The name stung Valteri like the acrid bite of an adder. Was this some kind of jest that this man would come in here, and give the name of such a demon to him? As if two supposed Christian mothers would be so cruel to their own spawn?
While his own mother had been sick in the head, he doubted that another would be so cruel.
The demon he’d been named for had commanded the largest infernal force and had been renowned for his merciless battle skills.
Belial …
He was the prince of all evil. The right hand of the king of darkness. Indeed, his very name meant wickedness. Outlaw.
Sin.
Among other things.
Surely this bastard mocked him by claiming such a name as his own. If such mockery was his intent, Valteri would beat him within an inch of his worthless life.
“Belial?” Valteri arched a skeptical brow.
An arrogant, aggravated look crossed the man’s features. ’Twas the same twitchiness he felt whenever someone reacted to his own name. That need to knock some semblance of politeness back into them.
“Aye, Valteri the Godless.” Belial emphasized each syllable of his name, the moniker that also stung a lot more than Valteri wanted to acknowledge. “’Twould seem my pagan father had a similar ill sense of humor as your mother to name us both for demons. And you took your name one step further to make a mockery of the Lord above by denying him with such fervor as to have your own brother, and the rest of the world, decry you as such, eh?”
Valteri snorted. “You’re misinformed, sir. My epithet was earned by the number of men I’ve left gutted, on the battlefield and off. Some of them for no other reason than they simply annoyed me by occupying the same room.” He made a point to lower his gaze to Belial’s abdomen and feet to let him know that he’d be more than willing to add his carcass to that long and impressive list.
But apparently, Belial wasn’t one to be intimidated either. Rather, his eyes darkened to a vivid blue as he raked Valteri with a cold glare Valteri might have found amusing in its audacity had his own anger not raged even higher. “Then again, I would think my father must have thought more of me on my arrival to this realm, as he named me for the fiercest of demons.”
Valteri laughed. “You think so? Unless the monks who raised me were misinformed, your name means ‘worthless.’ At least my mother gave me the name of a commander who ruled the battlefield.”
His open, rude hostility caused several of those around them to suck their breath in sharply.
Indeed, it was ill manners to insult a guest so. His brother would be the first to berate him over it.
If Will wanted a diplomat, he chose the wrong brother.
Belial curled his lip. “At least I can name my father, milord. Can you?”
That sent the onlookers scurrying for cover.
Ariel let out an audible gasp.
Valteri gripped his sword. The smooth, leather-covered hilt bit into his palm, and he yearned to hear the blade sing an exit from its scabbard and watch as the bastard’s head rolled from his shoulders.
It’d been a long time since a man had dared insult him to his face. That reminder of his past, and his despised parentage, did little to curb the roiling heat in his belly, or appease the need in his soul to beat the simpkin before him.
Good thing he’d hurled the first insult in this matter. Otherwise, Belial would be searching the ground for his teeth right about now. However, Valteri wasn’t a hypocrite and wouldn’t attack when he knew the man was only defending himself.
Touché.
He, of all men, knew the bitter taste of superstition to something neither one of them could control. People were idiots and held to their zealotry with an unreasoning mind.
Belial’s laugh rang out. “Come now, don’t look as if your strongest wish is to call me to arms. I was only japing with you, man.” He clapped Valteri on the back.
His jaw dropping, Valteri stared at him in total shock and disbelief. He’d touched him without an invitation? Were all members of their family deranged?
“Forgive my insults, my lord.” Belial turned to face Ariel. He ran a long, thin finger down her cheek and Valteri noted the rigidness of her body, the control she exercised not to cringe in response. “I fear my worry for my sister has overshadowed my common sense.” He glanced back toward Valteri. “And manners. I’m sure you can forgive me?”
Not bloody likely. Honestly? He hated this little trollish bitchtress and wanted to run him through.
However, he acknowledged his own part in the name-calling.
Those words sounded sincere enough, even though Valteri still had his doubts.… Because something about Belial said that this beast was toying with them all for sport.
Aye, the look from the corner of the man’s eye. It reminded him of a cutpurse trying to remain inconspicuous as he carefully watched the soldiers while he wended his way from victim to victim.
There was just something about Belial that was innately sneaky. It set his hackles on edge and left him feeling as if he were in battle, bare-arsed.
Ariel shifted nervously, and looked to him. Her eyes beseeched him for protection.
Valteri stiffened as that familiar look struck a hard chord inside him over the one thing in life he found intolerable—those who preyed on the weak. It was the same helpless, resigned look of dread he’d seen in Wace’s eyes when the boy had been a page and under the control of a monster.
Belittled and abused by those around him, Wace had possessed a profound stutter. And when he’d accidentally spilled an entire pitcher of wine in Valteri’s lap at a banquet, the fear in his eyes had been palpable.
As had the roar of outrage from his master, who’d ordered the boy whipped. Unwilling to see a child beaten for such an innocent mistake, Valteri had done what he’d once sworn he’d never do.
Taken a squire.
No one would abuse a child, or anyone else, on his watch.
Could Ariel’s brother be as abusive as Wace’s former lord? That single thought sent a wave of murder through him. If that were indeed the case, he’d never allow her to leave with Belial.
He’d gut the man first.
Forcing a smile to his lips that was supposed to be friendly, but caused the tiny handful of men who’d remained in the room to visibly cringe and step back, Valteri attempted what he’d been told was civility.
So much for that. He knew better than to try and be like the others. Reverting to his normal grimace and glower, he sighed. “Tell me, Lord Belial, from whence do you come? Where are you headed?”
Belial turned his back to Ariel. “Our home lies to the south. We’re from Brakenwich Valley. Our father’s lands fell to the Norman yoke, and once I realized our cause was lost, I left the battlefield and grabbed Ariel. I thought we’d travel north to our relatives who live in Hexham, where I’ve been told there aren’t as many Normans.” Sadness darkened his gaze and he held his arms out like a supplicant at prayer. “Provided, of course, our family there still retains their lands and home.”
Such was the result of war. Innocent victims always suffered, even in peace. Indeed, life itself scarred the souls of all who traversed its brutal path.
Valteri had the scars to prove it.
Inside and out.
He shrugged. “I won’t apologize for my brother’s actions. ’Twas your own people who started this war when they denied him the throne he’d been promised, while supporting a liar against him.”
Belial smiled at his words. “Ah, loyalty. That noble mistress who leads so many on a merry chase, straight through the doorways of hell.” He let out a small laugh that sent a shiver down Valteri’s spine before he spoke in a low tone beneath his breath. “How I love that treacherous bitch. She so facilitates my job.”
Had he heard that correctly? “Excuse me?”
“It eases my jaw,” Belial spoke louder. “’Tis an old Saxon saying my father used to quote. You know, loyalty makes life easier to live.”
That was not what he’d heard. He was quite certain of it, point of fact. But, unwilling to verbally spar anymore with the beast, or shed blood where he ate, he chose to let it go. “Prithee, how is it two English nobles speak French as if they were born to it?”
Belial shrugged. “Our mother. She came from Flanders.”
Seemed simple enough, yet when Valteri glanced at Ariel, she had a peculiar expression as she watched her brother warily. Belial scared her, and she was trying hard not to show it. While he respected that about her, he wasn’t about to let her leave his protection until he understood what it was about her brother that made her so uneasy. “Well then, we are almost cousins, and as such, I invite you to stay and partake of our hospitality so long as you wish.”
Belial cocked a suspicious brow. “Truly? Why would you help us, the defeated?”
In spite of his honied tone, there was a direct confrontation in those words. Aye, the look in his pale eyes left no doubt. This was a challenge.
Not that it mattered. Valteri had never backed down a day in his life, and he had no intention of starting now.
His gaze hard, he stepped toward the Saxon noble. “I offer you protection for the sake of your sister. ’Tis obvious she knows naught of suffering. I say we should keep it that way, and as her brother, I would assume you’d agree. For her tender welfare.” He raked Belial with a cold glare. “Personally, I care not what you do or where you go. To the devil, if it suits you. But I won’t see the lady harmed.”
A mocking smile curved Belial’s lips. He gave a short laugh. “So be it. For the sake of my sister, we shall stay.”
With a misplaced arrogance that told Valteri much about the man, Belial strode from the hall, out into the cool evening, as if he owned the manor.
It was enough to make him want to take his bow and plant an arrow square in that retreating back.
He savored the image. If only it wouldn’t have been an act of total cowardice, it would have been beyond temptation.
Ariel moved forward, her eyes filled with gratitude. “I cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done for me, Valteri.”
Then, to his utmost amazement, she raised herself up on her toes and planted a kiss on his cheek and squeezed his arm affectionately.
Shock almost sent him to his knees.
No one had ever shown him such kindness.
Blushing a becoming shade of pink, Ariel excused herself and headed to her chambers.
Alone.
His body on fire, Valteri watched her flee, his cheek still tingling from the warm softness of her lips. He dropped his gaze to the gentle sway of her well-rounded hips, and he clenched his teeth.
Don’t even think it.…
Yet he couldn’t help the image in his mind of her in his bed. Desire shot through him, igniting his blood, his loins. And for one single moment, he allowed himself to think of her in his arms, of her tender voice whispering in his ear while he held her beneath him. ’Twas a dream he’d banished long ago because he’d never thought to meet a woman who would touch him with anything save hatred, scorn, or fear.
And that even after he’d paid her for her services.
Indeed, he was tired of watching a woman cringe in his arms. Of seeing her fight with herself so as not to recoil from him. It’d become so bad that the last time he’d paid for a prostitute, he’d left her before he’d even entered her. Her obvious distaste at being with him had been more than he could tolerate. He’d rather take matters into his own hands than feel as if he were raping a woman he’d bought.
The concept that he’d ever have a woman who actually wanted to be with him had become a unicorn in his mind. Something for fairy tales and campfires. A mythical dream best left for fools and relegated to depths of his past so as never to torment him with what could never be.
But Ariel had pressed her lips to his flesh without any coercion.…
She’d smiled at him.
Grinding his teeth, Valteri closed his eyes in an effort to blot out the image. Then he flinched as he remembered the last time someone had dared show her gratitude with a chaste kiss.
Anger simmered in his gut at the memory. Nay, he couldn’t allow Ariel to touch him again.
No one must ever touch him. He knew that. The cost was entirely too high.
He would not see her labeled as the devil’s whore. He was used to the scorn and ridicule of others. The last thing he wanted was to see her scourged because she dared show him kindness.
Ariel sat at the table on the raised dais, listening to the myriad of conversations that buzzed around her. The last course had been served and still Valteri had made no appearance. She couldn’t fathom what kept him away from his dinner.
Then again …
Belial sat next to her. He’d remained silent all throughout their meal and she couldn’t miss the way he looked about the room at those gathered, as if he were a predator stalking game. Even more sinister, he seemed to delight whenever discord broke out and took a special mental note of it.
Especially at whatever had caused the fight.
His very presence set her on edge and warned her of danger … of death, but she couldn’t quite say why. Just something about him slithered over her skin like a chill. He seemed friendly enough, yet that feeling persisted until she feared she’d go mad.
As if sensing the same thing about him, people near them began excusing themselves from the tables as if putting as much distance from her brother as they could.
Grateful for the excuse they gave her, Ariel smiled stiffly at her brother. “I should like a walk outside.”
He arched his brow with an expression that seemed somehow fake. “Careful, Ariel, the hour grows late and I would grieve should anything happen to you.”
Why did she doubt those words?
Because he’s lying. She knew it and yet she could think of no reason why.
If only she could remember her past, mayhap then she’d know why her brother bothered her so.
Why she didn’t trust him.
Because he’s a snake …
That was an image she couldn’t shake.
“I won’t be long.” She rose from her bench and quickly did as the others. Put as much space between her and the creepy feeling her brother evoked as she could.
As Ariel pushed open the heavy oak door of the hall, the wood scraped gently against her palms. A chill wind blew against her, freezing her cheeks. She almost turned back toward the dining area, but the last thing she wanted was to face her brother, or anyone else. All she needed was a little time alone, time to think and clear her head without any distractions.
Please let me remember something.
Anything.
She was so tired of not having any sort of tidbit from her past. Of knowing nothing about who or what she was.
How could nothing be there other than faint shadows that taunted her to near madness? It was so unfair.
Clenching her jaw to keep it from chattering, she made her way out into the dark yard. Rushlights had been lit and they provided a modicum of cheerfulness to combat the hidden fears lurking in the dust of her memory that teased her with just a hint of something she couldn’t quite recall. As she walked, she heard the sounds of grooms talking to each other in the stable, and various animals settling down to sleep.
With no thought to any particular destination, Ariel followed a worn path around the wooden hall and into a small garden.
An icy rose scent clung to the air while the flowers fought against their inevitable surrender to the approaching winter frost. And yet the beauty of the garden, the out-of-place cheer of the flowers, warmed her. It was strangely pleasant here and reminded her of yet another thing she couldn’t recall.
“Milady?”
She jumped at the voice coming out of a darkened corner. Facing the sound, she watched Valteri push himself to his feet and tower over the bush that had blocked her from seeing him. “Milord, what are you doing here?” She closed the distance between them.
He didn’t say anything. Instead, he watched her with the steady intentness of a wary fox that had been trapped by a hunting party.
Ariel stopped at the side of the bush, and looked down to the pallet Valteri had made on the cold ground, where a rare leatherbound book lay opened. His intent to sleep out in the cold night obvious, she fought against the sudden pain in her breast over his solitary nature that kept him so distant from everyone.
Cecile slept wrapped in a thick woolen blanket next to a small tallow candle. A wooden platter of cheese, bread, and half-eaten fruit left no doubt that Valteri had taken his meal out here in the cold night.
Alone.
Suspicion filled his mismatched eyes. His was the gaze of an old, tired man. Someone who had known untold suffering throughout their life and who was exhausted from the toll it’d taken. No spark of joy glowed in the hollowed darkness of his soul, and in that moment she knew he sought the welcome relief of death.
That unguarded look haunted her, scared her more than anything else she could imagine. For it was familiar. Somewhere in her past she had been more than acquainted with it.
Had seen it many times.
Why can’t I remember?
It was so frustrating to have nothing more than these tiny glimpses that only confused her more.
“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice heavy with need.
“I needed fresh air.”
Sudden fire sparked in his eyes. At first, she thought it was anger, but the expression on his face denied that emotion. Rather it was one of longing or hunger.
And that fire called out to her. Drew her closer to him. His gaze drifted over her face as if he committed every line of it to his memory.
Hesitantly, he reached a hand up to touch her cold cheek. The warm calluses of his palm soothed the chill and sent a shiver over her entire body.
Ariel felt an urge to run, and at the same time, she wanted to step closer to him.
There was so much she didn’t understand about any of this. So much she needed to understand.
Yet he seemed to be the only thing in her world that made any sense. The only thing that seemed right.
She felt as if she were caught in a maelstrom. Whipped by emotions she didn’t understand. As if something was willfully impeding her or pushing her.
None of that made sense.
Any more than her attraction to a man who clearly wanted to be left alone. Why was she so unable to leave him?
You hate your brother.
That wasn’t the only reason. There was something more.
And all she could think to ask was the most obvious question. “Why are you out here, milord?”
“It’s what I’m used to. There’s not much comfort in a tournament tent and even less so on a battlefield.”
Her heart broke for him. That this was the life he’d chosen for himself because of how others behaved.
The fact that he could still feel anything other than absolute hatred for another was a miracle. Yet there he’d been, protecting his kitten and leaving her with the comfort of his bed.…
How could anyone be so kind to a world that had been so harsh?
He made no sense to her.
Valteri struggled with emotions that were so foreign he couldn’t even begin to identify them. They were tender and protective.
This wasn’t him and he knew it. He hated people. All people. Had done so for the whole of his life.
Against his will, the world had turned him into a killing machine. Had made him vicious. People like Ariel’s brother who judged him and mocked him.
But there was no mockery in her eyes as she stared up at him tonight. No fear while she stood so close, and that left him feeling weak and vulnerable.
Things he despised because they left him at her mercy. Made him frail.
He should laugh at the thought.
Frail was the last thing he could ever be accused of being. Angry. Hate-filled. Bitter.
That was mother’s milk.
Hardened.
Yet she made him feel human again.
Why?
How?
He wanted to hate her for these emotions she awakened.
If only he could.
“Was it not enough you haunted my dreams?”
She frowned at his whispered words.
He captured a strand of her pale hair and rubbed it between his fingers. Her hair was so soft and smelled like frost-covered roses.
“I know not what you mean.”
Of course she didn’t. He was speaking even more stupidity than the monks who’d once denounced an innocent child as evil.
But should she ever understand the effect she had on him.…
Push her away. His mind roared the command. He needed to scare her and drive her as far from him as he could. Make sure that she never ventured near him again.
For her sake as well as my own.
That was the safe thing to do.
The kind thing to do.
It was what he intended. Yet when he moved toward her, his body didn’t obey him. Instead, he pulled her closer until she collided with his chest.
The sudden sensation startled them both. She was so much softer than he’d thought. Softer than any woman he could remember.
Her gasp caused her perfect lips to part, and that was his undoing.
Before he could stop himself, he had to know what heaven tasted like. Consequences be damned.
I’m damned already. Let it finally be for something I’ve done.
Closing his eyes, he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her.
Ariel couldn’t move as she tasted Valteri. Her head spun at the contact as she struggled to breathe. Instinctively, she knew this was the first time any man had kissed her.
No one had ever dared. That thought floored her.
She should be offended and yet a part of her she didn’t understand wanted and craved this. Ariel wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, drawing him closer, delighting in the feel of strength and power of his body.
He pulled back slightly, his teeth nipping her lips, then he returned, even more intense than he’d been before. She opened her mouth, welcoming the taste of him, the warmth of his breath. Never in her life could she recall such a heady sensation.
And it caused her to have thoughts so wicked that they left her blushing even more.
Suddenly, he moved away and left her panting.
She opened her eyes to see the fury on his face as he stared at her in disbelief.
His breathing labored, he raked a hand through his long, unbound hair and turned away from her.
“Leave!” he growled.
Why was he so angry?
Ariel opened her mouth to protest, but before a word could escape her lips, he turned around and glowered at her with a face that reminded her of some hell-bound beast.
All that primal violence burned in his glare. She trembled in sudden fear of him and reminded herself that he was a warrior of renowned legend.
And it wasn’t for mercy or kindness.
“Woman, as you value your life, take yourself from my presence.”
The bitter taste of terror stung her throat.
This was the one man who could very well kill her. Suddenly scared, Ariel fled from the courtyard and back into the safety of the hall.
Valteri watched her flee, guilt gnawing at his conscience. He shouldn’t have done that.
The kiss as much as the scare. It wasn’t right to take his anger at himself out on her.
Why he’d kissed her, he couldn’t imagine. He knew better than to lower his defenses and yield to such base things. And yet she made it so simple to forget all he’d been taught, all he’d suffered.
Damn me for it.
“Ariel.” Her name rolled from his lips like the sweetness of wine.
It was as soothing to his tongue as her form was to his eyes. Her taste even more so.
If only he could claim her, but he knew better than to even think such a thought. She reminded him of sunshine and love, of all the things he’d yearned for as a child, all the things he knew as an adult he couldn’t have.
Things he didn’t deserve.
He was cursed.
From cradle to grave.
The old monks had been right. His life had never been anything more than complete and utter misery. It was why he didn’t believe in God.
Why he didn’t believe in hell.
Because this life was hell, and death would be the sweet release that he craved from it. All he wanted was an eternal sleep where nothing hurt and where he’d never again have to see the face of another person.
Long-forgotten memories surged through him and he remembered the numerous times in his life he’d dreamed of a peaceful haven, of a home with someone who cared for him, someone who saw more than just his physical deformity that marked him as the devil’s son.
He was an outsider to this world that had never wanted him in it.
I’m good with that.
Nay, you’re not.
Grinding his teeth, he hated that inner voice that called him a liar.
With a growl, he fingered the scar beside his left eye.
“And if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee. It is better for thee to enter into life with one eye, rather than having two eyes to be cast into hellfire.” The old priest’s deranged words echoed through his mind, reminding him of the day they’d almost blinded him for their zealotry.
He’d barely escaped before they gouged out his eye. To this day, he could feel the pain of it.
Not just of their torture.
Of their scorn.
Throwing his head back, he let out a deep-rooted bellow over the injustice of this life that had despised him over his whore of a mother.
Over a father he’d never known.
Neither had wanted him.
And he wanted nothing to do with this world or its people.
He must return to the battlefield. There, he knew himself, his place. There, no reminders existed of his childhood, or the nights he’d lain beaten and forgotten. Unwanted. A useless thing.
On the battlefield, no one dared whisper behind his back or curse him to his face.
Aye, he would send another messenger to William in the morning, and this time, he would demand his brother release him from his duties.
Belial drifted out of the courtyard, giddy with delight. It almost seemed a sin for his plot to go so easily.
He had the upper hand and the stupid bastards still hadn’t realized he’d left the playing field.
Or more to the point …
Battlefield.
Muffling his laughter, he crossed the yard, past the men who couldn’t see him, and left through the gates to venture into the dark forest that waited for his mischief.
Following the guttural chant of the crone, he made his way through the trees to the small fire she’d started in the middle of a clearing. How he loved accomplices. They eased his job considerably, and what was more, he always got two souls for the price of one, or in this particular case, three of them.
In order not to frighten her, and in spite of the fact it greatly diminished his powers, he returned to the form of a human man and approached the crone, who stirred a thick, pungent liquid inside her black cauldron.
“What the hell is that?” He wrinkled his nose in distaste.
She looked up at him with a malevolent smile. “’Tis vengeance. I would have thought you of all things would know its sweet scent.”
“Sweet?” He coughed as a stiff breeze blew a whiff of it in his direction. “Smells worse than one of Lucifer’s farts.”
She shook her head, her eyes glowing from the light of the fire, and from the inner light of her madness. “Were they together?”
Belial backed a goodly distance from the pot and its odor. “Aye. He wants her. But Valteri is a man of fierce control. We’ll have to weaken him.”
The crone pulled the ladle from the pot and tapped it twice against the side. “What do you think this”—she gestured to the pot—“is for.”
Driving away bad neighbors and all sanity by the stench of it.
Belial frowned. “What are you going to do, wave it under their nose until they faint?”
She gave him the nastiest glare he’d ever received and Belial wondered about her sanity to insult him so. “This is my part of the bargain. Yours is to supply the heat to their loins.”
“Lust is my specialty.” Belial floated up to a low-hanging tree limb where he could watch the crone and her concoction and not be in danger of being gassed by that foul stench. “Have no fear. After the wet dreams I’ve sent … well, I’d hate to be in the physical pain he’ll experience come morning.”
Belial started to laugh, but another thought struck him. “Come to think of it, I know just a way to make our little Naşāru herself a little less resistant.” With a wicked smile, he faded back to shadow. “Trust me, she’ll succumb. You can bet your soul on it.”
Then again, she already had.
Gentle music floated through Ariel’s dream. Images of a sweet childhood spent with her brother and parents accompanied the song, until it woke her.
She jolted upright from the bed.
For a moment, she thought her dream had left her, but with each frantic beating of her heart, she recalled more and more of her dream, her life, until she thought she’d burst with happiness.
She remembered herself!
Ariel was giddy with the thought. She remembered her family and her home! Her servants and pets, lessons and lectures!
With a happy laugh, she threw her blanket off, scooped up her kirtle, and ran to seek Valteri. She couldn’t wait to tell him her news.
Pausing briefly in the hall, Ariel looked about, but he wasn’t there. She had to find him to tell him.
On trembling legs, she ran out the door and headed for his pallet.
So intent on her quest, she failed to notice the rider rushing from the stable until it was too late to do anything more than scream.