Dream of Me/Believe in Me

will do what is right.”
    For just a moment, Marta wavered. She saw before her a young woman of glowing beauty, a woman whom recent days had transformed from innocence to awakened sensuality. So, too, had she seen the look on the Wolf's face when he rode back into the hill fort holding his wife in his arms. Never had a man appeared better satisfied, or more tender.
    It was well enough to think that this would pass, for men tended to lose interest in that which they possessed. But this enticing Saxon witch might have unexpected powers. Perhaps she truly had been sent to tame the Wolf.
    “He will not appreciate your involving him with any dispute among the women,” Marta said sensibly enough. “Men hate such things. If you knew more about them, you would understand that.”
    As one, the other women nodded. This truly was wisdom.
    “Moreover, he will wonder why you seek to sow discord among his people. He will remember that you are of enemy stock and he will consider what harm you wish to do.”
    The line was drawn. Marta would not yield the keys despite Cymbra's threat to go to Wolf. Nay, not threat, for it had to be a promise. If she did not act on it, she would be disparaged among his people for all time.
    She almost regretted saying what she had, for she truly dreaded the thought of involving her husband. Now, she had no choice but to ask for his help.
    She left the great hall and did not return until it was time for supper. Wolf had come back from the hunt but gone directly to the sauna with several of his men. Cymbra did not see him until she came to the high table.
    He was already seated, laughing with Dragon over some sally the latter had just made, but the sudden lapse of conversation that always seemed to accompany her appearance alerted him. He broke off and rose, pulling out the high-backed chair next to his.
    “Prompt as always, my lady,” he said with a smile. More softly, for her ears alone, he added, “And as beautiful.”
    She flushed, pleased by his praise but nervous, too, at the thought of what lay ahead. As she took her place beside him, Dragon lifted his goblet to her.
    “Greetings, sweet sister, and thank you.”
    “Thank me? Whatever for?”
    “For inducing in my brother so good a mood that he cursed only mildly when we failed to find a boar and had to content ourselves with stag.”
    “You don't care for venison?” Cymbra innocently asked her husband.
    Dragon grinned at the chiding look his brother shot him. “Oh, he likes it well enough,” he answered for Wolf. “But he prefers the contest with a bad-tempered boar. Although in all honesty, I've wondered a time or two if he might not rightly feel some kinship with such a beast.”
    Cymbra dared a quick look at her husband. He merely rolled his eyes. “Ignore him, sweetling. Dragon has always believed wives were to be avoided at all costs. It pains him to confront evidence of his misjudgment.”
    “It's true,” Dragon said, sighing deeply. “You've upset my whole understanding of how the world works.
    Rather than go back and begin again, I've decided to regard you as a unique exception.”
    “I see,” Cymbra said although she didn't really. It was enough that her brother-in-law seemed to approve of her. That was a beginning. Now, if she could only make as much progress with the several thousand other people at Sciringesheal …
    “If you do like venison,” she ventured, “I have a wonderful recipe. Perhaps you'd like to try it.”
    Wolf had no interest in the intricacies of preparing food. It was enough if it arrived at the table reasonably hot and not entirely raw. But he was inclined just now to please the beautiful wife who had pleased him so greatly. “Do whatever you'd like with it,” he said magnanimously.
    Cymbra had the opening she needed and hesitated only a moment before taking it. She could see Marta at one of the lower tables, watching her with narrowed eyes, and was aware that she was an object of attention for many of the women scattered around the hall. Most of them looked at her unkindly but Brita and the other female slaves dared to offer her small smiles of support. Her throat tightened with nervousness but she forced herself to speak calmly and pleasantly.
    “I would be delighted to do so, my lord. Unfortunately, lacking the keys to the household storage, I cannot obtain the spices needed to make the dish.”
    It took Wolf a moment to realize that there was a significance behind her seemingly casual