Free Wolf Bride by Elizabeth Moss

curtsey was too awkward, and her lips rather too full and sensual for courtly approval. These days, to be considered truly beautiful, a woman had to have the thin lips and sharp chin of Anne Boleyn. But Eloise would do him very well as a wife.
    He noted that her hand shook while pouring, as though the wine flask was too heavy. Not as bold as she had seemed at court, then.
    He saw some flicker of emotion in those green-flecked eyes. Fear?
    ‘You will be made most comfortable at my estate, of course,’ he assured her abruptly. It gave him little comfort to see that look of apprehension in her face. ‘When we are married, you need not fear losing that privacy and level of service you have enjoyed at your father’s home. Mary here will not be your only maid. You may have women to tend your hair, your dress, whatever you wish.’
    Wolf paused. Her gaze had lifted to his face, suddenly intent. Had Eloise assumed she would be his prisoner once they were man and wife?
    The thought was a chastening one, for he had not meant to make his future bride so afraid of him.
    ‘Indeed,’ he continued, ‘you may have your pick of my servants for your own personal entourage. You will lack for nothing once you are Lady Wolf.’
    ‘You are too kind, my lord.’
    He was not fooled by her submissive murmur. But he did not press the point. Once they were married, he would have many more opportunities to tame her.
    This time he did not finish his wine at once but sipped at it thoughtfully, then set it aside.
    Mary held out a small unwrapped cloth, her eyes wide with curiosity. No doubt she too thought him a cruel husband, taking his new bride so far away from the comforts of court.
    ‘Manchet bread, my lord?’
    Neither of these women could realise how restrictive Wolf found the English court, how much he loathed his every move being watched and reported back to the king, for his master feared betrayal even from his most loyal servants. If he wished to be free, to walk unobserved by spies and speak his mind, returning to his native northlands was his only option. Though he knew the king would recall him to military service soon enough, and he would have no choice but to obey.
    He accepted a piece of bread, dipped it in his wine to moisten it, then finished his meal in silence, for his thoughts had turned sour. For King Henry there was always one more traitor to be crushed, one more rebellion to be put down before it threatened the Tudor dynasty.
    Lying back on the grass, Wolf stared up into the overhanging canopy of trees. The green buds of leaves rustled in the breeze. He ran back through his thoughts, surprised by his sudden yearning to be free of the court. Free, above all, to woo his bride without interference from the too-lascivious king.
    Eloise would be his wife whether she willed it or no. Yet she held no special significance for him except as a sweet memory from his youth. So why was he suddenly so concerned to put his bride at her ease before their wedding night?
    Shouts broke his reverie. Men calling urgently from the road. He was on his feet in a second, his hand on the dagger hilt at his belt.
    ‘What is it?’ Eloise looked startled, and her maid gasped as one of the men came running down the slope, a drawn sword in his hand.
    ‘My lord!’ It was Hugh. He was out of breath. ‘Riders coming across the fields from the south-west. They will be upon us within minutes.’
    ‘How many?’
    ‘Maybe a dozen, maybe less.’
    ‘King’s men?’
    ‘I cannot tell, my lord. They’ve kicked up a dust-cloud, and the sun is at their backs. But their mounts look to be rough beasts.’
    ‘Stay here, I will send men to guard you,’ Wolf told Eloise, then returned to his horse and mounted the surprised beast while it was still drinking from the lake.
    Eloise ran after him. ‘Who are they?’
    ‘Ruffians,’ he threw back over his shoulder, his voice curt. He straightened in the saddle, gathering the reins. There was no time for a