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“I’ll do no such thing!” Arianne exclaimed indignantly, staring at Nicholas the next morning as if he’d just suggested she strip off all her clothing and run naked through the town. “It’s a grave insult, one I warn you I won’t soon forget. How could you even contemplate it?” she flashed.

It was shortly past dawn. She had awakened to find him gone, the cottage silent and deserted, the fire burnt low.

But outside, the dawn had brought an unexpected mildness to the air.

A lark sang. The fierce wind had fled with the night, and a fanciful breeze raced through the brush and teased the branches of trees, where tiny spring buds struggled to burst free.

Beneath a sapphire sky, Arianne had made her way to the river and washed, and by the time Nicholas showed up a short while later, she had smoothed and braided her hair with a thong she’d discovered in a box in the cottage.

She’d also found some tin cups and old rag shoes, and, on a shelf, a moldy wedge of cheese.

He brought food from the village. There was a thick loaf of rye, still warm and fragrant, a slab of ham, and some cheese. It stood on the table between them, and though she’d been half starved when he came in, she now forgot all about eating.

“I will not stay behind while you enter the castle and free Marcus. You might well need my help, and I refuse to sit idle while that murderer counts the hours until he can hang my brother.”

“I’ll make arrangements for your stay at a safe place. The matter is settled.”

“It is settled that I’m going into the castle with you. I’ve made up my mind. If you knew me better, my lord, you would know that once I make up my mind I never change it.”

Nicholas shoved the stool up to the table and yanked her down atop it. “Sit. Eat.”

“My lord is confused. Let me assure you that I’m not a pet dog who performs tricks and obeys commands!”

He sighed, regarding her in irritation as he broke the rye loaf in half and handed her a chunk. “Arianne, do you always make things difficult? I pity Marcus and, worse, the man who weds you.”

Crimson color flooded her cheeks. She jumped up from the stool. “I refuse to sit here and be insulted by a man who—“

She broke off, the flush now spreading to her ears and down her neck.

“Go ahead. Say it.” Nicholas’s eyes glinted like shards of ice as he took out his knife and began slicing the ham onto a chunk of bread. “A man who left his home in disgrace, who deserted his father, his people…”

“You didn’t desert them. You were banished. You couldn’t stay and couldn’t return. Everyone knows that.”

“Make up your mind, Arianne. Are you attacking me or defending me?”

She bit her lip, scowling. “Neither,” she said defiantly. “I am joining forces with you.”

Their eyes met and held. There was no give in his, she saw. She tightened her scowl.

But Nicholas shook his head. “Too dangerous.”

“You forget to whom you speak. While Marcus is imprisoned, I am charged with the leadership of Galeron’s troops. Felix and the knights under his command will do my bidding. You may well need them behind you if you are to succeed.”

He said smoothly, “Your offer does me honor, but I have my own men to stand behind me.”

“What men?”

“When you’re finished with your meal, I’ll show you.”

She lowered herself with regal dignity onto the stool and broke off a hunk of the cheese.

She did not speak to Nicholas during that brief, quick repast, but she felt his gaze on her; and each time as she met it, her countenance and bearing grew more determined.

Here she sits, Nicholas thought in grudging admiration as he swallowed the last of the ham, in a serving woman’s homespun, within as poor and humble a cottage as any in the land, and she moves and speaks and looks every inch a noblewoman .

A beautiful noblewoman.

The last thing he intended to do was allow her to put herself in danger, and setting foot inside Castle Doom would be perilous indeed.

It was with great doubt that Arianne accompanied him shortly thereafter to the manor house of one of Dinadan’s nobles.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she murmured as they traversed the hilly ground leading to the gates.

“Sir Castor was the one person who believed in me when my father banished me, the only one who came forward and told me that he suspected what I knew to be true: that Julian had somehow conspired to ruin me in the eyes of my father, to turn him against me. I sent a message ahead to him before embarking on my journey to Dinadan. He’s expecting me. ”

Sir Castor was a bowlegged, hawk-nosed, robust old knight whose black mustache and whiskers matched his deepset eyes.

As he came striding into the hall, he looked as if he would be far more at home on the fighting field than here in his richly embroidered tunic and fur-lined surcoat. At sight of Nicholas, he froze.

“By all that is holy, it is you!” Joy suffused his fierce pink face. “Lord Nicholas, at last. Ah, my boy, at last!”

Arianne had no doubt of his loyalty when she saw the way he greeted Nicholas and ushered him through the great hall, then called for food and wine.

She was introduced and warmly greeted. Then the two men talked long and hard.

But Sir Castor frowned when Nicholas informed him he intended to enter the castle as soon as possible.

“Why not wait until you can be sure of a stronger force behind you, my lord? My men, of course, will follow you. I will assign them as you say, but alone they’re no match for those black-masked troops of Julian’s.

Now if Lady Arianne could summon forth her brother’s knights to join with mine, then we would have a real army. But they may not come in time…”

“We’ll send word to Galeron’s captain this day,” Nicholas replied curtly, “but we cannot wait. We cannot wait even for my men, those I have attempted to summon during my journey.”

Sir Castor gazed at him inquiringly. “Your men?”

“Those soldiers for hire that I trained and led into battle during my years away from home. My lieutenants are assembling the men-at-arms even as we speak.” His tone was grim, and he flicked a glance at Arianne before continuing quietly, “Count Marcus is being starved and has probably been beaten. In a matter of mere days he is scheduled to hang. It’s possible that my men and Galeron’s will arrive by then, perhaps even sooner—but I’m taking no chances. I want him out.”

“As do I,” Arianne said tautly, rising from the gilded bench near the window and approaching them.

Sir Castor smiled at her when Nicholas told him he wished Lady Arianne to be hidden here at the manor and given every protection and comfort until the business was ended.

“Of course. My lady, you are most welcome. My wife will be pleased to—“

“You are all consideration, my lord. But I am going into the castle this very day, with or without Lord Nicholas. I have as much right to protect my brother’s life as he does—no, more. ”

Sir Castor appeared astonished. He turned toward Nicholas, waiting for him to contradict her.

But Nicholas was watching Arianne closely. The strength of her resolve was not lost on him. He made a sudden decision.

He knew something of injustice, and it struck him suddenly and forcibly that it would be injustice indeed to confine her to this house while matters so important and so close to her heart were being decided.

Besides, it was true that she could prove helpful to him. Two heads were better than one. Two of them working together within the castle might move things along with the speed that was needed.

“The lady speaks with courage—and conviction.” He gave her a curt, unsmiling nod, hoping he wasn’t making a terrible mistake. “You may come.”

Arianne’s relief nearly made her dizzy. She quickly recovered and with grave dignity held out her hand to Nicholas.

He raised it to his lips and kissed her fingers lightly. All the while, he held her gaze. It was suddenly all Arianne could do not to tremble as his lips brushed along her skin.

“You have made a wise decision, my lord.” Arianne struggled to concentrate as he continued to hold her hand in his. “It’s apparent that you will govern sagaciously when Julian is overthrown and you take your rightful place as Archduke of Dinadan,” she added with a smile.

But then she saw the ready, answering smile freeze upon his lips. Sir Castor made a coughing sound.

“I will never rule in Julian’s stead.”

Nicholas’s tone was calm and level, yet Arianne heard the quiet pain beneath it and felt her heart constrict.

“But why not? You’re Archduke Armand’s firstborn son. It is your right…”

Her voice faded away as too late she remembered Archduke Armand’s terrible pronouncement—that Nicholas was never to succeed him upon the throne.

“Surely the pronouncement was unjust,” she hurried on. “Especially if, as you believe, Julian did indeed conspire to turn your father against you. If your quarrel was due to that and not to your own misdeeds, surely your father’s edict need not stand.”

“I will honor it.” The grim finality of his tone sliced through her like a knife’s blade. “As I never properly honored him in his lifetime.”

He spun away from her and strode to the window, staring past the rich velvet curtains at the rolling, fertile land beyond.

Suddenly she wanted to go to him. She didn’t know why. She only knew that she wanted to touch his cheek, his hair, to smooth that hard jaw, as if by doing so she could smooth away the pain he tried to hide.

But her feet were rooted to the floor. He looked so unapproachable. So strong and resolute. As if he would never need the soothing word or touch of a girl he could only regard as a nuisance.

“My lord, perhaps you could reconsider…for Dinadan…” Sir Castor began, but Nicholas interrupted.