wife.’
‘How so?’
The chilly February weather had improved overnight, the day dawning still cold but bright. Now that the sun was higher overhead, Wolf was glad to feel the warmth of it on his back and shoulders. Yet as always, the promise of spring held a darker note for him. For it was in springtime that he had lost his mother, and knelt as a child beside her fresh-dug grave while the larks soared and sang dizzyingly high overhead.
Wolf’s gloved hands tightened on the reins as he remembered that day. The irony of the lark’s joyful song had never been lost on him since.
Hugh pondered for a moment before replying.
‘Eloise Tyrell is a lively and intelligent lady, to be sure, and goodly enough to look upon. That cannot be denied. But when I eventually marry, I hope to find a bride with a less mettlesome nature. Like our Queen Anne, your intended is of an argumentative bent. While I admired her fiery responses at supper last night, I agreed with her father that a woman like that needs to be disciplined. I would not wish to share my bed with such an opinionated lady.’ He sounded rueful. ‘I fear your wife will not take kindly to bridle and bit.’
‘I must take care not to restrain her too harshly then.’
Surprised by that response, Hugh glanced at him. ‘You intend to indulge her behaviour? Is that not dangerous in a wife?’
‘To continue your amusing conceit of the wife as mount, I would rather have to rein in a restive wife than be forced to plod along at too sedate a pace.’
‘And when she bears a child? Will you not demand her obedience then?’
‘If my wife is to raise sons worthy of the name Wolf, she must possess some spark of pride and know her own worth as a wife and mother.’ He thought of his own upbringing at the hands of a proud and fiery woman, who had died while still young. ‘I must bring Eloise to acknowledge me as her lord and master, you are right there. But I shall not do so at the expense of her spirit. A broken wife is no wife at all, but a poor drudge.’
‘And yet you gave no sign of indulging her whims last night. Quite the contrary, in fact.’
Wolf grinned. ‘I would not wish my mettlesome bride to have it all her own way, my friend. She must not think me weak.’
‘You knew Eloise as a youth, did you not?’
‘Barely.’
Wolf recalled their few encounters, remembering how the young daughter of Tyrell’s estate, all long limbs and untidy yellow hair, had impressed him with her wild demeanour. She had been too young then, a child still, climbing trees and riding about the fields without a chaperone. One time he had seen her from afar, a thin dab of a girl flying over hedges and ditches on a restless black stallion most women would have feared to mount. It had occurred to him then that she would make an interesting bride. But he had not been in any hurry to enter into a marriage contract, for he knew she might change once old enough to wed.
Then he had met Margerie at court, a girl fast passing into womanhood, a red-haired creature with pale skin and high, well-rounded breasts.
Margerie had blown him a kiss at supper, and he had sought out her quarters later, eager to lose his virginity. She had been shy but not unwilling. His lovemaking that first time had been awkward and clumsy, and he had known it. Margerie had lain beneath him in silence, her eyes wary and unsure. But he was soon deeply in love with her strange green eyes and elfin beauty.
Straightaway, he had made an offer of marriage and it had been accepted by Margerie’s father, a country squire with too many daughters to his name. His future had seemed settled when the king sent him on his first military campaign soon after that, trusting a party of men to his command.
With a soldiering career and a soft-skinned wife for his bed, what else would he need?
Yet when he returned from that campaign, flushed with the triumph of his first battle and eager to wed the girl with whom he was now desperately
‘How so?’
The chilly February weather had improved overnight, the day dawning still cold but bright. Now that the sun was higher overhead, Wolf was glad to feel the warmth of it on his back and shoulders. Yet as always, the promise of spring held a darker note for him. For it was in springtime that he had lost his mother, and knelt as a child beside her fresh-dug grave while the larks soared and sang dizzyingly high overhead.
Wolf’s gloved hands tightened on the reins as he remembered that day. The irony of the lark’s joyful song had never been lost on him since.
Hugh pondered for a moment before replying.
‘Eloise Tyrell is a lively and intelligent lady, to be sure, and goodly enough to look upon. That cannot be denied. But when I eventually marry, I hope to find a bride with a less mettlesome nature. Like our Queen Anne, your intended is of an argumentative bent. While I admired her fiery responses at supper last night, I agreed with her father that a woman like that needs to be disciplined. I would not wish to share my bed with such an opinionated lady.’ He sounded rueful. ‘I fear your wife will not take kindly to bridle and bit.’
‘I must take care not to restrain her too harshly then.’
Surprised by that response, Hugh glanced at him. ‘You intend to indulge her behaviour? Is that not dangerous in a wife?’
‘To continue your amusing conceit of the wife as mount, I would rather have to rein in a restive wife than be forced to plod along at too sedate a pace.’
‘And when she bears a child? Will you not demand her obedience then?’
‘If my wife is to raise sons worthy of the name Wolf, she must possess some spark of pride and know her own worth as a wife and mother.’ He thought of his own upbringing at the hands of a proud and fiery woman, who had died while still young. ‘I must bring Eloise to acknowledge me as her lord and master, you are right there. But I shall not do so at the expense of her spirit. A broken wife is no wife at all, but a poor drudge.’
‘And yet you gave no sign of indulging her whims last night. Quite the contrary, in fact.’
Wolf grinned. ‘I would not wish my mettlesome bride to have it all her own way, my friend. She must not think me weak.’
‘You knew Eloise as a youth, did you not?’
‘Barely.’
Wolf recalled their few encounters, remembering how the young daughter of Tyrell’s estate, all long limbs and untidy yellow hair, had impressed him with her wild demeanour. She had been too young then, a child still, climbing trees and riding about the fields without a chaperone. One time he had seen her from afar, a thin dab of a girl flying over hedges and ditches on a restless black stallion most women would have feared to mount. It had occurred to him then that she would make an interesting bride. But he had not been in any hurry to enter into a marriage contract, for he knew she might change once old enough to wed.
Then he had met Margerie at court, a girl fast passing into womanhood, a red-haired creature with pale skin and high, well-rounded breasts.
Margerie had blown him a kiss at supper, and he had sought out her quarters later, eager to lose his virginity. She had been shy but not unwilling. His lovemaking that first time had been awkward and clumsy, and he had known it. Margerie had lain beneath him in silence, her eyes wary and unsure. But he was soon deeply in love with her strange green eyes and elfin beauty.
Straightaway, he had made an offer of marriage and it had been accepted by Margerie’s father, a country squire with too many daughters to his name. His future had seemed settled when the king sent him on his first military campaign soon after that, trusting a party of men to his command.
With a soldiering career and a soft-skinned wife for his bed, what else would he need?
Yet when he returned from that campaign, flushed with the triumph of his first battle and eager to wed the girl with whom he was now desperately
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