Medieval 03 - Enchanted

partners.”
    “Are they also knights?”
    Ariane’s mouth turned down. The notes she
pulled from the harp were mocking.
    “They name themselves such,” she
said.
    “You have no liking for them,” Dominic
said.
    Ariane shrugged. “I have no liking for any
man who spends much of the day and all of the night half-blind with
wine.”
    Dominic turned to Meg. “It seems we will have
to prepare for an unexpected visit from Baron Deguerre and his
knights.”
    “How many guests?”
    “Gossip ranges from twenty to thirty-five,
according to Sven,” Simon said. “He is riding out to
make certain, both of the number and of the lord’s
identity.”
    Meg frowned and began making mental lists of what
must be done.
    Simon urged Skylance onto a perch near the other
falcon. With a careless nod in Ariane’s direction, Simon went
to the fire, stripping off his hawking gauntlet and supple gloves
as he went. The white of his mantle’s fur lining gleamed when
he removed the garment with a casual twist of his shoulders.
    Unbidden, the memory came to Ariane of the instant
when Simon had swept her from his lap, leaped to his feet, and
whipped his mantle around his nearly naked body. He had towered
over her, fierce and hotly aroused despite his recent release, but
his eyes had been the black of coldest ice.
    Simon had kept the bitter vow he had made to Ariane
that night. He hadn’t touched her again. Not even in the most
casual way.
    Not once.
    Does every serf and serving
maid know that my husband beds down on the floor like a peasant in
a stable, so that he won’t touch me even while he
sleeps ?
    “I have been considering the matter of
Simon’s future,” Dominic said to no one in
particular.
    Simon glanced up sharply from the fire. “You
said nothing about this while we were hawking.”
    Smiling, Dominic ignored his brother.
    “With Baron Deguerre’s generous
dowry,” Dominic said, “and Duncan’s gifts, it is
obvious that you will have the means to support a keep of your
own.”
    “I am happy serving you,” Simon said
distinctly.
    “I am honored. But I was your brother before
I wasyour lord, and I know that your dream of
the future was the same as mine—land of your own, a noble
wife, and children.”
    Beneath the short beard, Simon’s jaw flexed
as though he had clenched his teeth.
    “You have the noble wife,” Dominic
said, “the children are in God’s hands, and the land is
in mine.”
    “Dominic—” Simon began.
    “Nay. Let me speak.”
    Though Dominic’s smile was warm, the silver
wolf’s head that fastened his black mantle flashed in blunt
reminder of Dominic’s power.
    “Carlysle Manor lies partly in my land and
partly in land claimed by Robert of the North, father of
Erik,” Dominic said. “With Erik’s goodwill, and
Duncan of Maxwell’s, the manor and its wide domain are secure
enough. For now.”
    A stillness came over Simon as he listened to his
brother.
    “But if Erik and his father were to
argue…” Dominic shrugged. “What say you,
Simon?”
    “Erik and Robert of the North are as unlike
one another as any father and son I have ever known.”
    “Meg?” Dominic asked.
    “Simon is correct,” Meg agreed.
“Erik is Learned. Robert despises Learning.”
    “Erik believes in husbanding the land and its
people,” Simon said. “Robert believes in taxing them
until another babe to feed is a curse rather than a blessing for
the serfs.”
    Dominic looked at Ariane in silent query.
“Lady Ariane? Have you an opinion?”
    “Erik is a warrior,” Ariane said
succinctly. “His father is a conspirator. In Normandy we call
him Robert the Whisperer.”
    Dominic’s eyes narrowed in sudden, intense
interest at Ariane’s words.
    “Robert has even tried to make secret
alliances withmy father,” Ariane said,
“against the wishes of the king of the Scots, the king of the
English, and the greatest of all Norman barons.”
    “Did your father agree to any
alliance?” Dominic asked sharply.
    Ariane paused, considering her words. Her fingers
drifted across the harp strings, drawing random chords. The sounds
were oddly pensive, as though the instrument were partner to
Ariane’s hidden thoughts.
    Meg suspected that such was precisely the case. She
also suspected that Ariane was unaware of how much her music gave
away of the very emotions she denied having.
    “The Whisperer and my father court one
another like spiders,” Ariane said finally. “Each is
cautious to evade the other’s