The Silver Rose (40 page)

“Yes, I remember now.” Helene sipped her own wine. “I don’t think I took it seriously.”

Simon’s laugh was short. “Believe me, my dear, one must always take Ariel seriously whatever she does.” He rose from his chair and hobbled to the window, staring out into the blackness.

“It’s a raw night for errands of mercy,” Jack said.

“Mmm.” Simon returned to his chair. He stared down into his wineglass, then suddenly he exhaled and his chair scraped again on the floor. “Goddamn it! The little wretch has been lying to me all day!” He hauled himself upright, grabbing for his cane. “Where are my britches, damn it! I can’t go out in my drawers!”

“I’ll fetch them.” Jack leaped to his feet. “But what are you going to do?”

“Find out what’s going on,” Simon declared grimly.

“Let me go for you.”

“Just fetch my britches . . . oh, and my cloak. It’s cold as the grave outside.” He shrugged out of his chamber robe and sat down to unpeel the mallow poultice from his leg.

“Let me help.” Helene took the discarded poultice from him. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No . . . thank you,” he added belatedly. “I’ll attend to my devious young wife myself. Ah, Jack, give them here.” He almost snatched his britches from Jack and thrust his feet into the legs. His booted heel caught on the material, and he hopped for a moment on his good leg, cursing under his breath, before Jack gave him a push back onto the chair and manipulated the britches over his boots.

“Thanks.” Simon stood up again. He fastened the hooks at his waist and clasped the silver buckle of his belt. He slung his cloak over his shoulders. “Forgive me for breaking up
the party, but I have the unmistakable feeling that marital duty calls. In fact,” he added savagely, “I’ve been ignoring that damned clarion call for far too long.”

The door banged shut behind him, and his halting step, sounding remarkably fast, descended the stairs.

Chapter Twenty-One

S
IMON MADE STRAIGHT
for the kitchen. If Ariel had been summoned to assist a laboring woman, the servants would know about it. When Doris caught sight of him, she turned and fled toward the scullery. Simon’s lips thinned.

“Can I ’elp you, m’lord? Is there something you need abovestairs?” Timson asked anxiously.

“Only my wife. Do you happen to know where I might find her?”

Timson stroked his chin. “Can’t say as I do, m’lord.”

“She’s not been summoned to the village, then?”

For a moment Timson looked puzzled, then speculation and calculation flashed across his eyes and Simon guessed the man was trying to decide how Lady Ariel would want him to respond to a situation he knew nothing about.

“I ’aven’t been in the kitchen much this evenin’, m’lord,” Timson said slowly. “But I could ask around.”

“Don’t bother. I’m sure I’ll get the same answer from everyone.” Simon limped to the kitchen door. It seemed the household automatically closed ranks around their lady whether or not they knew what was going on.

He felt his way down the kitchen path, using his stick as if he were a blind man. The fog was all but impenetrable and the silence in the still air was eerie, as if all living things had been choked by the wet, frigid, suffocating blanket. The stableyard was deserted, not even the faintest glimmer of a lantern showing through the gray-whiteness.

Simon leaned on his cane in the middle of the yard and listened intently. Then he heard something. A faint bark, instantly silenced. It was hard in the disorienting fog to get a sense of the direction. He waited, immobile, concentrating
all his faculties as he had so often done in the past when patrolling a picket line, listening for the faint crack of a twig, rustle of a leaf, that would indicate the approach of a stranger.

Then it seemed that he could hear voices, faint whispering tendrils coming to him through the fog. He raised his head and sniffed like an animal scenting the wind. It was all too easy for the overstretched mind to play tricks in these conditions. All too easy to fabricate the sound one wanted to hear. But they
were
there. Those disembodied voices. And they were coming from the direction of the river.

He waited until he had oriented himself, then set off, his cane tapping the cobbles ahead of him as he felt his way toward the path that led from the stableyard down to the river. On the path his boots crunched on ice, went through to the iron-hard mud beneath. The ice was already broken up, shards of it cracking beneath his heels. Something resembling a troop of cavalry had trampled down this path very recently.

He increased his speed, knowing it was risky when he was blind as well as lame on the uneven and treacherous track, but the voices were sounding more solid now, although he couldn’t make them out. Then something barreled out of the darkness and flung itself at him.

He swore as his foot slipped. He flung out his hands and found a tree trunk right beside him. He clung to it, recovering his balance, as one of the wolfhounds slobbered ecstatically on his chest. The second materialized, a paler gray streak against the thick gray darkness.

“Down!” he commanded in a harsh whisper that brought them instantly to heel. Their eyes glowing yellow, they sat grinning up at him, clearly delighted to welcome him to whatever game was in progress.

Where the hounds were, there he would find Ariel.

In confirmation, Ariel’s voice, muffled in fog, drifted from the river, “Romulus . . . Remus . . . where the devil are you?”

“Come, Mama’s calling,” Simon murmured, pushing himself away from the tree. “Let’s go and surprise her, shall we?”

The fog seemed, if possible, even thicker by the river, but his eyes were now accustomed and he could make out shapes as he emerged from the path onto the riverbank, the dogs bounding ahead of him, unhindered by the stygian gloom.

Simon stared in astonishment. Several torches now offered a diffused light, their flames a snakelike flicker tonguing the fog. Ariel’s entire Arabian stud was gathered on the banks of the river where three flat barges were moored. As he watched, the men who were moving among the animals began to lead them onto the barges.

Ariel’s fluid shape seemed to be everywhere, adjusting halters, calming, stroking. There was no sound, no jingling of harness, no clatter of hoof, as the haltered animals were led on board. They must have muffled the hooves with sacking, Simon thought incredulously.

How could Ariel have had this monumental transport in her head and never given him so much as an inkling? All day she’d been making these preparations, and not once had he guessed. But how could he guess, when he hadn’t the faintest idea
why
she would be doing this? The stables at Hawkesmoor would be ready for her stud in a matter of weeks. So where the
hell
was she taking them? And
why?

But he wasn’t going to find any answers standing on the sidelines. He moved forward away from the trees and onto the flat bank.

The dogs raced forward, barking excitedly, and Ariel hissed at them.
“Quiet!”

“Should ’ave left ’em in the tack room.” It was Edgar’s voice and it was Edgar who saw Simon first “M’lord?” His tone was expressionless but it brought Ariel swinging around on her heel.

“Simon!”

“The very same,” he agreed, stepping toward her. “And
would you mind telling me just what in the name of grace is going on here?”

Ariel dropped the halter she was holding. She walked slowly over to him. What could she say? How could she possibly explain what he was seeing?

Her eyes in the greenish yellow light were glittering with dismay. “You aren’t supposed to be here.” The stupid words spoke themselves even as she tried desperately to think of a satisfactory explanation.

“I rather got that impression myself,” he observed with an amiability that didn’t deceive her. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t have time to explain here. Please go back to the castle.” She tried to keep her tone moderate, but he heard her desperate urgency.

“That’s not good enough. I want to know
now”
His voice was clipped.

Ariel in her mind’s eye saw Ranulf plunging through the trees to discover the scene at the river while she bandied words with her husband.

She grabbed his sleeve, trying to drag him around to the trees again. “For God’s sake, Simon. Go back. Can’t you see that this has nothing to do with you? Can’t you see you’re in the way? I have to go back and help before—”

He moved a hand to her wrist, his fingers closing over the fragile bones as she tugged to free herself. “You are going nowhere. Now, tell me what you’re doing here.”

Ariel cast an almost wild look over her shoulder. The loading seemed to have stopped and everyone was looking at the two locked shadows. She began to speak with rapid desperation. “I have to move the horses out before Ranulf steals any more of them. Can’t you understand?”

Simon shook his head. “Not yet. Why would Ranulf steal them?”

“Because they’re worth money, you dolt!” She clapped her hand to her mouth as his eyes blazed. She stepped back involuntarily under a thrill of fear, but her wrist remained
fast. “Please, I’m sorry.” Wretchedly she apologized. “But this isn’t the time to explain anything, Simon.”

“Nevertheless, you will continue.” The edge to his voice would have cut steel. “And I suggest that you choose your words from now on with the greatest care. If you wanted to move the stud away from Ravenspeare, then why aren’t they going to Hawkesmoor?”

Ariel drew a deep breath. “It’s not as simple as that. I . . . I . . . oh, I can’t explain.”

“Can’t you?” His voice was now so cold and flat, she shriveled beneath it like a new growth under the onslaught of a spring frost. All the power of her purpose seemed to leak away. “Can’t you, Ariel?”

He moved his free hand to her chin, catching it between finger and thumb, forcing her to look up and meet a pitiless gaze. The silver knob of the cane he continued to hold was cold against her jaw. Each word was now an icy caress. “But never mind, because I begin to understand. Oh, yes, I am afraid that I finally begin to understand.”

He kept hold of her wrist, holding her alongside him as he limped to where Edgar was still standing stolidly with the horses.

“Return the horses to their stables and—”

“No!” Ariel cried. “No, you can’t do that.”

“Oh yes I can. Or have you forgotten the nature of the marriage contract, madam wife?” The words punched at her. “But then, I doubt you read the fine print, since it was a contract you never intended to honor.” He turned back to Edgar. “Return them immediately. Put a double guard on them overnight, and keep the dogs roaming free.”

Edgar didn’t move. Only his eyes flickered from the earl’s set face to Ariel’s white countenance. Men and horses stood quiet in the wreathing fog, the tension apparent even to those who couldn’t hear what was being said. One of the hounds gave vent to a questioning bark that was more of a tentative yap.

“Do not oblige me to repeat myself, man.” Simon’s voice was that same icy caress, and it sent shivers up Ariel’s spine.

“Do as his lordship says, Edgar,” she said, defeated. Edgar must not suffer for his loyalty to her.

Edgar reached for the dogs’ collars and held them firmly. He turned to the men with the horses behind him. “Take ’em back.”

Simon gave a short satisfied nod and turned away as if he had no more interest in the scene. He brought his cane up, the knob pressing firmly into the small of Ariel’s back. “Let us return to the house. I’d like to hear your explanations, even if I can guess them myself, in more comfortable surroundings.”

Ariel hung back, looking over her shoulder at the ruin of her great escape. The knob of the cane pressed more firmly.

She bit her lip, tears of angry frustration filling her eyes. But she moved forward, stumbling over a stone, kicking it aside with a savage execration under her breath.

She had lost everything. Without her stud under her own control, she had no income to ensure her own future.

His anger felt like a knife edge against her skin. It hadn’t taken him more than a heartbeat to guess the truth—that she had never had any intention of trying to make their marriage work.

And through her desperation, anger blazed that he’d dictated to her, ridden roughshod over her actions and her wishes, just as her brothers had always done. How right she had been not to have trusted him. But now what difference did it make?

Involuntarily she increased her pace but he was still holding her wrist and jerked her back beside him so that she was forced to go at the speed he dictated.

“Damn you, Hawkesmoor!” She stopped dead on the path so that he almost stumbled. Anger consumed her. “You’ve wrecked my life, ruined everything I’ve worked for, and I will
not be
brought to heel like a dog on a leash.”

“Then walk properly instead of all this stopping and starting.”

Ariel compressed her lips but said nothing more as they continued toward the side door of the castle.

The party in the green parlor had broken up soon after Simon’s departure. Helene had already dismissed her maid when she heard what she’d been waiting for—Simon’s unmistakable footsteps in the passage outside. Consumed with curiosity, she opened her door a crack. Simon and Ariel were coming down the corridor toward her. Simon’s face was drawn and haggard, but his eyes were ablaze with blue fire. He held Ariel’s wrist as he limped along. Ariel’s face was pale and set, a sheen of tears in her eyes. She looked both wildly angry and bitterly crushed.