He raised his eyebrows. “Such as?”
She opened her mouth, then hesitated. “Mayhap causing injury or death?”
Otto ran a hand through his hair, displeased with his wife’s morbid interest. “Those guilty of killing are treated in the usual way.” He turned back the Keep, determined to put an end to this peculiar line of questioning.
Ariana ran a few paces to catch up with him. “What is the usual way?”
He stopped abruptly and turned to face her. “What kind of questions are these, Ariana? Do you think me an earl or a saint?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “Any man who kills another man outside of battle is put to death. The same in Darkmoor as Kenmar or anywhere else in this land, of that I’m certain. Those prisoners don’t even see these dungeons. They are held elsewhere, at Traitor’s Gate.” He paused and added grimly, “But not for long.”
His words were harsh, but he did not expect the rush of despair which creased Ariana’s lovely face with fleeting sorrow.
Her next question was so quiet he could hardly hear the words.
“Women as well?”
“A killer is a killer,” he declared.
A moment later, she had pulled up her hood and lowered her head.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said, her voice muffled by the hood. “I will take my leave.”
Otto started in surprise. He was the earl. He should be the one to take leave of Ariana. But his bride had already turned and fled, her long legs striding over the rough grass like a colt.
Otto folded his arms across his chest and watched her go. What had he said to upset her so? And why had she been so insistent on seeing the dungeons?
His brow darkened. Sir Leon had always been as crafty as a fox. Was Ariana her father’s daughter, after all?
Whatever Ariana was planning, he was determined to find out. His teeth clenched at the idea she might be deceiving him. But no sooner had this resolve hardened within his gut, than he remembered their kiss in the tower. She had felt right in his arms. Soft, warm and above all sincere. For a moment, he had known peace.
Otto picked up a piece of flint and flung it over the castle wall with an exclamation of impatience. Married life was proving to be far more unpredictable than he ever could have imagined.
Chapter Five
Ariana pushed shutthe wooden door of her chamber and flung her cloak onto the bed. She was flushed with heat and an inner conflict that showed no sign of abating.
That kiss.
His lips on hers, feathery light. The broadness of his shoulders. The sinewy strength of his arms that held her so gently.
The coldness in his eyes when, just minutes later, he condemned anyone believed to be guilty of crimes against Darkmoor.
Ariana clamped a hand over her mouth, fearful that the turmoil churning her stomach may come pouring out of her in a wail that would be sure to bring her maid running. She couldn’t bear to be seen like this.
She was too hot. How could she think straight in this dreadful heat which covered her like an itchy blanket?
With shaking fingers, Ariana gathered up her long tresses of hair and tied them in a plait over her shoulder, relieved to feel some cool air against the back of her neck. She walked over to the nightstand and poured herself a small cup of ale from the earthenware pitcher, sipping it slowly.
That was better. Gradually, her heartrate slowed along with her racing thoughts, leaving her to confront an uncomfortable truth which her wildest dreams could never have foreseen.
She found her husband attractive.
Ariana squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to repel the notion, but it could not be denied. Otto’s image flickered before her. Tall, strong, irrefutably male. A potent concoction of untamed power and unanticipated kindness.
He had infected her, like a fever. See how she trembled like a foolish maiden? Ariana straightened her shoulders. This would never do. She was Ariana of Kenmar, made of sterner stuff than the silly ladies who simpered and giggled in her father’s hall. But in less than a day she had fallen prey to that very same affliction.
Which was ridiculous indeed. Her husband, forced upon her by circumstance, was Otto Sarragnac,the Feared One.And hadn’t he proved himself worthy of his reputation when he spoke so unfeelingly about the prisoners held at Traitor’s Gate?
Ariana shook her head to dispel any remaining confusion. Rescuing Ysmay had to be her number one priority. She couldn’t allow her resolve to weaken with memories of how it had felt to stand encircled in Otto’s arms. To feel his warm breath against her cheeks. The rasp of sharp stubble before the softness of his kiss.
