The truth struck her so forcefully she nearly opened her eyes wide and had to swallow a gasp. It was something she had considered several times but now she had no doubt. Amiel owed the DeVeaux something or wanted something they could give him. He had become their pawn, although he was probably too blindly arrogant to know it. It was the only explanation for why he now rushed to kill two young boys who would undoubtedly, and unfairly, become disinherited soon. Legally made bastards by an annulment that would be bought and paid for by his parents.
Not only a traitor to his own blood but a complete, blind fool. Amiel ignored the long, bloody history of DeVeaux treachery if he actually thought they would let him live for long after he gave them what they wanted or they gave him what he sought. Every Lucette knew that the king may have forced a truce between the two families but it had not completely stopped the treachery the DeVeaux excelled at, it had merely made them more secretive. Amiel’s arrogance obviously made him think he could outwit his venomous allies. She could almost feel sorry for Amiel but for the knowledge that he wanted to kill Adelar and Michel. That ended any chance of her feeling even the smallest twinge of pity for him.
“I think she wakes,” said one of the DeVeaux men riding with Amiel.
Arianna silently cursed, wondering what had given her away. She had kept her breathing slow and even, was certain she had not moved any part of her body, and had kept her eyes shut enough that no one should have seen even a hint of wakefulness there. Fighting not to tense in fear and show the others the man was right, she waited.
“Nay, she still sleeps, Sir Anton,” said Amiel, his irritatingly nasal voice easy to recognize.
“Are you quite certain of that?”
“She has not even groaned, has she, and that knock upon the head has to hurt.”
There was the hint of pleasure in his voice and Arianna ached to beat him with a thick stick. Her head throbbed so badly it was difficult to restrain the urge to rub her forehead. Only the knowledge that it would do little to help ease the pain kept her from doing so. What truly mattered now was neither her pain nor her injuries, but the plans of her enemy. Knowing what they had schemed could aid her in escaping them, or warning the others when she was rescued.
And she would be rescued, she told herself firmly. She had more confidence in that than in her chances of escaping, especially since she would have to flee on foot. The fact that she would be on foot if she escaped would not stop her from trying if the chance to flee came her way, however. Arianna knew she did not have Brian’s skill at slipping through the shadows, or even hiding in them, but she had watched him do it enough to have learned a few things. What she had learned might be enough to help her at least stay hidden while Amiel and his men hunted for her.
“Well, I believe she is awake, or very nearly so,” said Sir Anton.
“Kick her then. If she is awake that will make her cease her games.”
“I will not kick a woman, especially not an unconscious woman lying on the ground.”
“Such a tender heart you have, my fine knight. I must wonder what hold the DeVeaux have upon you as you are far too concerned with what is right and proper to deal weel with them. But, not to worry this time. I am not burdened by such weaknesses.”
Arianna did not move fast enough to completely evade Amiel’s boot. He struck her in the lower back as she rolled away from him and struck her hard enough to make her gasp with pain. She was still panting from that pain when he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her to her feet. Nausea clenched her stomach as the pain from the blow on her head swept over her. For a moment, she instinctively fought the urge to empty her stomach, but then caught sight of Amiel’s boots. With a groan, she bent toward them and allowed her stomach to have its way.
Amiel’s cry of disgust and outrage gave her a brief moment of pleasure. That was abruptly ended when his fist hit her jaw. She sprawled on her back on the hard dirt floor of the cottage, the force of the blow knocking her away from him and his soiled boots. Arianna cursed herself for provoking the man. If she suffered more injuries she would never be able to take advantage of any opportunity to escape. The way she hurt now, she was surprised she was still conscious and rather wished she was not. A convenient swoon might save her from feeling any more pain but her body was not cooperating with her wish. Instead, she struggled to sit up.
One tall, thin man stood back from Amiel and his lackeys. Watching everything with a frown. Arianna was sure that was Sir Anton, the man who had been so outraged at the suggestion that he kick an unconscious woman. She wondered if he could prove to be a possible ally, but her head was throbbing so badly that she could barely think straight. One needed one’s full wits sharp to turn a man against the others he rode with, especially to make any man betray the DeVeaux. Arianna was not sure she would be allowed any time to think clearly anyway, or be eased from her pain, as long as she remained a captive of Amiel. Claud had been subtly cruel. Amiel was openly vicious.
“You bitch!” Amiel cried once his boots were clean. “You did that on purpose.”