They both laughed as the carriage finally drew to a halt within the inner courtyard of a bustling castle. Horses pawed at the ground and liveried servants ran back and forth, sparing hardly a glance at the Darkmoor carriage.
A page scurried forward to open their carriage door and Otto stepped down first, stretching his back and groaning a little before holding out his hand for Ariana. She emerged into brilliant sunlight, which fell on the fortress like a bright, glittering halo. Ariana looked around her, blinking dazedly at the display of great wealth. To their backs, a stone-carved fountain gushed jets of water upwards to the heavens before they splashed down into a wide circular bowl, at least as big as Ariana’s old bedchamber in Kenmar. Ahead of them, wide stone steps rose gradually to an open doorway of gargantuan proportions.
“Has this castle ever been breached?” she whispered to Otto.
“Never,” her husband replied, emphatically. “It has never even been attacked.”
Ariana bit down on her lower lip, unable to stop gazing around and drinking it all in. A castle that had never known an act of warfare was an incongruous idea, like a horse who hadnever galloped, or a child who had never laughed. “So this is all for what?” she opened her palms. “For pleasure?”
Otto winked and grabbed her hand. “You will see.”
“Otto Sarragnac.” A great booming voice echoed around the vast courtyard. “As I live and breathe. You made it, my old friend.”
Ariana skittered to the side as Angus de Neville strode down the wide stone steps to clasp Otto in both arms. He was a tall, strong man, equal to her husband in height and breadth, but with none of Otto’s whip-sharp energy. Where Otto was a man bred for battle, Angus appeared to have been raised for the purposes of pure enjoyment. His youthful face was unlined, his blue eyes were bright, and his full head of hair was thick and golden.
“And your lovely wife. Ariana, I remember you well. Welcome to Wolvesley, my dear.” Angus took hold of her hand and pressed his lips to it, making Ariana smile like a schoolgirl. He was so charismatic and handsome; she couldn’t help her instinctive reaction to his charms despite being a happily married woman.
“Thank you for inviting us,” she managed.
“Thankyoufor persuading this old rogue to set foot out of Darkmoor. I haven’t managed it since he was yay high.” Angus held his hand out at shoulder level and winked, leaving Ariana opening and closing her mouth, wondering whether she should admit that Otto had been the one to do the persuading.
“All that has changed, Angus,” Otto quipped, snaking a possessive arm around his wife’s shoulders and pulling her close. “I’m a family man now, you know? I’ve sheathed my sword and embraced a life of quiet pleasure.”
“And you’re quite the advertisement for matrimony.” Angus looked his old friend up and down. “I’ve never seen you lookingbetter. That frown that used to linger between your eyes is altogether gone.”
Otto cuffed him on the shoulder good-naturedly. “At least we know our manners up in Darkmoor. It isn’t the thing, you know, to leave ladies standing around in the midday sun. Are we to be invited in or not?”
Angus immediately dipped into a low, elaborate bow. “My good sir, my lady, please do follow me.”
In a stately train, they followed their host up the wide stone steps and through the enormous arched door into a vast entrance hall, replete with circular pillars, a vaulted ceiling, and an exquisitely detailed mosaic floor. Ariana traced the colored tiles with the toe of her shoe, marveling at the craftsmanship, before her attention was taken by the vivid tapestries hanging on the white-washed walls. Her gaze rose upwards, following the polished wooden staircase to a gleaming gallery upon which two liveried maids were gossiping, their heads close together. Upon feeling her eyes upon them, they both bobbed into small bows and scurried away, leaving her wrestling with a pang of guilt.
“Go and freshen up, make yourselves at home.” Angus waved airily towards a waiting servant who bowed smartly and indicated they should follow. “The gong will sound for dinner. Come straight down.” He wagged a finger at Otto. “You won’t want to miss any of what I have prepared for this evening.”
Ariana reached for Otto’s hand as they followed the servant down a high-ceilinged, bright corridor, lit with dozens of flaming torches as well as natural light from several well-spaced, tall windows looking out onto a small garden boasting yet another fountain. She had experienced much since becoming the Countess of Darkmoor, but wealth such as this was beyond her comprehension. The heavy scent of expensive perfume lingered all around, and she shivered to think of the well-dressed, well-connected women with whom she would no doubt have to converse at the ball.
They would think her a country bumpkin. And they would be right.
Otto squeezed her hand, as if he could hear her worries, and immediately they melted away. What did it matter if she came from humble stock? She had the kindest, bravest, and most handsome husband anyone could wish for. A man who still set her heart pounding with desire, even after two years of marriage and the labors of childbirth. Despite its origins, theirs was a union forged of love, and Ariana never ceased to be thankful for it.
“Here we are.” Otto led her into a light, well-proportioned room boasting a vast canopied bed and a wide window overlooking green pastures behind a lake which sparkled in the afternoon sunlight.
“Oh.” Ariana took a few paces further inside, looking around like a child at a feast. “It’s lovely.”
The servant bowed smartly and left, leaving them alone together.
“You like it?” Otto asked, smiling widely.
“I love it,” she answered honestly. “Although all this grandeur can’t help but make me uneasy. Shouldn’t some of his coin be diverted to keeping an army?” She gestured helplessly out of the window. “I see barely any sign of fortification. It’s more like a pleasure palace than a castle.”
“That’s exactly it.” Otto looked pleased at her analogy. He brought her closer to the window and wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning his head upon her shoulder as they both gazed at the beautiful view. “Although, have no fear, Lucan de Neville leads one of the largest armies in the country. He just keeps them out of sight.” He twisted to look down at her consideringly. “You don’t wish we lived like this up in Darkmoor?”
“No indeed,” Ariana declared. She had long grown used to dining amongst warriors. “Although it’s interesting to experience.” She craned forward to see the unusual birds swimming in the lake in more detail. “Whatarethose creatures?”
Otto gave a short laugh. “They’re called swans.”
“Swans,” she repeated, incredulous. “I have never heard of them.”
“Nonetheless, there they are.” His hands began to roam up from her waist, sending waves of anticipation shooting through her. But Ariana was still too perplexed by her surroundings to give herself over just yet.
