Chapter Twelve

A riana hardly knew herself. Who was this daring young hussy, kissing handsome warriors in castle gardens and not allowing them to take a gentlemanly leave?

The embarrassment and insecurities that had dogged her footsteps through her life had vanished, leaving her free and unabashed. She wanted to kiss Otto. Wanted to feel his lips on hers. His arms around her waist. His warm breath on the side of her face. More, she wanted more than that. In a rush of courage, she shifted her weight closer to him, reveling in the solidity of his broad chest.

His usually fierce eyes were gazing down at her, but they weren’t fierce anymore. Instead, they were hazy, almost unfocused. A smile played around his full lips. She reached up to feel the sharpness of his dark stubble.

“You do not wish for me to show restraint?” he echoed her words, his voice both throaty and playful. “My dear Ariana, do you know what you are saying?”

This was her chance to back away. To cast her eyes modestly down and apologize for her impropriety. But she had no intention of taking it. For the first time in her life, she felt feminine, desirable even. And it wasn’t just because of the elegant gown Otto had gifted to her—though that was no doubt responsible for the stir her arrival had caused in the great hall earlier. It was because of the way Otto spoke to her, like she was an equal whose opinion was worth hearing. It was because of his smile, sometimes dangerous and sometimes kind, and mostly because of the fizzing sensation that his mere proximity sent skidding along her spine. Standing in Otto’s arms, Ariana didn’t feel awkward or overly tall. She wasn’t worried about saying the wrong thing or stumbling over his feet; or generally making a fool of herself in front of the Earl of Darkmoor, a man who could take his choice of women.

Instead, she had the most wonderful feeling that she was standing exactly where she was meant to be.

She nodded firmly, allowing her hands to run down his spine all the way to his waist. “I do.”

For a moment, he paused, and she wondered fleetingly if she had displeased him with her boldness. But then his lips crashed down upon hers and she wondered no more. All thoughts deserted her as she submitted to the wonderful sensation of kissing this mountain of strength. She gasped as his tongue met hers, moving closer into his arms and arching against him as he stroked a gentle line over her collarbone, settling his palm against the curve of her breast.

“Ariana,” he whispered, nibbling her neck and sending waves of pleasure rippling down her body. “If we go further, I shall not be able to stop.”

In answer she gripped his hand and pressed it more firmly against her breast. “I do not want you to stop,” she enunciated clearly.

Her words unleashed something inside him. He immediately picked her up, as if she weighed no more than a child, and carried her a few steps closer to the rose bushes, where they were more shielded from accidental onlookers.

“I am glad of it,” he grunted, laying her down gently in the soft grass. “I do not know how much longer I could have waited for you.”

He expertly unfastened the front of her bodice, and she gasped again as his warm hands made direct contact with her sensitive skin.

“You said I could take all the time I needed,” she reminded him breathlessly, winding her fingers into his tousled hair.

“Aye,” he agreed, lowering his head to kiss the flesh he had so recently exposed to the night air. “I will be more careful with my promises in future.”

Her whole body was tingling now with a mixture of excitement and longing. She wriggled in the long grass, not knowing how best to remedy the intense need growing inside her. “Otto,” she gasped, as his hand pressed beneath her skirts.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice muffled by her breast.

“No,” she answered quickly. “No, never.”

His fingers stroked her thighs, gently pushing them apart. Ariana felt as though someone had lit a fire inside her. A fire that deepened as Otto finally found her curls. He shifted onto an elbow and kissed her lips as one finger slipped slowly inside her.

“Oh,” she gasped, rearing against him.

He quietened her by deepening their kiss, claiming her whole mouth as his hand caressed her. The pleasure he was inducing in her grew into a sharp point of need. She pulled helplessly at his tunic, wanting to feel the warmth of his skin and the beating of his heart.

He moved away and swiftly removed his clothing. Ariana had but seconds to admire how the pale moonlight illuminated the contours of his muscular body before his nimble fingers were gently divesting her of her gown. She bit down on her lip as the balmy evening air washed around her body, gasping out loud as Otto gripped the hem of her chemise and lifted it smoothly over her head.

He paused for a moment, his dark eyes raking over her body. But Ariana didn’t feel shame over her nakedness. She held herself still and unabashed, enjoying the way Otto’s attention feasted on her womanly figure. He reached out a hand and skimmed it over the curve of her breasts. The flame of desire pooled within her as Otto gathered himself.

“Are you ready?” he whispered.

In answer, she wrapped her fingers into his hair and pulled him down upon her, relishing the tingling she felt as his long, hard body made contact with her own softness. He kissed her again and she felt the first nudging of his desire between her thighs. He cupped her cheek as he gently pushed himself inside her, filling her up with his warmth. The brief stab of pain was quickly followed by wave upon wave of rhythmic pleasure as their bodies moved as one. She closed her eyes and surrendered to the wealth of sensations, her hips rocking beneath him, her hands roving over the hard ridges of his muscular back. Slowly her pleasure increased to a crescendo she couldn’t help crying out over. Her teeth fastened onto his shoulder as new sensations rippled through her, leaving her limp but replete. Through her haze, she was dimply aware of Otto thrusting more urgently inside her, then giving a low moan of release.

Gradually, she recovered her senses becoming aware once more of Otto’s weight upon her, the hard beating of his heart, an owl hooting far above their heads. His stubble rasped against her cheek, his breath was warm against her ear. She linked her fingers around his neck as her breathing slowed.

Otto propped himself onto an elbow and dropped a kiss onto her lips, before moving away from her onto his side. Immediately, she was cold and bereft, longing for the comfort of his warm skin, but then he reached for her and pulled her closer. She nestled her head onto his broad chest, enjoying the sensation of his hands smoothing her back.

“You are beautiful,” he said gruffly into the silence.

She could only respond honestly. “I am not.”

He brought a finger to her lips, pressing it gently against them. “What is this now? You tell me I am wrong?”

She shuffled closer, entwining her legs in his. “I have long known my assets and shortcomings,” she said. “I am content with my lot.”

Otto grunted. “I should hope so.” She laughed lightly, her mouth against his shoulder, but he lifted her chin and forced her to look up. “You are beautiful,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “I want you to know it.”

For the first time she felt a flush of self-consciousness stain her cheeks. Her anxious mind presented her with a series of images—golden ringlets, slender shoulders, a lady with the singing voice of an angel—but with a tremendous effort she shoved them away. Otto wanted her for who she was; exactly how she was.

What an extraordinary gift.

“Mayhap, in your eyes,” she said hesitantly.

“Are not my eyes the only ones that matter?” he demanded.

“Why yes,” she began, stuttering, but then saw that he was jesting with her, and she allowed a smile to break through. “Thank you, Otto,” she said with meaning.

“For what?”

“For your kindness,” she replied readily, settling her palm against his side. For not demanding to know why I dressed in disguise just yesterday , her mind supplied, but she swallowed it down.

He took her fingers and interlinked them with his own. Through the darkness, she could see only the gleam of his eyes and the outline of his jaw.

“I had small hope of happiness in this marriage,” he said. “But I begin to believe that we may make a strong success of it, you and I.”

Ariana felt as if she were standing at the edge of some precipice. She could fall into the treacherous depths or else she could soar above them. She held Otto’s hand more tightly and squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment. “I would like that,” she said, her voice small. “I confess, such hopes were beyond my wildest imaginings when I first came to Darkmoor.”

“You thought me a brute.”

His abruptness took her by surprise, but it was a statement, not a question. She swallowed hard. “I knew you only by reputation.”

He leaned closer, his breath fanning against her cheeks. “And now, Ariana, do you think there is more to me than a merciless killer?”

She felt the strong rhythm of his heart beating against her chest. His voice was tight. Could it be that Otto cared about her answer?

Such a prospect made Ariana momentarily dizzy. She took a breath. “It is true, of course, you are a mighty warrior.” Never had she been more aware of his height and strength. “But there is more to you, yes.” She reached out to place her palm against his angular cheek and he clasped her hand inside his.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Ariana’s own deception seemed to hover over them, a gauzy sheet of duplicity capable of smothering this new-found ease, this path towards happiness. She opened her mouth in a sudden urge to confess, but closed it again for what could she say? How could she shatter this fragile state of trust that had so recently sprung up between them?

And what good would it do now? The deed was done. Ysmay was free. Ariana had no further cause to go behind Otto’s back for anything, ever again.

She exhaled, releasing all her doubts and anxieties into the night. She would be a good wife from now on. She would give Otto no reason to doubt her. Their marriage could, as Otto said, become a success.

She settled her head against him, relaxing to the feel of his hands stroking her back. As the tension left her shoulders, she grew aware of something new. A faint flutter of hope, deep down inside her belly. She and Otto could grow to be happy, together.

She’d never wanted anything so fiercely.

*

They walked back through the darkness to Ariana’s bedchamber and spent a restful night together sleeping deeply under her blankets, but Ariana woke with the first cock crow. The quiet of the castle told her it was too early to worry about the maids coming in, and she was far too awake to contemplate further rest.

Strips of morning sunlight slanted through the heavy shutters, illuminating the man who slumbered just inches away. As she gazed at him, the fizzing sensations that had rippled through her out in the rose garden seemed to make a new home in her heart. Her whole being sang with life and hope. For the first time in her life, happiness was within her grasp.

Who would have guessed that Feared One held the key?

That long-feared moniker had now lost its power to terrorize her, for she had discovered the man beneath the warrior’s mask. Hardly breathing, she gazed at this close-up version of Otto Sarragnac, longing to reach out a skim her hand over his stubbled jaw. In repose, the usual lines of tension had faded from Otto’s brow. He looked younger and softer, she thought, until her gaze reached his muscled forearms, then he was every inch a warrior. Her lips parted as she drank in her sleeping husband. She had grown accustomed to a constant energy radiating from the Earl of Darkmoor, accustomed to the piercing gleam of his dark eyes and the instinctive suspicion that he was somehow conscious of her every waking thought. To see him now, was to look upon a much calmer, more contented man. One without the burden of responsibility which Otto had long carried on his broad shoulders.

It was but a fleeting state, which would vanish the moment his waking mind took hold. Ariana was seized with an urge to capture it forever.

Moving slowly so as not to disturb him, she shuffled out from under the blankets, wincing a little as her bare feet came into contact with the cold floor. Clad in only her chemise, she stretched her arms above her head and rotated her neck slowly, half smiling when she caught sight of the clothing they had so carelessly discarded just hours earlier. Her body ached with the memory of the pleasure they had shared, and a certain soreness made her walk more gingerly over to the wooden chest which had travelled with her from Kenmar. She swung open the lid with deliberate slowness, squinting in the half-light to make out the objects she sought.

Her tin box of charcoals and a roll of parchment. Her hands fell upon them eagerly and she brought them out with all the reverence of a fine lady handling cherished jewels. Since childhood, these had been the tools of her escape from the bleak drudgery of Kenmar, from a life lived in the shadow of Sir Leon’s disapproval. With the charcoal in her fingers, Ariana could switch off from the world around her and lose herself in sketching. Not that she showed her art to anyone. It was something she did purely for her own pleasure. Over time, she had captured the sparkling wonder of a winter landscape, the chubby arms of an infant reaching out for his mother, and the surprising grace of a hunting party.

Now she would capture the image of Otto at rest.

First, she unrolled the parchment and secured it to her writing desk, swiveling around to get a better view of the bed. Otto’s brawny arms were flung sideways, free of the blankets. His tanned face inclined towards her, a look of almost boyish innocence about his brow. But that blameless purity was cast into doubt by the jutting edges of his scar and the defined curve of his biceps. He was a man of fierce contradictions, and Ariana’s charcoal danced over the parchment, impatient to capture every detail of him in this moment before it was gone.

She became so engrossed in her work that the gradual stirrings of the castle did not reach her. She didn’t hear the clattering of horses’ hooves out in the courtyard, nor the rushed footsteps beyond her chamber door as servants started their daily toil. The sun grew stronger, casting Otto’s stubbled jaw in a halo of light and Ariana drew with increasing ease and confidence, jolted from her studies only when Allys bade her a surprised good morning.

Ariana put her hand to her chest. “Allys, you startled me.”

But Allys was not looking at Ariana. Her stricken gaze was fixed on the bed, where a bleary-eyed Otto was awake, yawning and scratching his head.

“Forgive me, milord, milady.” Allys bobbed into a timid curtsy. “I did not know. That is, I was not expecting…”

Otto sat up in bed and the covers fell away from his sculpted chest as he smiled lazily at the servant. “Never apologize for bringing food to a hungry man.” He gestured to her heavily loaded tray. “What do we have here?”

Allys stepped forward nervously, darting a gaze at Ariana. “My lady likes to break her fast with fruit and freshly baked bread.”

Otto sniffed and nodded in satisfaction. “A sensible choice. You may leave the tray with us.”

“Yes, milord.” Allys maneuvered it onto the sturdy bedside stand and folded her hands behind her back, averting her eyes from the half-naked figure of the earl.

“Thank you, Allys. You may go,” Ariana spoke up, offering rescue.

“Milady.” Allys bobbed into another bow and scuttled from the room.

“Have a care, Otto,” Ariana said, hiding her smile as Otto stretched widely, gloriously unaware of his rippling muscles.

“Mayhap you should have a care yourself, smuggling men into your chamber and giving your maid a fright.” Otto tore off a hunk of bread and chewed it ruminatively, his eyes resting on Ariana and making her newly aware of how the dappled sunlight showed the pink of her skin through her chemise.

She should have pulled on a robe, but it was too late now. Awkwardly she put down her charcoal and folded her arms across her chest.

Otto tutted, striding from the bed and closing the gap between them in mere moments. “’Tis a little late for modesty, wife,” he stated, closing a warm hand around her shoulder and dropping a kiss onto the side of her face. Ariana felt the heat of her blushes subside as she stepped into the comfort of his embrace. “Are you well rested?” he enquired.

“I am.” She nodded. She had slept like a babe with Otto by her side.

“I am pleased to hear it.” He settled his hands around her waist and drew her closer towards him before his attention was snagged by her drawing. “What is this?”

She blushed anew. “It is a mere hobby of mine.”

He nodded appraisingly, his eyes raking over the parchment. Ariana saw her sketch with new eyes, conscious of the clumsy lines and disproportionately large hands, but Otto smiled in approval.

“I can say nothing of the subject, of course, but you have a gift for drawing.”

“Thank you. It is not yet finished.”

He inclined his head. “Another time.” He stroked his hands down over her shoulders and sighed. “Alas, duty calls. As much as I would like to stay up here with you, I am afraid there are less pleasant tasks I must attend to.”

Her regret was mingled with relief. As much as she warmed to Otto’s words and touch, Ariana was used to spending time alone with her thoughts. More pressingly, she was not convinced she wanted to display her flesh to her handsome husband during daylight hours. What he had seen and touched under cover of darkness was one thing, but the stark light of morning was quite another.

“Of course,” she demurred, noticing how his brow had already grown strained as he considered the day ahead. “Is all well?” she asked on impulse.

Otto stalked to the window and inched open the shutters so that more light poured into the room. He observed the busy goings on in the courtyard with another sigh and then turned to face her.

“Ariana, I must confess, there is trouble brewing.”

Anxiety gripped her. “Of what kind?”

He ran a hand through his already tousled hair. “That I cannot tell you, not for sure. I live in hope that the peace we so recently obtained will prevail, for a while at least.” He turned back to the window, scratching his bare arms. “A prisoner escaped yesterday.”

She felt as if she couldn’t breathe. All the air had been sucked from the room. Otto’s stance was casual and relaxed. He couldn’t know of her involvement with Ysmay. Could he?

She forced out the question. “What prisoner?”

He waved his hand, still gazing outside. “No one important. A woman. Honestly, her escape was a blessing in many ways. It saved me making an impossible decision.” He broke off, seemingly lost in thought, but when he looked back at her, his dark eyes were impenetrably sharp. “My knights suspect spies from your father’s lands have broken through our outer defenses.”

His words brought a chill to the shadowed chamber, and she clasped her arms further about her. “Spies?” she repeated, frowning as her mind raced with confusion. “To what end?”

He shrugged expansively. “You are from Kenmar…” He left the sentence unfinished.

She shook her head, bewildered by this revelation. “Otto, honestly, I have no idea…”

He interrupted her stuttering protests with a chuckle. “Have no fear, Ariana. I do not suspect you of killing one of my guards.”

All the strength in her legs deserted her and she sat down heavily upon the desk chair. “Which guard?” she asked, her voice no more than a whisper. She ran the tip of her tongue over lips that had suddenly become dry.

His eyes flickered over her. “I’m afraid to say I did not know him personally, though he died in the service of Darkmoor.” He picked up his discarded tunic from a heap on the floor and shook it out. “He was killed at Traitor’s Gate, most probably when our prisoner escaped.”

“But I didn’t kill the guard,” she said unthinkingly. Her limbs growing cold in horror at the thought of the smiling young man she had dared to flirt with, now cold and lifeless.

“Of course you didn’t.” He pulled the tunic over his head, frowning in her direction. “That was never my inference.”

Ariana put her head in her hands, all thoughts of deception far from her mind. How had this happened? She had never meant for anyone to get hurt. And now Otto suspected her father of sending spies into Darkmoor. But surely Sir Leon would never seek to stand against the might of Otto’s army. Especially not so soon after the battle of Branfeld when his men were so vastly depleted.

This must be somehow her fault.

“What is it, Ariana?” Otto crossed the room to stand by her side, concern giving a new edge to his voice. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

His hand grasped her shoulder and she put her palm over his, taking no comfort from his height and strength. All she could think of was the sequence of events she had so unwittingly set into motion.

Had the sleeping draught been stronger than she realized?

“It is nothing,” she murmured, trying her best to recover her composure. “Only that I am sorry to hear of your troubles.”

She spoke reflexively, giving little thought to her words, but Otto grimaced in agreement.

“I should be spending the early days of my marriage in bed with my wife,” he declared with feeling. “Not preparing for some needless squabble. But have no fear, Ariana, whoever did this will soon be caught. And I promise, they will feel the full wrath of Darkmoor.” He smiled down at her. “I am not known as the Feared One for nothing.”

He turned away, rummaging amongst their hastily discarded clothing for his sword belt and cloak, blissfully unaware of the turmoil his bold statement had caused his young bride.

Ariana was numb with shock. How had she thought she could double cross the Earl of Darkmoor without facing consequences?

“I bid you a good morning,” he quipped, dropping a chaste kiss onto her forehead. “Will I see you at dinner tonight?”

It was a question for which there was only one answer. Ariana nodded, desperately trying to find her voice. But Otto’s mind was already on other things. With a faint wave of his hand, he strode from her bedchamber, the door swinging noisily shut behind him.

Ariana took a deep, heaving breath and crossed her hands over her heart.

What had she done?

She glanced down at her drawing. Already it seemed to be from another time. Would she ever spend another night wrapped in Otto’s arms, ever wake again to the sight of him sleeping peacefully in her bed? It would only be a matter of time before he discovered her treachery and perhaps consigned her to her own imprisonment at Traitor’s Gate.

Ariana felt a wave of nausea. She had come so close to happiness. Happiness which she’d dared to think she deserved. And now it would come to naught. All because of her father. What business did he have sending spies into Darkmoor? She had believed he wanted peace with his powerful neighbor. Her marriage to Otto had been conceived to deliver that peace.

She shook her head, knowing that Allys could return at any moment. She must dress and go about her day as if nothing was wrong.

A knock at her chamber door proved her correct.

“Come in,” she called, not worrying about covering herself with a robe, for it would only be Allys. But it was not her maid who entered the room, eyes cast bashfully down, but a young errand boy.

“I have a message for you, milady,” he addressed the rushes on the floor.

Ariana folded her arms across her chest, protecting her modesty as best she could in the thin chemise. “You may leave it there.” She raised her eyebrows to indicate the nightstand.

The boy placed the sealed scroll on the polished wooden surface and took his leave, closing the door quietly behind him.

Ariana recognized the seal of Kenmar from where she sat. The coat of arms seemed to mock her plight. Would she never escape her father’s avarice?

Angry now, she strode over and deftly unfurled it, skimming Sir Leon’s familiar hand. The missive contained no surprises. He enquired only after Ariana’s progress in securing the ruby necklace, offering no hopes or well wishes for his daughter’s welfare. Nor any hints of plotting against her husband, she noted.

Could Otto be mistaken?

She crumpled the parchment in her hand, staring pensively at the dappled sunlight on the white-washed wall. She should throw open the shutters, allow the morning light to fully penetrate her gloomy chamber.

She should not spend any further time ruminating on the actions of a selfish, small-minded man.

Decisively, she flung the message into her unlit fireplace. As soon as Allys came in to tend the room, Sir Leon’s words would go up in smoke, which was no less than the fate it deserved.

Ariana was the Countess of Darkmoor now. She would concentrate on the future and leave the past where it was.