She could simply tell Otto the truth. Plead for clemency for her aunt.
Would he listen? When she thought of the man who had kissed her by the river, the answer seemed to be yes.
But when she thought of Otto Sarragnac theFeared One, the merciless warrior she had glimpsed in training, the answer was a resounding no.
Still, it might be worth a try. Ariana fished beneath the folds of the cloak to find the beautiful broach pinned to her kirtle. It had belonged to his mother, but he had willingly gifted it to her. She must meansomethingto him?
She remembered how it had felt to be encircled in his strong arms. To feel the warmth of his lips. To hear the gravelly rasp of his laughter. All of this she had put aside because of some foolish jealousy, based on nothing more than the insinuations of Sir Althalos.
Ariana had to exert all her self-control not to gather up her skirts and run through the outer courtyard. Her path forward was suddenly clear. She would find Otto and throw herself on his mercy. He was a gentleman. He would not put her aunt to death, not when she explained who she was.
The searching gaze of the guard brought her to her senses. Just in time, Ariana lowered her head and bent her back, assuming the tremulous gait of an old woman. The guard grunted and stepped aside, allowing her to pass, but a clatter of horse’s hooves made her look up once more.
The gleaming black charger coming towards her was instantly recognizable as belonging to Otto, but the man on his back was almost a stranger. His hair was freshly combed and his beard neatly trimmed. Beneath a sumptuous scarlet cloak,he was dressed in finery the likes of which Ariana had not seen before. Not even on his wedding day had the Earl of Darkmoor been so well-presented.
Ariana couldn’t help her lips parting in surprise.
Where was he going?
Who was he going to see?
His horse snorted, dust flying around his hooves as Otto spurred him into a canter. In a flash, horse and rider had passed her. She pressed back against the gray castle wall, cringing into the safety of the cloak. But it was too late. Even as she pulled the folds over her face, she felt Otto’s eyes burning into her.
She glanced up, pulled by a force beyond her control, and their eyes met across the sun-dappled courtyard.
“Ariana?” he mouthed, his face twisted in confusion. But then he clattered over the drawbridge and was gone.
*
Had it reallybeen Ariana?
By the time he had craned around in the saddle for a better look, his fleet-footed charger had already carried him beyond the confines of the castle walls. From a distance, the hunch-backed, shuffling figure clad in poor woolens bore little resemblance to the proud poise of his bride, but there had been no mistaking those wide green eyes, nor the tilt of her chin.
Why was the new Countess of Darkmoor sneaking around the castle disguised as a peasant?
Such was Otto’s confusion, he sat deeper in the saddle and pulled back on the reins, bringing his horse to a snorting halt.
Surely, he must be mistaken.
But no, the more he thought on the matter, the greater became his conviction that he had, purely by chance, happenedupon Ariana in the midst of some devious plot. Why else the disguise?
He shook his head in bafflement as his horse executed a prancing side-step, eager to be off once again. Otto twisted his head towards the castle, wanting to chase back over the drawbridge, find Ariana and demand an explanation. But the hunched figure was long gone. And he knew that if he were to track Ariana down to the morning room, she would have cast off the shabby cloak and would no doubt deny all knowledge of it.
Would he have to accuse her of falsehood?
The question danced around his head, demanding an answer. Any answer bar the obvious one which was too terrible to countenance.
Was Ariana being untrue to him?
The very idea put him in a greater rage than he’d experienced since the nightmare of Branfeld.How dare she?Especially when he had shown her such courtesy and consideration as to delay his own dues in the bedchamber. Did she repay him by taking her pleasures elsewhere?
Black rage descended and he jammed his spurs into his horse’s side, making him rear in alarm.
“Steady there, steady.” Otto extended a hand and rhythmically stroked his charger’s muscular neck, bringing him back under control.
The horse’s fright had restored his senses. It was foolish to suspect Ariana of cheating. Who in Darkmoor would dare to bed the earl’s new bride? Otto’s lips curled up at the sides. No man would be so bold. And Ariana herself had not appeared carefree and cunning beneath her dull disguise. On the contrary, she had been pale and anxious. In the days since she had come here, she had grown gaunt.
She was unhappy.The knowledge slammed into him like a blow from the hilt of a sword. But it did little to alter the fact of her subterfuge.
