The Defiant Bride by Leslie Hachtel Page B

blow. “Let go of me, you lout.” William bent and touched his lips to hers. His response further infuriated her.
    “Let me go, I say!”
    “Certainly, my love. But then you must hurry and prepare.” He pushed her from him.
    “Prepare?”
    “You said you wished to pay your father a visit. Or did I mishear?”
    She softened her tone instantly. “Oh, William, will you truly take me to see my father?” There was hope and excitement in her voice.
    “I gave my word, love, and I shall never break a promise to you lest God himself step from heaven to intervene.”
    Dariana took a step toward him, her anger evaporated. Standing on tiptoe, she placed a sweet kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, William. I shall gather my things.”

    Dariana’s delicate cheeks paled and her hands shook ever so slightly. They had just caught sight of Linford Manor, her home. It was more castle than humble abode and clearly built to sustain any onslaught. The gray stone walls rose to battlements and guards paced above. William wondered as to her apparent nervousness.
    “Is this the woman who fearlessly lived alone in the wild? Affrighted by a mere mortal old enough to be her father?” William made his tone light to take her thoughts from her fears. Darianaseemed not to hear. “And to think this beautiful creature beside me lived but a short day’s ride from my own home. But then, you were probably a most unsightly child.”
    “I was not,” Dariana responded, then laughed out loud when he saw her realize he had accomplished his purpose. “I am worried how he will take it, William. My being alive, I mean. It has been so long that the man has thought me dead, after all. I worry he will hate me. That I could not bear.” Her voice was so forlorn William ached to take her in his arms, but that would prove more than awkward on horseback. Instead, he reached over to squeeze her hand. She smiled. William swore he had never beheld a more beautiful sight in his life.
    As they approached the gatehouse, the challenge rang out. “Who goes there?”
    “’Tis I, Dariana, daughter of the earl.”
    “She is dead and you lie,” came the response. “Tell the truth or the next breath you take will surely be your last.”
    “Evan, is that you?”
    “If it were, how come you to know my name?” the man called back, suspicion in his tone.
    “I know it as I knew it all the years you welcomed me home after my rides in the countryside. I am who I claim. Come, look closer before you threaten my life.”
    Evan squinted down. Then his breath exploded in an audible gasp. “My lady, oh, my lady. Is it true? For it would indeed be a miracle.” Then, louder, “Open the gates. It is our lady. It is truly our lady.” The joy in his voice was evident.
    The gates swung wide as word spread throughout the manor. William tensed as people appeared and gawked at the entrance of their lady. Some certainly feared they were seeing a ghost. They surrounded her horse. The entire procession moved into the outer court, kissing the hem of her gown and making sounds of awe and welcome. William relaxed, pleased that she was being welcomed so warmly. It spoke of the devotion of her household.
    The group edged into the inner court and then a voice rang out above the sounds of welcome. “Dariana?” The voice was softened with disbelief. “Dariana?”
    Dariana raised her head at the sound and she slid from the back of her horse and ran to the one who called her name. He was huge and she disappeared into his bearlike embrace. William watched this scene, his blood burning. He, too, dismounted andstrode to his wife unintimidated. However, before he could make a word of protest, the large man put Dariana away from himself and gazed at her, head to toes and back, shaking his head in disbelief. Then he quickly hugged her to him again very tightly. There was something in his manner of treatment that told William to hold his objections. So, trusting his instincts and attempting to quell