“How so?” She reached up to twirl a strand of his thick, dark hair around her finger, enjoying the sight of her husband in hisfinery. 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 truethat 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 theFeared One.”
