The Warrior

His heart was still thudding unnaturally when they reached the hall where many of the castlefolk were engaged in the evening meal. Ariane started for the stairs, saying she would leave him to consult with his men, but Ranulf forestalled her with a hand on her arm. “Stay, lady.” Turning to summon a serf, he commanded the man to fetch the priest.

She gave Ranulf a quizzical look. “Is something amiss, my lord?”

“No.” He returned a brooding glance. “You will at last get your wish, demoiselle,” he replied cryptically.

Her confusion increased. “My wish?”

“You sought to become my wife. Before I leave, I mean to formally wed you.”

Her mouth opening, Ariane stared at Ranulf in shock, in disbelief.“Why?” she asked finally, her breath a rasp of sound.

“Why?”

“Why would you agree to a formal union between us after all this time? After standing so firmly against it, against me, for so long?”

Ranulf looked away, reluctant to meet her gaze. “Because King Henry wishes it. When last I saw him, he urged the marriage. If I am to seek his favor, I prefer not to face him from a position of weakness.”

“Is that all?” she asked quietly. “Is that your sole reason?”

It was not the sole reason, nor even the most important one, though itwas true he could strengthen his position by acceding to Henry’s wishes regarding the marriage. But Ranulf was disinclined to confess his feelings of remorse to Ariane, or to divulge his need to protect her, or to expose his weakness for her, the desire that had become a raging obsession.

“ ’Tis reason enough,” Ranulf replied gruffly instead.

“No, my lord,” Ariane said finally, shaking. her head. “It is not enough. Not for me.” She took a deep breath. “You may choose to wed for political expediency, Ranulf, but I cannot. I will not speak the vows to become your wife. I will not wed you.”

26

It was Ranulf’s turn to stare. Had he misheard her? “Are you saying yourefuse ?”

“Aye, my lord,” Ariane replied quietly. “I will not wed you.”

Bafflement, disbelief, doubt all warred in Ranulf’s mind. Never had he considered her possible refusal. Yet perhaps Ariane was being coy, pretending to spurn his magnanimous offer in order to win further concessions from him.

Irritated by her ploy, he favored her with a quelling stare, one that never failed to make the most courageous of men quake in their boots. Instead of flinching, Ariane returned his gaze somberly, her expression one of incredible sadness.

“You once thought political expedience an adequate reason to wed,” Ranulf pointed out—quite reasonably, he thought.

“That . . . was before I came to know you.”

His scowl faded, to be replaced by true uncertainty. “What mean you, ‘before you came to know me’?”

“I understand you far better now, Ranulf. And that understanding weighs more with me than any politics.” She looked away, unable to meet his gaze further, and clasped her hands together to stop them from trembling. “The original reasons for an alliance between us no longer exist. I agreed to an arranged marriage to please my father, and to provide Claredon with a strong lord when he eventually passes from this life. But as you have often reminded me, you already are Claredon’s lord. And my father, in his present danger, doubtless has more vital worries to occupy his thoughts than which suitor I wed.”

A sinking sensation assaulted Ranulf in the pit of his stomach, though he ignored it as he strove to follow her rationale. The circumstances between them had indeed changed radically—but there were still reasons for the marriage, certainly on his part. He had initially agreed to the betrothal to further his own interests, and his original justification still had merit. He wanted heirs of Ariane. And the political basis was still sound, especially with the king pressing for the union. Both were reason enough to marry—or so Ranulf tried to convince himself. He did not want to examine too closely his eagerness to wed Ariane now. It was enough that he was willing to honor her as his lady wife.

“I will make the contract terms generous, if that is what concerns you,” he said finally.

“That is not at all what concerns me.” Ariane drew a steadying breath, summoning every ounce of courage she could muster, knowing she was taking the biggest gamble of her life. “I thank you my lord, but I must decline.”

He still could not believe she meant to refuse. He had expected her to leap at the offer. She hadwon the battle between them, by the Cross; he was willing to give Ariane exactly what she had been demanding for weeks.

Ranulf felt irrationally betrayed by her sudden, inexplicable reversal. Yet unable, unwilling, to recognize the feeling as pain, he took refuge in anger. He had opened his mouth to deliver a scathing reply when he noticed the crowd that had gathered around them, awaiting his orders.

“We shall discuss this in private,” he muttered so that only Ariane could hear.

“There is no need to discuss it further, my lord.”

His temper kindled. Taking her arm, Ranulf drew her toward the stairwell. “The solar—now.”