"Ah, bud, but there's never been such a partner as you!" Oliver declared. He caught her chin and kissed her full on the mouth as she reached her chair beside her husband. "I pity you, Hawkesmoor, if you never know the delights of dancing with her. She's light as air-pure magic." Laughing, he kissed her again.
But this time, Ariel jerked her head away. In the exultation of the dance, she had forgotten about her husband, and now with the taste of Oliver's mouth against hers, she realized what was happening. Oliver and Ranulf had planned this-this careful humiliation of the Hawkesmoor. Her own virtue meant nothing to them, and in this wedding company it meant nothing to anyone. Simon Hawkesmoor was to be cuckolded on his wedding night.
She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth in an instinctive gesture of revulsion as she sat down again. Simon's gaze flickered toward Oliver and saw the flash of anger in the other man's eyes.
"I may be unable to dance myself, my dear, but I enjoyed watching you," Simon said coolly, reaching for the decanter to refill her goblet. "For one who's ailing, you show remarkable energy. Drink. You're overheated." He raised the goblet to her lips.
Ariel's color mounted. She clasped the goblet and drank deeply, then set it down on the table. "Will you excuse me, my lord." She rose, gathering her skirts in her hands as she turned toward the staircase at the rear of the hall.
Simon, leaning on his cane, moved with surprising rapidity after her. He reached the foot of the stairs when she was halfway up. He called softly, "Grant me a minute of your time, madam wife."
His voice was as melodious and courteous as ever, so why then did she know she'd received a command? Ariel paused, her hand on the banister. "Will you come up, sir?" Then she continued upward, waiting for him at the head.
Simon silently cursed his clumsiness as he clumped up the wide flight, aware that she was looking at him so that every awkward half jump, half dragging step seemed exaggerated in his mind's eye.
The raucous sounds reached them from below as they stood on the small square landing. Moonlight filtered through an arched mullioned window set in the stone high above them.
Simon leaned against the cold wall, examining his wife in thoughtful silence. She lifted her chin slightly beneath his scrutiny. "You wished to speak with me, sir?"
He nodded. "It's hardly unusual for a man to wish to speak privately with his wife on their wedding day." He glanced around the small space. "This, however, is hardly private. Do you have a sitting room… a boudoir?"
There was only one room in this castle that Ariel could keep for herself. Her bedchamber was not sacrosanct-it was invaded at will by her brothers and by Oliver-but only a very few servants knew of the green parlor in the turret on the floor above her bedchamber. And she was not about to share that privacy with the earl of Hawkesmoor.
Deliberately she laughed and Simon realized it was the first time he'd heard the girlish, chiming sound. Involuntarily he smiled, waiting to be told what amused her.
"Ravenspeare Castle has no such nice chambers, my lord. We live somewhat roughly here."
"So I had noticed," he agreed, no longer smiling as he detected a light mockery in her tone. "And you have my sympathies. However, do not expect me to believe that there is no chamber that you can call your own." His voice had hardened, and his sea blue eyes were searching as they rested on her face.
Ariel bit her lip. "I have a bedchamber, sir."
"Then let us go to it."
Again she heard the note of command. With a tiny shrug she moved past him along the corridor, hearing the click of his cane, the slight drag of his boot as he came behind her. She opened the door to her turret bedchamber and went in ahead of him. Immediately she was engulfed in a swirling, barking mass of gray fur as Romulus and Remus leaped upon her.
It looked as if she were under attack from the massive wolfhounds, and Simon's instinctive reaction was to reach for the knife at his belt. Then Ariel turned toward him; both dogs were on their hind legs, front paws on her shoulders, and she held them by their necks.
"My dogs have been shut up since noon," she explained. "Otherwise they would have followed me to the altar… Down now," she instructed, pushing them away from her, scolding laughingly, "Look what you've done to my gown with your great muddy feet!"
Simon's hand dropped from his belt. He remembered seeing the dogs with her by the river and again in the courtyard. Clearly, Ariel had nothing to fear from them beyond torn and muddied garments. He glanced curiously around her firelit bedchamber. The furnishings were plain; there was little evidence of girlhood to be seen. Except for a doll on the cushioned window seat. For some reason he found the wooden toy strangely moving. He closed the door behind him.
Ariel jumped at the sound, and immediately the dogs turned on him, hackles raised, great yellow eyes glaring. Simon stood motionless, quietly staring them down. Ariel watched, as still as he. The dogs slowly sat down, then together lay with heads resting on their paws, still regarding him, but without suspicion or hostility.
Ariel was impressed despite her chagrin that someone else had shown mastery over her beasts. "You have a way with dogs, sir," she commented. "Romulus and Remus have never acknowledged anyone but me before."
"All pack animals recognize a superior," he said casually. "Wolfhounds are no different from wolves in that respect. I assume that they acknowledge you as the pack leader, so I daresay I'm considered your lieutenant." He laughed and she couldn't help a responding smile. A man who could win the allegiance of her dogs clearly had hidden qualities.
It occurred to her as he stood there smiling that he wasn't nearly as ugly as she had first thought, if you took his features one by one. His deep-set eyes were startlingly attractive, the triangle of his large nose with its fine nostrils was imposing, and there was something disturbingly appealing about his crooked mouth with its strong white teeth. For a moment she forgot their situation and was aware of him only as a powerfully charismatic presence. Then reality flooded back and she remembered he was a Hawkesmoor. She stiffened her shoulders clasped her hands in the folds of her skirt. "Did… did my brother explain-"
"That you are most inconveniently indisposed? Yes, he did." Simon sat down on the end of the bed, saying with a hint of amusement, "There's no need to look alarmed, Ariel. I have no intention of claiming my marital rights until you're ready to yield them."
"I am grateful, my lord," she said stiffly.
"I understand from your brother that you have no female companion," Simon began. If this girl was ignorant and perhaps therefore frightened of the physical side of marriage, someone had to enlighten and reassure her. And it rather looked as if the task fell to his hand.
Ariel frowned, wondering where this was leading. It was not by any means the truth, but her life outside the castle was her own secret. Her brothers knew nothing of her friends or of the work she did among them. "I have never felt the lack within these walls," she said carefully.
"But, my dear, it's quite outrageous that you should have grown to womanhood without anyone to teach you-"
"Teach me what?" she interrupted vigorously.
Simon ran a hand through his close-cropped hair and grasped the nettle. "I will endeavor to answer any questions you may have," he said. "I cannot explain these matters as a mother might, but…" He stopped dead. Ariel was laughing, her eyes brimming with merriment. "In what way have I amused you?" he demanded.
She struggled for sobriety. "My lord, I do assure you there is nothing that I do not know of these matters. There is nothing you could possibly tell me that I don't understand." She thought of her stud, of her work as midwife in the villages, and was suddenly convulsed with laughter again. She couldn't tell him about these things, but it was so absurd that he should be trying to teach her the facts of life when she probably knew more than he did as they pertained to women.