A day and a night passed. I heard no one and saw no one, delivering the food to the warriors via one of the she-wolves who came for the meals. The silence and solitude didn't have the effect I had hoped. When I gazed through the window, the sunlight reminded me of Guy's golden hair and the sky the clear blue of his eyes.

Gone now. All gone. Gone forever.

I didn't sleep that night and found myself rising before the sun. I made my way through the cold darkness of the abbey and found myself in the kitchen, alone, gazing listlessly at the smooth-worn knots gently warping the table boards. When I finally turned my eyes up and toward the door I saw it was now open and a Wolf Warrior stood within the stone archway. Shock and dread filled me a moment, afraid it was Tyrok who had come to get his revenge, but then upon studying his face I realized it was not him.

Was I dreaming or seeing a ghost? Fur wolf pelts hung over his tall, lean frame. I saw the familiar blue eyes and golden hair, though unkempt now and hanging tangled about his face. His lips parted in surprise, as though as shocked to see me there as I was to see him.

"Anne, I – I didn't think you'd be here."

I stood up from out of my chair and slowly approached him. I couldn't believe in some way how different his looked, dressed in wolf skins and feeling ill at ease in them as though some of his confidence had been stripped away when they took away his rich blue robes. His eyes fixed on mine in indecision and a slightly embarrassed smile crossed his lips.

"I imagine you didn't expect me either – at least not like this," he said at last.

"No … but I am glad to see you. When I brought you your breakfast you were gone. I didn't know if you were still alive."

His smile vanished.

"I didn't think I would be alive either. Even when I agreed to their 'demands,' I didn't believe them. I thought they would kill me before their heathen god."

I turned my eyes toward him, studying his face, the furrows between his brows and the sadness in his eyes.

"Maybe it would have been best that happen than to join these animals," he said softly, as though talking to himself rather than me. "Now what honor I once had is gone."

I moved toward him and gently touched his hand.

"Sometimes it is better to live," I said. "Even live a lie – than to give them your soul."

I saw him contemplating my words, as if lost in their meaning somehow. We stood there in silence those few moments and finally he turned to me.

"I should go, before they awake and find me gone," he said.

He started to draw himself away, but I kept holding his hand in mine, preventing him from leaving.

"But why did you come here," I asked. "I don't suppose it was because you were hungry."

A small smile briefly crossed his lips and for the first time I noticed the dimples on his cheeks, making him look younger and more boyish than his years.

"No. I was looking for something – something for this."

He gently touched his shoulder with his free hand. The rough wolf pelt covered the shoulder and I slipped my hand from his as I moved closer, trying to see past the coarse fur. I stopped just a few paces before him and suddenly realized how close I was to him. I was struck by how tall he really was and how poorly the fur covered his long frame. I saw his shapely, lean chest and an image crossed my mind how delightful it would be to run my fingers over that smooth skin.

I moved my hands toward the wolf pelt, trying not to show my desire, but just an intention to help. As I reached for the pelt, I suddenly felt Guy's hand touch mine, stopping my motion to remove the fur. His large hand completely covered mine and I felt the calluses upon his fingers, probably from his sword or many long hours in the saddle.

"It's just a minor wound. It is nothing," he said. "You needn't trouble yourself."

"It is no trouble," I said softly. "And I might be able to help."

His hand slowly slipped from mine and I almost felt regret his touch was gone. But as I removed part of the wolf pelt, I saw a wound that was familiar among the Sons of Fenris. Three long claw marks traced their way from his shoulder to the left pectoral. Already the skin around it was red and inflamed, and again I wondered if the claw Gulnar used had some poison on it.

"Is it hurting," I asked.

"No. More burns. Please, my lady, it is nothing. I will go now."

He began to replace the fur pelt over the wound, but I stopped him, our hands touching again.

"Wait. I have something here that might help."

I briefly looked up at his face and felt entranced a moment, his eyes gazing into mine, his lips slightly parted. I felt the heat radiating off his body and saw a light sweat gleaming upon his brow. My heart raced in my breast and I struggled to retain control.

No, you mustn't. He might be feverish. I need to help him.

I turned to the herbs hanging on the kitchen rack and pulled off some leaves from a dried flower that commonly grew by the river near the abbey. I placed a few leaves in a small mortar and ground them into a fine powder. I finally added oil some to thicken it into a paste.

"If you place this on the wound, it should speed healing and ease some of the irritation."

I brought the mortar bowl over to Guy. He smelled the mixture and wrinkled his nose a bit.

"It smells. What is it?"

"Comfrey," I said. "It has great healing properties."

I took some of the ointment and gently removed the pelt, trying not to gaze into his eyes or focus upon his shapely body. In quick, matter-of-fact strokes, I applied the ointment and then covered the wound back up with the fur. I wiped the ointment off my hands and placed the ointment bowl on a shelf.

I knew I had to move away from him now. I had no other excuse to linger close to him, but again I felt his warmth near me and wanted to press myself close against him. I looked up and saw him gazing at me intently, as if in his eyes his soul was open to me. His face gleamed with sweat and I struggled with one last pretense to remain near him.

"Do you also have a fever," I asked, trying to keep my voice steady and distant.

He remained silent, just looking at me and felt his gaze burning its way into my own soul. I moved my hand, stretching my arm to touch his forehead, but I could only reach his cheek because of his height. I pressed the palm of my hand to his cheek, feeling the heat burning there.

My God, what if he's ill?

But then I felt his large hand pressing against mine. It was such a soft, gentle touch and my eyes closed, relishing the feeling. Guy slid my hand down from his cheek and then I felt his lips delicately touch the tips of my fingers. A wave of pleasure rippled through me and I stifled a moan. His lips then moved to the palm of my hand and I felt a soft, almost gentlemanly kiss – as a lord accustomed to kissing the hand of lady.

I looked toward him and saw something kind and loving in his eyes. Had he been masking these feeling all this time, putting on a facade of fear and anger? I turned to him, sliding my hand to his graceful neck and pressed my lips to his. The kiss ran like a shock through me, setting my blood on fire. I felt him running his hands through my hair and holding my head as if it was the most precious thing while his lips moved across mine.

I ran my fingers through his lovely golden hair, realizing just a night ago I had thought him dead, lost to me forever. As our lips parted, I saw a brief look of vulnerability dwelling within his eyes. Again our lips touched, the kiss deepening from sweetness to passion. As his strong arms wrapped around me, in that moment I felt safe – even in Grimston Abbey where Gulnar reigned, I felt safe.