"And yet Walter supplied Mortimer with knights to aid the rebellion," Ranulf reminded her. "Do you deny the truth of that?"

She shook her head. "He took only those knights he owed for the land held in fief of Mortimer, as he was bound by honor to do."

At her impassioned defense, Ranulf frowned in contemplation. Ariane had always maintained her father's innocence, and in truth, it made little sense that Walter would join the revolt against Henry when he had striven to hold an even course in the tumultuous political seas of two decades. It would be the height of foolishness to declare against a powerful new king who already had many of England's great earls in his camp-and Walter had not struck him as being a fool. Far from it. The lord of Claredon had seemed as shrewd as they came.

Reluctantly Ranulf found himself swayed by Ariane's fervent defense of her father. The ambitious Hugh Mortimer had reason to rebel against Henry; as a powerful baron and supporter of the late Stephen, Mortimer doubtless harbored illusions that he could emerge victorious in a battle of wills. But there was every possibility his vassal Walter was innocent of treason if he was being held hostage to Mortimer's demands.

While Ranulf deliberated, Ariane dug her nails into her palms, waiting anxiously for him to come to a decision. "My father is not guilty," she repeated finally in a low, imploring voice, "and somehow I must prove it."Ranulf raised his gaze to hers, but she could not read his expression."I could go to Henry and plead my father's case-""No." Ranulf shook his head slowly. "I know Henry well. He would not hear you. He means to break the back of the rebellion and make an example of those barons who challenged his rule."

Ariane bit her lip hard. She could not remain passive when there was a chance she might save her father. "Ranulf, please . . . Ibeg you, allow me to go to him."Taking his time, Ranulf slowly sheathed his sword, before finally answering. "No.""No! But-"Raising his hand, he cut off her cry of protest. "I will ride north for the king's camp and speak to Henry directly. He will at least hear me out."Ariane stared at him, hardly daring to believe Ranulf would trouble himself so for her sake."However, if Walter is found guilty . . ." he added in warning. His amber eyes held hers intently. "If so, there may be naught I can do for him, but I will petition the king for leniency."

Her hope soared; her love for him swelled till she thought her heart might burst. "You would do that for me, my lord?"Abruptly Ranulf looked away. "For justice," he muttered untruthfully. "I like not to see an honorable man condemned unjustly."

Eager to change the subject, he turned his attention once more to Simon. "You will surrender your sword to me, and give me your oath of fealty."Simon bowed his head. "I will yield my sword, my lord, and vow never to raise a hand against you, but I cannot give such an oath."Ranulf's brows snapped together. "Do you deny my right to fealty as your liege?""I deny not that you are lord here," Simon replied quietly. "You have control of Claredon, and are not likely to ever relinquish it. But I will not swear fealty to you, my lord. I am Walter's man, his sworn vassal, and I count my oath to him sacred. As long as he lives, I will not forsake him."

The grim set of his mouth relaxing, Ranulf nodded, respecting a man who would stand by his principles even at the risk of his own life. He would have done the same in Simon's place.

"My lord," the knight added, "if you would permit me to keep my sword, I might use it on my lord Walter's behalf. I had hoped to raise a force to aid his defense, but if you mean to go . . . Will you permit me to ride under your banner?"

"Aye," he agreed. "You will be welcome."

"I would return to Bridgenorth as soon as may be. Time could be of the essence."

"We will leave on the morrow," Ranulf assured him. "Now come, return with us to Claredon so that you may brief my men on the state of the siege."

Ranulf and Ariane waited while Simon fetched the horse he had tethered beyond the copse, and then the three of them rode together toward Claredon.

All remained silent. Ariane's thoughts were too wrapped up in her hopes regarding her father for her to make idle conversation, while Ranulf brooded on his possible course of action.

He had promised to aid her father, but the odds were still great that he would fail in his mission, that Walter would not be exonerated as Ariane so desperately wished, that her fate would be sealed by her father's sentence. As a convicted traitor's daughter, Ariane would suffer untold indignities, would lose all rights to land or property, any claim to the king's mercy. She would be rendered destitute, without a dowry even the poorest nunnery would accept.

Unless he intervened.Therewas a way to shield her.

Ranulf took a steadying breath. If he made Ariane his wife, he could protect her from the consequences of her father's treason. In truth, his own honor demanded that he make some sort of reparation, Ranulf admitted with an unsettling twinge of guilt. He had waged an unrelenting war against her in his determination to free himself from their betrothal, treating Ariane as an enemy to be crushed. It had been an unequal fight, and she, a vastly weaker opponent, despite her courage and her people's stubborn support. No knight worthy of the name would violate the codes of chivalry as he had done.

More damning, he had used her body-for his own pleasure and as a weapon against her. He had shamed and dishonored Ariane by forcing her to his bed.

And in the end, shehad yielded to him, had pledged her loyalty to him as her liege, and in so doing, had made him responsible for her welfare.

He would be departing on the morrow, though, leaving her alone for weeks, perhaps longer. He would

have to act now, tonight, if he acted at all.

Ranulf could feel his heart pounding as he came to a decision. He would take Ariane as his wife. Now, tonight, before he could change his mind. If his action would also bind her to him irrevocably, it was a consideration he refused to examine too closely.

His heart was still thudding unnaturally when they reached the hall where many of the castlefolk were engaged in the evening meal. Ariane started for the stairs, saying she would leave him to consult with his men, but Ranulf forestalled her with a hand on her arm. "Stay, lady." Turning to summon a serf, he commanded the man to fetch the priest.

She gave Ranulf a quizzical look. "Is something amiss, my lord?""No." He returned a brooding glance. "You will at last get your wish, demoiselle," he replied cryptically.Her confusion increased. "My wish?""You sought to become my wife. Before I leave, I mean to formally wed you."Her mouth opening, Ariane stared at Ranulf in shock, in disbelief."Why?" she asked finally, her breath a rasp of sound."Why?""Why would you agree to a formal union between us after all this time? After standing so firmly against it, against me, for so long?"

Ranulf looked away, reluctant to meet her gaze. "Because King Henry wishes it. When last I saw him, he urged the marriage. If I am to seek his favor, I prefer not to face him from a position of weakness.""Is that all?" she asked quietly. "Is that your sole reason?"It was not the sole reason, nor even the most important one, though itwas true he could strengthen his position by acceding to Henry's wishes regarding the marriage. But Ranulf was disinclined to confess his feelings of remorse to Ariane, or to divulge his need to protect her, or to expose his weakness for her, the desire that had become a raging obsession.

"'Tis reason enough," Ranulf replied gruffly instead."No, my lord," Ariane said finally, shaking. her head. "It is not enough. Not for me." She took a deep breath. "You may choose to wed for political expediency, Ranulf, but I cannot. I will not speak the vows to become your wife. I will not wed you."

26.

It was Ranulf's turn to stare. Had he misheard her? "Are you saying yourefuse ?"

"Aye, my lord," Ariane replied quietly. "I will not wed you."

Bafflement, disbelief, doubt all warred in Ranulf's mind. Never had he considered her possible refusal. Yet perhaps Ariane was being coy, pretending to spurn his magnanimous offer in order to win further concessions from him.

Irritated by her ploy, he favored her with a quelling stare, one that never failed to make the most courageous of men quake in their boots. Instead of flinching, Ariane returned his gaze somberly, her expression one of incredible sadness.

"You once thought political expedience an adequate reason to wed," Ranulf pointed out-quite reasonably, he thought.

"That . . . was before I came to know you."

His scowl faded, to be replaced by true uncertainty. "What mean you, 'before you came to know me'?"

"I understand you far better now, Ranulf. And that understanding weighs more with me than any politics." She looked away, unable to meet his gaze further, and clasped her hands together to stop them from trembling. "The original reasons for an alliance between us no longer exist. I agreed to an arranged marriage to please my father, and to provide Claredon with a strong lord when he eventually passes from this life. But as you have often reminded me, you already are Claredon's lord. And my father, in his present danger, doubtless has more vital worries to occupy his thoughts than which suitor I wed."

A sinking sensation assaulted Ranulf in the pit of his stomach, though he ignored it as he strove to follow her rationale. The circumstances between them had indeed changed radically-but there were still reasons for the marriage, certainly on his part. He had initially agreed to the betrothal to further his own interests, and his original justification still had merit. He wanted heirs of Ariane. And the political basis was still sound, especially with the king pressing for the union. Both were reason enough to marry -or so Ranulf tried to convince himself. He did not want to examine too closely his eagerness to wed Ariane now. It was enough that he was willing to honor her as his lady wife.

"I will make the contract terms generous, if that is what concerns you," he said finally.

"That is not at all what concerns me." Ariane drew a steadying breath, summoning every ounce of courage she could muster, knowing she was taking the biggest gamble of her life. "I thank you my lord, but I must decline."

He still could not believe she meant to refuse. He had expected her to leap at the offer. She hadwon the battle between them, by the Cross; he was willing to give Ariane exactly what she had been demanding for weeks.

Ranulf felt irrationally betrayed by her sudden, inexplicable reversal. Yet unable, unwilling, to recognize the feeling as pain, he took refuge in anger. He had opened his mouth to deliver a scathing reply when he noticed the crowd that had gathered around them, awaiting his orders.

"We shall discuss this in private," he muttered so that only Ariane could hear."There is no need to discuss it further, my lord."His temper kindled. Taking her arm, Ranulf drew her toward the stairwell. "The solar-now."They ascended the steps without speaking, the only sound their footsteps and the clinking of his spurs."Now, what is the meaning of this nonsense?" he demanded in irritation when he had shut the door behind them in the solar. "For weeks now you have harped at me to make you my lady."

"I have not harped at you," Ariane replied quietly. "Nor is my position nonsense. I no longer expect to wed you.""Whyever not?" Ranulf exclaimed, torn between incomprehension and frustration, hurt and anger.Her own gaze held anguish. "Because you will believe I tricked you to save my own skin and my inheritance. That I forced you into a union that is repugnant to you. I will not compel you to accept a marriage that is so distasteful to you, my lord."He stared at her a long moment. "It would not be distasteful to me," he admitted finally, grudgingly.

"It would. I will not force you to marry against your wishes."Curtly Ranulf shook his head. "Were you attempting coercion, wild horses could not compel me to wed you. But that is hardly the case. I am reconciled to the marriage. I will be acting at my king's behest-"

"King Henry's wishes are not a good enough reason for me," Ariane repeated stubbornly.

Muttering an oath, Ranulf shook his head again in disbelief. "I agree to honor you as my lady wife, and you refuse? No, I cannot accept it, wench. You will wed me tonight as planned, so that I may leave tomorrow with a clear conscience."

Her chin lifted. "There, you see, Ranulf? You call me 'wench' in that scornful tone, as if I were dirt beneath your feet."

Ranulf looked taken aback. "I mean naught by it. I call all females 'wench.'""I know." The ache in her throat made her voice quaver. "But I wish to mean more to you than other women. I want more, far more, my lord. I want to be accepted as your partner in life, the mother of your children, your true love-not your chattel, your leman, your slave."

He stared at her, appraising her expression, noting her deadly seriousness. "You ask much, demoiselle.""Not so much, my lord."His lips compressed. "Would you see me on bended knee? Is that what you want from me?"Ariane shook her head sadly."Thenwhat, by the Saints?""I want a husband who can trust me, for one.""Trust?" Ranulf's brow furrowed. "What has that to say to the matter?""Everything, my lord. You believe noblewomen cannot remain faithful to their vows; you think we have no honor, no scruples. But I consider a vow sacred. I intend to remain faithful to my lord husband until

the day I die."Warily he searched Ariane's beautiful face, realizing the truth of her commitment. He knew the value she placed on vows; he had seen proof of it in her devotion to her parents, her people. Indeed, that conviction was why he had at last risked surrender, why he was insisting now that she wed him. Her oath to honor and obey him she would hold sacred-but now she was refusing even to consider a marriage between them because of some nonsensical notion about trust.

Taking a steadying breath to control the tension rising within him, Ranulf decided it wiser to emphasize the advantages of the union. "Must I spell out what your dower rights would be, demoiselle?""No, I care not what they would be."

"You care not?" His mouth curled skeptically. "What if I should die? I will be riding into an armed camp, to a castle under siege. I could be killed by a spent arrow, or assaulted by robbers on the road, for that matter. As my widow you would have certain rights to my estate."

She flinched at the thought of Ranulf dying, but refused to look away. "You mistake my character,"Ariane said softly, "if you believe considerations of wealth and power are why I wish to be your wife."

"Well, then . . . as my wife you would have more influence over the disposition of your precious Claredon," he pointed out.

"Perhaps . . . but Claredon will survive without me. You will rule it justly, I have no doubt."

His eyes narrowed. "If I manage to free your father, then will you reconsider?"

"My decision has naught to do with my father. I am profoundly grateful for all you have done-and will do-for my family, Ranulf. More grateful than I can ever say. But your generosity toward my parents will not sway me in this matter."

An unfamiliar feeling of panic rose in Ranulf, but he managed to ward it off by summoning fresh anger. "Perhaps you have forgotten an important detail, my lady," he said tightly. "We may already be wed. Your trick with the bedsheets may have cemented our union, whether you will it or not. Rome may very well have refused to dissolve the contract."

"There is as much likelihood the annulment has been granted," Ariane countered softly.

"If the Pope has not acted yet, I shall withdraw my petition. I no longer mean to seek an annulment."

She would not reply.

His jaw clenching, Ranulf grasped at another argument. "Have you considered the consequences to yourself if you refuse? If your father is found guilty, you will be stripped of rank and possessions, forced to beg for your very bread. You will become a ward of the crown-and likely be forced to wed a man of Henry's choosing."

"That is preferable to the alternative. King Henry will give me to a man I cannot love or perhaps even respect . . . but I would rather that than have you come to despise me."

At her quiet declaration, Ranulf felt suddenly faint, stunned, as if he had taken a sword thrust to the gut but could not yet feel the pain.

The blow she had dealt him showed on his features. Dismayed by his reaction, Ariane moved toward him, reaching out an imploring hand. She had to make Ranulf understand that she was not rejectinghim. She was leaving him free to choose, giving him the chance to decide what he truly wanted.

Her features softened in entreaty as she gazed up at him. "You still do not understand, do you, Ranulf? Iwant to be your wife. But if you cannot admit your deepest feelings to yourself, if you do not know-trulyknow -deep in your heart that I can make you happy, that I can complete your life as you could mine, that our two hearts would be as one, then I must refuse your offer of marriage."

He looked away, saying stiffly, "You want me to ply you with sweet words, but I am a soldier, not a poet."

"No," she replied earnestly. "I care not what words you use, although if you truly loved me, you would not hesitate to shout it from the castle walls. What matters only is what youfeel for me. If you cannot trust me, if you think I have trapped you into wedding me, you would come to hate me. Ranulf . . . I could not bear it if that happened."

"I could never hate you," he said rigidly, his voice low.

"But you do not love me."

There was a long, pregnant silence.

Ariane gazed at him sadly. "Now, at least, you desire my body. But when you grow tired of me, what then? Will you set me aside? Will you turn to another woman for comfort? Will you seek pleasure from your Saracen leman and forget me? I could not bear to lose you that way. My heart could not bear it. 'Tis better that I not wed you at all."

Ranulf stared at her, aching to deny her accusation. She was mistaken on one score. He wanted more than Ariane's body; he wantedher, all of her. He wanted to bind her to him unalterably in marriage. And he wanted to believe her. He wanted desperately to trust her, to know that she would not betray him. He wanted to bare his heart, to release the fear inside him. Hewanted to love her. But he could not force the words past the tightness in his throat.

The ache roughened his voice. "You have secured the offer of my hand. Must you have my soul as well?"

"Nay, Ranulf," Ariane said softly. "Not your soul. Your heart. I want your love. Nothing else will do. If and when you can say freely that you love me, then I will proclaim my vows before God with all the love in my own heart."

How could he admit to a love when he had no heart? Ranulf wanted to cry. How could he give what he did not possess?

When he remained silent, Ariane smiled sadly. "You are a good man, Ranulf, worthy of my love and devotion. But you cannot believe me worthy of yours. You cannot trust me. And until you can, till you can say truly that you love me, I cannot be your wife."

She read his answer in the bleakness of his eyes."I thought not," she murmured, her heart aching.She reached up to touch her fingertips to his cheek. Ranulf flinched as if burned."You ask too much of me," he said almost bitterly."Perhaps. I hope not."Gritting his teeth, Ranulf turned away and went to the door. "This issue is not settled between us," he flung over his shoulder, before he let himself from the room, shutting the door hard in his wake. "I devoutly pray not," Ariane whispered to herself, wondering if she had made a terrible mistake. She would take Ranulf on any terms, if only she could believe that by marrying him she was not sentencing him to a life of misery. That one day he might come to open his heart to her without reservation, without bitter wariness or treacherous doubts. Love could not survive without trust.

Am I a fool for wanting your trust, my love?

She sighed, knowing she could not allow herself to give up hope. Someday, God willing, she would penetrate the armor around the dragon's heart and claim her most cherished dream.

Dazed, feeling as if he had taken a lance blow directly to the chest, Ranulf descended to the hall and called for wine as he took his rightful place at the high table."Is something amiss?" Payn asked, taking one look at his liege's troubled features."She refused my offer of marriage," he said numbly.Payn looked startled. "She refused?""Aye, she will not wed me, can you credit it? She says I do not trust her enough."

His vassal watched him in silence, saying finally, "Doyou trust her, my lord?"

"Enough to marry her. What more can she ask of me?"

Payn was a long time in answering. "I suppose I can comprehend her position."

"Canyou?" Ranulf shook his head bitterly, trying to deny the emotion warring within his soul. He should be pleased Ariane had refused him. For weeks now-years-he had tried to elude a marriage to her. Why then did he feel this pain in his gut, in his chest? Why did he feel this gnawing fear? Itwas fear, not of committing himself to Ariane, but of losing her.

"Then perhaps you can explain her answer to me," he retorted grimly. "Never will I understand the workings of a woman's mind."

"I fear that is the dilemma, my lord. The Lady Ariane is not like others of her kind-and you will not see it."

"She said much the same," Ranulf replied, his tone suddenly bleak.

Payn's expression turned grave. "Can you not give her the trust she asks for, Ranulf?"

He stared down at the table. "What matters it if I do or not?"