She smiled, sniffed the flower, then skipped from the room.
Ariel closed the door behind the children, her heart lighter than a fairy’s feather. She turned back to face Valteri, who stared in awe at the garland in his hand. He reminded her of a child clutching its most precious toy.
Smiling at the image, she crossed the room and touched his arm. Hard muscles flexed beneath her palm. “Milord has a most handsome smile. You should practice it more often.”
He took her hand and studied her palm. “I’ve never had a reason to smile. Not until you.”
Giddiness rushed over her. Ariel clasped his hand in hers and reached her left hand up to cup his cheek. Loose tendrils of his hair slid between her fingers in a wicked, sensual way that added chills to her body.
He closed his eyes and held her hand against his cheek as if savoring her touch as much as she savored his. “Milady, why have you come?”
Those familiar words shot through her. Ariel recoiled from him, her mind whirling. She stared at the floor, where an image of a battlefield seemed painted against the stones.
Screams echoed, men clutched at her.
She whirled around, trying to remove their cloying, clutching fingers that pulled at her hair, her dress.
“Leave me!” she shouted, pushing at her kirtle, where their grips held fast.
“Ariel?”
Suddenly, the images vanished.
Blinking, she looked up into the concerned frown of her husband. “’Twas horrible,” she whispered. “Why do they haunt me?”
“Who haunts you?”
“The people.” Terrified, Ariel shook her head, trying to make sense of it all. “I see them. Hear them.Feelthem. Why won’t they leave me alone?” She drew a ragged breath. “’Tis as if they want to hurt me and I know not why.”
“It’s all right, Ariel. I’m here. No one will harm you so long as you live. I shall see to that.”
Ariel wanted to believe that. Yet the light in his eyes belied his words. “You want to leave me. Who will protect me when you’re gone?”
A shadow passed across his eyes and she could see her words had struck a part of him.
She crossed the floor to stand before the window. Still, the images lurked in her mind like a violent whisper from the past. “I must be mad,” she whispered, her anger faltering. “There can be no other explanation for what I see.”
He grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. Fury sparked in his eyes, making them cold, unreadable. “You are not mad, milady!” His tone was bitter and angry. “You must never say that to anyone. Do you hear me!”
“Why?” she asked, stiffening her spine to stand against him. “’Tis the truth.”
“’Tis a lie. I’ve spent many a day next to those who are mad. Believe me when I say that you are far more sane than any person I’ve ever met.”
Shock poured over her. “What do you mean you’ve known those who are mad?”
He backed away from her and clenched and unclenched his fists as his breathing turned ragged. When he spoke, she could barely hear him. “As a child, I lived in a small commune of monks and friars. For Sunday mass, the local villagers would bring in those they deemed mad. The brothers would tie us to the altar where we could receive God’s benediction.” He sneered that last word, then turned to face her. “Having known them, I am most certain milady is quite sane. The ones who were really mad were the bastards who tortured us.”
Pain sliced her heart at the thought of him being treated in such a manner. “They tied you to the altar?”
“Aye.” Though his eyes were blank and his tone hollow, she knew those events had bred the ferocity of him.
“Were you not afraid?”
“I was terrified every fucking minute.”
Images of him as a defenseless child filled her. How could anyone do such a thing to a small child? She could barely comprehend it. “Oh, Valteri, I’m so sorry.”
He moved away from the soothing touch she offered. “Don’t be. It was a long time ago.” Rubbing his left hand over his right shoulder, he put more distance between them. “At times it no longer even seems like it was really me. Rather, that it happened to someone else. Someone I never reallyknew.” When he looked back at her, anger and hatred fired his gaze. “’Tis the past, and the past is best left behind.”
