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 mattedcrimson. 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.
