Read Medieval 03 - Enchanted for Free Online Page A

from
female.
    A woman of intense feeling,
head thrown back, hair wild, lips open upon a cry of unbelievable
pleasure .
    The enchanted .
    A warrior both disciplined and
passionate, his whole being focused in the moment .
    The enchanter .
    Now he was bending down to
her, drinking her cries even as he drew more sounds from her. His
powerful body was poised over hers, waiting, shivering with a
sensual hunger that was as great as his restraint .
    Simon ?
    With a startled sound, Ariane snatched back her
fingers.
    “That cannot be,” she whispered.
    Cassandra’s eyes narrowed, but when she
spoke, her voice was soft, almost supplicating.
    “What is it?” the Learned woman asked.

“What do you see?”
    Ariane didn’t answer. Rather she simply
stared at the fabric.
    It was changing again even as she watched. Now
Simon’s midnight eyes were staring back at her, promising her
a world she no longer believed in, a world as warm and darkly
shimmering as amethysts and wine.
    Enchantment .
    “Nay,” Ariane whispered, “it
cannot be! It is but a mummer’s trick!”
    “What cannot be?”
    This time the Learned woman’s voice was less
soft, more compelling.
    Ariane’s answer was a wild shaking of her
head that sent black locks flying from their careful confinement.
Yet even as she stepped back from the fabric, she reached for it
once more.
    Or did it reach for her?
    “No,” Ariane said. “It cannot
be!”
    Cassandra draped the cloth over Ariane’s
hands.
    “There is no need to be afraid,” the
Learned woman said casually. “’Tis but
cloth.”
    “It appears—the fabric appears too
fragile to wear.”
    Ariane spoke the half-truth quickly, forcing
herself to look at Cassandra’s pale eyes rather than at the
dress that even now was curling caressingly over her hands.
    “Fragile?” Cassandra laughed.
“Far from it, lady. The fabric is as strong as hope itself.
Do you not see the unspoken dreams woven into the very warp and
weft?”
    “Hope is for fools.”
    “Is it?”
    Ariane’s mouth turned down in a curve too
bitter to call a smile. “Yes.”
    “Then Serena’s cloth will drape calmly
around you,” Cassandra said. “It responds only to
dreams, and without hope there are no dreams.”
    “You make no sense.”
    “’Tis a charge often leveled against
the Learned. Is your handmaid feeling well?”
    “Er, yes,” Ariane said, caught off
guard by the abrupt change in subject.
    “Good. Please remind her not to take more of
the potion than I advised. Too much will muddle her
wits.”
    “How would I know the difference?”
Ariane said beneath her breath. “The girl has little more wit
than a goose as it is.”
    Cassandra smiled. It changed her face from austere
to quite striking.
    “Blanche is more like a raven than a
goose,” Cassandra said dryly. “Though she is quite
shrewd in her own way, she will always be distracted by whatever
trinket shines the brightest at any moment.”
    Ariane couldn’t help smiling at the Learned
woman’s astute assessment of her handmaiden.
    With a nod, Cassandra withdrew, leaving Ariane
alone but for the fey dress that precisely matched her eyes. Rather
warily she looked at it.
    Nothing looked back at her but the ripple of light
over rich cloth.
    Ariane didn’t know whether she was relieved
or disappointed. With a muttered word, she reached out to drape the
dress across the bed.
    The same bed she and Simon would share tonight.
    I cannot bear it. Not
again .
    Never again !
    Instead of releasing the dress, Ariane’s
hands clenched more tightly in it. The cloth became a soothing
richness, whispering of a sensuous amethyst world where a
woman’s cries were of pleasure rather than pain.
    Without meaning to, Ariane looked at the cloth,
admiring it. Then she looked into it…
    A warrior both disciplined and
passionate, his whole being focused in the moment .
    His powerful body was poised
over hers .
    The thought sent a surge of emotion through Ariane,
shaking her, making her feel