Yet the man wasn’t old enough to be his father. They appeared roughly the same age. Brothers, maybe?
How could that be? But how else could they be so similar in form and demeanor?
A frown creased his brow as they reached the gates of the hall. She didn’t speak. How could she? Ariel wasn’t sure what she’d seen or heard. Or even where it’d come from. He’d think her insane if she spoke it.
I am mad.
That was the only rational explanation. Because now she was hearing other voices whispering to her.
Voices that wanted to show her things…
Dismounting, Valteri helped her down and quickly carried her up the slick steps, into the main donjon.
No one paid much heed as the servants bustled through the hall, tending their chores. Valteri barked at the first one he neared. “Bring milady a tray to her room!”
She arched a brow at him. He didn’t even break his stride. “And you wonder why people fear you so?”
That caused him to return her look in kind. “Feeling cheeky, are you, little mouse?”
“More like a drowned rat.”
Growling deep in his throat, he pushed open the door with his shoulder. “Aye, you are.” He set her on her feet, grabbed the fur cover from the bed, and wrapped her in it. Though his tone remained gruff, his touch was gentle.
She stepped closer to the fire.
“You need to get out of that kirtle.” He opened the small chest beside the bed. “The former lady left several of hers behind when she fled.”
She tsked at him. “My mother warned me of men like you, sirrah.”
“Pardon?”
“Handsome rogues seeking to get me out of my clothes?”
He actually blushed.
Ariel smiled at something that made him even more handsome—as if such a thing were possible. And that image also reminded her of the other man she’d known.
The one who looked like him.
Clearing his throat, he narrowed his gaze on her. “Careful how you tease, lass. There aren’t many men who could resist your beauty. And some would see those words as an invitation.”
Suddenly the door opened behind him so that an old crone could shuffle in. She carried two goblets of warm mulled wine.
Valteri glared at her and her timing, which, though convenient, wasn’t.
The crone attempted a toothless smile. “Forgive me interruption, lord.” She handed him a goblet, then pressed one into Ariel’s hand. “But the drink shall do you both some good, methinks.” She cast a hooded look to Ariel before she quickly scurried away and shut the door behind her.
Ariel followed the woman with her gaze.
Valteri didn’t miss the shadow behind her clear eyes. “She still frightens you?”
She nodded before she drank her wine.
He could well understand that. The old woman was a bit terrifying, as in the type of vision children thought ought to be cooking them up for dinner. Sad to say though, women like her weren’t the scariest things in the world. Rather, his nightmares came from frocked friars and bejeweled bishops. Those he’d been told had his best interests at heart.
A pox to the lot of them.
May they all burn in the hell they used to frighten others into subjugating themselves before them. It was the only reason he hoped such a place existed. Surely if it did, their names were engraved upon its walls, with a special place reserved for them and their hypocrisy and lying tongues that stole the innocence of their poor victims.
