Chapter 5
Erik sat there, dumbstruck, after she left. I should hope I don't kiss like a maiden! He thought. Oh, but she was amazing. Fire and ice, she was. Ariella. Yet, for all of her beauty and passion and innocence, her spirit was not whole. Whoever had hurt her would pay, and pay dearly. He shook his head and stood up. Now was not the time to be thinking about revenge. What he needed to do was redeem himself in Lord Fortingard's eyes. How that was to be done remained a great mystery, and as supper came ever closer he knew that he should have a plan. It was dangerous to go into battle without a strategy, and when rhetoric was involved his approach must be as foolproof as possible. With a well-seasoned man like the one who waited downstairs against him, Erik knew the battle would be fierce.
Appearance was everything, or so his father had taught him. When you want to make an impact, son, he had said, dress to impress. Seeing how his best breeches were slightly ruined, courtesy of a very pretty lady and her upchuck reflexes, the nicest woolen ones would have to do. Those and a soft blue tunic; that would look quite stunning. He quickly bathed with the cool water in the basin, donned his outfit and left to escort Ari to dinner.
Ariella stood in front of the wardrobe again, contemplating her look for tonight. In her current state a tight-laced dress was simply out of the question. She glanced into the back of the wooden piece for a moment, shoving the clothes aside in an attempt to find something. A dark blue gown caught her eye. It was very simple, modestly cut; yet the slits in the arms and skirt drew just the right amount of attention. She dressed herself modestly, wearing a simple ribbon about her neck and letting her curls fall down her back. She was just slipping into her shoes when there was a knock at the door. This was a surprise, as she was not expecting anyone, not that she ever did.
"Come in," she called, turning just in time to see William close the door behind him. "William. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with Father?"
"Yes, but I need to talk to you," he said, walking over to stand behind her in front of the mirror.
"About?"
"That man, Lord Dowelle. You ought to be careful around him. That man is dangerous Ari, and I don't want to see you hurt or missing. Just don't get involved with him, all right? I don't trust him." She tensed underneath his hand on her shoulder. Too late, brother, she thought.
"I'm not involved in anything. All I've done is talk innocently with the man. What could be wrong with that?"
"Nothing, but don't let it go any further." He nodded to her; his eyes falling over her appearance. "I'll see you at dinner." With a quick glance at the bed, he left, only just missing Erik in the hall. A final look in the mirror, and she too, got up to leave. Opening the door, she found herself face
to face with a fist.
"What the-"
"I was just about to knock and escort you down stairs," Erik said, that wicked grin on his face.
"Oh. Well then, by all means, escort me, good sir." She smiled back, his high spirits infectious to the bone. He stuck out his elbow and she took it with all the grace and mannerisms of a well-bred lady. The two of them walked, arm in arm, to the great hall for yet another dinner at the manor. He paused at the door, bending to whisper in her ear.
"Are you ready to face the vultures?"
"As long as you're right there with me the whole time, I can manage tonight."
"I won't leave your side", he said, his lips grazing her ear ever so softly. Squeezing her arm, he led her towards dinner.
Thankfully they weren't late, but they received more notice than they needed by those already gathered. William gave her a cold glare as Erik pulled out her chair. From the tense atmosphere in the room, Ari knew that monopolizing the conversation would not be a wise idea for any but her father. Smiling briefly at him and keeping her eyes downcast, she turned to her food, mutton. Erik reached over beneath the table and squeezed her thigh. She fought to keep her reaction in. They weren't seated five minutes before the men started their war talk. Lord Fortingard turned to Erik.
"And what are your thoughts on the matter of feudal warring?"
So it begins, they thought. So it begins.
Erik sat there, dumbstruck, after she left. I should hope I don't kiss like a maiden! He thought. Oh, but she was amazing. Fire and ice, she was. Ariella. Yet, for all of her beauty and passion and innocence, her spirit was not whole. Whoever had hurt her would pay, and pay dearly. He shook his head and stood up. Now was not the time to be thinking about revenge. What he needed to do was redeem himself in Lord Fortingard's eyes. How that was to be done remained a great mystery, and as supper came ever closer he knew that he should have a plan. It was dangerous to go into battle without a strategy, and when rhetoric was involved his approach must be as foolproof as possible. With a well-seasoned man like the one who waited downstairs against him, Erik knew the battle would be fierce.
Appearance was everything, or so his father had taught him. When you want to make an impact, son, he had said, dress to impress. Seeing how his best breeches were slightly ruined, courtesy of a very pretty lady and her upchuck reflexes, the nicest woolen ones would have to do. Those and a soft blue tunic; that would look quite stunning. He quickly bathed with the cool water in the basin, donned his outfit and left to escort Ari to dinner.
Ariella stood in front of the wardrobe again, contemplating her look for tonight. In her current state a tight-laced dress was simply out of the question. She glanced into the back of the wooden piece for a moment, shoving the clothes aside in an attempt to find something. A dark blue gown caught her eye. It was very simple, modestly cut; yet the slits in the arms and skirt drew just the right amount of attention. She dressed herself modestly, wearing a simple ribbon about her neck and letting her curls fall down her back. She was just slipping into her shoes when there was a knock at the door. This was a surprise, as she was not expecting anyone, not that she ever did.
"Come in," she called, turning just in time to see William close the door behind him. "William. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with Father?"
"Yes, but I need to talk to you," he said, walking over to stand behind her in front of the mirror.
"About?"
"That man, Lord Dowelle. You ought to be careful around him. That man is dangerous Ari, and I don't want to see you hurt or missing. Just don't get involved with him, all right? I don't trust him." She tensed underneath his hand on her shoulder. Too late, brother, she thought.
"I'm not involved in anything. All I've done is talk innocently with the man. What could be wrong with that?"
"Nothing, but don't let it go any further." He nodded to her; his eyes falling over her appearance. "I'll see you at dinner." With a quick glance at the bed, he left, only just missing Erik in the hall. A final look in the mirror, and she too, got up to leave. Opening the door, she found herself face
to face with a fist.
"What the-"
"I was just about to knock and escort you down stairs," Erik said, that wicked grin on his face.
"Oh. Well then, by all means, escort me, good sir." She smiled back, his high spirits infectious to the bone. He stuck out his elbow and she took it with all the grace and mannerisms of a well-bred lady. The two of them walked, arm in arm, to the great hall for yet another dinner at the manor. He paused at the door, bending to whisper in her ear.
"Are you ready to face the vultures?"
"As long as you're right there with me the whole time, I can manage tonight."
"I won't leave your side", he said, his lips grazing her ear ever so softly. Squeezing her arm, he led her towards dinner.
Thankfully they weren't late, but they received more notice than they needed by those already gathered. William gave her a cold glare as Erik pulled out her chair. From the tense atmosphere in the room, Ari knew that monopolizing the conversation would not be a wise idea for any but her father. Smiling briefly at him and keeping her eyes downcast, she turned to her food, mutton. Erik reached over beneath the table and squeezed her thigh. She fought to keep her reaction in. They weren't seated five minutes before the men started their war talk. Lord Fortingard turned to Erik.
"And what are your thoughts on the matter of feudal warring?"
So it begins, they thought. So it begins.