The Warrior

Ranulf accepted his vassals’ good-natured ribbing with equanimity—until hours later, when he and Payn were quenching their thirst over flagons of ale at the high table.

“So . . .” Payn asked casually, “will you let the betrothal stand?”

“Stand?”

“Will you wed the Lady Ariane now?”

Ranulf frowned. “No.”

“No?” Payn’s mouth curved in a lecherous grin. “There can be no doubt that your union has been consummated. The entire castle bore witness to your incarceration with her these past two days. And it is unlikely Rome will grant an annulment after you have so thoroughly sampled the lady’s charms.”

“Rome does not have to know.”

The grin faded from the handsome knight’s features. “Have I permission to speak freely, lord?”

Ranulf eyed him warily. “You know you do.”

“Well then . . . Are you not being overly harsh with the lady?”

“Harsh?”Ranulf stiffened defensively. “Time and again I have gone to heroic lengths to stay my hand and show her and her rebellious supporters a leniency they ill deserved—and now you say I am harsh?”

“I speak of the betrothal contract.”

“A contract that has been dissolved.” Payn fell silent, while Ranulf grumbled into his ale. “As long as I have a breath left to draw, she will not profit from her greed.”

“Are you certain it was greed, Ranulf?” the knight asked quietly.

No, he was no longer certain. There were times when he wondered if he could possibly have misjudged Ariane, if her motives were as innocent as she claimed.

The look he shot his vassal, though, was obdurate. “You saw for yourself her treachery. She falsified evidence of our coupling, claiming I had ravished her when I had done my damnedest to keep my hands off the wench.”

“Mayhap she thought it her right to require you to honor the contract. And she told me . . .”

“Whatdid she tell you?” Ranulf demanded when Payn hesitated.

“That she would have given you her heart. I think . . . she wanted a true marriage.”

Ranulf stared a moment, then shook his head. He could not believe Ariane’s trick with the bedsheets had aught to do with a desire for a true marriage. She could not have so easily forgotten the contempt she held for him, nor could he.A baseborn pretender . . . without principle or honor . . .

“She was serving her own mercenary interest,” he replied, keeping his tone curt so Payn would never suspect the doubts he harbored, or guess the sway Ariane had begun to hold over him. “As my wife, under my protection, she could escape the consequences of her father’s treason. I would be responsible for her actions then.”

“She claims her father is innocent.”

Ranulf’s eyebrow shot up. “She would, to save his skin—and her own.”

“Perhaps . . . but she could as easily disavow him. More easily, in truth. Shewould disavow him if she were the jade you claim. Such loyalty is admirable, you must admit.”

He shook his head stubbornly. “Her show of loyalty to her father could be as false and opportunistic as her lies about our union—her support of Walter and his rebellion merely a desire to maintain control of Claredon and avoid being held as a political hostage. If she is at all like the other highborn wenches of my experience, she would sell her soul to the highest bidder. And she would not hesitate to betray her sire if she found it to her benefit.”

“Aye, but what if she is different?”

Ranulf’s eyes narrowed in reproof. He would not allow himself to consider that possibility, or to believe Ariane’s claims to innocence. Yet he was not overly surprised to hear Payn championing her cause. She had bewitched everyone around her; why not his chief vassal? But it vexed him sorely to have to defend himself to his most trusted friend.

“She is no different. After three weeks in her company, I think I have her measure. Certainly I have had a taste of her nature.If I wanted a bride, which I do not, I would not choose a tart-tongued, defiant vixen who thinks to thwart me at every turn.”

“You agreed to wed her once.”

“Aye, when I thought her an heiress—a meek, submissive maid who would do my bidding without a battle royal.”