Castle of the Wolf (11 page)

“Oh, but I am well acquainted with the realities of life!” Cissy protested.

Mrs. Chisholm clucked her tongue. “Tut-tut, dearie. Of course you are not. You might devour young Leopold von Wolfenbach with your eyes, but once a subject of any indelicate kind is mentioned, it makes you blush like a peony.”

Disgruntled, Cissy wrinkled her nose. Yet sure enough, she felt her cheeks heat. It was most aggravating!

Chuckling, the widow reached out and patted Cissy’s knee. “You will grow out of it, never fear, dearie. But for now believe me, swearing doesn’t tell you anything about a man’s worth. If he has really shut himself up in the castle for these past years, it stands to reason that Fenris von Wolfenbach has…let us say, temporarily forgotten his manners.” She shrugged.

Cissy gave an indelicate snort. “He is abhorrent, that’s what you mean. Intolerably rude. And wouldn’t he love to see the last of us. Ha!” Arms crossed in front of her, she leaned back. “But I won’t give him this satisfaction. The Castle of Wolfenbach belongs to me now.”

The older woman gave her a strange look. “That it does, dearie.”

“And don’t you think…”—eagerly, Cissy leaned forward toward the widow—“don’t you think that Leopold von Wolfenbach would make a lovely fairytale prince?”

Mrs. Chisholm grinned. “Kissing Snow White?” she suggested, her eyes twinkling. “How terribly forward!”

Cissy shrugged and giggled. “Well…”

“My dear, I can perfectly understand how a young girl would be smitten with such a dashing man as Leopold von Wolfenbach. But still, you should not make any hasty decisions.”

Now, this came as a surprise. Cissy frowned. “Do you really think I would want to marry his brother? A man whose chief means of communication are growls?” She shook her head.

If anything, it only increased Mrs. Chisholm’s amusement. “It comes with the name, don’t you think? Still…” She sobered. “Please do remember all is not gold that glitters.”

Utterly astonished, Cissy lifted her eyebrow. “I thought you liked him!”

“Oh, I do, I do.” She patted Cissy’s knee some more. “But I also reckon that he can be a rather dangerous man. Now let us speak no more of these young men. Tell me, what book did you want to look for?”

“The last time we went to the printer, Herr Ellinger told me about a collection of Hoffmann’s tales.
Die Serapionsbruder
, it is called, I believe.”

“Ahh, Herr Hoffmann of Berlin? Did he not die a few years ago?”

Interlude

A disturbance rippled through the castle. Unease whispered in the ancient stones: the Other had entered their realm.

They bore no love for him, for he was a threat to their world.

Stone sighed, shuddered.

And yet, caught fast, all they could do was watch and wait.

…watch and wait…

Forever
…

…and ever…

…and ever…

Chapter 8

“So your ancestors were robber barons?” An icy wind blew past Cissy’s nose as she stood on the remains of the castle’s tower a few days later and admired the view of the snow-covered landscape. Here and there a hint of dark green shone through the white caps of the great trees, while down in the valley, the houses looked like toys, all sparkly and shiny. The sun glinted off the cross on top of St. Margaretha’s and transformed it into a tiny star.

“Oh, yes.” Beside her, Leopold chuckled. “They probably stood here, too, and looked out over the country they held in their thrall.” He widened his stance. “All this you see was once Wolfenbach property.”

“Was it?” Curious, she looked at him. His voice had taken on a strange tone. “And now?”

“Now?” He gave a sharp laugh. “Now it’s…” He shook his head. “Now it no longer belongs to our family.” His lips pressed together, and Cissy felt the sudden, unexpected urge to touch his arm in reassurance.

Like a wanton. Her face flamed, and she was uncomfortably reminded of Mrs. Chisholm’s words:
“Once a subject of any indelicate kind is mentioned, it makes you blush like a peony
.
”
How unfortunate that it would appear an actual mentioning was not even needed; mere thought was quite sufficient. Aggravating indeed! She took a deep breath. “As a result of what happened in 1811?”

He shot her a look, one golden eyebrow quizzically raised. “So they’ve told you about this at least?”

“Not really.” She clasped her hands in front of her, twisted her fingers together.

Shaking his head, he turned back to contemplate the land spread below them. A furrow marred his forehead. “How did you find out?” He was watching her from the corner of his eyes.

“Herr Haldner…
Geheimrat
Haldner called a few days ago.” She lifted her shoulders a little. “The Altertumsverein is apparently very interested in acquiring Wolfenbach. They hope it will fall to them should…” She stopped. Gnawing on her lower lip, she pondered which words to choose to make it sound more delicate. “It’s because of the condition which was named in the will. Have you heard about the…er…condition?”

Chuckling, he turned his back to the view and leaned against the balustrade. “Everybody and their auntie have heard about that condition by now,
Liebchen
.” The corners of his mouth lifted and his eyes twinkled.

Liebchen.

He had such beautiful eyes. Green like the forest, green like the trees whispering in the wind.

The breeze lifted a strand of Cissy’s hair and blew it across her cheek like a lover’s caress. What she imagined a lover’s caress to be like. She shivered.

Leopold’s smile widened, then he reached out and carefully placed the stray lock of hair behind her ear. His knuckles brushed over her cheek. Gasping, Cissy took a step back. Painful heat flooded her face, and her breasts… Again, she shivered.

Her breasts tingled and strained against the confinement of her stays. Was it only a few days ago that she had told Mrs. Chisholm that she was quite aware of the realities of life? Nothing,
nothing
, had ever felt like this.

“Don’t,” she croaked, but wasn’t quite sure whether she was telling her misbehaving bosom or the man in front of her. “Don’t.” How vulnerable she suddenly felt! Delicate. As if she were made of fine glass.

Leopold’s smile dimmed. “I apologize, I…” He spread out his hands, and for a moment he reminded her of a sad puppy. “I was taken away by your beauty, the sweetness of your face.” His voice lowered. “Your loveliness,” he breathed gently, softly, and Cissy felt her heart melt.

These were the sweetest words a man had ever said to her. He had called her beautiful.
Beautiful.
A tousled Greek god, who surely was besieged by countless women—sophisticated women, not brown Yorkshire mice like her—this golden god thought her beautiful.

And suddenly, she
felt
beautiful, despite her drab, black dress with the old-fashioned cut. Her heart lifted, jumped, as if it could fly straight out of her breast. She could no more stop the foolish smile spreading over her face than stop breathing. “I forgive you.” She held out her hand to him. “Friends again?”

His face lit once more. He took her hand, and through the glove she could feel the heat of his skin, the strength in his fingers. “Friends,” he agreed. But then he turned her hand so it was facing palm up, and with deft fingers undid the first button at her wrist. Her breath caught in her throat when his thumb stroked her sensitive skin. “Friends,” he repeated. “For now.” With a mischievous smile he raised her hand and pressed his lips to the small strip of skin he had exposed.

Tingles raced up her arm, spread through her body and made her bones sing. “Oh my,” she breathed, and all thoughts of impropriety fled.

“Lovely,” he murmured against her wrist, and his words vibrated along her nerves to the marrow of her bones.

Gasping, she pressed her wrist to his mouth, and with a soft laugh he bestowed a last, lingering kiss to her wrist before he straightened and buttoned her up again. He looked at her, and she drowned in the green of his eyes.
So, so green…
She swayed a little, trembling like a fragile leaf in the wind.

Not prepared for the realities of life…

She inhaled sharply to clear her head. Leopold’s cheek dimpled.

“The loveliest woman I’ve ever seen.”

~*~

Over the next few days Leopold showed her around the castle, and she felt more and more comfortable in his presence. He showed her all the nooks and crannies she had seen before, but now she saw them through his eyes. He told her about the duel that had been fought on the central staircase in the pallas centuries ago, brother fighting brother, until they both had lain bleeding at the foot of the stairs. He told her how each year, on a special night in May, the two could still be seen fighting on the stairs, and how the clang of their ghostly swords would reverberate from the walls of the darkened castle.

He showed her the entrance to the secret passage in the library, where the air was heavy with the smell of dust and old leather and paper that had turned yellow with age. Outside, he pointed out to her the place where spikes with the bloody heads of Wolfenbach’s enemies had once crowned the gate until the ravens had come to pick the dimmed eyes, to tear the flesh from the bones. She couldn’t suppress a shiver as a raven cawed overhead. She looked up to follow its flight, and her gaze was caught by a snow-covered gargoyle looming on an overhang above her. Again, she shivered. The dead stone eyes regarded her stoically.

“All the gargoyles,” she murmured.

Leopold followed her gaze. “Aye. Nasty old buggers,” he growled. “One of our ancestors apparently had a penchant for the grotesque. Never liked them myself, though.” He shrugged.

“They always surround you,” Cissy said softly and looked around, spotting more of the stone beasts clinging to the roof or thrusting their heads through the wall. “Watching you.” She hugged her pelisse tighter around herself.

Leopold chuckled. “Awww, no, not with these dead eyes of theirs. Do you see that one over there?” He pointed. “See how parts of his eyes have crumbled away? This fellow is watching no one ever again.” Again, he chuckled, but Cissy shivered in the cold breeze.

“Let us go back inside,” she pleaded. “It’s eerie out here.”

Offering her his arm, he led her to the nearest building. Their steps sounded loud on the stone tiles of the empty rooms and corridors. He showed her the weapons room, where old swords rusted on the wall and suits of old armor stood in the corners like soldiers made of tin. In the middle of the room, the empty shell of half a steel horse stood waiting for battles long past.

Leopold next showed her staircases that led nowhere and doors that hid stone walls. Generations of Wolfenbachs had built and remodeled the castle, had added new buildings and turrets, new stairs and hidden recesses, and thus had made the castle into a stone maze. Leopold talked of the many secrets the castle still held even from him. “So the Wolfenbach Hoard can be anywhere,” he said. “There’s even a secret door down in the well.”

“How do you know about the hoard in the first place?” she asked, curious, while she admired the painted ceiling in one of the state rooms: a sea of golden stars against a dark blue backdrop.

Leopold shrugged. “There were always legends. Our old nanny told us many tales and myths about this area. There isn’t a stone in this land that doesn’t tell a tale.”

“I have always loved old tales and legends,” Cissy confided, glancing his way.

“Ah well, most of these tales are, of course, simply superstitious rubbish. But I’ve also read a bit from the town annals.” He grimaced. “It was mostly gibberish to me, that old German. The Latin wasn’t much better, really.” He bit his lip, and his face filled with remorse. “I was never much of a scholar,” he admitted.

With his blond curls and rueful expression, he reminded Cissy of a little boy. God, he was adorable! She gave him a smile and nodded, encouraging him to go on.

He hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his waistcoat and rocked back and forth on his heels. “From the little I could piece together, I learnt a bit about the fate of the last Wolfenbach robber baron. How the villagers down in the valley eventually revolted against his tyranny and one day killed him when he took a ride through the forest.” He shook his head. “It must have been quite a fight. First they pelted him and his horse with stones, and then they came after him with hayforks and flails.”

Cissy’s stomach lurched. “Did they harm the poor horse, too?” she asked, aghast.

He shrugged. “I don’t think so. To be honest, I was more interested in reading about what they did to the castle. They looted it, of course.”

“Of course,” Cissy murmured, her thoughts still with the poor horse.

“But the annals don’t mention a treasure.” Excitement crept into his voice. “And this means it must still be here!” He made a wide, encompassing movement with his arms. “Somewhere in this castle. It was reclaimed by Wolfenbach’s son several years later, you know. He had managed to flee, and joined the Crusade in repentance of his father’s sins. A real paragon of virtue, that chap. And probably a bit soft in the head, too. Why, there is even this silly story of how he spared some wolf or other during a hunt. Spared a wolf! Can you believe the stupidity?” He rolled his eyes dramatically, which made Cissy giggle. “But, of course, later generations of the family made a great hullaballoo about it and even created this fantastic tale about the spirit of the wolf protecting the castle and the Wolfenbachs forevermore.” He snorted, then gave her a broad, boyish smile. “Anyway, ever since that crusading fellow entered the scene, the Wolfenbachs have been model knights. No more robbing for us.” He winked at Cissy.

She hid a grin behind her hand. “I am so glad to hear it,” she said, and managed to keep a straight face, even though, for no discernible reason, her heart sang in her chest and she yearned to whirl around and around under the golden stars on the ceiling. “I would very much like to read these annals one day. Do you think that would be possible?”

“You?” For a moment or two he simply stared at her in surprise before he burst out laughing. “
Liebchen
, you’re priceless! What a delicious sense of humor you have!”