Smoldering silently, the new lord of Claredon and his vassal accompanied the sentries outside and down the tower entrance steps to the armory below, whose door now stood open. Within lay the store of weapons and armor used by the garrison. By the light of a torch, they could see the gleam of a thick, shiny matter covering nearly every surface.

With a finger, Ranulf tasted the sticky substance. "Honey! By the Chalice! . . ."

Someone had dripped honey over the chain mail hauberks and steel helmets, the swords and lances and shields. It would require every squire and page in the garrison to labor for countless hours, cleaning the metal with sand and vinegar to remove the gluelike coating.

"Injustice, you say?" Ranulf asked Payn in a dangerous tone, before he spun on his heel and stalked from the building.

He went directly to the fourth floor of the tower, to Ariane's chamber. The guards on duty before her door snapped to attention when they spied their lord, and hastened to produce a key.

Unlocking the door and shoving it open, Ranulf entered and slammed it closed behind him.

He stopped abruptly in realization. He had startled Ariane in the act of preparing for bed. He caught a tantalizing glimpse of pale buttocks and long, slender legs before, with a gasp, she grabbed up the first thing to hand-her woolen tunic-and whirled to face him, clutching the garment to her breasts in an attempt to cover her nakedness.

"My lord . . . what do you want?" she demanded breathlessly.

His amber eyes, glittering with fury, darkened with another emotion as he stared intently. "I wished to speak with you."

"I was washing away the day's grime. Will you permit me a moment of privacy? I should like to dress."

"No."Her eyes widened. "No?""A slave has no need for privacy."His taunt made Ariane stiffen her spine. "I am not a slave, my lord, as I have told you before. I am yourwife. "The outrage returned abruptly to Ranulf's amber eyes. "You are my possession, nothing more. I will never acknowledge you as my wife-a mercenary, deceitful jade. Nor will you ever profit from my wealth and position.""I care naught for your wealth or position," she retorted, her own eyes flashing defiance.Ranulf stared at her, fury and admiration warring with each other. Fury won. "More lies?" When she stood regarding him with regal haughtiness, he gritted his teeth. "It matters not. The marriage will soon be annulled. I have sent a petition to Rome with a heavy bribe, applying for a swift hearing. But I did not come to argue a moot point. I mean to discuss the accidents and wanton destruction that have been plaguing the keep. I want them to cease at once."

"Why come to me, my lord? I had naught to do with them. I have done precisely as you bade me.""I hold you responsible."Ariane's eyebrows lifted. "How so? I no longer run this household. I can hardly be held to blame if things go awry. You are lord here now, as you have told me countless times.""And you have pitted your people against me, do not deny it!""I shall not attempt to, my lord. You would not believe me, in any case.""No, I would not." His gaze, cold and vividly gold, held hers. "It will fall to you to clean the armor that your accomplices sought to ruin. And you will speak to your former people once more to demand that they cease their tricks."

"Or what, my lord?"Her calm was infuriating. Ranulf clenched his fists to repress the urge to shake her. "I warn you, wench, I am at the end of my patience. One more incident of subversion and I will punish the lot of them, without regard to justice! The officers of the household will be thrown in the dungeon. The freemen, I will cast out to starve. The serfs will be sent to the fields, where they may apply their backs to pulling a plow in place of oxen. The guilty will suffer with the innocent."

Ariane winced inwardly at his threat, yet she met his furious gaze with an innocent look of serenity. "I will speak to them, my lord. But I cannot promise complete success. The people of Claredon are not sheep, to blindly offer loyalty to a new lord. It must be earned." She smiled archly. "And waging war againstme is not the way to go about it. Doubtless they would accept you more readily if you allowed me to run the household once more."

His heavy brows snapped together. "God's splendor! Do you think I am fool enough to trust you with such authority?"

"I think you would be a fool not to trust me."Ranulf seared her with a blazing look. Their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. She could see the rigid muscles flex in Ranulf's jaw.

Slowly, without speaking, he moved toward her, closing the distance between them, till he stood directly

in front of her, his nearness intimidating.

Ariane raised her chin, defiantly meeting his smoldering gaze. She refused to cower before him, although her heart had begun hammering like a drum. His next command startled her entirely.

"I would see you without your clothing. Remove it.""What?" She stared at him in disbelief, her composure suddenly shaken."Are you deaf, sweeting? I said I wish to see you. Take the garment away."When she remained frozen, Ranulf smiled tauntingly. "A slave has no need for modesty. And"-his gaze raked her boldly-"I much doubt you possess any charms I have not viewed before. I've seen any number of naked females . . . including you.""Then why must you see me again?" Ariane demanded breathlessly.

"Because I wish it."He meant to prove his power over her, Ariane realized, grinding her teeth. And there was little she could do to prevent him.

With stubborn determination, she lifted her chin regally, feigning indifference. She would not let him see her mortification.

Proudly, Ariane did as she was bid and let the tunic fall away. To her acute dismay, she felt Ranulf's heated gaze scrutinizing her body, measuring, touching her intimately. Moving slowly over every inch of her, studying her as he would a slave. It was strangely, inexplicably arousing.

It was even more arousing to Ranulf. He sucked in his breath at the sight of Ariane naked and vulnerable before him, letting his gaze caress the high, sweet mounds of her breasts . . . the narrow waist and flaring hips . . . lingering on the thatch of red-gold curls between her thighs . . . her long, slim legs . . . He knew he should leave at once, before his iron control slipped irrevocably, and yet he could not bring himself to take the first step.

He looked his fill, drinking in every nuance and detail of her exquisite form. She was a woman made for a man, her breasts tipped by delicate, rosebud nipples, her hips deliciously rounded, her thighs long and smooth. His own body tautened with hunger. He wanted to touch her ivory marble skin, to revel in her silky softness, to suckle those inviting nipples, to taste her woman's essence. He yearned to have her naked beneath him, the slick heat of her sheath enveloping him as he rode her, her legs wrapped around his waist while she writhed in ecstasy. . . .

Realizing where his urges were leading him, Ranulf cursed silently at himself. It enraged him that the deceitful wench could make him want her so powerfully.

Ariane shivered as the tense silence drew out. Ranulf's regard was always like scorching embers, but now it seemed to burn everywhere it touched.

"My lord? . . ." she said breathlessly, ashamed at the weakness in her voice.

Ranulf's voice, when he replied, was low and husky and intense. "Your form is pleasing to look upon. I wonder that you do not use it to court my favor."

She stiffened at his insulting implication, and abruptly drew the woolen tunic back up to cover herself. "I am not a strumpet, any more than I am your slave."

"No?"

Even as she steeled herself for an assault, Ranulf reached up and slid his hand beneath the crumpled tunic she held, the flesh of his palm deliberately grazing her erect, swollen nipple. Her breasts engorged painfully under that light touch.

She gasped and took a step back, yet there was nowhere to run. Her buttocks came up against the oaken table that contained the washbasin.

His teeth flashed in a knowing smile. With thumb and forefinger, he captured her left nipple. The resultant shock of fire that streaked though Ariane weakened her knees, yet she clenched her teeth, refusing to surrender.

"Do you recall the pleasure I gave you when I stroked your nipples?" Ranulf asked, his husky murmur caressing her senses the way his fingers did her breasts.

"No . . . please . . . do not . . ."

Her plea was ignored entirely. He stood over her, crowding her with his powerful body, and tugged the tunic from her nerveless grasp. "Do you remember how I plied the wet rosebud between your thighs?"Holding her gaze, he traced a finger between her breasts, downward to her narrow waist, drawing his hand slowly, lingeringly, over her skin. "I could show you such pleasure again, sweeting. . . ."

Unable to bear the taunting gleam in his eyes, the hard sensuality of his expression, Ariane averted her face. Yet she could not move. She stood helplessly as he threaded his fingers through the dense curls guarding her femininity. Her body went rigid at his expert touch; her cheeks flushed scarlet. But she could no more have resisted him than she could have overpowered him.

Insinuating his hand between her thighs, he stroked her moist cleft, his finger toying with her. "Do you not find this arousing?"

Her gasp became a moan as a spasm of longing went through her. Her hips arched instinctively, her quivering thighs opening to him.

"I thought so." Ranulf laughed softly. "I would win a reckoning between us," he said evenly, even as he wondered if it were true. "I could take you here and make you beg for me."

"Could you . . . my lord?" Trembling, she raised her gaze to his.

Ranulf hesitated. His narrowed look had followed every flicker of shock, every startled reaction, on her face. Now he saw the triumph in Ariane's gray eyes and froze, fighting the battle between desire and self-control that raged within him. She would prey on his weakness if he gave in. . . .

His laughter turned harsh. "Ah, no, slave. You will not prevail so easily. Our union will never be consummated. Rather than enjoy you myself, I will give you to one of my vassels."

It was an idle threat, in truth. He would break his vows and lock her in the dungeon long before he let another man mount her. Ariane washis. He would never permit another man to touch her.

His hand fell away, his mouth tightening as he stepped back, needing the distance.

Their eyes clashed wordlessly.

"Iwill win," he repeated with ominous softness, before he turned abruptly and let himself from the chamber.

Wanting to scream with vexation, Ariane dug her nails into the wool tunic she still clutched to her breast. Her heart was thrumming from the dangerous encounter, her breath coming too rapidly.

Shaken, dazed, she closed her eyes and drew a shuddering breath. Only now, after he was gone, was she even aware how badly she had wanted Ranulf to stay. Only now, after her near escape, could she think clearly enough to frame into words the vague notion that had come to her as he'd tormented her with his sensual caresses: Somehow she had to turn his lusty passions to her advantage. She was no temptress, but somehow she had to learn to tame the dragon. For if Ranulf could be persuaded to bed her, it would greatly strengthen her claim to being his wife.

Remembering the intense heat she'd seen in his golden eyes moments ago, Ariane chided herself for a fool. She had been close to victory without knowing it-and then she had senselessly reminded him of their controversy by challenging him openly. If only she had curbed her tongue, Ranulf might even now be claiming her maidenhead and spilling his seed within her. Lashing out at him in defiance was not the way to win a man's regard, or to consummate a betrothal. She should have feigned meekness at least, even if she could not have managed the grace and equanimity her lady mother would have counseled.

Throwing the despised woolen tunic on the floor in disgust, Ariane glared at the oaken door with its heavy iron bands.

"I would not wager on victory yet, my arrogant lord," she muttered. "You are not so ruthless as your legend suggests, nor as invincible as you pretend."

12.

How did one tame a dragon?Especially one as ruthless and unyielding as the Black Dragon of Vernay?

Ariane began by assuming the consummate appearance of obedience and complying with Ranulf's demands: She pleaded once again with Claredon's serfs and freemen and household officials to desist in their defiance and to serve their new lord willingly. She took great pride in their loyal support of her, she told them earnestly, but did not wish to see them crushed in the fist of the Black Dragon. Nor did she wish to see Lord Ranulf carry out his threat to punish the innocent with the guilty. Until now, she declared, he had dealt justly with transgressors; indeed, he had shown great restraint. He was their conqueror, yet they had not suffered unduly.

Nor had he harmedher, even if he had repudiated their betrothal. Their quarrel was personal, Ariane admitted, and would not be swiftly settled. Certainly rebellion would not aid her cause. Rather it would only work against her. If they wished to support her, then they would obey their new overlord without question and accept his authority. She was satisfied Lord Ranulf would make a good ruler of Claredon.

This last assertion of Ariane's surprised Ranulf and roused his suspicion. That the former lady of Claredon should praise his rule made him wonder if she were not enacting some scheme to further her own ends.

Once the incidents of subversion ceased, however, the path was clear for him to assume the lord's duties. Ranulf began holding court in the great hall each morning, granting interviews and dispensing justice and settling disputes.

Ariane, whose work station had been relocated to the hall so that he could keep a closer eye on her as she performed her task of cleaning armor, was taken aback by this new tactic of Ranulf's. She could not imagine so powerful a lord taking an interest in the affairs of the peasants. Even her father had left such matters to his seneschal and bailiff.

Yet the Black Dragon listened seriously to the most minor concerns of Claredon's serfs and freemen, and though Ariane was reluctant to admit it, often impressed her with his verdicts.

When a yeoman wantonly killed another man's ox and would not pay reparations, Ranulf sentenced him to pull the plow himself. When a swineherd who grazed his pigs in the forest enticed another man's sow to join his herd, Ranulf awarded the victim three of the perpetrator's piglets but required him to pay for grazing rights.

That both men saw the fairness of this verdict was evident when they thumped each other on the back in friendship and left grinning.

"Henceforth, you shall be known as Lord of Swine, Ranulf," Payn declared, laughing.

From her position at one side of the hall, Ariane saw the answering humor that glinted in Ranulf's eyes, heard his rough chuckle as his teeth flashed white in his harsh-featured face. She was surprised that he made no objection to his vassal's gibe, although he clearly bore an affection for Payn. It was just as obvious that he enjoyed his role as chief arbitrator, and that he was making an effort to be a just lord.

The ruling that surprised Ariane most, however, was when, for his own unstated reasons, Ranulf assisted two young lovers in gaining their heart's desires. They were seeking permission from the lord to wed, over the objections of their parents-freemen who had arranged betrothals for their children to persons with an acre of land each, a prize of no mean worth.

When the young people professed their love for each other and declared their willingness to live in poverty, Ranulf not only allowed them to wed, he dowered the bride, giving the couple a hut to live in and a cow to begin their life together. Their joy was evident on their beaming faces, their gratitude obvious in the way they fell to their knees and kissed the lord's hand.

Payn seemed to see nothing odd in the ruling, but Ariane stared at Ranulf in disbelief, bewildered by his uncharacteristic action.

For a fleeting moment, she caught his gaze across the hall, and from the way his expression suddenly darkened at the sight of her, she could tell he was recalling their own broken betrothal. Then, to her dismay, Ranulf's mouth curved in a slow, burning smile. It was a silent challenge to her, Ariane knew, a private acknowledgment of the battle between them and his determination to win.

Ariane repressed the urge to toss her head in a reckless show of defiance. Thinking it also unwise to draw Ranulf's attention further, she reined in her curiosity just then, but at the next opportunity, when she served him at the midday meal, she abandoned her pretense of subservience long enough to question him about his decision.

"I confess to surprise, my lord," she said in a voice too low to be overheard by his vassals, "that you should part with good coin for the sake of true love."

Ranulf gave her a guarded glance, as if mistrusting the intent of her remark. "I saw no reason to force them into a marriage merely to satisfy their parents' mercenary desires."

"Your compassion is commendable. And to think," Ariane could not resist adding archly, "the world believes your heart wears a sheet of iron."

For a moment Ranulf was caught between anger and amusement at her comment, but he merely responded with a mocking smile. "You are mistaken, demoiselle. I have no heart."

Perhaps that was so, Ariane reflected thoughtfully as she gazed down at him. And yet she had seen with her own eyes Ranulf's momentary lapses into kindness, actions that suggested he was more vulnerable than he wanted to acknowledge.

Ranulf, suddenly uncomfortable with her clear-seeing gaze, averted his own, but made the mistake of glancing down at her hands. Their condition appalled him; the flesh was nearly as red and raw as fresh meat.

A surge of remorse rose up in him so quickly that he could not check it. Forgetting the retort he had been about to give, Ranulf reached out and gently took Ariane's hand. Turning the delicate appendage palm up, he stared down in dismay at the oozing blisters.

"God's blood, how came you by these?" he asked, although he feared he knew.

"Cleaning your armor, my lord. Scrubbing chain mail with sand and vinegar is not renowned for its salubrious effect."

"Why did you say nothing?" Ranulf demanded, his tone brusque with anger at his own thoughtlessness.

"I did not think you would care to hear my opinion, my lord," she replied dryly, unable to refrain from the gibe.

Ignoring her sarcasm, Ranulf frowned as his thumbs traced the blistered flesh, careful not to touch the tender areas. Against his will, he felt a grudging respect and admiration for her fortitude. Not once had Ariane complained about the savage treatment he had accorded her. "I have seen battle wounds as severe as these."

"But I thought you wished to see me suffer," Ariane reminded him.

"I had no desire to see you injured," he answered, vaguely aware of the inconsistencies in his logic. "Do you not have a potion you can apply to your hands?"

"Yes." The word came out more breathless than she intended. Ranulf was stroking her palm almost absently, arousing an unbidden sensual response within her merely with a featherlight pressure on her skin.

"Then do so."

He released her hand, yet his features remained disturbed as he studied her. If Ariane had not known better, she would actually have thought him concerned for her welfare.

"And you may turn the task of cleaning armor over to my squires." He hesitated. "Your work leaves much to be desired, in any case."

Though realizing from the sudden dry note in his voice that Ranulf was deliberately provoking her, Ariane gave him an indignant glance, annoyed by that untruth. She had done as good a job as any squire, for she refused to give Ranulf any cause to find fault with her. Yet she would be grateful to be relieved of the responsibility of caring for his armor. Cleaning chain mail was physically easier than other menial tasks Ranulf had assigned her, but the chore tortured her hands.

She might have expressed her thoughts on the matter, except that Ranulf startled her by suddenly rising from his chair. The gentle brush of his finger on her cheek unsettled her even more. Lifting her head sharply, she stared at him, unable to look away. Was he purposefully using his compelling touch to discompose her, conducting a bold seduction right here in the hall?

She was certain of it when Ranulf's mouth curved in a tantalizing half-smile, one that held a devastating appeal and set her heart to thudding. He was well aware of his power over the female sex, Ariane knew.

"Go now, and see to your wounds."

"B-But . . . what of my duties?" she stammered, nervous at his proximity and the sudden softness of his tone, as well as suspicious of his motives.