Page 39 of Roland


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Dreams Of Wolves

Clearly delighted to discover his visitors’ connection to the d’Aigremont family, Godric did his best to sweep the floor and make it more comfortable with sheepskins and other furs. Roland found this puzzling. “You’re a shepherd, but I don’t see any sheep nearby.”

“Nay,” Godric replied with a chuckle. “Wandering, they are.”

“But this is a wolf pelt you have here,” Roland said. “How can you protect your flock if predators are in the hills?”

Godric drew on his pipe. “Sheep aren’t as daft as ye think. They know enough to flee when they smell a wolf. They hide where the wolves canna get ’em. The pack might take one, mayhap two every once in a while. If I kept ’em penned up, they’d slaughter the lot.”

“What about you?” Terric asked. “Aren’t you afraid of the wolves?”

“Aye, lad. I’ve a healthy fear,” the shepherd replied with a wink. “But I’m as clever as my sheep. And I never venture out at night.”

With a rolling chuckle that sounded more like a deep cough, Godric blew out the candle in the lantern and settled himself to sleep near the door.

Roland and Terric stretched out either side of Adelina.

Roland doubted he’d get much sleep with the woman he craved so close, yet so far.

* * *

Despite the perilous nature of their predicament and the rustic simplicity of their shelter, Adelina felt safer than she had for a long while. Even the stolen dowry no longer seemed so important. She and her brother and cousin were alive. A means to reach the relative safety of the coast had unexpectedly presented itself.

Only the occasional scurrying of tiny feet and Godric’s loud snores disturbed the silence. The kindly shepherd slept on, so she presumed the rodents posed no threat.

She was drifting off to sleep when the howling began. The wolves were far away but the eerie sound raised the hair at her nape just the same. Her racing heart calmed when her brother and cousin edged closer, cocooning her between them.

She couldn’t see Roland’s face in the darkness, but sensed he was watching her. She took a risk and touched a finger to his lips. “Goodnight,” she whispered.

“Goodnight,” he replied, slowly licking her fingertip.

Thrilled to the core of her being by the intimacy, she nigh on giggled when Terric mumbled gruffly, “Goodnight.”

If she wasn’t mistaken, Roland was smiling too.

The wolves, however, got the better of the restless sleep that eventually claimed her. One appeared in a nightmare, its fangs bared, mocking her belief Roland loved her. He didn’t know her, so how could that be? The wolf’s muzzle metamorphosed into King John’s snarling sneer. The tyrant insisted all men were as cruel as he and Roland was a wolf who wanted to gobble her up. Queen Isabella slithered into view and hissed that Adelina wasn’t worthy of any man’s affection. She was a nothing, a woman without lands or even a dowry. She deserved to be eaten alive.

Adelina screamed when the wolf returned, tore off her clothes and sank its teeth into her breast.

Shivering with fear, she blinked open her eyes, gasping with relief to find herself safe in her brother’s arms. “The wolf ate me,” she wailed.

“It’s just a dream,” Terric whispered, sifting his fingers through her tangled hair.

She sensed Roland beside them, but dared not look at him lest he see what an unworthy weakling she truly was.

* * *

Kneeling beside brother and sister, Roland itched to take Adelina into his embrace. Ironically, he too had dreamt of wolves—inevitable given the eerie howling. But, in his disturbing dream, a pack of wolves preyed on Adelina at King John’s behest.

It was said dreams had meaning. Was he to believe Adelina had been violated while serving as a lady-in-waiting? He doubted King John would have ensured protection for a young girl over whose life he held sway. Roland could well imagine the tyrant taking perverted pleasure from the ruination of a young noblewoman.

Roland shivered, distressed by Adelina’s obvious terror. Was she afraid he’d find out she was no longer pure? He gritted his teeth. What did that mean anyway? He wasn’t exactly pure himself. But it was different for a woman.

Disgusted with his uncharitable thoughts, he draped a sheepskin over his shoulders and strode out of the bothy.

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