Her tin box of charcoals and a roll of parchment. Her hands fell upon them eagerly and she brought them out with all the reverence of a fine lady handling cherished jewels. Since childhood, these had been the tools of her escape from the bleak drudgery of Kenmar, from a life lived in the shadow of Sir Leon’s disapproval. With the charcoal in her fingers, Ariana could switch off from the world around her and lose herself in sketching. Not that she showed her art to anyone. It was something she did purely for her own pleasure. Over time, shehad captured the sparkling wonder of a winter landscape, the chubby arms of an infant reaching out for his mother, and the surprising grace of a hunting party.
Now she would capture the image of Otto at rest.
First, she unrolled the parchment and secured it to her writing desk, swiveling around to get a better view of the bed. Otto’s brawny arms were flung sideways, free of the blankets. His tanned face inclined towards her, a look of almost boyish innocence about his brow. But that blameless purity was cast into doubt by the jutting edges of his scar and the defined curve of his biceps. He was a man of fierce contradictions, and Ariana’s charcoal danced over the parchment, impatient to capture every detail of him in this moment before it was gone.
She became so engrossed in her work that the gradual stirrings of the castle did not reach her. She didn’t hear the clattering of horses’ hooves out in the courtyard, nor the rushed footsteps beyond her chamber door as servants started their daily toil. The sun grew stronger, casting Otto’s stubbled jaw in a halo of light and Ariana drew with increasing ease and confidence, jolted from her studies only when Allys bade her a surprised good morning.
Ariana put her hand to her chest. “Allys, you startled me.”
But Allys was not looking at Ariana. Her stricken gaze was fixed on the bed, where a bleary-eyed Otto was awake, yawning and scratching his head.
“Forgive me, milord, milady.” Allys bobbed into a timid curtsy. “I did not know. That is, I was not expecting…”
Otto sat up in bed and the covers fell away from his sculpted chest as he smiled lazily at the servant. “Never apologize for bringing food to a hungry man.” He gestured to her heavily loaded tray. “What do we have here?”
Allys stepped forward nervously, darting a gaze at Ariana. “My lady likes to break her fast with fruit and freshly baked bread.”
Otto sniffed and nodded in satisfaction. “A sensible choice. You may leave the tray with us.”
“Yes, milord.” Allys maneuvered it onto the sturdy bedside stand and folded her hands behind her back, averting her eyes from the half-naked figure of the earl.
“Thank you, Allys. You may go,” Ariana spoke up, offering rescue.
“Milady.” Allys bobbed into another bow and scuttled from the room.
“Have a care, Otto,” Ariana said, hiding her smile as Otto stretched widely, gloriously unaware of his rippling muscles.
“Mayhap you should have a care yourself, smuggling men into your chamber and giving your maid a fright.” Otto tore off a hunk of bread and chewed it ruminatively, his eyes resting on Ariana and making her newly aware of how the dappled sunlight showed the pink of her skin through her chemise.
She should have pulled on a robe, but it was too late now. Awkwardly she put down her charcoal and folded her arms across her chest.
Otto tutted, striding from the bed and closing the gap between them in mere moments. “’Tis a little late for modesty, wife,” he stated, closing a warm hand around her shoulder and dropping a kiss onto the side of her face. Ariana felt the heat of her blushes subside as she stepped into the comfort of his embrace. “Are you well rested?” he enquired.
“I am.” She nodded. She had slept like a babe with Otto by her side.
“I am pleased to hear it.” He settled his hands around her waist and drew her closer towards him before his attention was snagged by her drawing. “What is this?”
She blushed anew. “It is a mere hobby of mine.”
He nodded appraisingly, his eyes raking over the parchment. Ariana saw her sketch with new eyes, conscious of the clumsy lines and disproportionately large hands, but Otto smiled in approval.
“I can say nothing of the subject, of course, but you have a gift for drawing.”
“Thank you. It is not yet finished.”
He inclined his head. “Another time.” He stroked his hands down over her shoulders and sighed. “Alas, duty calls. As much as I would like to stay up here with you, I am afraid there are less pleasant tasks I must attend to.”
Her regret was mingled with relief. As much as she warmed to Otto’s words and touch, Ariana was used to spending time alone with her thoughts. More pressingly, she was not convinced she wanted to display her flesh to her handsome husband during daylight hours. What he had seen and touched under cover of darkness was one thing, but the stark light of morning was quite another.
“Of course,” she demurred, noticing how his brow had already grown strained as he considered the day ahead. “Is all well?” she asked on impulse.
Otto stalked to the window and inched open the shutters so that more light poured into the room. He observed the busy goings on in the courtyard with another sigh and then turned to face her.
“Ariana, I must confess, there is trouble brewing.”
Anxiety gripped her. “Of what kind?”
He ran a hand through his already tousled hair. “That I cannot tell you, not for sure. I live in hope that the peace we so recently obtained will prevail, for a while at least.” He turned back to the window, scratching his bare arms. “A prisoner escaped yesterday.”
