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Tears welled in her eyes as she threw her tiny arms around her father’s neck, hugging him tightly. Rowan held her close, inhaling the scent of her golden hair. He savored the warmth of her embrace, which contrasted with the icy fear gripping his heart.
Two guards, clad in armor and bearing swords, stood nearby and at the ready, their faces grim but determined. Rowan nodded to them, trusting them with his most precious treasure. “You will keep her safe?”
The guards exchanged a solemn glance. “We swear by our honor.”
Rowan kissed Mary’s forehead, his lips lingering there as he murmured, “You’re my brave girl, Mary. Remember: courage cannot exist without fear. You’re a wolf, like me. Never forget that.”
“I won’t. I love you, Father.”
Rowan crossed the chamber, where he found the wooden wolf toy. He pressed it between her palms and held them together tightly. He watched as she clasped the wood and smiled up at him. “Keep him with you, near to your heart,” he whispered. “He’ll watch over you while I cannot.”
As he joined the fray beyond the castle walls with Smoke at his side, Rowan carried the image of his daughter with him.
Aye… she’s a wolf. Just like me.
Twenty-Four
Blanchette watched the crush of activity from her father’s solar window.
A solitary candle burned on the large oak desk, casting a ring of shivering light. Blanchette nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the door creak open. She whirled around in the high-back chair and saw a massive outline in the doorframe.
A steel wolf.
The meager light transformed Rowan into a plate-covered silhouette. The sight chilled her to the bone. She felt like she stood in the presence of a stranger… or some dangerous, wild beast.
As if reading her thoughts, she watched with bated breath as he lifted the helm from his head and placed it on her father’s table. The sound of the crude metal hitting the wood blasted through her. Behind him stood his squire, Jonas, the red-haired lad she’d often spotted training in the yard with him.
Rowan came before her, slow and steady, the candlelight shining off his chest plate.
“Leave us, Jonas,” Rowan murmured. As Jonas quit the solar, Blanchette made out two orbs in the doorway: Smoke’s eyes. The wolf silently padded inside the room, his head low, moving as quiet as a shadow.
The look in Rowan’s eyes commanded her to stand. She dared not disobey. Blanchette came to her feet and steadied herself with her palm on the desk’s surface. She anchored herself, focusing on the feel of the grains below her skin and the slight swerves in the wood. Here there was an indentation. There a nick. She closed her eyes and imagined her father placing the dagger in the wood, allowing it to stand upright in the morning sun as he mused over a heap of ledgers.
She felt the exquisite slide of Rowan’s fingers grazing her cheek. Keeping her eyes shut, she dipped into his touch and sighed. He stepped closer, and his hard plate metal brushed against her. Then his large hands were on her hips, and he rotated her away from him so she faced the window.
He swept her curls aside and pressed his lips to her nape. A shiver rushed through her, and she grew hot and wet between her legs. His lips snaked a damp line across her neck. Her knees turned weak, and she felt herself falling back into Rowan. He steadied her with a low, rolling laugh that reverberated against her spine.
Emotion welled up inside her. “Loving you is not easy, Rowan Dietrich. It’s not simple. But I do love you in my own way… so very much.”
Rowan rotated her in his arms so they stood face-to-face. He kissed her scarred cheek ever so gently. His lips caressed her skin. Just below her ear. Her chin. She savored his closeness and the way he felt against her. “My darling Blanchette,” he whispered against her skin, his hands running down her sides and to her hips. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want your love, and I want it in your way.”
As Rowan held her, she glanced toward the doorway, where Smoke stood like a silent sentinel.
* * *
Rowan sprinted the length of the eastern battlements. Dejectedly, he yelled orders to a soldier, his voice booming inside his helm.
Lightning split the night. It had snuck up on the castle, seemingly from nowhere. Seven heartbeats later, the sound of thunder rolled while fat drops of rain fell on the helm.
An ill omen, one that sent an unexpected shiver down his spine.
Another flash lit up the bailey.
One, two, three, four, five, six, he counted, welcoming the thunder again.
Where was Blanchette? His mind raced, and he lost his focus. This will be the end of everything if I don’t get ahold of myself, he inwardly commanded. He was slipping away fast, falling between a hairline crack he’d never escape.
Indeed, he’d barely seen it coming. Now that crack was opening up to swallow him whole.
