or worried. Their leader bore heavy burdens on his shoulders, that much was indisputable, but would a dalliance with Servanne de Briscourt remove some of the pressure, or add to it? As it was, it had taken the strength and sheer brute force of a dozen stout men to keep the Wolf from going berserk when he had first learned his brother was alive and well and living in secluded luxury at Bloodmoor Keep.
Hearing of the impending wedding might have been the final straw—indeed, everyone in camp had braced themselves for an eruption of monumental proportions, for it did not take a scholar’s wit to trace the blame for the Wolf’s indifference to women (other than whores) to an event in his mysterious past. But to their surprise, he had taken the news calmly and coolly. He had even devised this clever plan to unsettle the Dragon and possibly open a breach in the impenetrable defenses surrounding Bloodmoor Keep.
Who would have thought a chick-pea with yellow hair and frosty blue eyes could have turned the tables and penetrated the armour around the Wolf’s heart instead?
“Bed her,” Sparrow advised sagely. “By rape or by charm, it makes no matter, for ’tis a certainty the Dragon will expect it. Would he do otherwise in your place?”
“I am not my brother,” the Wolf growled, pricked by the need to defend himself a second time that night.
“No, but you have aspired to put his bowels in a pinch. What better way than to molest, ravage, or even marry his bride from under him if it should suit your mood or purpose?”
“What if choking her suits my mood and my purpose?”
“Then I would hold her ankles for you while you did so,” the little man said with a shrug. “Bedding her would bring more pleasure to you, however.”
“I am not come in search of pleasure.”
“Revenge, then.”
“I have it already, whether she leaves here bruised or not.”
“You mean … he will not believe her to be untouched, whether she is or not?”
“Would you?”
Sparrow pondered it a moment. “No. But would you condemn her to all the pain and none of the enjoyment?”
“She takes the greater enjoyment in her own chastity and purity. If anything, I should endeavour to give her a deal more over the next few days. As much as she can bear in maintaining those lofty heights of unblemished virtue. Yes,” he said slowly. “Yes, I should send her away from here believing she is a far better person for having frustrated me at my lusts and perversions.”
“And when the Dragon affixes hot irons to her toes to crimp the truth from her?”
“A few heartfelt screams should convince him of her righteousness,” he said evenly. “It will also convince her of my purity and my selfless sacrifice for her honour. Furthermore, he will not be alive long enough to crimp anyone’s toes. Nor would he attempt such a thing until the nuptials have been witnessed and blessed, and the deeds to the dower estates locked in his strongbox. She should be safe enough behind her protestations until then.”
Sparrow sighed. “It would be easier just to rape her. And far less of a strain on your own state of health.”
“My health is fine,” said the Wolf gruffly. “I would hasten to say yours might be in some jeopardy, but my own is fine, thank you very much. And now, if you have no more dilemmas to solve, or wisdoms to dole out, I suggest you fly on up to your nest and put your nose to sleep for the night to save it being wedged beneath someone’s boot.”
Sparrow scrambled prudently aside as the Wolf strode past him on his way back to the pilgrims’ hall. His feathers ruffled, he muttered to himself as he followed a discreet distance behind, wondering why there was so little appreciation in the world for people who saw other people’s problems so clearly, and could have resolved them so easily if allowed.
“Fine,” he grumbled to the darkness. “Your shoulders are overburdened? Fine. Let her go to the Dragon with her fear of you still wet on her lashes. Let him warm her thighs with sympathy and compassion and see how long it takes her to decide that he is the real Lucien Wardieu, and you are the impostor! Paugh! Great heaving lummox,” he finished querulously.
He emerged from the arbor of tangled weed and clinging vines and stopped dead in his tracks. Only his head and shoulders rose above the thickest