Chapter Twenty-One

Three Years Later…

T he carriage bumped along the dusty road, making Ariana’s uncomfortable dress poke into her in all the wrong places. She shifted awkwardly on the plush seat, reaching for Otto’s hand to steady her.

“How much longer until we are there?” she asked, aware that her voice held a note of complaint familiar from their two-year-old son and unable to keep from smiling at the comparison.

Otto made a show of looking behind him. “I thought we had left Alfred at home with the nurse,” he said, his eyes wide with mock bewilderment.

Ariana dug her elbow into his side before letting a peal of laughter escape her lips. “I’m sorry, but we have been travelling for nigh on two days. And ever since this morning when you persuaded me to wear this ridiculous gown, I have longed for our arrival.”

Otto put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him, shifting around so she could make herself more comfortable on the narrow seat. “It will be worth the pain, I assure you,” he said, his lips pressed against her elaborately coiled hair. “And you will know when we reach the gates of Wolvesley. I promise you that.”

“How so?” She reached up to twirl a strand of his thick, dark hair around her finger, enjoying the sight of her husband in his finery. Otto wore a rich blue tunic embroidered with gleaming gold thread. His glossy hair hung around his shoulders and his leather boots had been polished until they shone. This was a day to showcase the grace and elegance of Darkmoor.

Although Ariana felt as if she had been trussed up like a goose ready for the roasting spit in the heavy silken gown which Otto had ordered especially for this occasion. The dress was beautiful, no doubt, but these days she was happiest in the serviceable skirts which allowed her to play with their young son in the evergreen fields around Darkmoor. Her hand reached up to briefly touch the gleaming ruby pendant hanging around her neck. Ysmay’s jewel, the Rose of Kenmar, was usually kept locked in her jewelry box, away from two-year-old Alfred’s grasping fingers. She was pleased to bring it out into the light of day once more and feel a connection with her aunt, who by now had sadly passed on.

“I promise you will know,” Otto repeated, a playful glint in his eye. “If you are growing bored with the journey, wife, I can think of other, more pleasing ways for us to pass the time…”

She pursed her lips together and shook her head, even as a flicker of desire shot through her. “You would rip my dress and ruffle my hair and have me presented at Wolvesley looking like a slattern,” she said primly.

“I doubt Angus would mind,” Otto countered, one hand already inching beneath her long skirts.

She slapped him away, laughing. “Behave yourself,” she admonished, straightening up so she could see out of the window and swallowing her instinctive cry of frustration that the same view of rolling hills met her eye. Although, what was that in the distance? “Do I see something?” she asked eagerly, craning her neck for a better view.

“Perchance.” Otto made a show of examining his cuffs, apparently disinterested.

“Look, please,” she begged him.

“What can you see?”

“Great crenelated walls.” She half stood, leaning against the lined carriage door. “They must be thirty feet high. And a wide path sweeping between some ancient trees.” Her head was almost hanging out of the window now, a faint breeze threatening to spoil her coiled tresses.

“Come back inside.” Otto tugged at her wrist. “You’ll fall out, if you’re not careful.”

“But is this Wolvesley?” she persisted, widening her eyes in supplication to her husband.

“Is it the largest castle you have ever seen?”

Ariana’s head snapped from Otto back to the window and she gasped as a rearing granite fortress came into view. The castle stood atop a steep hill and was surrounded by forest on two sides. Their carriage was making faster progress along the well-laid pathway and her eyes widened further as they passed over an arched bridge guarded by proud stone lions.

“I have only ever known two castles before,” she pointed out. “But yes, forsooth, this is by far the largest.”

“Then this is it.” Otto treated her to a wide, boyish smile. “You will not have seen anything like it.” He grabbed for her hand. “You must promise not to throw me over for my much wealthier, grander, and infinitely more good-looking cousin.”

“I make no such promises,” Ariana declared, as the carriage rounded a bend, and they came to a wide river upon which swam a group of impossibly large, impossibly white birds. “What are they?” she demanded.

Otto shrugged. “Why should I tell you anything more? I see you are already making plans to leave me.”

She lunged forward and pressed her lips against his. “You know in your bones I would never do that. My heart belongs to you. And Alfred,” she added with a giggle. “Besides, it isn’t true that Angus is better-looking than you are. I remember him from my early days at Darkmoor. He was nothing by the side of you.”

“That is good to hear.” He linked his fingers with hers. “I wasn’t sure if you would remember Angus. I seem to recall my uncle making that evening particularly unpleasant for you.”

She squeezed his hand. “Let us not spoil our day with talk of Althalos,” she declared. “In truth, I remember little about your friend, save his blond beard and blue eyes. “He is the younger brother, is he not?”

“Aye. His brother, Lord Lucan, is a number of years older. Alas, Lucan’s wife died birthing their first child. The babe did not survive, either.”

“How awful.” Ariana bit down on her lip, her eyes instinctively filling with tears at the idea. It was not so long since she had faced that ordeal herself. “So there is no heir?”

“None save Angus himself.” Otto paused to reflect somberly on the grave events before treating her to a flickering smile. “He is mayhap one of the jolliest men I have ever met. For the sake of his smile, I hope he is never obliged to take on the mantle of earlship.”

Ariana glanced out of the window once more but could make out nothing save a blur of passing trees. “Is he married?”

“Oh no,” Otto laughed. “He has been betrothed for many a year. I don’t know what keeps them from marrying at long last. Mayhap we will find out during the course of the ball.”

Ariana blanched at the thought of the ordeal ahead. Tonight, the Earl of Wolvesley was hosting a lavish midsummer ball which, as far as she could divine, most of the nobility of the country would attend. Lords and ladies, all of them far grander than she, would gather together to dance and feast while she hid in a corner and waited for it to be over.

In the jolting carriage, Otto saw her face and guessed where her musings had taken her. “It will be fun, you’ll see.” He nodded emphatically.

“That’s all very well for you to say.” She smoothed her skirts, hoping to hide the trembling of her fingers. “You’re the Earl of Darkmoor and a warrior to boot. No one would dare so much as look askance at you.”

“And you are the Countess of Darkmoor,” he interjected. “The most beautiful woman to grace the great hall of Wolvesley Castle on this or any other occasion.” He looked at her consideringly. “Though if any man looks twice at you, I may resurrect my reputation as the Feared One .”

They both laughed as the carriage finally drew to a halt within the inner courtyard of a bustling castle. Horses pawed at the ground and liveried servants ran back and forth, sparing hardly a glance at the Darkmoor carriage.

A page scurried forward to open their carriage door and Otto stepped down first, stretching his back and groaning a little before holding out his hand for Ariana. She emerged into brilliant sunlight, which fell on the fortress like a bright, glittering halo. Ariana looked around her, blinking dazedly at the display of great wealth. To their backs, a stone-carved fountain gushed jets of water upwards to the heavens before they splashed down into a wide circular bowl, at least as big as Ariana’s old bedchamber in Kenmar. Ahead of them, wide stone steps rose gradually to an open doorway of gargantuan proportions.

“Has this castle ever been breached?” she whispered to Otto.

“Never,” her husband replied, emphatically. “It has never even been attacked.”

Ariana bit down on her lower lip, unable to stop gazing around and drinking it all in. A castle that had never known an act of warfare was an incongruous idea, like a horse who had never galloped, or a child who had never laughed. “So this is all for what?” she opened her palms. “For pleasure?”

Otto winked and grabbed her hand. “You will see.”

“Otto Sarragnac.” A great booming voice echoed around the vast courtyard. “As I live and breathe. You made it, my old friend.”

Ariana skittered to the side as Angus de Neville strode down the wide stone steps to clasp Otto in both arms. He was a tall, strong man, equal to her husband in height and breadth, but with none of Otto’s whip-sharp energy. Where Otto was a man bred for battle, Angus appeared to have been raised for the purposes of pure enjoyment. His youthful face was unlined, his blue eyes were bright, and his full head of hair was thick and golden.

“And your lovely wife. Ariana, I remember you well. Welcome to Wolvesley, my dear.” Angus took hold of her hand and pressed his lips to it, making Ariana smile like a schoolgirl. He was so charismatic and handsome; she couldn’t help her instinctive reaction to his charms despite being a happily married woman.

“Thank you for inviting us,” she managed.

“Thank you for persuading this old rogue to set foot out of Darkmoor. I haven’t managed it since he was yay high.” Angus held his hand out at shoulder level and winked, leaving Ariana opening and closing her mouth, wondering whether she should admit that Otto had been the one to do the persuading.

“All that has changed, Angus,” Otto quipped, snaking a possessive arm around his wife’s shoulders and pulling her close. “I’m a family man now, you know? I’ve sheathed my sword and embraced a life of quiet pleasure.”

“And you’re quite the advertisement for matrimony.” Angus looked his old friend up and down. “I’ve never seen you looking better. That frown that used to linger between your eyes is altogether gone.”

Otto cuffed him on the shoulder good-naturedly. “At least we know our manners up in Darkmoor. It isn’t the thing, you know, to leave ladies standing around in the midday sun. Are we to be invited in or not?”

Angus immediately dipped into a low, elaborate bow. “My good sir, my lady, please do follow me.”

In a stately train, they followed their host up the wide stone steps and through the enormous arched door into a vast entrance hall, replete with circular pillars, a vaulted ceiling, and an exquisitely detailed mosaic floor. Ariana traced the colored tiles with the toe of her shoe, marveling at the craftsmanship, before her attention was taken by the vivid tapestries hanging on the white-washed walls. Her gaze rose upwards, following the polished wooden staircase to a gleaming gallery upon which two liveried maids were gossiping, their heads close together. Upon feeling her eyes upon them, they both bobbed into small bows and scurried away, leaving her wrestling with a pang of guilt.

“Go and freshen up, make yourselves at home.” Angus waved airily towards a waiting servant who bowed smartly and indicated they should follow. “The gong will sound for dinner. Come straight down.” He wagged a finger at Otto. “You won’t want to miss any of what I have prepared for this evening.”

Ariana reached for Otto’s hand as they followed the servant down a high-ceilinged, bright corridor, lit with dozens of flaming torches as well as natural light from several well-spaced, tall windows looking out onto a small garden boasting yet another fountain. She had experienced much since becoming the Countess of Darkmoor, but wealth such as this was beyond her comprehension. The heavy scent of expensive perfume lingered all around, and she shivered to think of the well-dressed, well- connected women with whom she would no doubt have to converse at the ball.

They would think her a country bumpkin. And they would be right.

Otto squeezed her hand, as if he could hear her worries, and immediately they melted away. What did it matter if she came from humble stock? She had the kindest, bravest, and most handsome husband anyone could wish for. A man who still set her heart pounding with desire, even after two years of marriage and the labors of childbirth. Despite its origins, theirs was a union forged of love, and Ariana never ceased to be thankful for it.

“Here we are.” Otto led her into a light, well-proportioned room boasting a vast canopied bed and a wide window overlooking green pastures behind a lake which sparkled in the afternoon sunlight.

“Oh.” Ariana took a few paces further inside, looking around like a child at a feast. “It’s lovely.”

The servant bowed smartly and left, leaving them alone together.

“You like it?” Otto asked, smiling widely.

“I love it,” she answered honestly. “Although all this grandeur can’t help but make me uneasy. Shouldn’t some of his coin be diverted to keeping an army?” She gestured helplessly out of the window. “I see barely any sign of fortification. It’s more like a pleasure palace than a castle.”

“That’s exactly it.” Otto looked pleased at her analogy. He brought her closer to the window and wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning his head upon her shoulder as they both gazed at the beautiful view. “Although, have no fear, Lucan de Neville leads one of the largest armies in the country. He just keeps them out of sight.” He twisted to look down at her consideringly. “You don’t wish we lived like this up in Darkmoor?”

“No indeed,” Ariana declared. She had long grown used to dining amongst warriors. “Although it’s interesting to experience.” She craned forward to see the unusual birds swimming in the lake in more detail. “What are those creatures?”

Otto gave a short laugh. “They’re called swans.”

“Swans,” she repeated, incredulous. “I have never heard of them.”

“Nonetheless, there they are.” His hands began to roam up from her waist, sending waves of anticipation shooting through her. But Ariana was still too perplexed by her surroundings to give herself over just yet.

“How long have you known Angus?” she asked, nudging his hand back towards the small of her back.

“Years,” declared Otto. “His father and my father fostered together.” He lowered his head and nibbled at her earlobe, clearly more interested in his young wife than his family history.

“I find it all so strange. I didn’t know your father, of course, but I’ve always imagined him as an austere man. A warrior. Not someone given to excess.”

“You have him exactly right.” Otto’s breath was warm on her face. She knew she had but seconds left before his touch and his kiss would drive all other thoughts from her mind.

“But all this.” She pulled away from him, opening her arms to encapsulate their chamber, the lake, and the magnificent castle. “It’s all so different, isn’t it?”

“On the surface.” Otto inclined his head, finally giving her words due thought. “But in a way, it’s all just another form of warfare.”

Ariana watched the stately progress of the swans, gliding across the gleaming surface of the lake. It didn’t look anything like the warfare she was accustomed to. “How do you mean?”

Otto was not a man to countenance distractions. One hand inched up her back, slowly untying the laces of her gown even as he answered her question.

“This extravagance is not purely for show. Or rather, it is for show. But deliberately so. It’s a display.” He smiled as the shoulders of her gown gaped open. “A display of strength. Lucan is no fool. He trained at Lindon, although he left long before I arrived. I tell you, there is no better knight than the Earl of Wolvesley. He is one of the great warlords of England. But these days, he prefers to use his brain rather than his brawn.” Ariana closed her eyes as Otto dropped butterfly kisses onto her collarbone. She no longer cared why an unknown man had swans swimming in his lake, but Otto had hit his stride. His warm hand slipped beneath her silken gown as he carried on explaining. “Lucan plays to his strengths. And his strengths are the size of his castle and the depths of his coin chests.” He sighed as more of Ariana’s gown came undone and he eased it over her shoulders. “Right now, he is facing unrest to the west. He has enemies in Powys, distant relatives who seek to lay a claim to his fortune. So instead of riding out to meet them with muscle and blade, he invites them to a ball, where they are successfully intimidated by his all too obvious might, rich resources, and powerful connections.”

“He is a clever man.” Ariana’s eyes were glazing over with pleasure as Otto’s hands ran over her naked flesh. But she snapped to attention and sharpened her gaze as he shrugged off his tunic, enjoying his whipcord strength and tanned body.

“A clever man,” Otto agreed, scooping her up and carrying her over to the bed. “But not a man so lucky as I.” He gently placed her down and then raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Do you have any further questions, or may I make love to my wife?”

Ariana reached out her arms. “I have no further questions.”

*

The Great Hall at Wolvesley Castle dazzled with light. Flickering candles were arranged atop long tables and around white-washed pillars while flaming torches blazed from high walls which were patterned with a rainbow spectrum of color. Open-mouthed, Ariana realized this was the reflected gleam from a multitude of jewels worn by the most notable families in the realm. Outside, the evening sun cast a burnt orange hue through the darkening sky, although shadows stretched across the courtyard and in the floral glades of the well-tended lawns. A trio of musicians played on a raised dais at one end of the hall, and the surrounding long tables had been pulled back to allow for dancing and entertainment. The air was heavy with the scent of perfume, heated bodies, and roasting meat.

Ariana held tightly to Otto’s hand, conscious of both her heavy jewelry and her heavy skirts. But despite her physical discomfort, she found herself transported by the glittering spectacle. Elegantly dressed ladies fanned themselves against the summer heat while their menfolk drank deeply from silver goblets and clapped along to the music. The atmosphere was bright and festive, and she couldn’t help her lips inching up into a smile.

“Happy?” Otto asked against her ear.

“Happy,” she confirmed, as a smiling serving wench beckoned them forward to take their seats near the dais.

No sooner had they sat down than the musicians blasted out a startling tune and the background chatter of conversation ceased as lords and ladies craned their necks to see what was causing the disturbance. After a moment’s wait, a rippling sigh of appreciation passed through the hall, followed by a faint scattering of applause. From their position near the back of the large room, Ariana still couldn’t see what was happening, but Otto, who was a head taller than she, looked mighty pleased with the view.

Finally, she saw it. It or rather them. The loveliest young woman she had ever beheld was proceeding through the great hall, carried aloft by two bare-chested strong men who had hoisted her onto their shoulders. The woman had long blonde hair hanging in waves down to her narrow waist. Her silken dress was sky blue, just like her eyes, and her voice was raised in a song of such unearthly beauty it brought goose-pimples out over Ariana’s bare arms. Next to her, a petite lady got to her feet so she could more easily watch the display, and after short consideration, Ariana did the same. Now she could see that the three performers were not alone. Several more stood waiting near the heavy oak doors, all robed in sky-blue, with the men displaying their rippling muscles.

The first woman’s voice soared up to the smoky rafters of the hall, capturing the attention of everyone within it. Otto’s mouth was slightly agape, and his hunter’s eyes were fixed on the singer, but no sooner had Ariana noticed this than he glanced up at her and treated her to a wide smile. Moving slowly, the two strong-men pirouetted on the spot, so everyone had the opportunity to admire the angelic face of their lady, before they slowly lowered her to the floor and all three of them dipped into a gracious bow. A roaring tide of applause burned through the room, but the performers were only just getting started. Now it was the turn of the tumblers, who advanced forward with a series of death-defying somersaults that had Ariana clasping a hand to her mouth. Next, the group formed a human pyramid, with the blonde-haired beauty balancing right at the very top, her arms outstretched to the heavens.

Ariana was overwhelmed with it all. She sank back down onto the cushioned bench next to Otto and took a restorative mouthful of good red wine. While she’d been watching the show, some diligent servant had delivered platters of delicious looking food to their table. Ariana’s stomach rumbled and she followed Otto’s example in helping herself, enjoying the opportunity to eat unobserved while those around her were transfixed by the entertainment.

But as Ariana’s eye travelled across the hall, she saw one man who, like her, was not watching the show. Instead, his deep blue eyes gazed unseeingly towards the darkening window. He was tall and fair, with long tresses of golden hair falling forward over muscular shoulders. His robes were sumptuous, his face entirely devoid of expression.

This must be Lord Lucan, the powerful earl. He looked as lonely as his story suggested. Ariana quickly looked away, not wanting to pry on the man’s grief.

Minutes later, the performers took their final bow and filtered out. Gradually conversation resumed and the hall thrummed with laughter.

“What did you think of my acrobats?” Angus demanded as he strode towards them. He was clad in a dark tunic trimmed with so much gold Ariana felt almost blinded by it. He banged his goblet down onto the table and beckoned for a chair to be brought for him. “I found them at Beltane and convinced Lucan to hire them for tonight. Rather good, aren’t they?”

“The best I’ve ever seen,” Otto declared, forking sweet pastry into his mouth.

“I’ve never seen anything like them,” Ariana added, honestly.

“I rather liked her.” Angus winked at Otto.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Otto raised his eyebrows and smiled broadly, his hand covering Ariana’s and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“She was very beautiful.” Ariana was flushed with wine and excitement. In that moment, she truly didn’t mind if her husband’s eye was turned by a beautiful performer. Only his eye, mind.

Angus raised his goblet in a toast. “I’ll say.”

Otto leaned across his wife to better address his friend. “Ariana asked me just this morning, how come Angus de Neville is not yet married?”

Angus treated her to a mock serious expression. “That is a very good question, my lady. It’s one I have troubled myself with many times.”

“And?” Otto pursed his lips in enquiry.

“And I am at a loss.” Angus opened his arms wide, then turned back to Ariana. “Wolvesley is renowned for its hospitality, but still my betrothed finds distraction elsewhere. Can you think what I am doing wrong?” He affected a look of mournful misery.

“No indeed.” She couldn’t help a burst of laughter. “You keep a very grand home.”

Angus nodded his thanks. “Lucan tells me his efforts tonight have not gone unnoticed by our special friends in the west,” he said in an undertone to Otto. “I understand a missive has already been dispatched to Powys.”

Otto looked impressed. “Lucan’s strategy is to be admired. This grand ball has mayhap saved many lives.” He took another swig of wine and smacked his lips. “Your brother will have to take me under his wing. With such help, perchance we can yet establish a reign of peace in Darkmoor.”

“I am happy to send my troupe of acrobats up to your wild home, whenever you say the word,” Angus laughed.

“You have everything here a man could wish for.” Otto eyed their table, groaning under the weight of so much food. “You are blessed indeed.”

“Blessed in all ways, except in love.” Angus spoke into his goblet of wine. “In return for my acrobats, mayhap you will stay here, my friend, and teach me what you have so recently learned?”

Otto put down his goblet and reached for Ariana’s hand, which she gave him willingly. He entwined his fingers with hers and spoke as if she were the only person in the room. “I do not believe that love is a lesson to be learned,” he said softly. “More it is something that simply falls into place, when the right person is by your side.”

Ariana’s lips curled up in agreement as she leaned forward for the kiss she knew what was coming. “What a very wise man you are,” she whispered.

The feasting and merriment around them faded into nothing as Otto’s lips lowered towards hers and Ariana experienced a familiar swirling, bubbling feeling deep inside her stomach. It was a feeling she recognized readily now.

It was happiness.

THE END