Once Upon a Castle - Jill Gregory [50]
“Quickly,” Nicholas growled as Arianne tore off her mask and guard’s cloak.
“I’m moving as quickly as I can,” she snapped. Her fingers flung off the heavy tunic.
Beneath the guard’s uniform she wore the sedate green-gold gown of a lady-in-waiting, provided by Sir Castor’s wife.
“Do you remember how to reach the duchess’s apartments?” Nicholas asked as he rolled the discarded garments into a bundle, then draped his cloak over them.
“Down this hall and through the first chamber on the left. Nicholas…” She touched his arm as he reached forward to ease open the door.
“Take care,” she blurted out, suddenly shy as she met his cool gaze. He stared down at her, and Arianne tried to slow the thumping of her heart. It suddenly occurred to her that if something went awry, this might be the last time she ever saw him.
Fear for him more than for herself made her tremble.
“You take care, Arianne. Take very good care. Stay with the duchess’s ladies and avoid the duke at all costs.”
Was that something more than ordinary concern in his voice? Arianne wondered in amazement, lifting her gaze to his intent face. With great gentleness he traced a finger along her cheek. “Don’t try to find me or Sir Castor’s men,” he warned. “When it’s time to act, I’ll come to you.”
His expression changed, softened, as he stared down at her. He’s going to kiss me, she thought on a rush of wild joy, certain that she had not misread the expression in his eyes. But abruptly, almost savagely, he pushed her away.
“Go. Now, Ari. Don’t pause and don’t look back.”
The next thing she knew, he had pushed her out into the corridor and she was hurrying along, glancing neither to the left nor to the right.
She reached the apartment where the duchess and her ladies resided. There was only one woman inside when she slipped through the door—a small, slim figure standing at the window, her light brown hair coiled in a braid so tight that not even a wisp escaped.
The figure stiffened as Arianne shut the door behind her. “I asked you to please wait in the garden. I wish to be alone—“
The small, weary voice broke off when the young woman saw Arianne swiftly crossing the room toward her.
“You…You’re not one of my…who…Lady Arianne?”
“You remember.” Arianne beamed hopefully at her and took her hands. “Oh, Katerine, I beg of you—do not give me away.”
5
Incredulity and shock mingled on the young duchess’s heart-shaped face. Then bone-thin fingers clenched Arianne’s with surprising strength.
“You’re here for Marcus,” she whispered. “I’m so glad!”
She cares for him still, Adrianne thought on a breath of hope. Despite the richness of her sky-blue gown and the jewels at her throat and upon her fingers, the Duchess of Dinadan looked poorly indeed—pale, thin, and drawn, with obvious shadows beneath her soft brown eyes.
“Yes,” Arianne replied, squeezing her hands. “That’s exactly why I’m here. Tell me, have you seen Marcus? Is he all right? Have they hurt him?”
“He’s weak, and Julian had him beaten by that dreadful Baylor only a few days ago—but he has been brave, so brave. Oh, Arianne, it is terrible. Julian is a monster!”
Beaten! Arianne choked back her rage. “It’s clear you’re not happy in your marriage, Katerine—“
“I hate it—and Julian!” Katerine shuddered. “Arianne, being married to Julian is a nightmare.”
“Will you help me rescue Marcus?”
The girl’s eyes shone. She spoke simply. “I’ll do anything to help him.”
“It’s dangerous,” Arianne warned. “If you were to be caught, Julian would be furious.”
“He would not hesitate to have me put to death. I am sure of it,” the duchess whispered. “As for the treaty with my father, he would forgo it and invade Ruanwald in a twinkling.” She took a deep breath, her shoulders trembling. “But I have to risk it—I can’t let him murder Marcus.”
“Don’t worry. If we’re careful, you won’t be caught and neither will I,” Arianne said,