“No,” Rolfe confessed, because it wastrue.
“Indeed? To whom do you make love when you touchme?”
Rolfe was amazed. “Annelise!”
Annelise scrambled to her feet and crossed the chamber, regarding him from the other side of the fire. “I will know this truth, sir.” She raised a finger. “And it will not replace the telling of yourtale.”
Rolfe was vexed, then realized that Rosalinde made trouble again, even when she wasabsent.
He stood and faced Annelise, holding her gaze so she would see that he spoke the truth. “Rosalinde was a woman who deceived me with her charms, then cast me aside. It was long in the past and has nothing to do with what is between us, save that she was the one who taught me to be wary of granting mytrust.”
Annelise frowned. “Why did she cast youaside?”
“If I am to have but one tale of yours, then you may have only one of mine,” he reminded her firmly. “Choose which it shallbe.”
Annelise, evidently reassured, smiled. “You know which tale I desire.” Her eyes twinkled in a most delightful way. “Surely you do not mean to break your promise,sir?”
No. He did not. It was time to trust his ladywife.
“Of course not. A wager made is a wager kept.” Rolfe indicated the place where they had been seated just moments before. “Will you join me,Annelise?”
* * *
Annelise wrappedher arms about her knees as her husband fed the fire. He frowned as he completed the task and it was clear he was considering how to present hisstory.
She took advantage of his diverted attention to study him. He was as finely wrought as her fingers had told her during those nights at the palace, and she tingled with the awareness that this man had touched her sointimately.
Who would have guessed that she might have gained so fine a husband by chance alone? It was more than appearance, for he was honorable and kind. He treated her well, he spoke to her with respect, he promised her safety in hispresence.
And now, apparently, he intended to explain himself to her, in a manner unprecedented by men Annelise hadknown.
She could easily become accustomed to suchindulgence.
He crouched on the opposite side of the fire and rocked on the balls of his feet, his hands loosely locked before him and his gaze fixed on the fire. “I shall tell you what happened, although you may not believe it to betrue.”
Annelise knew shewould.
He cleared his throat and began without meeting Annelise’s gaze. “These past years I have been in Outremer, on crusade, and on my last night there, was given a gift of farewell. It was a bottle of unusualdesign.”
He hesitated, and Annelise asked a question to urge him along. “A gift from whom? And what was insideit?”
Her spouse flicked a glance her way. “I could not know what was inside, for it was sealed. It was the keeper of an inn we frequented. He gave each of the knights in our company a gift. The bottle was said to have the ability to make dreams come true.” He shrugged. “I decided that I would give it to my brother, for I was certain he would admire it, in the hope that he might grant me a holding from hisestate.”
“Because you are the youngerson.”
“Exactly. Although, I was curious about its contents, I felt it would be unfitting to openit.”
That was most appropriate. Annelise smiled and nodded approval. “What happened to the others in yourcompany?”
“We divided into two groups, for we had differing notions of the best path homeward to pursue. I sailed from Acre for Brindisi with two comrades, but as the snow began, they chose to remain in Milan. I wished to be home for the Yule, so rode onalone.”
This was consistent with what he had told herbefore.
“As I traveled northward and it grew colder, I noticed that the wax seal had broken on the stopper. I decided to satisfy my curiosity, as none would be the wiser, and I opened the bottle. Truth be told, I was chilled to my marrow and someeau-de-viewould have beenwelcome.”
“Eau-de-vie?”
“A beverage made by the Saracens by some skill they hold. It is potent beyond belief and burns all the way down a man’s gullet. We call iteau-de-vie, the water of life, because it often revives a fallen man, proving that he yetlives.”
