Shanara stared up at him. "And which of my father's daughters do you intend to marry, my lord?"

A slow smile curved Reyes's lips. "The one in my arms, of course."

Numbness gave way to trepidation. She could not deny that she was attracted to Reyes, or deny that the prospect of staying here, as his wife, was far more appealing than returning to her father's keep. But in the next heartbeat, trepidation turned to despair. She could not marry Reyes, could not conceive a child that would carry the same curse as its father. Not so long ago, she had been certain he would never marry.

She twisted out of his grasp. "Nay."

"Aye. You will be my bride within a fortnight."

"But why? You do not love me!"

"Your father's witch cursed me. Perhaps your father will reconsider my offer when he realizes the curse will now fall on his own kin."

"And on your own!" she exclaimed in horror. "Would you be so cruel as to condemn your own son to the kind of life you lead?"

He recoiled as if she had slapped him. Did she truly think he would get her with child, that he would condemn a son of his to the life he led? If so, so be it. Let her think what she would.

"My life is not as bad as it once was." His gaze slid over her body, his eyes dark, hot, and hungry, and filled with yearning.

"Nay!" she exclaimed. "I will not marry you. I will not allow you to use me or any son we might have to avenge yourself on my father."

"You will be my wife or my enemy," he said coldly. "The choice is yours."

She squared her shoulders, her eyes flashing defiance. "I am already your enemy!"

"Are you?" he asked.

His voice, no longer cold, was as warm and seductive as honeyed wine.

She lifted her chin defiantly. "I will take my own life rather than marry you."

"We shall see. Make whatever preparations you need. We wed in a fortnight."

And with those words ringing in her ears, he took her by the arm and led her into the keep.

Shanara paced her chamber, her mind in turmoil. She had to get away from here before it was too late. Save for the witch's curse, marriage to Reyes would have been far more appealing than returning to her father's keep, but she would not bear a child knowing that it would be cursed to run with the wolves at the full moon. How could Reyes expect it of her? How could he consider it himself?

Too upset to eat, she refused the tray that Beatrice brought her later that evening, flinched when she heard Beatrice turn the key in the lock. One way or another, she had been naught but a prisoner since Reyes had defeated her uncle in battle. Nay, even before that, she mused. Being a woman, she had never truly known the kind of freedom her brothers enjoyed.

With a sigh, Shanara went to the window and stared down at the yard below. She had to find a way out of here or, at the very least, get word to her father. Surely he would come to her rescue rather than see her wed to his enemy!

Dropping down onto the window seat, she rested her chin in her hands and stared into the gathering darkness. She wouldn't be here now if she hadn't gone to visit her uncle.

Rising, she began to pace the floor once again. She was still pacing when Alyce came in to light the fire and turn down her bed.

Alyce helped her out of her dress and undergarments, helped her into a long white sleeping gown, and then glared at her. "Why did you have to come here?"

"I assure you, it was not my wish," Shanara replied, startled by the girl's insolent tone and sullen expression.

"Then why are you marrying Lord Reyes?"

Shanara sighed. It came as no surprise that the news had already spread throughout the keep. Did his servants also know that she had refused his offer?

Alyce reached for Shanara's brush. "Lord Reyes deserves a woman who loves him." She brushed out Shanara's hair, her touch far less gentle than Beatrice's. Laying the brush aside, she began plaiting Shanara's hair. "If you had not come here, perhaps…"

Shanara glanced over her shoulder. "Perhaps what?"

Alyce shook her head. "Nothing."

"Tell me, Alyce. It may be that I can help."

A single tear slid down the maid's cheek. "No one can help me."

"I cannot help you if you will not confide in me."

"I love him!" Alyce spoke the words in a rush, then clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes widening in horror. "Forgive me, my lady. Please do not tell him what I said!"

"Alyce, there may be hope for you yet."

"How so? You are to wed in a fortnight."

"I have no wish to marry Lord Reyes, only to return to my father." Strange how, having said the words, she knew them for lies. "Can you help me?"

"There is a little chapel in a copse of trees behind the mews. Meet me there in three hours."

"But the door to my room…"

"I shall unlock it when it is time to go. Do not be late."

Reyes paced the floor of the great hall, wondering what madness had possessed him to tell Shanara that they would be wed. He had vowed that he would never marry, thus putting an end to the curse that plagued him. But he had looked into Shanara's eyes, felt her warm breath upon his face, tasted the sweetness of her kisses, and selfishly wanted more. He could not kill her and he could not let her go. At the time, his impulsive decision to marry her had seemed like the only sensible thing to do.

He turned at the sound of footsteps, surprised to see the young serving maid Alyce up so late.

"Is something amiss?" he asked.

"No, my lord," she replied softly. She filled a goblet with wine and carried it to him. "You look troubled."

He nodded as he accepted the drink. She was a pretty girl. It occurred to him that he had seen a good deal of her of late, and then he grinned inwardly. She was young and impressionable. No doubt she was infatuated with the lord of the keep. It had happened before.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord?" She stood near at hand, her gaze on his face. The throaty purr in her voice and the look in her eyes told him she was only too willing to do anything he asked.

For a moment, he was sorely tempted to take what she was offering so brazenly. Perhaps satisfying his lust would enable him to think more clearly, but even as he considered it, he knew he would not touch the girl. He wanted no woman in his bed but Shanara, and if he could not have her, then he would continue to remain celibate, unpleasant as that might be.

Placing her hand on his forearm, Alyce looked up at him through the veil of her lashes. "Perhaps you would like a warm bath," she suggested. "It would help you sleep."

He took a deep, calming breath, certain that, after accepting what she was offering, he would sleep like a newborn babe. Again, he shook off the temptation.

"Go along with you now, girl," he said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

She lingered a moment more, then turned and flounced from the room. Reyes watched the enticing sway of her hips, then, muttering an oath, he left the hall for the room he planned to occupy until Shanara was his bride. Unfortunately, since he knew he would not be able to share her bed without possessing her, it was the room he would be occupying after the wedding as well.

On that dreary note, he stripped off his boots and shirt and sought his rest, grateful that tonight there was no full moon.

Wearing a dark cloak over her gown, Shanara crept out of her room, down the stairs, and out the back door of the keep. She cast a wary eye behind her, giving thanks for the lowering clouds that hid the moon and the stars and, hopefully, her progress across the yard toward the mews.

Once, certain that someone was watching her, she glanced up at the windows overlooking the yard. No lights shone. No moving shadows betrayed a watchful eye. Telling herself there was nothing to fear, she hurried onward.

The small whitewashed chapel, topped by a carved wooden cross, stood in a copse of ancient oaks and elms. Opening the door, she paused at the threshold. Hearing nothing, she stepped inside the dark building.

"Alyce," she whispered. "Are you here?"

Silence was her only answer.

Heart pounding, Shanara took a step backward and then, hearing a noise off to her left, she whirled around, reaching blindly for the door. Her hand was on the latch when she felt a sharp pain on the back of her head, and then she felt nothing at all.

He woke suddenly, not knowing what had roused him. Sitting up, he stared into the darkness that surrounded him, his head cocked as he listened to the sounds of the night. He could discern nothing amiss, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he reached for his boots, then changed his mind. Padding barefoot across the floor, he left the room and walked quickly down the corridor to his bedchamber. He pressed his ear to the door, listening. There was no sound from within.

He was about to return to his own room when some inner voice urged him to try the latch. The door opened at his touch. Without stepping inside, he knew the chamber was empty.

Muttering a vile oath, he stalked down the stairs and out the kitchen door. Once he was safely in the shadows, he removed his trousers and summoned the wolf. Ah, the pain of it, the wonder of it. He dropped to his hands and knees, stared at his hands as they turned into paws. He groaned as muscles and tendons stretched and changed shape, his body contracting here, expanding there, the whole of it sprouting a thick black pelt.

When the transformation was complete, he shook himself all over, let out a low whine as her scent filled his nostrils. She had been here not long ago, and she had not been alone. Alyce's scent also hung in the air.

He broke into a trot, his nose to the ground. Alyce's scent was soon left behind, but Shanara's led him to the small chapel behind the mews.

His hackles rose when he reached the door. Her scent was strong here, and overlaying it, he detected the scent of a man. A scent he recognized. Ragan. He growled low in his throat at the thought of her sneaking out of the keep to meet another man. A man who had sealed his doom the moment he laid his hand on Shanara.