Enchanted by Elizabeth Lowell Page A

rush. She moved to step away from Simon. His
fingers tightened around her wrist. Though the pressure
wasn’t painful, it was a clear warning of his superior
strength.
    Nightmare bloomed like a black flower in
Ariane’s soul. It look every bit of her self-control not to
fight Simon’s firm grasp.
    Abruptly he released the folds of her dress as
though it no longer pleased him.
    “Patience, my dark nightingale,” Simon
said, his voice very soft and his eyes as black as hell. “We
cannot leave until you have been toasted by the lord of the
keep.”
    Ariane closed her eyes briefly. “Of course.
Forgive me. I am…anxious.”
    “All maids are,” Amber said in a gentle
voice. “There is naught to worry you. Simon is as gentle as
he is quick of hand.”
    The smile Ariane managed was more than a trifle
desperate.
    “Duncan,” Amber said, “toast the
union. We have tormented them quite long enough.”
    “We have?” Duncan asked blankly.
    “Have you forgotten so quickly how eager you
were to consummate your own union?” Erik asked.
    Duncan flashed a smile at his own recent bride.“Viewed that way, a wedding feast is
indeed a form of torment.”
    Erik thrust a golden goblet into Duncan’s
hand, distracting him from Amber’s blushing smile. Duncan
took the hint and turned his attention to the newly wed couple. His
expression changed as he studied first Ariane and then Simon.
Slowly Duncan lifted his goblet.
    The room became still.
    “May you see the sacred
rowan bloom ,” Duncan said clearly.
    A murmuring of agreement and wonder went through
the gathered knights as the story of Duncan and Amber’s love
was retold in scattered phrases.
    “There is no danger of that, thank
God,” Simon retorted in a voice that went no farther than the
two couples. “Ariane is no witch to enchant love from an
unwilling warrior.”
    Ariane gave Simon a sideways look and a thin smile.
“Ah, but I was, once.”
    “What?” he asked.
    “A witch,” she said succinctly.
    Simon’s black eyes narrowed, but before he
could say anything, Ariane turned to the lord and lady of Stone
Ring Keep.
    “Again, I thank you for your
generosity,” she said clearly.
    “Again, I say it was our pleasure,”
Duncan said.
    Ariane kept speaking as though she hadn’t
heard, raising her voice so that it carried through the great hall.
At the same time, she grabbed Amber’s hand with a speed that
rivaled the quickness of her husband, Simon.
    A low sound came from Amber as the bleakness at the
center of Ariane’s soul rushed through the touch like a cold
river.
    “If, at any time in the future,” Ariane
said quickly, “either man or woman hints that I received ill
treatment in the Disputed Lands, let it be known that such is a
lie. Am I speaking the truth, Learned?”
    “Yes,” Amber said.
    “Let it also be known that whatever happens
in this marriage, Simon the Loyal bears no
blame .”
    Pale, swaying, Amber said, “Truth!”
    Arine released her instantly and looked to
Cassandra.
    “Will you be my witness, Learned?”
Ariane asked.
    “All Learned will be your witness.”
    “Whatever comes?”
    “Whatever comes.”
    Without another word, Ariane turned and walked from
the great hall. Each step, each breath, each motion of her body set
the sweeping folds of her dress rippling and swaying. Silver
shimmered and ran like springwater through the woven cloth, teasing
the eye with a sense of pattern just beneath the surface, just
beyond understanding, as tantalizing as the memory of summer heat
in deepest winter.
    Duncan turned to Cassandra.
    “What is the meaning of this?” he asked
bluntly.
    “I know only what you do.”
    “I doubt that,” Duncan retorted.
    Amber’s hand settled with a butterfly’s
delicacy on Duncan’s thick forearm. She looked into the
dangerous hazel glitter of his eyes without a bit of fear.
    “Ariane spoke the truth,” Amber said.
“Cassandra—and through her, all Learned—witnessed
Ariane’s truth. That is