The rain stopped just as dawn crept across the sky. Hugh was too wet and weary at that point to care. He'd actually begun to doze off in the saddle when the whistling caught his ear. Straightening in the saddle, he cocked his head, listening for the source of the cheerful sound. It was only then that he caught the accompanying clip clop of a horse. Hand moving to the sword resting at his side, he urged his mount to the center of the clearing, putting himself between the cottage and the man who now rode out of the woods. Judging from the sudden alarm on the newcomer's face as he drew his horse to a halt on the edge of the clearing, Hugh's presence came as something of a shock to him. The stranger's appearance was no less of a surprise to Hugh. The man was older than he by a good twenty years, and though he was dressed as a peasant, there was no mistaking him for anything but a soldier. He was well-muscled and his horse was definitely a quality beast. The stranger's response was telling as well. After that first moment of shock, the man's gaze slid over Hugh, his weapons, his horse, then the peaceful cottage behind him. He appeared to relax a bit, but Hugh didn't miss the way the man's right hand dropped to rest on one of several sacks that hung from his saddle horn. Deciding the sack looked long and slender enough to hide a sword, Hugh decided to get the introductions over with quickly.

"Baldulf?"

"Whom have I the pleasure of speaking to?"

Hugh didn't miss the fact that the man had neatly avoided answering his query. It didn't really matter; there had been a flash of surprise in his eyes before he covered it. It was enough to tell Hugh he'd guessed correctly.

"Hugh Dulonget, lord of Claymorgan and earl of Hillcrest." Despite his cramped and complaining muscles, Hugh managed to sit a little straighter in the saddle as he made that announcement. It was the first time he'd used his new titles and he almost winced at the pride evident in his own voice as he claimed them.

The other man let his hand slide away from the sack. He gave a nod in lieu of a bow as he road forward until they were side by side. "Aye. I am Baldulf. 'Tis an honor to meet you, my lord. Has there been trouble?"

"You could say that," Hugh said dryly.

Panic promptly entered the soldier's expression and he cursed volubly. "I knew I should not have left, but Willa insisted she needed black cloth for proper mourning. Of course, there was not any in the village so I had to - was she harmed?" he interrupted himself to ask. "Your presence here tells me she still lives, but - "

"She is fine," Hugh assured him, realizing that his self-deprecating comment had alarmed the man unnecessarily. "I did not mean that any physical harm had befallen the girl."

Baldulf's eyebrows flew up at this news. "Then what harm has she come to?"

Hugh was reluctant to admit he had insulted the chit by calling her a bastard and refusing to marry her. However, he had no doubt the man would eventually hear the news from Eada, if not Willa herself. He decided it was best to get the matter over with himself.

"I fear when I first arrived, I was less than pleased to find myself willed a wife."

The man nodded sympathetically at this news. "I am sure that came as something of a surprise."

"Aye." He grimaced. "In my... er... surprise, I was perhaps less than diplomatic on first meeting Lady Willa." Hugh winced inwardly at his own understatement.

Baldulf was a sharp man. After eyeing him consideringly, he asked, "How much is less than diplomatic?"

"I called her a bastard and refused to marry her." The words tumbled out of his mouth like those of a boy at confession. Recognizing the ire rising in the other's man eyes, Hugh felt resignation fill him. Really, war was so much easier than this marriage and relationship business. "I have since apologized, of course."

"Well, I should hope so!" Baldulf's tone was rather disrespectful, not at all the proper manner for a knight to take with his new lord, but Hugh felt it behooved him to let the matter slide for the time being. He even allowed the man to glare at him for several moments before straightening and glaring back. Recalled to their positions, Baldulf let his eyes drop and glanced toward the cottage before clearing his throat and saying in much milder tones, "You appear to be soaked through, my lord. Have you been out here long?"

"Since yester morn."

"Ah." He nodded slowly. "If, as you claim, there has been no attack, might I ask why you have stood guard out here so long?"

That was something Hugh had asked himself several times through the long rainy day and night. "I am attempting to persuade Lady Willa to marry me."

Baldulf nodded, then asked in extremely respectful tones, "By sitting outside the cottage on your horse?"

"I am guarding her to show her my devotion," Hugh said stiffly. He felt foolish even saying the words. Seeing amusement fill the other man's face, he added, " 'Twas not my idea. My cousin and a friend of mine thought it might soften Willa's anger if I vowed to stand guard over her beauty until she accepted my - are you laughing?"

Baldulf covered his mouth with his hand and made coughing sounds, then thumped his chest as he shook his head. "Nay, my lord. I have a... er... something caught in my throat." He turned his head away, alternately coughing and snuffling.

Hugh harrumphed irritably and waited for the fit to pass. The moment the man regained control of himself and turned a solemn face back, he speared him with a glance. "Knowing her as well as you do, perhaps you could suggest a more useful approach?"

Humor promptly returned to the soldier's face, deepening the lines that time had etched on his harsh features. Hugh noticed that it wasn't very sympathetic amusement.

"Well now, that would be difficult to say, my lord. She is not like most ladies." His gaze shifted past Hugh, his voice becoming distracted. "You might try gifts. Little trinkets and such. My wife always enjoyed those. By your leave, my lord."

Much to Hugh's amazement, Baldulf urged his mount forward and was away around the side of the cottage without awaiting the leave he'd requested. Hugh glared after him in frustration, wondering if perhaps he did not have a commanding enough demeanor. First, the hag treated him as though she were the queen and he a common peasant. Now, one of his own new soldiers rode off ere he'd finished talking to him.

He'd had several questions for the man besides how to please Willa. Hugh had spent a good hour that first night after Wynekyn had explained things questioning the former guard, Howel. Unfortunately, the man who now served as seneschal at Hillcrest appeared to know no more than Wynekyn himself. Regarding some things, he knew even less. It was doubtful that Baldulf would know any more than Howel, but still -

He was still glaring at the spot where man and horse had disappeared when he heard Lucan and Jollivet approaching. Their words and laughter were audible several minutes before they actually broke into the clearing. They were obviously making no effort at stealth as they rode through the woods. Ignoring his stiff and sore bones, Hugh slicked back his still damp hair and sat up straight in the saddle. Grim-faced, he awaited their arrival. At that moment, he was torn between wanting to take his sword to the pair, and wanting to take his lance to them. Then again, taking his fists to them sounded attractive, too. They were, after all, the source of the misery he'd withstood all night and was still suffering.

"Good morn!" Lucan called as he broke from the trees on horseback.

He looked well-rested and damned cheerful, Hugh thought with disgust as his friend rode toward him. When he growled something in the way of a greeting, Lucan raised an eyebrow and quickly unfastened a bag from his saddle pommel.

"We brought you something with which to break your fast." He offered the bag with a winning smile.

Hugh's response was to grunt and snatch the bag like a hungry dog snapping up a bone. Even as he began to tug the bag open, he caught the glance his friend exchanged with Jollivet, who had urged his own horse to Hugh's other side. The two men flanked him.

"Actually, we did not expect you to still be here. It rained last night." Jollivet made the announcement as if that fact might have slipped Hugh's notice. Fortunately for his cousin, Hugh was too hungry to waste time knocking the idiot off his horse as instinct urged him to do. He satisfied himself with a stinging look and a dry, "I noticed," then continued rooting inside the bag.

Lucan winced. "Surely you did not stay out here in the rain? All night?"

"What else was I to do?" he snarled, pulling out a hunk of bread and a skin of ale. "You wrote in that damned letter of yours that I would remain here until she accepted my suit... or some such nonsense. I signed the damned thing. I am a man of my word."

Lucan grimaced at that. "Er... aye. Perhaps that was not the brightest of ideas. My apologies, Hugh. I take it she has yet to accept your suit?"

Hugh's baleful expression was answer enough as he chewed on the dry bread.

"Well, perhaps she shall relent after seeing that you have spent the entire night in the rain guarding her."

"She was not moved to relent after I spent all of yesterday in the rain. Why should a little darkness make a difference?" he growled, then took the ale skin Lucan now handed him and lifted it to his mouth.

"Perhaps Jollivet and I can come up with something to convince her." He paused as Hugh nearly choked on the ale he was downing. Pulling the ale skin away from his mouth, he turned hot eyes on his friend.

"I shall thank you and Jollivet not to help me anymore."

Lucan bit his lip and glanced away. "Well, did you come up with anything on your own whilst sitting here last night?"

Hugh's expression was answer enough, but he said, "Nay. She has done no more than peek out the door at me. I assume she is still angry about my calling her a bastard. I suppose saying she was beneath me did not help either." He sighed. "If I could but figure out how best to apologize... what she would accept."

"Did you try flowers?" Jollivet piped up. "I did tell you that women are partial to them. They - "

"Perhaps," Lucan interrupted when Hugh started to growl deep in his throat at his cousin's suggestion, "perhaps someone who knew her better would know best how to please her."

Hugh gave up glaring at the younger man to nod his agreement with that suggestion. "I did consider that. In fact, I asked Baldulf for suggestions."

"Baldulf?" Lucan straightened with interest. "Has the missing guard returned then?"

"Aye. But moments ago. He left just before you rode up."

"Did he say where he had been?" Lucan asked as Hugh took another gulp of ale.

"I gather he was seeking black cloth for Willa to make a mourning gown."

"What did Baldulf suggest?" Jollivet asked curiously.

"He said she was unlike other women," he answered glumly. "He did say his own wife liked gifts and trinkets."

A small silence reigned as Hugh ate; then Lucan shifted, his gaze sliding to the cottage. "It occurs to me that perhaps the hag would have a suggestion or two that may be of more use."

Hugh's stomach roiled at the suggestion, but he considered the idea and found he could not argue it. The old woman did know Willa better than any of them. Which was unfortunate, really. He wasn't pleased at the idea of having to ask the witch for anything. She'd not seemed to think much of him from the beginning and would hardly feel any more charitable toward him now that he had dared to insult her baby chick.

He would have to approach her, he supposed, but managed to put the task off for a few moments by asking, "How went your inquiries yesterday?"

Hugh had agreed to this ridiculous suggestion of standing guard out of sheer desperation. But he'd not left his men idle while at the task. After his fruitless questioning of Howel, he'd told Lucan and Jollivet to go to the village and ask around. He'd also sent several men to Claymorgan to question the villagers, peasants and servants there about Willa's birth and Luvena's death. Someone must know something that would be of use.

"Not well," Lucan admitted apologetically. " 'Twas a long time ago and 'twas not even here that most of the things we were asking about took place. Perhaps the men will have more luck at Claymorgan."

"The hag might know something useful," Jollivet suggested.

"Hmmm." Hugh grimaced. Then he heaved a sigh and handed his half-eaten food to Jollivet before dismounting. He had to question the woman sooner or later, and the prospect was ruining his appetite anyway. Perhaps if he got it over with he could finish his meal in peace.

A day and night in the rain and damp had made themselves known. Hugh barely restrained a groan as his legs, back and buttocks complained at the shift of position. His legs - which had first ached, then gone numb shortly after dusk the night before - nearly collapsed under his weight. He was forced to hold onto his saddle for several moments. Once he was sure he would not fall, Hugh turned and moved stiffly toward the cottage door.

The old witch opened the door almost before he knocked, making him suspect that she'd been spying on them and noted his approach. He refused to believe she had "seen" it in some unnatural, witchy way.

"What are you doing here?" she barked before Hugh could offer anything in the way of a polite greeting.

"I - "

"I thought that you had vowed to guard Willa until she accepted your suit?"

"Aye. I - "

"Well then, what the devil are you still doing here? You should be off guarding her."

"Off guarding her?" Hugh exclaimed. "Is she not here?"

"Nay. She left several minutes ago."

"What?" he thundered, then peered into the gloomy cottage behind her, unwilling to believe what she said. The chit had to be here. How could she have left without his seeing her? He was guarding her, for God's sake!

"Aye. Oh, she'll be alright," the hag continued, noting the alarm replacing his surprise. "Baldulf saw her go and followed. But, I must say, considering your vow, it does seem rather sloppy of you to be sitting here while she is traipsing about with Baldulf and those beasties of hers."

Cursing, Hugh whirled to make a run for his horse, his aches and pains forgotten.

" 'Tis fine, Baldulf. Better than fine." Willa rubbed her cheek against the soft black material he'd just presented to her. When she'd sent him in search of cloth for a mourning gown, Willa had fully expected Baldulf to bring back material of the same coarse quality she had worn for years in her guise as peasant. But the cloth she now held was the finest ebony silk, soft and shiny.

"It befits a lady to wear silk," the old man said gruffly as he took back the cloth. He wound it clumsily into a ball and stuffed it back in the sack hanging from his saddle. Willa winced at his cavalier treatment of the delicate cloth, but refrained from comment.

"You must honor Lord Hillcrest with the fine black gown of a lady," he announced firmly, once the material was stored safely away. They began to walk along the path again.

Willa smiled sadly, but merely nodded. She had been pleased when Eada had looked around from her position at the door to announce that Baldulf had returned. After dressing, Willa had looked out for herself and found him talking to Hugh. With the new lord's back to her while the two men spoke, it had been little trouble for her to slide outside, offer the older soldier a silent nod of greeting, and slip around the cottage into the woods. She'd known even as the forest swallowed her that Baldulf would follow. The only uncertainty in her mind had been whether he would bring Hugh with him. Willa had been grateful when he'd ridden up alone and dismounted to join her.

"He was asking me how to please you."

"Was he?"

"Aye. He wishes to soften your heart so you will marry him."

"What did you say?"

Baldulf shrugged. "That you were not like other women, but that my wife liked trinkets."

Willa smiled slightly at that, then said, "Eada says he must crawl to me on his stomach ere I relent and marry him, else he will die."

She glanced over to see the doubt on Baldulf's face as he said, "I have never known Eada to be wrong. Yet I do find it difficult to imagine Dulonget crawling for anyone. Or anything for that matter."

"Aye." Willa frowned. "He is too proud to crawl. But Eada says he will, and I must await that or see him dead ere the next full moon."

"Hmmm." He looked as troubled as she felt at this news.

They continued in silence until the path came out at the river's edge. Willa picked a comfortable spot and settled in the high grass. She began digging meat out of the basket she'd brought with her as Baldulf saw to his horse.

"For Wolfy and Fen?" he asked as he settled himself on a nearby rock. It was his usual spot when they came here, allowing him to survey the surrounding area and watch for possible attackers. Despite the intervening years without trouble, Baldulf had never given up his vigilance in guarding her. In fact, that vigilance had made it difficult for Eada and Willa to convince him to go in search of the mourning cloth they needed. They had managed to do so only after promising Willa would never stray far from the cottage, whether Wolfy and Fen were with her or not.

"What will you do about the beasties?" he asked as he watched her divide the meat into two separate piles.

Willa made a face at the question. It was one she had been asking herself repeatedly since Hillcrest's death. Wolves were pack animals who hunted as a group. Wolfy and Fen's pack had either abandoned them, or simply disbanded, when the male was injured. Only Fen had remained with her mate. Hunting alone, she could not bring down the larger animals, such as deer. She had been reduced to chasing down rabbits and other smaller creatures. Knowing that a lone wolf had trouble finding enough food for herself, let alone for an injured mate, Willa had started supplying meat for them. She had kept Wolfy in the cabin the first several nights, taking food out and leaving it at the edge of the clearing for his mate to find. At first she hadn't seen the animal. Willa had known she was there only by her baying in the evenings, Wolfy's weak attempts to respond, and the fact that the food was always gone in the morning.

Once Wolfy had recovered enough to show an aggressive desire to get out of the cabin, Willa had let him go. However, she'd continued to leave food at the edge of the woods. The two wolves had stuck around, accepting her offerings as Wolfy healed. Willa supposed she'd expected them to leave once the male was completely well again, but they had stayed. The pair had shown themselves to her more and more until one day she'd fallen asleep in this spot by the river and woke to find Wolfy lying not far away and Fen down at the river's edge, lapping up the cool water. The moment she had moved, both animals had slunk off into the woods. But they came around again and again, getting closer, staying longer, accepting her more and more until now they seemed to have adopted her.

As affectionate and doglike as they had become, Willa never made the mistake of forgetting that they were wild animals. And that was part of the problem. As Lady Hillcrest, she would have to move from the little cottage that had sheltered her for so long. But she could not take the wolves to the castle with her. Their very presence so close to so many strangers could endanger both themselves and the castle inhabitants. She could not risk that.

On the other hand, they had been part of her life for several years now, and had proven themselves to be as protective of her as she was of them. She supposed that they had adopted her into their pack. Willa was not at all certain that they might not follow her to the castle and attempt to establish a lair near by, where they might be in danger from hunters.

"You cannot take them with you," Baldulf said.

Despite the fact that Willa had been thinking the exact same thing, she scowled.

"Ah. I think perhaps I should take the cloth to Eada now and then see to settling my horse."

Willa glanced up in amazement at Baldulf as he stood and moved toward his mount. Other than this last necessary trip, the man never left her side unless she was safely inside the cottage. She could not believe that he would simply leave her there in the glen alone. It wasn't that she feared attack, but she did not know what to make of his odd behavior.

It was the way he gazed narrowly over her shoulder as he mounted that drew her own glance around. The sight of Dulonget riding swiftly up the path was not completely unexpected. Willa had known the man would eventually discover her absence and seek her out. After all, he was supposed to be "guarding her." Willa was just surprised at how quickly he had discovered her absence and set out in pursuit. And that was probably the reason behind the sudden alarm coursing through her veins, she assured herself. It had nothing to do with the fact that he might ask her to wed him, and she would be forced to say "nay" or see him die. Willa found it difficult to say nay most of the time. She did not like to hurt or disappoint people in general, but saying nay to Hugh... well, that was -

Alarming. Willa had been assured five years ago that Hugh Dulonget would become the next earl of Hillcrest and that she would be his lady wife. She had lived with that certainty about her like a cape protecting her from the wind. She had wrapped that truth around herself at night and slept cuddled in its warmth. She'd allowed it to color her dreams of the future and used it to shield her from nightmares. Over time he'd become her white knight. The man who would keep her safe from harm, give her children to hold to her breast and who, in turn, would clasp her to his own heart during those long dark nights when the wolves howled without end.

Perhaps she'd built him up too much in her mind. In her fantasies he'd been tall and strong with flowing blond hair, a silver suit of armor that reflected the sun, and a fine white charger. He was gallant and kind and gentle and -

The drumming of his mount's hooves pulled Willa from her thoughts and she focused on him clearly, the reality replacing the dream man. He'd removed his helmet at some point during the night and his hair now flowed around his head in the breeze as he approached. It was not quite the golden glory of her dreams. In fact, it was more a dirty blond, almost more brown than blond, but the sun picked up traces of pure gold in its depths as his hair whipped about his face. As for the armor, Hugh's was more tarnished and dented than that of her fantasies, but it did shine as the sun struck it. And that face...

Willa's dream man had been faceless all these years. She'd had no idea what he looked like. Now she knew and was not displeased. It was perhaps not a classically handsome face with aquiline features and flawless skin. This man had a rugged face, his skin tanned from being so much out of doors. His flesh bore several small scars from battles past. One creased his chin nearly dead-center, looking more like a dimple than a scar. Another split his right eyebrow, leaving a small, white, hairless separation. A third graced his cheek, emphasizing his cheekbone. None of them was disfiguring, but together with his clear blue eyes, slightly crooked nose and firm lips, they made up an interesting face. A strong face full of character that became almost beautiful when he smiled. His face pleased her. As did the rest of him. As he'd been in her dreams, he was tall and strong with muscular arms and legs. He even rode a white charger. Well, a mostly white charger. There was a splotch of gray on its side, but the saddle all but hid that from view.

All in all, Hugh Dulonget was the white knight of her dreams. He was even, in her estimation, kind and gentle. She was sure another man might have sent a servant to rid himself of an unwanted betrothed, but he'd come personally. He had even seemed truly pained to tell her that he did not wish to marry her. Of course, that had been before he'd learned that she was not the bastard child of a village woman, as he'd assumed, and that the coin had been left as her dower.

Were she the impractical sort, Willa might be wounded that his interest in her was spurred by the wealth he would gain when he married her. But she was not the impractical sort. Marriages were made in such a way. One partner brought wealth, the other title, and together they made up the whole of the estate. Such was the way of the world. And she was aware that while she'd had five years to become acquainted with the idea, her existence and the expectation that he would make her his bride had come as something of a shock to Hugh Dulonget. It was her task to see that he adjusted smoothly to this new future. And she wanted to perform her duty. That was the problem. She wanted to say "Aye" but could not until he crawled to her.

She glanced back at Baldulf, intending to stay him with a word. She was too late; he was already urging his horse into a canter. She would have to face Dulonget alone. And be strong. It was for his own good.

Her gaze slid over his body again as he rode, taking in the way the muscles of his legs flexed and bunched around the belly of his horse. Willa swallowed thickly. This was not a good idea. Truly, she should just avoid the man as much as possible until he crawled to her.

With that thought firmly in mind, she leapt to her feet.

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