her absence and set out in pursuit. And that was probably the reason behind the sudden alarm coursing through her veins, she assured herself. It had nothing to do with the fact that he might ask her to wed him, and she would be forced to say "nay" or see him die. Willa found it difficult to say nay most of the time. She did not like to hurt or disappoint people in general, but saying nay to Hugh... well, that was -
Alarming. Willa had been assured five years ago that Hugh Dulonget would become the next earl of Hillcrest and that she would be his lady wife. She had lived with that certainty about her like a cape protecting her from the wind. She had wrapped that truth around herself at night and slept cuddled in its warmth. She'd allowed it to color her dreams of the future and used it to shield her from nightmares. Over time he'd become her white knight. The man who would keep her safe from harm, give her children to hold to her breast and who, in turn, would clasp her to his own heart during those long dark nights when the wolves howled without end.
Perhaps she'd built him up too much in her mind. In her fantasies he'd been tall and strong with flowing blond hair, a silver suit of armor that reflected the sun, and a fine white charger. He was gallant and kind and gentle and -
The drumming of his mount's hooves pulled Willa from her thoughts and she focused on him clearly, the reality replacing the dream man. He'd removed his helmet at some point during the night and his hair now flowed around his head in the breeze as he approached. It was not quite the golden glory of her dreams. In fact, it was more a dirty blond, almost more brown than blond, but the sun picked up traces of pure gold in its depths as his hair whipped about his face. As for the armor, Hugh's was more tarnished and dented than that of her fantasies, but it did shine as the sun struck it. And that face...
Willa's dream man had been faceless all these years. She'd had no idea what he looked like. Now she knew and was not displeased. It was perhaps not a classically handsome face with aquiline features and flawless skin. This man had a rugged face, his skin tanned from being so much out of doors. His flesh bore several small scars from battles past. One creased his chin nearly dead-center, looking more like a dimple than a scar. Another split his right eyebrow, leaving a small, white, hairless separation. A third graced his cheek, emphasizing his cheekbone. None of them was disfiguring, but together with his clear blue eyes, slightly crooked nose and firm lips, they made up an interesting face. A strong face full of character that became almost beautiful when he smiled. His face pleased her. As did the rest of him. As he'd been in her dreams, he was tall and strong with muscular arms and legs. He even rode a white charger. Well, a mostly white charger. There was a splotch of gray on its side, but the saddle all but hid that from view.
All in all, Hugh Dulonget was the white knight of her dreams. He was even, in her estimation, kind and gentle. She was sure another man might have sent a servant to rid himself of an unwanted betrothed, but he'd come personally. He had even seemed truly pained to tell her that he did not wish to marry her. Of course, that had been before he'd learned that she was not the bastard child of a village woman, as he'd assumed, and that the coin had been left as her dower.
Were she the impractical sort, Willa might be wounded that his interest in her was spurred by the wealth he would gain when he married her. But she was not the impractical sort. Marriages were made in such a way. One partner brought wealth, the other title, and together they made up the whole of the estate. Such was the way of the world. And she was aware that while she'd had five years to become acquainted with the idea, her existence and the expectation that he would make her his bride had come as something of a shock to Hugh Dulonget. It was her task to see that he adjusted smoothly to this new future. And she wanted to perform her duty. That was the problem. She wanted to say "Aye" but could not until he crawled to her.
She glanced back at Baldulf, intending to stay him with a word. She was too late; he was already urging his horse into a canter. She would have to face Dulonget alone. And be strong. It was for his own good.
Her gaze slid over his body again as he rode, taking in the way the muscles of his legs flexed and bunched around the belly of his horse. Willa swallowed thickly. This was not a good idea. Truly, she should just avoid the man as much as possible until he crawled to her.
With that thought firmly in mind, she leapt to her feet.
Chapter Five
Willa was about to make a break for the woods when it struck her that such an action was most likely not behavior befitting a lady. That thought made her pause and the opportunity was lost. Realizing that Hugh was now too close for her to be able to evade him, she promptly turned back toward the river. She dropped to her seated position, forcing herself to appear relaxed as she awaited him. Appearances aside, however, Willa was not relaxed. She was as tense as Wolfy or Fen at the approach of strangers. She was painfully aware of the drum of his horse's hooves as he approached, the creak of leather as he dismounted, and the quiet sounds of his tying his mount to a nearby tree. Then there was a shuffling she could not identify. She gathered from the direction of the sounds that he was moving about in the area just beyond the tree where he'd tied his horse, but could not think what he would be doing. She was also reluctant to turn and look. As foolish as it might seem, she was afraid that one glimpse of her face might show him her lack of resolve, encouraging him to press his suit. It would be better if she ignored him entirely. Willa tensed as she heard the soft sound of his approach through the tall grass.
By a sheer effort of will, she managed not to start or shift nervously away when he settled on the grass beside her. They were both silent for a moment, Willa afraid to peer about at him, he apparently at a loss as to what to say to her. Then a rather sad fistful of flowers was suddenly shoved in front of her face. She blinked at the limp white blooms, then glanced at his face, but he wasn't looking at her. Hugh was staring fixedly at the river coursing by before them, his face flushed red with embarrassment.
"Er..." was all Willa could manage. For want of anything else to do, she took the pathetic little bouquet from his hand and stared at it. It explained what he'd been doing in the woods just now. He'd been plucking flowers for her.
"They are flowers," he announced. Apparently her lost expression made him think she didn't know what she held.
In actuality, they weren't really flowers. They were weeds, and half-dead weeds at that, but she wasn't going to say so. Besides, she supposed it was the thought that counted. And it had been a terribly sweet thought, she decided as she felt tears sting her eyes. No one had ever picked flowers for her before.
"They smelled good, so I thought I would pick you some," he added, his voice gruff. Willa ducked her head, aware that he was now peering at her.
"Jollivet said that women liked men to pick them flowers." He was beginning to sound a bit defensive, she noticed, so she gave a quick nod of agreement in the hopes of reassuring him. She wasn't sure, but he seemed to relax a bit. At least his thigh and arm suddenly brushed against her as if he had released them from a stiff stance. Then she heard him heave out a breath.