The strength of his feelings for Ariane disturbed and bewildered Ranulf, as did his reluctance to leave her. Never before had he regretted riding away from a wench, nor had he ever missed one or longed for her presence.

God's wounds, he should be eagerly anticipating joining King Henry's siege. War and strife were his lifeblood, his reason for existence. He was a warrior, a professional soldier, a knight for whom military vassalage was a way of life. Ariane's ability to sway him from his purpose should be a warning to him.

Yet he had been a fool to think he could share her intimate secrets and not pay a price himself. Making her his lover was not the wisest course he could have taken. Were it only her body he craved, he could have sated himself and been done with it. But it was more. She had touched a weakness in his spirit, he acknowledged with dismay. And now she threatened to break through the barriers he had carefully erected over a lifetime.

He did not intend to deny himself her body now, though. Simply, he would have to guard himself with more care. He had to renew his resistance, strengthen his defenses, to prove to himself-and to Ariane-that she had not become vital to him.

23.

A thoughtful frown scored Ranulf's brow a week later as he surveyed Claredon's great hall from his position at the high table. His welcome home this morning had been nearly as elaborate as the previous one which had honored Queen Eleanor's visit, yet this time there was no queen to warrant such painstaking preparations, or to justify the dinner banquet they were about to enjoy.

A great deal of trouble had obviously been expended. The walls were brightly whitewashed, the rushes sweetly scented, and the silver and pewter polished to a high sheen. Everywhere cleanliness and order reigned.

He could see Ariane's fine hand at work here.

"She has overstepped her bounds," Ranulf murmured in an undertone loud enough for Payn to overhear.

"I for one consider it an improvement to a bachelor's existence," the knight said, grinning. "'Struth, I had forgotten what it is like to have a well-run household."

Ranulf grunted. "That damsel has taken advantage of my absence-and your soft-hearted command. You failed to curb even the worst of her excesses. You well know I would rather spend coin on armor than this tunic she gifted me with."

This morning Ariane had met him in the bailey and presented him with a fine overtunic made by her own hand-saffron silk with sleeves and collar exquisitely embroidered with black and gold thread to match his hair and eyes. Joy and pleasure at her gift had leapt within Ranulf before he could arm himself against them.

He liked the garment well enough; what did not sit well with him was her motive for giving it. Ariane was clearly determined to undermine all his defenses, and to force the issue of their marriage. It was customary for a wife to greet her lord with a gift of welcome upon his return from a journey, and Ariane had behaved as if she were his lady in truth-a position Ranulf had vowed she would never hold.

Against his better judgment, he wore the tunic now, girded by a wide belt studded with amber stones. He had been unable to refuse without seeming the veriest churl. Even his squire had conspired against him to insure he donned her gift. Burc had recovered enough from his shoulder wound to help his lord dress, and the fool lad had not ceased singing Ariane's praises as a healer the entire time, nor refrained from championing her cause.

"The fabric was on hand," Payn said now in her defense, "purchased three winters ago as a marriage gift to you. And the thread you yourself recently gave her permission to buy."

Unmollified, Ranulf stiffened at the reminder of his broken betrothal. "Mark me, she is up to mischief, if not something more sinister."

His vassal laughed outright. "It is hardly sinister to wish the lord to be handsomely attired."

Ranulf shook his head, refusing to be swayed. But even more disturbing than her scheming was the apparent conspiracy that others seemed to be waging against him. Burc, Payn, Queen Eleanor, even the king himself, all seemed eager for him to wed the lady.

Ranulf had delivered Eleanor to Henry's camp as commanded, without incident, and tarried two more days to discuss his sovereign's future plans. King Henry, a man known for his violent disposition, was in a rage over the slow progress of the siege of Mortimer's castle, but the arrival of his queen soothed the royal temper somewhat. At Eleanor's persuading-and in order to please her-Henry had proposed reinstating Ranulf's betrothal.

The queen's attempt to force his hand annoyed Ranulf, and perversely strengthened his resolve to resist. Not even a king could force a man to wed against his will, but Henrycould make his life a misery if he chose. And it would be political and perhaps financial suicide to defy the king's wishes.

The most disturbing aspect of the matter, however, was the profound relief Ranulf felt at Ariane's decision to continue on at Claredon. She had refused Eleanor's offer of protection, and thus remained in his hands, under his control. His spirits could not help but be lighter-but he resented the feeling. It should not matter so much to him whether Ariane stayed or went.

"Mean you to say," Payn asked lightly, "that you do not enjoy the comforts the Lady Ariane has provided you as lord?"

Ranulf's frown darkened. He enjoyed the comforts too much, that was the trouble. He could grow addicted to her softness if he did not take care. Already-for the first time in his life, in truth-he found that the pleasures of war and fighting had dimmed. After living in luxury at Claredon for a few short weeks, he was no longer quite so eager to return to the harsh existence he had always known. His sojourn at Henry's camp had been a portent. Sleeping in tents on the damp, hard ground, enduring boredom and rain and vermin-ridden victuals, had lost its appeal-which was what came of allowing softness and ease into his life.

"Methinks you undervalue the benefits a wife can offer," Payn suggested with a grin.

"God's teeth, you sound like Queen Eleanor."

"Did she press you to wed Ariane?""She hinted strongly, and incited the king to support her view.""Perhaps you should heed her."Ranulf sent his vassal a look that would have pierced him fatally had it been a lance."Perhaps youshould give wedded bliss a try," Payn prodded, undaunted. "If your husbandly duties become too much for you, you can always send her away to another of your castles."

Ranulf involuntarily jerked his wine cup and sent the dark liquid sloshing over the rim. "I will not wed, only to banish or lock my lady away!""Then . . ." Payn's features suddenly grew sober with concern-"should you not let Ariane go?""I am careful of what is mine," Ranulf muttered defensively."I think you need not worry she might put horns on you, Ranulf. She has eyes for no one but you."Ranulf looked away. They had never spoken of his false suspicions regarding his vassal's relationship with Ariane, butevidently Payn had forgiven him for his unwarranted jealousy.

"I believe she can be trusted," Payn asserted quietly. "And that her virtue is above reproach. You would see it yourself if only you would judge her fairly."Forcing himself to control his rising temper and to relax his rigid grip on his goblet, Ranulf gave a dismissive shrug. The discussion was ended. He would not acknowledge Ariane as his wife. He was satisfied with the current state of affairs. Ariane had not left his demesne when given the opportunity, and while she remained, she would fulfill the position of his hostage. Until that issue was settled, he would not let her go. Hecould not let her go.

With all her might, Ariane wished Ranulf could come to trust her and care for her. It seemed unlikely. Since his arrival home three days before, he had shown little sign of lowering his vigilant guard. Yet unaccountably she was filled with hope.

Perhaps her optimism was due to the change in the weather. Spring had come to England in full force, with trees and blossoms bursting into vivid bloom. The sun warmed the earth by day, while gentle rains nurtured the fields by night, creating the conditions for a bountiful harvest.

It was a season of renewal, of peace and promise. A time for lovers to rejoice in the sheer beauty of life.

Herlover, however, seemed determined to keep dark clouds hovering over the horizon.

Ranulf's reaction to her gift, for example, had sorely disheartened her. Ariane had taken fierce delight in the pleasure of his expression when she first presented him with the finely stitched tunic-a pleasure that was all too fleeting. The wonder and elation on his features had abruptly disappeared, to be replaced by suspicion and mistrust-a look she was coming to recognize with loathing.

In truth, she was coming to better understand Ranulf. She no longer quailed at his harsh scowls or flinched at his cutting remarks, yet it distressed her to know he still regarded her as his enemy.

She had done everything in her power to prove her worth to him, to show that she would make a capable chatelaine and a good wife.

She had willingly endeavored to make Ranulf's life more pleasing, to make herself indispensable to her lord's welfare. With effort she had even kept control of her sharp tongue, remembering the advice her mother had given her: that it fell to women to charm and civilize their men and teach them to curb their warlike inclinations.

Regrettably, Ariane could only mark her progress in minute increments-a heated glance, a smile, a tender touch, manifestations that Ranulf bestowed upon her all too rarely. 'Twas not fair! The Virgin save her, he could trample on her heart by merely smiling at her, while remaining coolly aloof and distant himself. He refused to acknowledge her endeavors or recognize her merit as a helpmeet.

Yet she refused to abandon hope. Ranulf needed a wife, needed her. It remained to convincehim of that.

One evening when she was battling him over the chessboard, Ariane attempted to plead her case and found herself unwisely arguing again over possession of the keys to the castle.

"I cannot see why you object to my resuming the duties I have held for these four years past," she remarked dryly. "Perhaps you fear the responsibility will overtax my intelligence."

"In truth," Ranulf retorted with a dry humor of his own, "I fear it would overtax your oath to me. Were you to be given the keys, you might feel encouraged to let more of my prisoners escape, as you did Simon Crecy."

Ariane was surprised by his teasing tone, and answered in kind. "I thought my action fully justified that night. I daresay you would have done the same in my position-to try and foil an invader.""I would never have been in your position, for I would not have betrayed my king.""I did not betray King Henry."

"Your sire did, which is the same thing."The seriousness of the charge, even expressed lightly, made her stiffen. "'Tis not true. My father is innocent."

"Lord Walter joined Hugh Mortimer with a troop of knights and men-at-arms merely for a lark?""It was his duty to provide knight's fees for his liege.""It was his duty to support his king, just as it was yours to obey the king's orders and surrender Claredon to my control. Your actions then were proof enough of your disloyalty."Ariane clenched her teeth. "Loyalty must be earned, my lord. What have you done to win mine?"Ranulf moved a wooden knight across the board to take one of her pawns, refusing to be provoked into a full-fledged quarrel. "I have no need to win it. As your overlord, it is mine to claim by right."Ariane shook her head. "You have readily proven you can take almost anything from me-my possessions, my body, my oath of obedience-but my loyalty cannot be commanded. It is mine to give as I choose."Dismissively, Ranulf fixed his attention on the carved wooden chess pieces, yet he saw her point-and was struck hard by a thought. If he wholly won her loyalty, he need not fear her betrayal. A reflective

frown turned down the corners of his mouth.While he mused, Ariane pressed the issue. "I cannot comprehend your obstinacy. Perhaps I overestimated your intelligence. I had the absurd notion that you would be pleased to have your castle put in order."

He made a dry sound in his throat. "Forgive me if I find myself suspicious of your efforts to please me.""Why? What have I done to deserve your suspicions?"His gaze lifted to search her face. "Does your memory escape you so soon? You bloodied my bedsheets with your false virginal stains and tried to force me to wed you, for one."

Ariane colored, wishing he had not so unforgiving a memory. "I was in error, I admit it. I wished to make you honor your promise to wed me, but I chose the wrong way to go about it."Barely mollified, Ranulf studied her. "And you think now that by engaging in wifely tasks, you can persuade me to make you my wife in truth, and thus better your lot."Ariane lowered her own gaze to hide her pain. That hadindeed been her strategy at first, but she had not counted on falling in love with this stubborn, hard-hearted lout. She shook her head, achingly aware that she was not loved by Ranulf in return."Not only my lot, but the people of Claredon's-and yours as well."Ranulf's brows shot up in disbelief that Ariane cared a whit forhis welfare."A castle needs a lady," she insisted. "And a lord needs a wife.""I have managed well enough without one till now.""Have you?" Her tone was dubious. "I hear tell that Vernay is a cold, hostile place that provides you so little cheer, you refuse to live there."It was Ranulf's turn to stiffen. "I collect Payn has been filling your head with nonsensical tales.""Are they nonsense, my lord? Or do you simply refuse to see reality? A wife could benefit you greatly."Willfully Ranulf returned his attention to the chessboard. "Good servants can see to my comfort, while any wench will satisfy my carnal needs. What need have I for a wife?"That stymied her momentarily. "To provide sons, for one thing.""I have sons in Normandy.""Legitimate sons, who are unconstrained by the bonds of serfdom. Members of the nobility. What of them? Have you never wished for heirs?"

Ranulf shifted uneasily on his stool. There were times in the past when he had thought wistfully of noble sons to follow him, youthful images of himself whom he could raise to knighthood. He would teach them gentleness and compassion, not the cut of the lash. . . . Yet noble sons could only be gotten from the loins of a noblewoman, and he had never met one yet whom he would trust to be the mother of his children . . . not until Ariane-

His mind shied away from that disturbing thought. "My wishes are hardly your concern," he muttered. "And I believe it is your move."

"A moment past, you demanded my loyalty," Ariane retorted in frustration, "and yet when I offer it, you tell me to mind my own affairs!"

He could sense her growing vexation, and for some inexplicable reason it appeased him. Silently Ranulf vowed to give in to at least some of her demands regarding the running of his household. In truth, Arianewas a fine manager, and if reinstating her duties would sweeten her temper and win her loyalty, then he was willing to make concessions. Not that he would announce his surrender just yet. . . .

Aloud, Ranulf said, "I know you can well manage a household, wench, but that is scarcely a reason to wed you. I need you only to ease my lonely nights . . . and days." He flashed Ariane a teasing, wicked grin. "I confess you pleasure me well. I find you entertaining."

"Entertaining!"

"Aye. Your temper is amusing to watch. Your sharp tongue arouses me. . . ." His gaze swept over her, coming to linger on her breasts. "As does your lovely body. I like the challenge of a saucy, comely wench."

"You . . . you . . ." she sputtered.

Her ire rising to the breaking point, Ariane picked up a wooden bishop and threw it at Ranulf's broad chest. It bounced off and clattered to the floor.

He laughed at her outburst, the warm, rich sound filling the chamber. The knave actually had the audacity to laugh!

Her eyes flashed sparks as she reached for another piece, but Ranulf was quicker. With a sudden lunge, he moved around the table and caught her in his grasp, pinning both her arms to her sides. In a single, easy motion, he bore her down to the furs before the hearth.

Ariane struggled against his embrace, but Ranulf subdued her with ease. When finally she ceased squirming to glare at him, panting, he grinned down at her, his eyes bright. "You have challenged me and lost, demoiselle. Now you must pay a forfeit."

Before she could catch her breath or even protest, he covered her mouth with his. His kiss was hungry, lusty, and when he finally raised his head, his eyes smoldered with need. "Ah, what you do to me, wench . . ."

He gazed down at her silently for a moment before shaking his head. An intimate, amused warmth entered his voice as he remarked, "And yet your methods of persuasion seem wanting. Why do you not try to use your womanly arts to stir my passion and sway my judgment instead of forever fighting me? A wise leman knows well how to bend a man to her whims-with honey, not vinegar."

"I am not like your lemans," Ariane said stiffly, refusing to be provoked further by his teasing.

In truth, she was like no other wench of his acquaintance, Ranulf reflected, and yet she was a woman, with a woman's needs. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that he would do better to take the offensive, to use passion as a weapon in order to compel Ariane's loyalty and bind her to him.

His lips curved upward in anticipation. He had enjoyed their fight, but he would relish her surrender more.

He bent to nibble at her lips, murmuring in a voice suddenly grown husky, "And I am not like other lords. Indeed, I am inclined to show you lenience and devise a penance you will enjoy."

Ariane pushed futilely against his broad shoulders, deploring the way her senses throbbed at Ranulf's gentle, arousing kisses. "I will derive no enjoyment from being mauled, you conceited oaf! I find no pleasure in your touch."

"None?" His slow-growing smile was a sensual caress. "Methinks you are untruthful, wench. Shall I prove it?"

He had no need to prove his expertise, Ariane thought with despair. Ranulf well knew he could command her body's every response. She twisted beneath him, but with his weight holding her down, she could not break free.

He did not bother to undress her, but merely tugged down the bodice of her tunics and shift, baring her beauty to his gaze. His golden eyes kindled. For a heartbeat, he buried his face in her breasts, drinking in the sweet warm fragrance of her skin. "Can I make you hot for me, I wonder?"

In answer to his own question, his mouth dipped to her repeatedly, tasting and kissing her erect nipples . . . until she whimpered.

He smiled against her skin. "That is how I want you, sweeting . . . pleading for me . . ." Reaching down, he drew up her skirts and slipped a probing hand between her thighs. "Show me where you want me to caress you."

She tried unsuccessfully to elude his searching fingers. "Ranulf, please. . . ."

"Please?" His teasing grin held an intimacy that made her heart twist. "Truly I like that word on your lips.""Nay, Ranulf! I don't want you."He laughed softly."Your body wants me," he murmured huskily against her throat.

"No . . ."In answer, he rubbed his thumb along the wet, swollen lips of her sex, finding the tender nub that was the seat of her passion. "This bud is plump and juicy-evidence of your desire, sweeting. Can you honestly claim you dislike being stroked here?" Her muted whimper made him smile. Probingly, he slid two fingers into her sleek passage, making Ariane draw a sharp breath. "So, you feel no pleasure at my touch, at having my flesh buried within you?" His fingers thrust deeper, while his thumb caressed.

Her choked gasp was the only answer he needed."I crave a taste of you," he announced softly in satisfaction.Shifting his weight, Ranulf moved his mouth downward over her body, to her womanhood, his strong hands spreading her naked thighs for his enjoyment. When he lowered his head to her, Ariane clenched her teeth, trying desperately not to respond to each delicately provocative thrust of his tongue, but the sweet agony was too much to bear. Her hips strained against his mouth of their own accord.

When a moan dredged from deep within her throat, Ranulf stopped to gaze up at her in triumph. His lips, wet with her dew, curved in a tender smile.

Without haste, he raised his tunic and tugged at his braies, freeing himself. Then he slowly lowered himself upon her, sighing with pleasure as he entered her.

"I may not give you rest until the dawn," he whispered as he began to move urgently within her.With a soft moan, Ariane closed her eyes in surrender. And when the shattering ecstasy came moments later, the pleasure was more intense than anything she had ever known, while the heartache was greater than she thought she could bear.

Ranulf desired her only for her body, while she desperately needed and craved his love.

When it was over, when he was holding her trembling form in the aftermath of passion, she felt the

helpless tears well in her eyes. One spilled over, despite her effort to quell it and the terrible ache in her heart.

"Ariane?" Ranulf raised himself on one elbow, his eyes dark with concern at the sight of her weeping. "Did I hurt you?"

Yes,she wanted to cry, yet she sniffed and dashed away the moisture, determined to give him no cause to think she was employing feminine wiles. "No, it is naught."

With a puzzled frown, he brushed her damp cheek with his thumb, tracing downward to her trembling mouth.

"Just hold me . . ." Ariane whispered, pressing her face against his chest.

Uncertainly, Ranulf wrapped his arms around her and gathered her close, comforting her silently with his embrace, offering her tenderness in the only way he knew how.

24.