Dance Of Desire
Page 18
"You wish to kill me?"
Garmonn's face reddened. "Why should I not? You forced yourself upon Rexana."
Fane laughed. The sound held no warmth, only warning.
Garmonn flicked his sword in her direction. "Rexana's bliaut is ruined. Her hair is tangled. You must have dragged her kicking and screaming through the water."
Rexana hugged her arms across her bodice. If only she had a cloak to draw around her to shield her from Garmonn's roving gaze. Yet, naught could buffer her against his knowing eyes, or the deadly chill that rippled through her. When she saw the anger etched into Fane's features, the chill deepened.
Oh, Fane. Beware.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the guards reach the stream bank. Fane motioned for them to halt. They hesitated, but obeyed.
"Your words are false," Fane said. "Rexana —"
"I saw." Garmonn's eyes narrowed to slits. "She pushed you away. She tried to flee. You would not let her. You forced her down beneath you, yanking up her skirts as though she were some cheap tavern slut. She would not willingly lie with you, so you forced her to rut with you."
Rexana gasped. How could he accuse Fane of such savagery?
A blush stung her face but, holding her place upon the rock, she met Garmonn's accusatory stare. She ignored the fear crushing her innards, and prayed that he heeded her. "Please, listen to me. Fane did not —"
"Our affairs are no concern of yours, Garmonn," Fane interrupted, "but I have never forced Rexana. I have no need."
Garmonn's hand tightened on the weapon. "Liar!"
In her mind's eye, Rexana saw Garmonn's arm thrust forward. Fane's face whiten with agony. Blood spatter, thick and red, on the stones.
Oh, God. Ob, God!
As though from a distance, she heard Fane growl. "Lower your sword, Garmonn. Now."
"Go to hell."
The pebbles in Fane's hand clicked together, a grim sound. "You are on my lands. You disturb my privacy and make threats upon my life. You have frightened my wife. Do you wish to spend time in my dungeon?"
"You have suffered no harm. You have no reason to arrest me." Garmonn's mouth twisted into a sneer. "My father will convince you that your judgment is flawed."
"You cannot hide behind your sire's position, or his goodwill, for the rest of your life."
The thud of approaching hoofbeats underscored Fane's last words. Sucking in a painful breath, Rexana dared a glance. Lord Darwell drew his horse up beside the guards, tossed aside the reins, and dismounted in the grass with a loud grunt.
Hope flooded through her. Darwell was one of the few people who had influence on Garmonn. Mayhap he would be able to prevent bloodshed.
Mopping his forehead with the edge of his mantle, Darwell hurried down the bank. He slipped and skidded on the stones before halting beside Fane.
"Garmonn, what are you doing? Lower that sword before you cause injury."
"Lord Darwell," Fane muttered. "I did not expect to see you this day."
Darwell's gray head bobbed. "Good day, milord. Milady. We are on our way home."
Fane's brow arched. "Ah."
"I met up with Garmonn at a tavern last eve. We decided to stay the night, as my son was . . . ah . . . unfit to ride." Darwell cleared his throat, then glared at Garmonn. "Put the sword away. You are making an idiot of yourself."
Garmonn's mouth flattened, but he did not move. "Linford assaulted Rexana."
"Neither you nor I can be certain of what we saw."
Darwell adjusted the belt at his waist. "I am sure there is a reasonable explanation, if his lordship desires to tell us. Which, of course, he may not."
Fane shrugged. "Rexana fell into the water. I offered her comfort. I did what any civilized, warm blooded, newly wedded husband would do."
Darwell wiggled his eyebrows. "I see."
"Do not believe him, Father. He lies like a slippery tongued Saracen." Garmonn raised the tip of the sword. His gaze darkened with menace.
Rexana's belly roiled. She ignored Fane's earlier words, forced aside the warning cries within her, and stepped onto the next rock. "Fane did not harm me. I swear, he did not. There is no reason to draw blood on my behalf. None!"
"You speak true, Rexana?" Garmonn muttered. "Or do you try and protect his miserable life?"
"I speak true."
Fane's fingers closed over the pebbles. "I have told you twice to sheathe your weapon, Garmonn. Do it. If you refuse, my men will arrest you."
"Arrest my son?" For a moment, desperation gleamed in Darwell's gaze. Stretching his arm up in a plea, he strode closer to Garmonn's mount. "Do as Sheriff Linford commands, son. We do not want more trouble, do we?"
Garmonn's jaw tightened. He swore, lowered the sword, and rammed it back into its scabbard.
Catching his horse's reins, Garmonn looked at Rexana. Her pulse suspended for a painful beat. His stare reminded her of that winter day, and warned her anew of the threat he had made if she ever told what happened. She had told Rudd that poor Thomas was wounded in an accident. Rudd did not know the whole truth. He could not, or his life would be in terrible danger.
Garmonn's gaze slid to Fane. Brutal promise shone in Garmonn's eyes. "We will meet again, Sheriff."
After wheeling his horse around, he spurred it back toward the road.
Rexana's legs threatened to buckle. Before she collapsed upon the rock like a spent flower, she wobbled across the remaining stones and stepped down to the muddy bank.
Darwell shook his head. His mouth pursed in disapproval. "I apologize for Garmonn's behavior. Since his return from Crusade, he has been . . . unmanageable."
As though he noticed she had left the rocks without his permission, Fane drew himself up to his full height. "He and I have crossed twice. I respect he is your son, but I will not tolerate his rudeness or his threats. Next time, I shall have him arrested."
"I will tell him." Darwell's smile held sadness. "Thank you, milord, for your generous warning. He will not bother you again."
Fane signaled his guards to ride with Darwell back to the road, where Darwell's men-at-arms waited. As the men cantered through the meadow, Fane glanced at Rexana. She walked the flattened grass path back to the blanket. With each step, her drying skirts hugged her body and reminded him, with potent urgency, of all he had touched, tasted, and almost had.
Lust swiftly melted into the anger still burning in his blood. She had disobeyed his order to stay upon the rock. Why? Did she not realize he wanted her out of the fray? Did she not realize he tried to protect her from harm? Her safety meant more to him than his own.
His gaze narrowed on the set of her shoulders and her rigid back. Her movements were stiff, deliberate, not at all carefree, as they had been when she strolled to the water.
An unwelcome sting flared in his gut. She moved like a woman plagued by her conscience. What could weigh upon her that she would react so, after Garmonn's insolent bravado?
Fane's brow furrowed into a frown, and he shifted the pebbles in his fingers. His mind shot back to the feast at Tangston, to his conversation with Darwell before Rexana's dance. Darwell had practically begged for approval of Garmonn's marriage to her.
He wondered what Rexana had thought of wedding Garmonn. Women of her station oft had little say in marriage, but had she pined for him? When she listened to the minstrels' chansons, had she dreamed of
Garmonn's kiss? Of his embrace? Of his making slow, sweet, sweaty love to her?
Jealousy lashed through Fane. Her fear for him moments ago had seemed very real. Yet, mayhap she had not worried so much for his well-being, but for what he might do to hot-headed Garmonn.
Fane's throat tightened, as though a snake had somehow coiled around his neck and begun to constrict. He had thought, after her disagreement with Garmonn before the wedding, that she disliked him. Had she acted her disdain?
Mayhap, at last, he had found the reason why she hesitated to consummate their marriage.
Ah, God. Nay.
He spun back, to find her watching him. Her face shuttered with an odd blend of longing and wariness, before she resumed clearing away the fare.
Frustration ran hot in Fane's blood. He would have an answer from her. She would not secretly crave another man.
He stomped across the bank, through the grass, and dropped to his knees in front of her on the blanket.
Rexana glanced at him. As though sensing his volatile emotions, she averted her gaze and pushed a wrapped package into the sack.
She would not evade him. Not now. Not ever.
As she withdrew her hand, he caught her wrist. Her pale skin reminded him of her soft, silky thighs. With effort, he stifled the urge to press her fingers to his cheek and kiss her palm. "You have not been honest with me, Rexana."
Her bones jerked in his grasp. "Milord?"
"Tell me what is between you and Garmonn."
Panic shone in her eyes, before her gaze turned cool, cooler even than the water at the bottom of the pool. The invisible serpent around his throat squeezed tighter.
"There is naught between Garmonn and me," she said at last. "Why do you ask?"
"I do not believe you."
She stiffened. Her fingers splayed, like a cat baring its claws. "Release my hand, Fane. You hinder my work. After what happened moments ago, I do not wish to speak of Garmonn."
"Nor do I." Fane brushed his thumb over her wrist in a deliberate caress. "Yet, I was almost run through by his sword. I believe I am entitled to the truth."
He felt the shiver that coursed through her body. She twisted in his hold, but he did not relax his grip.
Her eyes blazed. "What can I say that you do not already know? He is Rudd's friend. He is arrogant and reckless. He is good with a sword, and he despises you."
"He desires you."
Anguish shivered across her face. "His interest in me is of no consequence any longer, now you and I are wed."
Fane's gut wrenched. Ah, love, but you and I are not fully man and wife. We have not yet consummated our marriage.
"Do you desire him, Rexana?"
An incredulous laugh burst from her. She shook her head, as though struggling to make sense of what he had asked. "You are jealous of Garmonn?"
Fane's cheekbones stung, but he refused to look away. "I am jealous of any man who dares to lay claim to what is mine. You are mine. Until the day I die. I will tolerate no other man in your heart."
A sad smile curved her mouth. Her hand relaxed in his hold to curl like a blossom against his. "I could never hold Garmonn dear."
Pleasure unfurled within Fane. He resisted a smile. His blood screamed for him to pull her close and kiss her. Yet first, he must have answers to the questions that ate at him. "Why not? Once, did you not consider marrying him?"
She looked out across the shifting sea of grass and flowers, as though she saw into the past. "When he and I were younger, marriage was discussed between us, but we were not officially betrothed. My parents were friends of Lord Darwell. He encouraged the marriage. At first, my family supported the idea. I imagine there were many benefits to a union between our two families." With her free hand, she swept away windblown hair. Her gaze shadowed. "After Garmonn returned from crusade, he was a different man. Cold. Ruthless." She paused. "Frightening."
Fane nodded. "War oft changes a man. It can shrivel a soul. Turn it cold."
She looked at him, an intense stare, as though she saw far more than his sun-bronzed skin and disfiguring scars. "You are not cold. In your years of imprisonment and torture, I vow your soul suffered worse than his."
Fane started, for her words touched a protected, tender place in his heart. A howl ripped through him, echoing again and again in his mind, as though he yelled into a fathomless cave. How dare she speak of his soul in the same breath she spoke of Garmonn's? She had no right to pass judgment, when she did not know what Fane had endured, or the decisions he had been forced to make in the name of God and king.
"We do not speak of me," he bit out. "We speak of Garmonn."
Moisture glinted in her eyes, and she blinked before she looked away. Did she weep for Garmonn? For the man he had once been, before battle, bloodshed, and death had changed him? Mayhap she missed the respectable, prominent marriage of which she had dreamed and which never came true.
Fane fought to keep his tone civil. "When he returned to England, did he expect to wed you?"
Her head dipped in a jerky nod. "He made many visits to Ickleton. He courted me. Brought me flowers and gifts. Spoke of the day when we would be man and wife. He was . . . persistent."
"Persistent?"
She shrugged. "He wanted me to press my father for a formal betrothal. When I refused, he tried to kiss me. I pushed him away. He got angry. Father told him not to return until he could control his temper." Her throat moved with a swallow. "I told my father I did not want to marry Garmonn. Father understood. He, too, did not like how Garmonn had changed. Nor did he appreciate the dangerous, foolish pranks Garmonn coaxed Rudd to take part in."
She paused to flick an ant from her gown. "I believe Father intended to tell Lord Darwell there would be no wedding. Before he could, both he and Mother fell ill. They died."
Her words faded to a whisper. With a muffled sniff, she tugged at her hand. "Release me now, Fane. I have told you all you wished to know."
Nay, she had not told him all. She had convinced him she did not lust for Garmonn, but she left a great deal untold. Tension still lined her eyes, while her posture held a hint of caution.
If he drew her into his arms, would she soften against him? If he offered her kisses and caresses, if he coaxed her to confide in him, would she yield what she knew? Would she then let him press her down on the blanket and ease her tension with slow, tender love- making?
Fane's heated blood urged him to touch her. His mind scorned him. He had not wooed her enough. She was not yet completely his.
With a last caress, Fane released her. Wiping her eyes, Rexana pushed to her feet. She exhaled and thrust her shoulders back, as though, despite all that had occurred, she would not fail to carry on.
Fane stood. "Some day, love, you will tell me the rest."
"The rest, milord?"
He smiled.
In the brilliant sunlight, her face paled. Her gaze sharpened. He braced himself for her retort. Instead, she grasped her skirts, turned away, and marched toward the grazing horses.
Her posture told him what her luscious lips had not. Never.
Fighting the scream welling in her throat, Rexana reached her mount. As the mare shook off a fly and stepped forward to nibble more grass, Rexana retrieved the dangling reins.
Some day, love, you will tell me the rest.
With a firm mental shake, she forced aside Fane's words. She would not be ruled by the disquiet pulsing in her blood, or the looming sense of entrapment. She had told Fane what he wanted to know. She had confessed her dealings with Garmonn, yet she had not told of Thomas. Thank God.
The sweetish, comforting smell of horse filled her nostrils. She set both hands upon the mare's warm hide, then shut her eyes. As a child, she had often streaked through the fields on horseback, at one with the animal and the wind, Rudd not far behind. In those irreverent rides, she had escaped her boredom and tiresome duties.
If she leapt onto the horse, kicked it to a gallop, and rode as far as the dusty road took her, would she recapture that exhilarating sense of freedom?
Would Fane thunder after her, or let her go?
Over the sighing breeze, she heard him cinching the leather sack. A moment later, he shook out the blanket with a brisk snap.
She scowled. Her foolish thoughts corrupted her reason. She could not leave Rudd in the dungeon. She could not shirk her responsibility to find the missive, free him a
nd see the treason charge dismissed. She could not ride away, because her duty to Rudd would draw her straight back to Tangston Keep.
The subversive voice in her mind taunted her. She could never flee, even if Rudd were free, because her body, as well as part of her heart and soul, already belonged to Fane.
Grass crunched behind her. Fane strode toward her.
She felt his gaze wandering down her back. Her blood heated in response.
Some day, love, you will tell me the rest.
Nay! She would not. The risk was too great.
Her hands curled around the mare's reins, and her mouth pinched with resentment. Why should she tell him? He had given her little insight into his past. He wanted her heart, yet the gossips whispered he had a passionate affair with a Saracen courtesan. Some said he had loved her.