Sleepy Fox Hollow Where I thought I knew it all before I knew what love was

he had lifted his eyes long enough to watch the gradient of emotions flicker over wylla’s face, and if the air had somehow slowed, watched humour flare into place and pause.
it was his own turn to be absolutely shocked, appalled; he took a step back with a flush racing along his chest and a leery curl of his ruff. ”frau!” he uttered, forgetting completely the language in which they had been conversing a mad moment. "das würde ich niemals sagen!”
only then did he see that she was joking, and deflated as though he had been felled, chagrin painting itself into every facet of his being. and only then did he admit to himself that she had been correct. 
while he had been appalled at her suggestion that was the extent of his feeling for her, wylla was not altogether untruthful in her jest. and that was what had spurred mahler so. he was not a lecherous beast, and had seen fit to defend himself.
but now he had come back, now he had seen how wrong he had been, and marveled again at the passion he felt at the sensation that she might have thought ill of his affections.
that was the sum of being a man. even with his stoic nature, slow to wrath, mahler had not escaped the touch of masculinity stamped in his blood.
he looked quite seriously at her a moment, tension dropping from the hard lines of his face and a grudging sheen of amusement to take its place. ”you have alvays teased right to the very edge of humiliation, vylla,” he said solemnly, keeping her name as he felt it he must keep it.
”perhaps that is vhat i liked first. somevone villing to challenge me vhen no one vould dare.” she had seen then beyond the fierce beast and his deterring guard, to the space mahler let few travel.
a glint to his lilac eyes; he was quiet, watching her, watching wylla and waiting for her to react, for he had come to know she was incandescently unpredictable. and to know it was a great part of why he had never forgotten the ferocious litttle she-wolf.