The she-wolf in the Tower

Dreaming of his mate

*Horace*

At the very moment my betrothed labeled me impulsive, I’m saying the same to myself. I have never done anything so reckless in my life. Never.

In fact, I can’t remember doing anything impulsive, let alone jumping into one of the most important acquisitions of my life, without doing diligent research beforehand.

The truth is that I never make direct purchases of any kind. I have people to do that sort of thing. I don’t care to shop. The only things I buy directly are my horses.

But… and it’s a reassuring thought… I have bought most of my horseflesh without fuss. I see the right mare, and recognize instantly where she will fit into my breeding program.

Obviously, that isn’t a flattering way to think about my future mate, but it’s true. I took one look at Miss Rapunzel and knew immediately that I wanted her. And her children.

The idea of bedding her is entirely pleasing. For all her modesty in gaze and demeanor, her body is delightfully rounded. Other young she-wolves look like skeletons swathed in a yard or two of fabric. Whole rows of skeletons, with their ringlets bouncing off the sharp edges of their bony shoulders.

Not a kind thought, I remind myself. I’m trying to curb my descriptive instincts: they might be silently expressed, but I can hardly ignore the fact that they are often critical. Always critical, my conscience insists.

But I haven’t come up with a single negative aspect to Miss Rapunzel, other than the fact that I don’t care for her name. Who could? She is an angel, not an Rapunzel.

My first fiancée’s name was Rosaline, which had a romantic sound to it. The two of us were matched as children. Indeed, we hadn’t even met until she was sixteen and I nineteen. After that, we settled into waiting for her to reach her majority… except she died a few days before her birthday. I’d only met her twice in the intervening two years. So ours could hardly be termed a romantic pairing.

“My alpha prince?”

My agent, Bardolph, is seated on the opposite carriage seat, looking annoyed. Bardolph was my father’s agent, and was passed on to me precisely as the wines in the cellars were, except that, unlike the wine, Bardolph is not improving with age. His beard comes to a point in a manner that is distinctly goatlike. Goatish. Goat-reminiscent. Goat…

I wrench my mind back to the subject at hand. “Yes?”

“The head bailiff and the mine manager are in disagreement owing to silt carried from the diggings at the Currie tin mine, which is choking the fish in the Glaschorrie River,” Bardolph says, in the painstaking way that people do when I’ve ignored their question the first time around.

“Halt the mining,” I say. “Unless the mine can control the drainage, we’ll have to close. There are six villages dependent on fish from that river.”

Bardolph goes back to his ledger, and I go back to thinking.

Goldtail suggested a five-month-long betrothal, which sounds fine. I’m in no rush to begin married life. One has to expect that accommodating a mate will entail a certain level of fuss, and I don’t like fuss.

But then I think about the creaminess of Miss Rapunzel’s skin. Creamy isn’t the right word. I’ve never seen skin so white, like the finest parchment. I have decided that the loch is darker than her eyes, which are closer to the green of a juniper tree.

This line of thought makes me feel a surge of possessiveness. She will be mine soon: the dreamy eyes, white skin, rosy mouth, and all… I have bartered for her with a settlement that would make Bardolph turn faint.

I gave Goldtail every single item the man requested. One doesn’t haggle when it comes to a mate. That would be most ill-bred.

Bardolph raises his head again. “My alpha prince, would you care to discuss the provisions of the contract with Mr. Stickney-Ellis as regards the bridge to be built over the Glaschorrie? I have the provisions as established by the builders.”

I nod, and settle more comfortably into my seat. No more thinking about Miss Rapunzel: it’s detrimental to my concentration, which is unacceptable. In fact, once I have her in the castle, I will have to make very certain that she doesn’t disrupt my attention.

I’m not entirely sure what my grandmother did from morning to night… She-wolves’ work… but it had to do with linens, and the sick, and the crofters… Goldtail would have made certain that his daughter is well trained.

He is a bit stiff, Goldtail, but a decent fellow.

Bardolph’s voice filters through one part of my mind. I hold up my hand. “I’d prefer three arches rather than two.”

The agent makes a note and drones his way through the rest of the page.

I clear my throat.

“Yes, my alpha prince?”

“Tomorrow morning, there will be an announcement in the Morning Post of my betrothal. Jelves is finishing the agreed-upon settlements.”

Bardolph’s mouth falls open. “My alpha prince, you…”

“I am betrothed to Miss Rapunzel Goldtail. Goldtail offered to send the announcement to the papers.”

Bardolph bows his head. “May I offer my sincerest congratulations, my alpha prince?”

I incline my head in acknowledgment. “The alpha has suggested a betrothal of five months or thereabouts. I expect you to see to all arrangements. You may be in touch with Goldtail’s representative.”

The agent nods again. “Yes, certainly, my alpha prince.”

“Reconstruction of the water closet between my chamber and the future Luna’s must be completed.”

“Of course,” Bardolph says.

Then my factor pulls forward a bound volume. “Next I would like to review the pack agent’s breeding provisions for the Dorbie farm. I brought the stock book with me for that purpose.” He begins to read aloud.

I am rather surprised at how hard I have to work to keep my mind attentive. It’s probably the novelty of the whole affair. It stands to reason that a new experience would be distracting.

The most surprising thing of all is the deep strain of satisfaction I feel. It threads through all my thoughts like the awareness of a coming rainstorm: silent, but leaving its mark. Rapunzel is mine now. I will bring that lovely, delectable she-wolf home.

I have been missing that calm warmth in my life, and I hadn’t even known it. I feel something bigger and more profound than desire. I’m not certain what it is.

Acquisitiveness, perhaps. Satisfaction. None of those words are right.

Bardolph clears his throat.

“Yes?”

“As I was saying...”