Taming The Wolf. Deborah Simmons

boy was at his side, stammering apologies in an instant. “Enough,” Dunstan said, cutting him off. “I will give you another chance, Cedric, but do not fail me this time. Keep watch upon the lady at all times. If she wants to attend to herself, as before, make sure that you keep a part of her in sight, and do not let her stick her cloak upon a bush and leave you staring at it!” Dunstan advised. “Make sure you see the top of her head and her hair. We are dealing with a very clever lady here.”

      Cedric listened, his face a study of surprise and awe. Obviously, the youth was not accustomed to hearing a woman described in such terms, and Dunstan realized that he had never used them. But the wren was something altogether different. “Have Benedict spell you,” Dunstan ordered, glancing toward an elderly knight whom he trusted to keep his hands off Marion.

      “Yes, my lord,” Cedric said, and he rushed after his charge, his face somber and alert.

      Dunstan turned away and strode toward his waiting horse. He did not fault Cedric for being fooled. Day of God! She had tricked them all—twice now! But once stung, a wise man would beware the bee. Dunstan decided he had better keep an eye on Marion, too. He had no intention of letting her flee again or of seeing her work her wiles upon his men to their detriment.

      And, keeping wiles in mind, Dunstan judged that it might be well to post an extra watch this night, just in case her uncle really did present a threat. Of course, the woman spouted nothing but nonsense, yet it could not hurt to be more vigilant.

      Rubbing the back of his neck, Dunstan sighed. The simple errand his father had entrusted to him was becoming more complicated than he could ever have imagined.

      * * *

      “Back again, are you?” Agnes cackled with glee when Marion mounted her palfrey. “What did the Wolf do to you this time?”

      Despite all that had happened between Dunstan and herself in the past hour, Marion’s mind, directed perhaps by Agnes’s chortling, dredged up only one image. Her face flooded with color as she remembered, all too vividly, when Dunstan had held her in his arms. Warmth and strength had surrounded her, and his face had been so close to her own that she could see the darkening of his eyes—as deep and green as the thickest forest. For a moment, he had seemed to devour her with his gaze, and Marion could have sworn that he took a hungry glance at her lips. But then he had practically dropped her to the ground in his haste to be rid of her!