away from the white flower, the forbidden plant quickly forgotten. There were birds everywhere, their feathers as colorful as the flowers.
" 'Tis amazing, that he has flowers in wintertime," she mused aloud.
Lost in the wonder and beauty of the yard, she walked on until she came to a very large, very deep pond surrounded by green grass and lacy ferns. Colorful fish swam in the clear water. A bridge made of white stone spanned the pool.
Stretching out on her stomach, one arm draped over the wolf's back, she gazed into the water, content to watch the fish and the frogs and the dragonflies.
"I should probably go back to the bench," she remarked after a while, "before he comes back and finds me gone, but 'tis so pretty here." She looked at the wolf and smiled. "Do you not think so?"
He barked softly, then licked her cheek.
"I wish I knew where you come from," she said, giggling as his warm pink tongue caressed her face. "And why I can see when we touch. 'Tis the strangest thing." She gazed deep into the wolf's eyes. "Sometimes I think you can understand everything I say." She frowned. "Sometimes I think you can read my mind. Can you? It wouldna surprise me if you could. In fact, I dinna think anything will ever surprise me again."
His eyes were dark gray, familiar somehow. She knew it was only her foolish imagination, but sometimes he seemed almost human. She ran her hands over the wolf's coat, loving the rich texture of his fur.
With a low whine of pleasure, Magick stretched out beside her, basking in her touch, until the pleasure became pain and the pain became desire. Growling softly, he stood up and moved away from her before she could see his beastly desire. A few minutes alone, he thought, that was what he needed, time to vanquish his desire, time to regain his self-control.
"Magick! Magick, come back!"
She scrambled to her hands and knees, reaching blindly for the wolf, shrieking as she tumbled headfirst into the pond.
Her skirts, sodden and heavy, quickly dragged her down to the bottom. Her mouth filled with water. Panic surged through her as, arms nailing, she tried to rise to the surface. Something slimy brushed her face and a silent scream rose in her throat.
And then she felt a pair of strong hands close around her waist. Moments later, she was lying on the ground and someone was thumping her on the back. Her stomach heaved as she coughed up a mouthful of water, then lay there, cold and wet and panting for air.
Muttering an oath, Darkfest gathered Channa Leigh into his arms and carried her back to the castle. In her room, he waved the hearth to life; then, ignoring her shocked protests, he stripped off her clothing, and after swaddling her in a heavy woolen blanket, he pulled a chair in front of the fire and sat down, cradling her on his lap.
"Put me down," Channa Leigh said, her teeth chattering more from fear than the cold.
"Nay." He wrapped his arms around her and held her close.
She remained stiff in his arms, shivering from his nearness. She felt small and helpless in his embrace. It was frightening, to be held by this stranger, to know she was alone in his house, totally at his mercy. He had told her he wanted her there to sing for him, but what if it was a lie? She knew little of men, but she knew there were some who were cruel, who took women by force. Was that why Darkfest had brought her here? Should he decide to ravish her, what defense would she have?
"Ye have nothing to fear from me, Channa Leigh," he said, and his voice was low, almost like a growl. "I mean ye no harm."
His voice moved over her, easing her tension, making her feel safe and drowsy. Her head felt suddenly heavy and she rested it on his shoulder. His hand stroked her back, gentling her. His hair brushed her cheek; it was thick and silky, like the wolf's fur. A distant part of her mind noticed that she fit in his lap quite nicely, that his hands, though twice the size of hers, were gentle.
For a moment, just before sleep claimed her, she thought he licked her cheek.
Part One CHAPTER 8
"We leave in the morning."
"Do you mean it?" She turned toward the sound of his voice. She had been counting the days, almost the hours, waiting