The hoofbeats stopped, to be replaced by the trampling sound of human footsteps. One man, Ariana thought, calculating their odds of success while trying not to breathe too deeply and gag. If Sir Leon worked with her, surely they could overcome one man? But she had no faith in her father’s loyalty to anyone but himself.
The footsteps paused at the other side of the trees. Ariana was sure that whoever it was must be able to hear her heart pounding against her ribs. Sir Leon stood as still as the rocks behind them; his strong arms forbidding her the slightest movement. She heard the rustle of parting branches and a looming figure appeared between two slender birch trees. It was a figure she would know anywhere and immediately her bodysagged with relief. She hadn’t realized how much tension she was holding in her shoulders until she relaxed them.
Sir Leon stiffened, in recognition or in fear, and in that moment, Otto sighted them both. His dark eyes flashed with the realization that she was being held against her will, and before Ariana could signal anything further, the sword of Otto Sarragnac was pointed at the neck of Sir Leon of Kenmar.
“Release her,” he commanded, in that rich throaty voice that Ariana had missed so much.
But Sir Leon would not be moved. “She is my daughter. Why should I release her to a brute like you?”
Otto laughed mirthlessly, his eyes trained on Ariana’s face. She drank in the planes of his face and the familiar chiseled jawline. She had never thought she would be so happy to see the golden lion of Darkmoor.
“That was not a question you concerned yourself with when you willingly gave your daughter’s hand in marriage.” Otto pressed his sword against Sir Leon’s skin until a tiny trickle of red blood ran down his flushed skin, but still, he did not budge.
Ariana had rarely seen her father display such bravery. Her gaze swung from one man to another, her mouth agape.
“Things have changed since then,” her father croaked.
“Really?” Otto stepped closer, until his masculine aroma of horses and leather mingled with the beery smell of the Kenmar chief. “Have you finally found your heart, Sir Leon? Or have you discovered a more profitable way to use your daughter to your advantage?”
“Enough,” shouted Ariana, wriggling free from her father’s clutches in a sudden burst of courage. “I am here before you both. I will not be spoken of as mere chattel.”
Otto inclined his head. “Forgive me, Ariana,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “But the principle remains.” He took another threatening step towards Sir Leon. “You conspiredagainst me with my own uncle. Then kidnapped my wife and held her against her will. Is that not so?” His gaze switched to Ariana until she nodded her assent, relief rippling through her that Otto finally knew the truth. “Then give me one good reason why I should not run you through with my blade this instant?”
Ariana put her hand to her heart. Otto was saying neither more nor less than she had thought for herself, but she still couldn’t bear to see her father slaughtered in cold blood by her own husband.
Her husband, who had come to her rescue just as she’d dreamed. Who stood before her now, every inch a mighty warrior. But as much as she longed to run into his strong embrace, there was still too much at stake.
“Because he is my father,” she spoke out bravely.
Both men looked at her in surprise. “You wish me to stand down?” Otto asked, showing no inclination to do so.
“I don’t know.” Ariana wrung her hands in distress. “Father, you have put us in an impossible situation. How can we trust you?”
“You cannot,” Sir Leon finally spoke up, his voice gruff. “And I cannot ask it.”
“Then what would you have me do?” Otto demanded.
Sir Leon held up one hand in a show of peace and with the other he withdrew his own sword and slung it to one side, where it clattered noisily against the rocks and sent a bird flying upwards in alarm. He held Otto’s gaze until the younger man slowly lowered his own sword. “First, I ask for the chance to apologize.” His eyes flicked from left to right and came to settle on his daughter. “Ariana, I did you a grave injustice. I allowed myself to be swayed by thoughts of wealth and power, and I am sorry for it.” He gave a small bow in her direction, then transferred his attention back to Otto.
Ariana’s hand went to her heart. This was the apology she had long sought, but in the current circumstances it carried little consequence. Deep down, she knew her father was finding the words to save his own skin.
He would always think of himself first.
Sir Leon cleared his throat. “Are you here alone?”
“I am.” Otto’s stance was still that of a warrior braced for attack. Ariana felt her knees begin to tremble anew.
Sir Leon glanced at Otto as if asking permission, then sank downwards onto a large, flat rock. He sighed wearily and stretched out his legs. “I am surprised that the Earl of Darkmoor has come alone into the forest of Kenmar,” he remarked, almost conversationally.
Otto took in the relaxed stance of his adversary and sheathed his sword, standing back and folding his arms across his powerful chest. “I have a hundred men stationed back at your castle,” he stated, with deliberate casualness.
Ariana’s pulse leaped at this declaration of strength. A declaration which, despite his brusque apology, Sir Leon could not help but heed. She stepped forward to put herself between them, taking a deep breath to interject. But before she could speak up, Otto continued.
“But it matters not. I do not come here as the Earl of Darkmoor. I come as one man, to speak to another.”
Ariana saw her father’s bushy eyebrows shoot up. “And what is it you wish to say?”
Otto reached up to scratch at his scar, something he only did in moments of stress. “We have been enemies for too long. It has cost us both dearly. Especially me.” Otto clenched his jaw with palpable tension. “You are here now at my mercy, Sir Leon. Surely you know that I could take you down in an instant?” His gaze flickered to the sword laying in a cloud of dirt at the foot of the rocks.
