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  Ariana blushed as she imagined herself married to Stefan and running from his bed to be with Lorenc. Would she in this scenario consent to be Lorenc’s mistress when she could never be his wife?

  “What’s the matter with you?” asked Bujar, looking at her closely. “You are suddenly very flushed. I hope you are not sickening too?”

  “No, no! I am a little hot, that is all.”

  Bujar cast Ariana one last look and went away.

  The day passed uneventfully with Ariana confined to quarters, maintaining the role of nurse as she fretted a great deal about Lulé and her mission.

  As dusk fell her anxiety mounted.

  The Prince seemed detained and it would not do if he encountered the supposedly sick Zhenka on the drive.

  As The Castle clock struck nine, she could bear the suspense no longer and, donning a warm cloak, slipped out to wait on the drive for Lulé.

  Now, hearing the sound of approaching wheels and a whip cracking the air, Ariana retreated into the trees.

  The Prince’s carriage passed her at such a speed that she was alarmed. What had the Prince discovered to have his horses lashed so hard on what was the home lap?

  What should she do if he went to her room and found her gone? She would have to pretend that she had tired of being cooped up and needed some fresh air.

  The crack of a twig behind her startled her.

  Before she could turn to look, a hand clamped itself over her mouth and she was dragged into the shadows.

  Her heart quailed with terror in her breast.

  Was it the Prince’s agent set to keep watch on her?

  “Ssssh. Don’t be afraid. It’s only Lorenc,” came a voice in her ear.

  Now he released her and she spun around to face him. His expression was so grave and forbidding that she made no move towards him.

  Their eyes met, his pupils flared, but he did not reach for her. Some invisible barrier stood between them.

  “Follow me,” was all he said.

  As if in a trance, Ariana fell into step behind him.

  She had never dreamed that she might set eyes on Lorenc again. Now that she had, she was worried at his air of distance.

  Had their last tryst in the woods been a mere game for him?

  He led her to the self-same clearing where that tryst had taken place. Was this a ruse to torment her?

  She made to speak but he held up a hand, frowning.

  She was taken aback at his expression. There was a dullness there and a look of defeat that alarmed her. What had happened?

  She could contain herself no longer.

  “Lulé?” she burst forth. “Did Lulé reach you?”

  “She did,” he replied.

  Ariana looked round, as if expecting Lulé to appear at any minute.

  “Then – where is she?”

  Lorenc looked startled.

  “She has not returned?”

  “No.”

  “She left the camp four hours before me.”

  “Then she should be here by now.” Ariana wrung her hands anxiously. “Where could she be?”

  Lorenc considered.

  “Maybe she stopped to change horses. The one she rode did not seem likely to make it back to Dukka.”

  Ariana hoped that this was the explanation.

  “After she left,” Lorenc continued, “I organised the moving of the camp.”

  “So my message was useful!” declared Ariana with a hint of bitterness.

  She could never have suspected that he would treat her with this much coldness after what had passed between them on that last encounter. He had as good as devoured her with his kisses and his passion had blazed in his eyes.

  He glanced at her and away.

  “Yes. No doubt you have saved my men and myself – and Bonnie.”

  “Why are you not with them now?” Ariana asked.

  Lorenc leaned on a tree and stared up at the sky.

  “I could not go until I had seen you.”

  Until he had seen her! Her heart gave a hopeful leap. She took a step towards Lorenc, but, still not looking her way, he put up a hand again to stall her.

  “There is a question I need answered,” he said in such a sober tone that she faltered.

  “W-what is it?”

  He lowered his head to regard her. His eyes were as black and deep as the mountain pool and as cold.

  “Is it indeed ‘gladly’ that you fulfil your obligation to Prince Stefan?”

  Ariana stood in confusion. If he had come to ask her this, then it was because he cared. But if he cared, why did he not sweep her up in his arms and carry her away now rather than linger to question her?

  By coming here he was dicing with danger, when she had just pledged away her happiness to keep him safe.

  Was it mere rivalry that brought him here to test her resolve? She searched his face for a clue.

  Lorenc now grew impatient.

  “Tell me, Lady, is it really true that you have gladly agreed to marry the Prince?”

  Ariana’s voice shook.

  “I-I don’t know – what I should say – ” she began, but a familiar hated voice from the shadows cut her short.

  “Yes, she has agreed. Ariana is mine, Lorenc – mine!”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Prince Stefan stepped forward.

  Lorenc’s hand moved to the hilt of his knife, but it was clear that this was a pointless gesture. The Prince was armed with a pistol and was not alone. His men were with him and in the light of a lamp that one of them carried it was clear that they too brandished weapons.

  “We meet at last, eh, Lorenc?” sneered the Prince. “But where, oh where, is your hook nose and beard?”

  Lorenc made no response to this mention of ‘hook nose and beard’. No doubt he guessed that Ariana had so described him in order to throw the Prince off his scent.

  Meanwhile that strange emphasis that Stefan made on Lorenc’s name – Lorenc – puzzled Ariana. She looked to Lorenc for a clue, but his eyes were fixed on the Prince.

  Seeing the two men together for the first time she was struck anew by their uncanny resemblance. She could not have told one from the other were it not for the wildly different clothes.

  Even their expressions were at this moment similar, a murderous scorn consuming the features of each man.

  “An unhappy encounter, Stefan!” returned Lorenc.

  “For you, certainly,” leered the Prince, “although I admit it disturbs me to see my fiancée keep company with a dead man.”

  Ariana’s amazed eyes flew towards Lorenc. Dead? What did the Prince mean?

  Lorenc was meanwhile keeping his gaze fixed on Stefan as on a deadly animal, one that might spring for the kill at any moment.

  The Prince continued,

  “I suppose my appearance has thwarted your plans to steal my fiancée away?”

  Lorenc inclined his head mockingly.

  “You suppose right.”

  “Anything to wound me!” sighed the Prince. “Well we will see who has the greater opportunity to wound now, when you are my guest in the dungeons of Dukka.”

  “But you must live first to be such a host!” cried Lorenc, his hand moving to his belt.

  His knife flew straight as an arrow through the air. Were it not that the Prince started aside in shock, the knife would have embedded itself in his head, rather than in the trunk of a nearby tree.

  Ariana heard Lorenc curse under his breath, while the Prince let out a hiss.

  “Before you try another trick like that, Lorenc, you should know that I have a hostage within my grasp, whose loss Ariana might greatly lament.”

  As if at a cue, the agent from Glinica appeared from the shadows with someone. Gagged and bound, her eyes wild with fury, it was Lulé.

  Lorenc froze, while Ariana could not suppress a cry as the Prince shot her an amused glance.

  “Well might you cry out, Ariana. When I left here for Glinica, this poor creature was confined to bed and onl
y you, her Mistress, would do as nurse. How astonished I was to see the invalid risen like Lazarus on the road home to Dukka and riding the self-same nag you arrived on some weeks ago. What miracle was this? She herself would tell me nothing although I did my best to loosen her tongue.”

  At this last admission Ariana’s eyes flew to Lulé. A tell-tale red welt lay across the gypsy’s cheek.

  Lorenc, seeing it too, sprang forward with a roar of rage, but two of the Prince’s men barred his way with their pistols cocked.

  “You assault women now?” he cried out in fury and Ariana knew that he spoke as much of the wound he had seen on her own breastbone as the welt on Lulé’s brow.

  The Prince shrugged nonchalantly.

  “You should know me better than to assume that I make distinction between the sexes when it comes to the extracting of information.”

  “I know you for a scoundrel!” growled Lorenc. He made another move at which came the click of triggers.

  “My men will not hesitate to blast your head from your shoulders at my order,” the Prince warned. “Though I would much prefer you alive, of course. For the moment at any rate.”

  “Of course,” countered Lorenc bitterly.

  The Prince stared at him and then at Ariana.

  “My question is, what was this sick maid doing on the road at all?”

  It was with relief that Ariana heard the Prince refer to his captive as ‘maid’. He obviously had no idea that this was the same gypsy woman he suspected of killing Gezim,

  He seemed happy to answer his own question.

  “I’ll tell you what I suppose. Though Zhenka would not betray her Mistress’s confidence, it was clear that she had been sent out to deliver a message. I returned swiftly to Dukka, where naturally I went straight to my fiancée’s room to discover the truth. So imagine my surprise to find Ariana not there. I suspected that she was somewhere in the grounds awaiting Zhenka’s return, so I came out here with my men to find her. I could hardly have dared hope I would encounter her in the company of the King of the Brigands! No doubt the message brought him here at once, although for what purpose, I can only guess.”

  His gaze settled questioningly on Ariana. She drew herself up defiantly.

  “Indeed, you must continue to only guess, sir. I do not care to discuss the matter.”

  Lorenc turned to throw Ariana an admiring glance, while the Prince glowered.

  “For that you will answer to me later. As to this Lorenc, who seems to have lost the hook nose and beard, he will answer to the law of the land. Of which I – ha ha ha – am the arbiter!”

  “Deceiver!” hissed Lorenc through gritted teeth, as the men with pistols now stepped quickly behind him to bind his wrists with rope.

  He refrained from struggling and Ariana knew that this was out of concern for her own well-being as well as Lulé’s.

  The word ‘deceiver’ was said with such venom that Ariana felt sure that there was more than political enmity between these two men.

  The Prince issued an order and the man with the lamp brought up his black mare.

  He glanced towards Lulé for a moment and Ariana detected a sudden strange look cross his brow.

  “I could almost imagine I knew those features of old,” he began before signalling to Fetor. “You bring the maid and Lorenc. My fiancée must come with me.”

  Ariana tried to turn away, but the Prince was too quick for her. Catching her by the waist, he lifted her up and placed her on the saddle. In so doing her skirt caught under her knee and the hem rode up a little to expose her ankle. The Prince gave an exclamation.

  “Why, such a pretty ankle,” he mocked. “I wonder what other delights await me, when I claim her for mine?”

  At this Lorenc, all caution gone, unleashed a roar.

  Despite his bonds, he hurled himself at the Prince so that he fell with a grunt against the flank of the mare.

  The mare bucked, the Prince fell and at the same moment a shot rang out shattering the still night air.

  With horror Ariana saw Lorenc sway, stagger and sink to the ground.

  Kneeling there, he turned an agonised gaze up to her as blood seeped through his cambric shirt.

  Ariana extended a trembling hand as if to touch him and heal him. Lorenc gave a wan smile and then fell face forward into the earth.

  A strange enveloping mist descended on Ariana’s senses and she fainted dead away.

  She knew nothing until, regaining consciousness, she found herself being carried up the staircase at Castle Dukka. For one wild moment she thought that she was in Lorenc’s arms. Then, as her mind cleared, the image of him sinking to the ground rose before her.

  Twisting her head back, she stared up into the face of the Prince. So like her lost love, her murdered love, yet the dark soul within Stefan was exposed in his eyes, cold as ice and black and unreflecting as lava.

  With a cry she struggled to be out of his grasp. He gripped her tight, but such was her violence that at last he was forced to set her down.

  She stood still, panting, unable to hide her loathing from his gaze.

  “He is dead?” she demanded, trembling with fear.

  He looked at her with a malicious leer.

  “Your precious Lorenc? No. He will live. That maid of yours swore that she had some concoction or other that would staunch the blood flow and help him recover.”

  Tears of relief flooded Ariana’s eyes and spilled over. She did not attempt to hide them or wipe them away.

  The Prince’s lip curled.

  “Such emotion for a mere outlaw? What intimacy developed between you in those mountains? You claim to be a maiden. That had better be true. At any rate I shall find out on the morrow when I make you my wife.”

  He paused to smirk before continuing,

  “And if I discover that you are not as pure as the driven snow, you will join your lover below and never see the light of day again.”

  “I refuse to marry you!” Ariana cried out in despair.

  He gave a smile that sent a chill through her bones.

  “I displease you that much, even when I resemble Lorenc? Well, let me tell you this, I have a penchant for resistance. I enjoy overcoming such distaste in a woman. It will be my pleasure to teach you to regard my embrace in a different light.”

  “That is not possible!” asserted Ariana stoutly. “I would rather die than submit.”

  “Really? It is Lorenc who is likely to die if you do not submit.”

  Turning pale she gripped the bannister for support.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why, this,” replied the Prince coolly. “He is being tended by Zhenka in a perfectly comfortable dungeon here at Dukka. By comfortable I mean – ha ha ha – it has straw and a jug of water. I wish him a speedy recovery so that he may be tried and sentenced as soon as possible.”

  “S-sentenced?” Ariana echoed.

  “That’s right. He is an outlaw and has committed acts of robbery against persons of State. That is treason and the penalty for treason is death. It is within my right to sentence him to be hanged beneath the walls of Dukka and in full view of your window!”

  Ariana’s defiance fled her as swiftly as a river that has breached a dam. In utter disregard for her own pride now she sank to her knees, her hands clasped before her.

  “I beg – you. I beg – for clemency on his behalf.”

  He looked down, a cruel amusement on his lips.

  “Oh, certainly I will consider the matter. But only once you are my wife. Your loving arms might then soften my resolve somewhat.”

  “You would – spare him?”

  “I would indeed spare him. For a life in prison very certainly. But he would be alive, knowing that here in The Castle above his cell, you were nightly submitting to my embrace.”

  He extended his hand which Ariana took. Slowly he raised her from her knees.

  She felt that she could hardly think for despair, but one thing was certain, she must use all her feminine
wiles to keep the Prince content.

  She had not the art to seduce or tease. She lacked the experience to manipulate a masculine will and to bend it to her own wishes. But she must learn, and soon, if she was to keep her Lorenc from the rope.

  “I will s-strive to be – obedient,” she murmured.

  “We will see. Bujar tells me you had the audacity to lock her and, I am supposing, me, out of your room. Tonight we will lock you in and then tomorrow we will be wed.”

  He brought his face close to hers and passed a kiss across her lips smiling coldly.

  “So believe me, it is only the thought of pleasure deferred that prevents me from demanding my rights now before any vow is exchanged.”

  Ariana felt her hand shake in his and withdrew it from his grasp.

  “As you – wish,” she said meekly.

  The Prince led her to her room. Bujar was there and he instructed her to lock the door and keep the key and then turned to go.

  “Wait – sir.”

  The Prince looked back at Ariana, frowning.

  “Before we are wed – there is something I should like to know,” she asked him.

  “And what is it?”

  Ariana drew in her breath.

  “The reason for the uncanny resemblance between yourself and – Lorenc.”

  The Prince regarded her keenly.

  “He did not tell you himself? Very circumspect of him! But, having seen us together, it must be very obvious to you that we are brothers – twin brothers?”

  Ariana gasped.

  “But there is not one portrait of him on the walls here! Not a mention of him in any of your conversations!”

  The Prince looked impatient.

  “Because I disowned him! He is my brother who betrayed his family and his country.”

  Ariana frowned as she recalled something that the Prince had let slip in the clearing,

  “You said you had thought him a dead man – ”

  The Prince flashed a look at Bujar.

  “Dead, yes. I meant – dead to me. Now is there anything else you wish to know, madam?”

  “I wish to know – why you seem to mock his name when you say it?”