The weak spring sunshine was now high overhead. Otto swore under his breath. It was past noon and he had promised Gaius he would be with him before then. For a moment, he dallied with indecision. Should he return to the castle and confront Ariana? Or continue to the house of Gaius, to take luncheon with the knight and his wife? The choice would have been easy, had Gaius not hinted of some new information he wished to impart.
Given recent events with the squires, Otto could ill afford to ignore any counsel freely given. With a dark grimace, he turned his horse’s head towards the sea and urged him forward.
Today would proceed as planned. But tomorrow he would get to the truth of Ariana’s actions. He was the Earl of Darkmoor, and he would not be taken for a fool.
Chapter Ten
Ariana’s nerves wouldbe the death of her.
That’s what she told herself as she lifted the hem of her beautiful gown and ascended the smooth steps to Traitor’s Gate with as much grace as she could muster.
Yesterday, she had tripped and stumbled through the undergrowth, a poor creature in disguise. Today, she was the Countess of Darkmoor, come to deliver Beltane mead to the guard. She had donned a shining emerald-green gown for the occasion, though her hair was left loose to tumble over her pale shoulders as she had risen long before the maid was due to attend her. With luck, she would be back between the sheets before Allys came to draw open her blinds.
Her hand shook as she walked closer to the squat tower. The first rays of morning sun cast a dappled hue onto the gray stone, though the sun did not yet have any strength to it. Ariana would have been chilled, were it not for the fire of anxiety burning in her belly. All she had to do was convince the guard to drink the mead. One small and simple task. The potion Merek had slipped her was potent enough to act instantaneously. When the guard woke up, he would remember nothing of her visit. Ariana would have been and gone, Ysmay would be free.
Once this latter point was discovered, the poor guard would be in trouble, no doubt. But there was nothing she could do about that.
Her hands trembled so violently that the precious liquid contained within the goblet all but spilled over the edge. She bit down on her lip in fierce concentration, holding the goblet as far from her body as she dared in case the heady fumes made her woozy. She was nearly there. Above her, she could see the black boots of the resting guard, crossed at the ankle.
He slumbered on duty. Obviously not one of Otto’s finest.
She had never done anything like this before.
She took a deep steadying breath. With another step, she would be fully in the guard’s line of sight. There would be no going back.
She had to be convincing.
For the hundredth time, her mind raced back to the ladies in Sir Leon’s feasting hall, recalling how they would simper and sway, eyelashes fluttering, bosoms pressed forward.
“Halt, who goes there?”
The guard’s voice was louder and harsher than she had expected. No more prevaricating. It was time to act.
Ariana pushed back her shoulders and drew her lips up into a smile. “It is only I, Countess of Darkmoor.” She allowed the guard’s surprised gaze to travel the length of her body before resuming her ascent of the wide stone steps.
“Countess.” He dropped into a hurried bow. “I was not expecting…” he trailed off, embarrassed no doubt by his unfastened uniform and disheveled appearance. His sword belt was propped against the arched doorway of the tower and his helm was nowhere to be seen, allowing her to speak to him as a person, not an anonymous guard in gleaming silver.
“You were not expecting me?” she suggested, making her voice purr like a cat.
“I was not,” he confirmed. “Forgive my sorry state.”
It was nothing short of a crime, she realized, for a guard of Darkmoor to be caught unarmed and undefended. Perchance her quest would be easier than she had feared?
She forced herself to stand still and look him in the eye. She was still a couple of steps below him, and therefore able to tilt her head coquettishly upwards. “You were not expecting anyone, were you?”
The guard stammered, unable to deny that he had been neglecting his duties. Ariana knew a sudden rush of power, correctly divining his fears that she may report his laxity back to Otto. She drew herself up to her full height, conscious of the strain of her bosom against the delicate fabric of the gown and the natural slant of the guard’s eyeline.
“I was not, milady,” he said in a rush.
He was no older than she, Ariana realized. Bored and lonely most likely. Relegated to a job that no one else wanted to do.
Her smile became more genuine, lighting up her eyes. “Have no fear,” she said, lifting her skirts and traversing the final steps so they stood just feet apart. “I will say naught of this.” She dipped her head towards his abandoned sword belt, making it clear that nothing had escaped her notice.
“I thank you.” He swallowed and straightened his shoulders. “How can I help you, milady?”
“Oh no.” She tossed back her hair with a small giggle. “I have not come all the way here in search of your assistance. I have come with an offering.” He raised a puzzled eyebrow and she pressed on, ignoring a fresh assault of anxiety. “Where I come from, it is customary for the lady of the house to offer refreshments to all who serve her on the feast of Beltane.”
It was a bare-faced lie. Sir Leon would no more offer hospitality on Beltane than on any other feast day. He was a parsimonious lord and master, who kept a dour and cheerlesshousehold. But this lowly guard of Darkmoor was not to know that.
