Rogue's Call by C.A. Szarek

Author:C.A. Szarek [Szarek, C.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Epic Fantasy Romance
Publisher: Paper Dragon Publishing
Published: 2015-11-08T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-one

The shout went up, but Elissa didn’t even get the chance to glance over her shoulder to see what all the fuss was about. Her legs were swept out from under her, the fluffy underskirt of her purple gown flying up, blocking her vision as the corridor floor rushed up and grabbed her bottom. She yelped. Her right hip hit hard and smarted. Pain shot into her thigh and she whimpered.

Elissa couldn’t move.

Something soft—furry—and heavy had planted itself atop her.

Sir Alasdair cursed.

Lord Camden exclaimed concern.

A wet tongue started to bathe her face, and she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to fend off the beast. Air swooshed over her legs.

Mischief?

Although she’d seen him several times since the morning she’d spent in the duchess solar, the wolf had never come directly up to her or sought her touch, even when Elissa had tentatively petted him the other day with Lady Cera.

He was wagging his tail.

She was glad for the fullness of her gown, complete with petticoats and underskirts. Hopefully even though she was disheveled and her legs were now bare, the wolf was blocking her body from view with his own.

“Mischief, get off of her this instant.” The feminine command did nothing to move the young wolf.

Elissa pried one eye open, then the other, only to meet the now-familiar pair of ice-blue eyes.

The wolfling wagged his tail harder.

She tried to be cross with him, tried to frown. She really did. The lolling tongue and pretty eyes focused on her destroyed Elissa’s ire. A smile played at her lips. He pawed her bodice and whined.

Lady Cera commanded the cub again to no avail.

A pair of boots came into her line of sight.

Mischief gave a low rumble.

“My lord, best back up,” Sir Alasdair warned.

“Aye, ‘tis for the best,” Lord Camden whispered.

“Mischief, that’s not nice, my lad,” Elissa said, looking the wolfling in the eye. The possessive word should have jolted her, but it didn’t. Calling Mischief hers…felt right.

He whined again.

She placed her hand on his silver chest and urged him backwards.

Soft. He was so soft she wanted to stroke him, bury her fingers in his warm coat. Because Mischief might mistake the touch for praise, Elissa did not. It wasn’t all right that he’d knocked her over in the first place.

The wolf obeyed, but bumped her hand for further contact when she planted her palms to the stone floor to right herself. Her hip smarted, reminding her of the impact.

Lord Camden immediately offered his hand.

Mischief growled.

For some reason, Elissa’s eyes landed on Sir Alasdair. He squared his shoulders and an unnamed emotion darted across his face. The apple of his throat bobbed. He stared. As if he’d wanted to be the one to help her to her feet.

Her chest tightened and she tore her gaze away, meeting her suitor’s. Eyes that were also blue—yet so different than the knight’s—were bathed in concern for her.

Elissa cleared her throat. “My lord, I think I should stand on my own. I don’t think he likes anyone’s hands on me.

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