Chapter 10
The forest was silent save for her frantic footfalls against the hard earth and the rasp of her breath in the cold air.
She moved quickly, her cloak flowing around her, with no regard for her own well-being, only that of the wolves.
With the thought that her husband would slaughter them, her determination hardened with each step.
She knew where the wolves’ den was located.
She had passed near it often enough to hear the faint yips of pups in spring and to catch the shadowy shapes slipping through the trees.
She had also tended some in the pack, when necessary, the largest of the wolves bringing an ailing or injured wolf to her.
The pack had learned to trust her and she them.
She had come to know them, and she knew they would never attack the sheep when there was plenty of food in the forest for them.
So why now?
Her jaw clenched as she slipped between the pines, needles brushing her shoulders. The sheep had been brutally attacked but as she approached the wolves’ den she found no trail of blood, no bones scattered near the hollow in the hillside. No sign of a kill carried home for the old or the young.
Something wasn’t right.
Fawn’s heart hammered, her body tensed, and her expression grew grim.
The wolves sensed it. They appeared from the shadows, gray forms gliding silent and sure, their golden eyes fixed on her.
Two of them came forward and stood to either side of her, their hackles raised though not at her. They understood… trouble brewed.
The thunder of hooves broke the silence.
Fawn’s head jerked up and she turned as Rhodes and his hunters burst through the trees, their horses steaming in the cold, weapons glinting in the pale light. They reined in hard at the sight of her, standing before the den, wolves flanking her like guardians.
Rhodes’s face darkened, fury flashing in his eyes. “You should not be here, Fawn!” he barked, his voice ringing through the clearing. “Move! Now!”
She lifted her chin, her breath coming fast, but her feet stayed planted, the wolves pressed close at her sides.
“I will not,” she said, her voice steady.
Fury surged hot through his veins. Bloody hell, the woman, his wife, would drive him mad. Standing before a wolf den with the beasts at her side as though she were one of them. Reckless, stubborn, foolish—
And yet… the wolves hadn’t touched her. Not a snarl, not a snap of teeth. They stood like sentinels, flanking her with wary eyes fixed not on her, but on the armed men at his back.
He wanted to be off his horse, to drag her from their midst, but instinct kept him where he was. He’d not tempt the beasts’ patience. Not yet.
“Do as I command, wife,” he ordered, his voice carrying across the clearing, “before they turn on you.”
“They won’t,” Fawn shot back, her voice firm. “And I will not move.”
His jaw tightened. “You dare defy me? I will not tolerate it. You will suffer if you fail to obey me.”
“I defy your blindness,” she answered, fire blazing in her eyes, his threat meaning nothing to her. “The wolves aren’t to blame.”
“You’ve not even seen what they’ve done,” Rhodes countered. “The flock lies torn, too many dead.”
“Which is why I must see it for myself,” she insisted, firmly. “If I look upon what was left, I’ll know if wolves struck or not. They don’t waste meat. They bring it to the young, ill, and ones who can no longer hunt. There is no evidence of that here. If I see the sheep, I’ll know the truth.”
A murmur rippled through the men, unease prickling the air.
Boyce turned to Rhodes, his voice grim. “You’d wager the clan’s safety on her? Bold, hungry wolves don’t stop. They’ll come again.”
Fawn turned to him, her words fierce. “The wolves feed in the forest, not on your animals. If you slaughter them wrongly, you’ll start a war with the wild beasts. One you cannot win. Give me the chance to prove they had no part in it.”
Rhodes’s grip tightened on his reins, his stallion tossing its head beneath him. He hadn’t known defiance from another in some time and that it came from his wife annoyed him, as did the chance that she could be right.
“And if you’re wrong?” he demanded.
“Then I’ll not stop you,” she said, her voice steady, certain it wouldn’t come to that, certain she was right. “But until I’ve seen the sheep, you’ve no proof. Only senseless and innocent blood on your hands.”
For a long moment, the only sounds were the horses’ snorts and the restless rustle of the wolves at her side.
He relented begrudgingly. “Bloody hell, you’ll have your look, but you’ll be quick about it.”
“And I will have your word that no harm will come to the wolves before this can be settled,” she insisted.
His silence held strong for a moment, then his gaze swept over his men. “No harm comes to these beasts until I give the word. Disobey, and you’ll answer to me.”
His men exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared speak against him.
The tension in the clearing shifted, the wolves’ hackles easing. Fawn sighed softly while her heart pounded wildly. She had won the wolves a reprieve… for now.
Rhodes’s dark gaze lingered on her, furious and awed in equal measure. She had not only stayed his hand… she had defied him when no other dared to. And he wondered what magic she might possess.
“You’ll ride with me,” Rhodes ordered.
“Please move a distance away so the wolves know you will take your leave, and give me a moment with them,” Fawn said, a pleading look in her eyes.
For a heartbeat he considered refusing her, having capitulated enough to her, but that would be foolish. So, he turned his horse, his men following, and waited in the distance where he still could keep an eye on her.
Boyce shook his head. “It’s like the beasts understand her. They return to their den, though one stands guard. I have never seen anything like it.”
Rhodes heard the whispers circle, his men just as amazed as Boyce, and he didn’t like it. It was the type of talk that led one to speculate and that was never good.
With a sharp motion Rhodes extended his arm to his wife as soon as she stopped beside his horse and when she took hold, he swung her up to settle her in front of him.
She landed against the hard wall of his chest, his arm wrapping securely around her waist. The warmth of him pressed through her cloak, steadying her even as her heart raced.
“I’m grateful you’ve allowed me this chance,” Fawn said, her voice pitched loud enough for his men to hear. She tilted her head just enough to let him know she understood that her defiance had cut against him in the eyes of his warriors, and this was her way of giving back what she could.
Rhodes’s jaw lost its tension, and he let out a slow breath. His arm closed around her tighter, the weight in his chest easing with each breath she drew. Damn if the relief of having her there, safe in his arms, was nearly his undoing.
“You’ve a reckless tongue,” he muttered against her hair, low enough for her alone. “But I’ll not deny that I feared for you.”
The words caught at her heart, and she let her body rest against his, just a fraction. His warmth seeped into her bones, the steady thud of his heart beneath her cheek strangely soothing. For all his bluster, all his fury, she felt… safe.
And Rhodes, feeling her settle into him, tightened his hold. She fit there too well, as if she’d been crafted for his arms alone.
The ride stretched on, hooves pounding against the earth, the cold biting around them. Yet for Fawn, wrapped safely in his firm embrace, it made the winter cold less biting.
Snow began to fall lightly as they reached the village, flakes drifting down to soften the roofs and blur the edges of the world.
Rhodes kept his arm firm around Fawn, unwilling to let her go until his stallion halted before the sheep pen.
The air was thick with the copper tang of blood, and the villagers who lingered nearby quickly scattered as Rhodes swung down, lifting Fawn with him.
The pen was in ruin. Blood streaked the trampled ground, sheep lay scattered where they had fallen, their wool matted crimson. Rhodes’s men muttered curses, faces grim, the smell of death heavy on the wind.
Fawn entered the pen, getting closer to the carcasses, ignoring the gore, her keen eyes taking in the scene. She crouched beside one after the other of the fallen sheep, fingers parting the bloodied wool at their throats.
She heard the men’s muttering.
“No woman should look upon such a horrible sight.”
“She shows no remorse for the kill, for the clan.”
“What kind of woman touches death?”
“ENOUGH!” Rhodes shouted. “If I hear another word spoken against my wife, I will have the person drawn and quartered.”
Dread of such a torturous death had men shutting their mouths tightly.
Fawn paid the men no mind, too consumed with her task. She stood and turned to her husband, her voice steady though sorrow shadowed her expression. “The neck and throat were torn clean through but none of the flesh was eaten.”
She pointed to each carcass with growing certainty. “All the same. Torn at the throat. Not one carcass touched beyond the kill.”
Her gaze sharpened, spotting something and she reached down and plucked it from the ground… a coarse tuft of fur, darker than any sheep’s. She held it up, her eyes flashing as she turned once again to Rhodes.
“This was no wolf’s work,” she said, her voice carrying for all to hear. “This was driven by command… wolfhounds.”
Shock and a ripple of unease ran through the men.
Fawn straightened, clutching the tuft of fur, her voice rising. “Wolves hunt to eat. They take meat back to their den for the old, for the young. But here—” she swept her hand toward the carcasses, “—not one bite taken. This was slaughter that was ordered and driven by a man.”
Snow continued to fall a bit heavier as silence fell, Rhodes’s men glancing at one another, doubt and suspicion across their faces.
Rhodes’s gaze narrowed on the fur in her hand, then on her fierce green eyes. Dark rage stirred in him, not at her defiance, but at the truth in her words.