Medieval 03 - Enchanted

advised. Too much will muddle her
wits.”
    “How would I know the difference?”
Ariane said beneath her breath. “The girl has little more wit
than a goose as it is.”
    Cassandra smiled. It changed her face from austere
to quite striking.
    “Blanche is more like a raven than a
goose,” Cassandra said dryly. “Though she is quite
shrewd in her own way, she will always be distracted by whatever
trinket shines the brightest at any moment.”
    Ariane couldn’t help smiling at the Learned
woman’s astute assessment of her handmaiden.
    With a nod, Cassandra withdrew, leaving Ariane
alone but for the fey dress that precisely matched her eyes. Rather
warily she looked at it.
    Nothing looked back at her but the ripple of light
over rich cloth.
    Ariane didn’t know whether she was relieved
or disappointed. With a muttered word, she reached out to drape the
dress across the bed.
    The same bed she and Simon would share tonight.
    I cannot bear it. Not
again .
    Never again !
    Instead of releasing the dress, Ariane’s
hands clenched more tightly in it. The cloth became a soothing
richness, whispering of a sensuous amethyst world where a
woman’s cries were of pleasure rather than pain.
    Without meaning to, Ariane looked at the cloth,
admiring it. Then she looked into it…
    A warrior both disciplined and
passionate, his whole being focused in the moment .
    His powerful body was poised
over hers .
    The thought sent a surge of emotion through Ariane,
shaking her, making her feel more trapped than ever.
    Hope is for fools! There is no
way out but one and I can only pray that I am strong enough to take
it .
    “Lady Ariane?”
    The voice made Ariane start as though she had been
slapped. Hastily she dropped the dress on the bed and turned toward
the doorway.
    Lady Margaret, the wife of the Glendruid Wolf, was
standing quietly there, waiting for Ariane’s attention. There
was both curiosity and compassion in Meg’s green eyes.
    “I’m sorry to disturb you,” Meg
said.
    “’Tis nothing.”
    Ariane’s voice was hoarse, as though it
hadn’t been used in some time. Distantly she wondered how
long she had been staring into the fabric, fighting its enchantment
even as a stubborn part of her soul reached out for the dream that
shimmered just beyond her reach.
    Fool .
    “I made some soap for you and left it near
the bath,” Meg said. “I hope the scent of it pleases
you.”
    Shall I have Meg blend me a
special soap to please your dainty nostrils ?
    Your scent is quite pleasant
to me as it is .
    Ariane made a small sound as the memory of Simon
looming over her bloomed in her mind, mingling with amethyst images
from the dress.
    Could I be the woman with the
darkly flying hair? Is it possible ?
    Fool! It is but a
sorcerer’s trick to bewitch you into accepting marriage to a
man the Learned value. All pleasure in the marriage bed is for
men .
    “Lady?” Meg asked, stepping into the
room. “Are you well? Should I send for Simon?”
    “Whatever for?” Ariane asked
hoarsely.
    “He has a gentle hand with
illness.”
    “Simon?”
    Meg smiled at the blunt skepticism in
Ariane’s voice.
    “Aye,” Meg said. “For all his
black eyes and bladelike smile, Simon has great kindness in
him.”
    Ariane suspected that her outright disbelief showed
on her face, for Meg kept singing Simon’s praises.
    “When Dominic lay too ill to know friend from
foe, Simon slept across the doorway so that the least whisper of
need would alert him.”
    “Ah, Dominic,” Ariane said, as though
the single name explained everything.
    And it did. Simon was called the Loyal for his
unswerving fealty to his brother.
    “Not only Dominic knows Simon’s
kindness,” Meg said. “The keep’s cats vie for his
petting.”
    “Do they?”
    Meg nodded, sending light like tongues of fire
through her hair. The golden bells on the ends of her long red
braids chimed sweetly with every motion of her head.
    “The cats? How curious,” Ariane said,
frowning.
    “Simon has an uncanny way with
them.”
    “Perhaps they see themselves in him. Cruelty,
not kindness.”
    “Do you truly believe that?”
    Ariane didn’t answer.
    “Was Simon so harsh with you when he brought
you from Blackthorne to Stone Ring Keep?” Meg asked
sharply.
    Ariane hesitated, wishing she had a harp to conceal
the trembling of her hands. And her soul. But the harp was across
the room and she was reluctant to show weakness in front of the
Glendruid girl with the uncanny green