“It is a mark of your esteem, is it not?”
Did he mock her? Ariana’s gaze flew upwards, but Otto’s face bore no trace of disingenuity. His eyes met hers, wide and honest.
“You rode well today,” she said. “Especially against the young boy, Benedict.” Her heart pounded at her daring, but it was true. Otto’s leniency in the ring had impressed her.
He raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Not all would agree with you.” Did she imagine it, or had his head inclined slightly towards Sir Althalos?
Ariana pressed her lips together. This feeling of connection between them was unexpected. She spoke up before she could think better of it. “Not all are so noble minded.”
She had gone too far. Fear twisted a knife into her stomach. Too late, she remembered Merek’s words of caution and shefought an urge to pull backwards as Otto’s shuttered off face creased with a sudden show of emotion. Was he enraged?
No. When she at last dared to glimpse upwards, she saw that theFeared Onewas amused.
“I am pleased to learn of such compassion in my bride.”
His words flummoxed her. Ariana lowered her face and fastened her gaze on the dusty ground. When she looked up again, it was to find Otto’s fierce brown eyes hovering inches from her own. Her breath caught in her throat as she inhaled his masculine aroma of heat and leather. And when his lips grazed against her cheek, she felt a shiver travel the length of her body.
His strong fingers finally released their grip on her wrist. “I bid you farewell, my lady,” he said.
“Farewell, my lord.” Heat rushed into her cheeks before she could look away, but Otto gave no sign of noticing her embarrassment. As he walked back to his horse, she slowly became aware of the clamoring crowd and the disdainful presence of Sir Althalos behind her.
“The earl puts on a show for his public.” Althalos spat out the words as if he had a nasty taste in his mouth.
Ariana straightened her back, determined not to be diminished by his bile.
“The people of Darkmoor are most loyal,” she stated. Althalos looked at her sharply and opened his mouth as if to speak, but Ariana cut him short with a dismissive nod of her head. “I bid you farewell, Sir Althalos,” she said, in a knowing parody of Otto.
And Althalos could do nothing but bow low as the new Countess of Darkmoor swept past him, away from the royal enclosure.
Ariana kept her head held high and her breathing steady until she reached the safety of her room, then she unfastened hercloak and clutched the back of a chair, sucking in lungfuls of air as a cool breeze wafted around her body.
The morning had unsettled her. Spiteful attention from a man such as Althalos was nothing new, but she was unused to being on public display, and totally unprepared for the rush of feeling she’d experienced when Otto’s lips met her cheek.
She put a hand to her face, as if a trace from his lips might still linger there. A tremor passed through her; one she didn’t fully understand. Otto Sarragnac was a sworn enemy of her people; a warrior she’d been raised to hate and fear. But in the short time she’d known him, he’d shown both compassion and kindness.
More than her own father had exhibited in many a year.
She had expected coldness and cruelty from the Earl of Darkmoor. It would have made her intended betrayal easier for her conscience to bear. But now this!
Ariana tugged absently at her loose sleeves as she paced the length of the room, recalling the moment their eyes had met across the jousting arena. She had experienced such a jolt of energy; it was like falling from a tree. Such a surge of awareness, of anticipation. Of life.
She made herself come to a standstill; her hands crossed over her heart so she could feel its frenzied rhythm.
This would never do.
Maybe Otto Sarragnac had put her under some kind of spell, for she was forgetting who she was and why she had willingly come here.
Not to play the part of an adoring wife in the stands, but to right a grievous wrong.
A wrong committed by the man she now called her husband.
A serving boy knocked on her half-open door and came into the chamber with his eyes cast studiously down.
“A letter has come for you, milady.”
“Thank you.”
She took the proffered roll of parchment and waited until the boy had bowed and left before opening it out. Her heart sank as she recognized her father’s inelegant scrawl.
