Enchanted (28 page)

With a cry Ariane arched up to Simon, her head
thrown back, her hair an untamed cloud. He caught her there, held
her arched and wild, his body motionless, poised over hers,
waiting, shivering with a hunger that was as great as his
restraint.

Then Simon felt unspeakable ecstasy ravish Ariane,
heard it in her shattered cry. He thrust into her once more and let
go all restraint, fusing himself to her with each savage, ecstatic
pulse of his release, pouring himself into her until there was no
past, no present, no lies, only the truth of a pleasure so great he
thought he would die of it.

And it was just beginning.

He was as sure of that as he was of his own
strength.

Slowly, tenderly, relentlessly, Simon began to
arouse Ariane all over again.

A
long time later, in the darkness
when even the moon slept, Simon shuddered in the aftermath of an
ecstasy so violent that it had left Ariane weeping in his arms,
calling his name with each broken breath she took. He kissed her
wet eyelashes, pulled her closer, and drew the mantle over both of
them.

“Whatever came before this night does not
matter,” Simon said against Ariane’s mouth. “But
henceforth you will sing your sensual songs only for me,
nightingale. Only for me.”

The huskiness of Simon’s voice didn’t
hide the steel will beneath it any more than his intense sensuality
had concealed the sheer power and discipline of his body.

“I could never bear another man’s
touch,” Ariane whispered. “I love you, Simon.
’Tis why I overcame my fear of a man’s
strength.”

Simon closed his eyes. “Do not speak of the
past again. It can only cause pain.”

“But—”

He kissed Ariane’s lips with great
gentleness.

“You are everything I ever dreamed of having
in my arms,” Simon whispered against her mouth.

Simon tucked Ariane along his side and surrendered
himself to sleep as completely as he had given himself to the
shared body of their passion.

Ariane did not sleep as quickly. She lay awake for
a long time, her breath catching, her passion spent, her heart
aching with all that had been said.

And not said.

I seduced Simon all too
well
, Ariane thought despairingly.
He
will accept his unmaidenly wife without complaint, for we burn too
well together ever to burn separately again
.

But he does not believe
me
.

He believes
Geoffrey
.

No wonder Simon doesn’t
love me as I love him. He doesn’t trust me
.

Numbly Ariane wondered if she would ever escape
from the nightmare of the past.

“H
orsemen!” cried the
sentry.

The urgent voice carried into the lord’s
solar, for the sentry was right overhead.

“Two leagues distant, at the entrance to the
wildwood! I couldn’t count them! They were gone too
quickly!”

Simon and Dominic traded swift looks across the
harvest tally books that were piled between them on a trestle
table. The table had been used for breakfast and for working on the
accounts as well, because there was no warmer room in the keep than
the lord’s solar.

“The wildwood?” Dominic muttered.
“’Tis not the commonly used approach.”

“But ’tis the one that is hardest to
see from the battlements,” Simon said. “’Tis also
the quickest way from Stone Ring Keep. Were you expecting
Duncan?”

“Not unless there were a dire emergency at
his keep. There is snow on the peaks and ice in the highest fells.
’Tis no time to be traveling.”

Dominic turned to one of the three squires who was
mending leather garments for use under chain mail tunics.

“Bobbie, tell Sir Thomas to sound the
alarm.”

“Aye, lord!”

The young squire set aside his leather work and ran
from the solar.

“Edward,” Simon said. “Attend me
at the armory.”

“Aye, sir!”

“John,” Dominic said.

It was all he said. Though he had only recently
selected John. Harry the Lame’s son knew
his duties as squire to the Glendruid Wolf. Harry had been one of
Blackthorne Keep’s most stalwart knights until he was lamed
in a battle.

Simon and Dominic strode quickly to the armory,
followed by the two lean youths who were barely old enough to grow
a beard.

A bell pealed urgently over Blackthorne’s
fields, calling everyone to the safety of the bailey. Shouts echoed
through the keep as knights, squires and men-at-arms ran toward the
armory.

Though Simon and Dominic dressed with the speed of
men long accustomed to the heavy, intricate trappings of war, the
armory was crowded by the time the two brothers each accepted a
broadsword from his squire.

Dominic’s and Simon’s movements as they
fastened the swords in place were the same—quick, expert,
calm. As always, Simon had the edge in speed. While Dominic was
still settling his broadsword around his hips, Simon took his heavy
winter mantle from Edward and fastened it around his shoulders.

The sight of the fur lining made Simon smile to
himself. He would never again look at the silky white fur without
seeing Ariane lying on it for the first time, her body all but
naked, her skin flushed, her amethyst eyes blazing as she watched
him sheathe himself deeply within her.

Nor had Ariane tired of the sensual sport in the
nights that followed. She came to him as eagerly each night as he
came to her. In truth, she came to him at dawn, as well. And once
he had surprised her alone at her bath. It had been a sensuous
revelation to both of them. He planned to find her there again.

Soon.

“What a smile,” Dominic said, giving
Simon an odd look. “Are you so eager for war?”

“Nay. I was just thinking of, er, something
else.”

“The coming night?” Dominic asked
blandly.

Simon threw his brother a sharp glance.

Dominic grinned. “Did you think no one had
noticed that you and Ariane spend much time abed?”

“Abed? Nay,” Simon said gravely.
“We are simply doing as you and I did when we were
children—hunting for feathered eels.”

Dominic gave a shout of laughter that caused the
other knights to look at him.

What they saw was their lord’s scarred hands
fastening the big Glendruid pin in place on his black mantle. The
wolf’s crystal eyes glittered balefully in the swirling
torchlight, watching everything, promising grim retribution for any
who caused the sleeping beast of war to awaken.

One by one the men looked away and went about their
own work of preparing themselves to fight.

Simon and Dominic went quickly to the battlements,
their metal chausses clicking as they walked. Their squires trotted
after, carrying the helms that would be worn only if battle
appeared imminent. The squires were both excited and a bit anxious
about the outcome of a fight. Though the stonemasons had been
working steadily, the wall around Blackthorne Keep still had a gap
that was guarded only by wooden palisades.

The sentry saluted Dominic but had nothing new to
add. The riders wouldn’t be within sight again until they
came to the open lane through the fields.

Under a lowering grey sky, Simon and Dominic stood
in the center of the battlements, their uncovered hair combed by
the cold wind, their long mantles whipping at their ankles, and
their chain mail armor the color of a storm.

“Do you think it is Deguerre?” Simon
asked.

Dominic shrugged. “Word of Deguerre has come
to me every day since that braggart Geoffrey arrived ten days ago.
Not once has the message varied.”

“Which means that Deguerre has spent the past
ten
days progressing slowly north, recruiting
knights, men-at-arms, and ruffians along the way.”

“And whores,” Dominic added.

“Like a man expecting to go to
war.”

“He claims to gather men for a new crusade to
the Holy Land.”

“No one believes him.”

Dominic shrugged. “No one has called him
false.”

“Yet. But he will find that there is no cause
for war in the Disputed Lands,” Simon said.

Dominic said nothing.

“Despite the shrewd maneuvering of
Deguerre’s envoy, the king has accepted my marriage to
Ariane,” Simon said. “The Duke of Normandy will also be
appeased, as soon as the word of our marriage—and the
gifts—arrive.”

“The duke prefers to be called king,”
Dominic said dryly.

“King, duke or churl, he will be content with
Ariane’s marriage to me,” Simon retorted. “I am
already content. Therefore, there is no cause for argument with
Baron Deguerre. He collects warriors in vain.”

“Does he? Or does he merely bide his time
until word arrives that Geoffrey the Fair has been challenged by
Simon the Loyal and Geoffrey has been slain for his meddlesome
mouth?”

“Deguerre will wait for that word until ice
forms in hell,” Simon said. “I can’t be bothered
swatting every dung fly that buzzes about the stable.”

Dominic looked at the squires and curtly gestured
for privacy. The boys withdrew to the relative shelter of the
stairwell.

“Simon…” Dominic began, then
sighed. “By the Cross, I had hoped it wouldn’t come to
this.”

Tensely Simon waited, guessing what was troubling
his brother.

“Let me send for Lady Amber,” Dominic
said finally. “She will scry the truth or falsehood of
Geoffrey’s
accusations. Then there will
be an end to his trouble-making.”

“No.”

Simon’s flat denial was unexpected. It took a
moment for Dominic to respond. When he did, he was as blunt as his
brother had been.

“Why not?” Dominic demanded.

“I don’t want to put Ariane—or
Amber—through the agony of Learned scrying.”

It was only half of the truth, but it was the only
half Simon planned to discuss.

“God’s teeth,” Dominic snarled.
“Amber would put an end to Geoffrey’s lies.”

“What lies?” Simon asked
distinctly.

Dominic couldn’t hide his shock.
“Geoffrey says he is Ariane’s paramour!”

“Nay. He merely insinuates it.”

“But—”

“Have you or anyone else seen any sign
whatsoever that Ariane has been less than faithful to
me?”

Breath hissed out between Dominic’s teeth in
a vicious curse. His gauntleted hand smacked down on the stone
parapet.

“Have you?” Simon demanded coolly.

“Jesus and Mary,” muttered Dominic.
“Of course not! Since Geoffrey arrived, I have no doubt of
where and how that swine has spent every waking moment.”

“With Sven as a constant, unseen
shadow.”

“Aye.”

Simon shrugged. “Then there is no
problem.”

“Do not play the lackwit with me,”
Dominic said angrily. “I know full well that your mind is
even quicker than your sword.”

Simon didn’t respond.

“Geoffrey is bragging from battlements to
bailey that he has lain with Ariane,” Dominic said.

“He has.”

Dominic was too stunned to speak.

“My wife and I spoke of the past once, and
only once,” Simon said. “I have permitted no talk of
the past since that night.”

“Ariane told you Geoffrey was her
lover?”

“She told me that Geoffrey had forced her in
Normandy.”

“Forced her?” Dominic asked.
“Rape?”

“Aye.”

“And Baron Deguerre still thinks of Geoffrey
the Fair as his son?” Dominic asked in disbelief.

“Aye.”

“Wasn’t the baron told?”

“He was told,” Simon said
neutrally.

“And?”

“It happened the night Ariane was informed
that Duncan of Maxwell rather than Geoffrey the Fair would be her
husband,” Simon said. “Geoffrey says that he was
summoned to her sitting room, shared a final cup of wine with her,
and found himself seduced.”

Dominic’s eyes narrowed. “He was
believed?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Dominic demanded bluntly.

“There were traces of a love potion in
Ariane’s jeweled perfume bottle. The bottle was found in her
bed, along with the blood of her lost virginity.”

“Ariane told you this?”

“She told me that Geoffrey was responsible
for her lost virginity. The details came from Geoffrey. He
remembers the event with great…relish.”

Dominic swore. He could well believe that Geoffrey
enjoyed taunting Simon.

“What does Ariane say to his
accusations?”

“We do not speak of the past.
Ever.”

“God’s blood,” said Dominic
fiercely. “What a fine basket of eels this is!”

“Aye.”

“What do you believe happened between
Geoffrey and Ariane?”

Simon said not one word.

“By all that is holy,” Dominic said in
a low voice. “
You believe
Geoffrey
.”

For long, tense moments Dominic searched
Simon’s face with glittering grey eyes that closely matched
those of the Glendruid pin. Then Dominic swore wearily and looked
away.

“Killing Geoffrey will not change the fact
that I was not Ariane’s first man,” Simon said evenly.
“Nor will I put the future of Blackthorne Keep at risk for a
past that cannot be changed.”

For a time there was only the wind and the random
shouts of knights taking up defensive positions throughout the
keep.

“You accept this?” Dominic asked
finally.

Simon closed his eyes for the space of a breath.
When they opened, they were as clear and unreadable as night.

“I will have no other wife but Ariane,”
Simon said.

Dominic’s mouth flattened into a hard line.
“Meg said as much.”

Simon grimaced. “Glendruid eyes.”

“Yes. She
saw
your acceptance of Ariane as she is today, rather than as the
innocent maiden you had every right to require for your bride.
’Tis why I haven’t sent for Amber and forced her truth
down your stubborn throat.”

“Thank you. I would not have Ariane shamed
before the entire keep.”

“And you? What of your pride?”

“It has taken worse blows.”

“Has it?”

“Yes. When my lust for a married whore nearly
cost your life.”

With a grimace, Dominic looked out over the
keep’s bare fields and mist-wreathed hills.

“What will you do when Geoffrey accuses
Ariane of adultery?” Dominic asked. “And you know he
will. He is determined to force you to challenge him.”

“Sven will gainsay Geoffrey’s
lies.”

“Sven has followed Geoffrey only since he
came to the keep. I understand that it is possible Ariane and
Geoffrey met just before then.”

“Sven had best watch his words to you very
carefully,” Simon said with deadly clarity. “I can slay
him without causing a war.”

“He is your friend.”

“Ariane is my
wife
.”

Dominic looked at his brother’s eyes and then
looked away once more.

“If Blackthorne were strong enough to
withstand war with Baron Deguerre,” Dominic said,
“where would Geoffrey be now?”

“Ten days dead,” Simon said
succinctly.

Eyes narrowed against the cold wind and an emotion
that made his throat ache, Dominic waited until he could trust
himself to speak.

“You stay your sword arm, and humble your
pride, for the sake of loyalty to me,” Dominic said.

“And for Meg. For your unborn child. For the
children I now hope someday to have.”

“In the Holy Land, you would not have done
this.”

“In the Holy Land I was a fool ruled by
passion. Passion no longer rules me. I rule it.”

Dominic’s hand formed a fist on the parapet
as he fought against the necessity of Simon’s sacrifice.
Simon was correct in his assessment of Blackthorne’s
vulnerability. They couldn’t defeat a concerted, determined
attack by forces such as Deguerre was assembling.

For a time Dominic closed his eyes and bowed his
head as though in prayer. Finally he looked up at the brother he
loved as he loved no one except his wife.

“I am in your debt,” Dominic said, his
eyes glittering with emotion. “I don’t know if such a
debt can ever be repaid.”

“Nay,” Simon said. “’Tis I
who am in your debt.”

But Dominic had turned away and was striding toward
the sentry. Only the wind heard Simon’s
protest.

“I can see them, lord!” called the
sentry. “They are coming on like thunder!”

Dominic leaned into the wind as Simon hurried
forward to stand alongside his brother once more.

The sentry was correct. The riders were coming
swiftly.

“War-horses,” Simon said.

“Aye.”