Afterward, he lay beside her on the rock, his eyes closed, one hand splayed on her belly. He lost himself in the lap of water, the drone of dragonflies, and his utter contentment.
She sighed, a thoughtful sound. "Tell me about her."
Fane roused from near slumber to crack open one eye. A chill skittered through him. Did she ask about Leila?
"Who, love?" He feigned a yawn, and prayed his sleepiness would deter her questions.
"The Saracen courtesan. The one you met in the east."
A silent oath exploded in Fane's mind. He had no wish to discuss Leila with Rexana. Not now.
The chill slipped deep into his soul. If he told Rexana the truth, it might change how she felt about him. He might lose her.
He wet his lips with his tongue. "Rexana."
Turning onto her side, she braced her head on one hand. Her legs brushed against his. "I wish to . . . I must know if the rumors are true."
He fought to keep the edge from his voice. "Why? The past is the past."
Looking down, she traced a furrow in the rock. "I still want to know."
He rolled onto his back. The rock's warmth seeped into his skin. The earthy scent of sun-baked stone filled his nostrils, taunted him with memories of merciless desert heat and what seemed a lifetime ago.
His gut whined. He did not have to tell her. He could fabricate a tale, tell her only what he thought she wanted to hear. Yet, he hated the thought of deceiving her. His soul mate, of all people, deserved to know the truth.
"She was very beautiful," he began. As he spoke, Leila's olive-skinned, dark-eyed image filled his mind. He remembered her fragrance, sultry as incense. "She was General Gazir's favorite courtesan."
Rexana's gaze darkened. "And yours?"
Fane smiled, but could not ignore the sadness piercing through him. "Your jealousy is ill placed, love. Leila is dead."
As though sensing his inner turmoil, Rexana fell quiet. Yet, he saw countless questions burning in her eyes.
"General Gazir ruled a fortress not far from Acre," Fane said. "He paid allegiance to Saladin, whom King Richard defeated at Acre."
She nodded. "I heard of Saladin."
"I went to the holy land long before King Richard. I had joined his crusade, but was starved for adventure." A tight laugh broke from him. "As you have probably heard, my father disowned me. I had no land, no coin, so I could scarce feed myself. I could not wait to leave England."
"Oh, Fane," she whispered.
"I proposed that some fellow crusaders and I go on ahead to spy on the Saracens, and gather information for when the king arrived at Acre. He agreed. We left soon afterward. After many setbacks, we reached the shores near Acre, but were attacked. Most were slaughtered. A few of us were captured and sent to Gazir's dungeon." The stench of the eastern hell pit roused in Fane's mind, and he shuddered. "We were chained. Beaten. Tortured."
Her gaze softened. She stared at his scars, and inside, he curled up into a ball. He felt exposed, as though he bared not only his marred flesh, but his soul.
"Go on," she said gently.
Steeling emotion from his voice, he said, "One by one, the others went mad or died. I refused to surrender. I refused to abandon faith in my king or hope of escape. There were nights, though, that I longed for oblivion."
"How did you survive?"
Fane looked up at Rexana. Her fair skin glowed. Her loosened hair, flowing over the rock, had almost dried in the sun's heat. She looked fresh, innocent, the very opposite of Leila's blatant sensuality.
"Without Leila, I would not have lived." Rexana's eyes flared with shock, but he pressed on. "The first time I saw her, she had come to the dungeon out of sheer curiosity. She wanted to see the Christian knight who was too stubborn to die. I remember lying in my cell and hearing bells. I thought angels had come for me. I opened my eyes to see her outside the bars. Her costume glittered like stars on a clear winter night." He rubbed his lips together. "Soon, she visited every day. She brought ointments and oils and tended my wounds."
"General Gazir let her?"
Brutal shivers raked down Fane's spine. "As the months passed, I grew in value to him. In his own twisted way, I vow he admired my struggle. He ordered Leila to treat me so I would survive." He fought the memory of Gazir's mocking laughter. "On the days he met with visiting dignitaries, he ordered me brought to his chambers, chained like an animal. He gloated. Called me the pale skinned English beast. Hauled me around by my chains and showed me off like a prized trophy."
"How cruel!"
Fane struggled to shut out Rexana' pity, and his own suppressed rage. "Gazir did not realize Leila and I had learned to communicate. One day, when I was strong enough, she would help me escape. I would take her with me, so she would be free from Gazir."
"Word by word, she taught me Arabic. While she treated my scarred body, she kept my mind focused on survival. Soon, I understood what my prison guards were saying. And, I understood the conversations between Gazir and his peers."
Rexana smiled. "An advantage, for a spy."
He nodded. "One day, I heard my guards talking about a Christian king's boats being sighted near Acre. I wept with relief. Yet, I also realized I could best serve my king from within the dungeon. I wrote down what I heard on scraps of parchment Leila smuggled beneath her veil. She delivered these to secret messengers who in turn took the information to the crusaders. Many of Gazir's subjects, I learned, despised him." Fane pointed to Rexana's hand. "The sapphire ring you wear was Leila's. She used it to identify herself to her messengers."
Rexana turned the gleaming ring on her finger. "I see."
"When King Richard's forces advanced on Acre," he continued, "my position became very dangerous. Gazir threatened to cut off my head and deliver it to the king as proof the crusaders would never win. Gazir summoned his armies to support Saladin, and plotted an attack. Each time Leila left to deliver a message, I feared for her life. I knew if she were caught, she would die a horrible death. We agreed I must escape.
"One night, she drugged the guards and unlocked my cell. She helped me don eastern robes, then led me through the servants' passages. I could hardly walk, but she urged me on. We hurried into the city. There, we heard the shouts of alarm."
He swallowed, the desperation of that night pulsing afresh inside him. "We ran through the market into the streets. We could not stop or we would die. Leila took me to the house of one of her contacts. We hid in a tiny, secret room under the floor for two days, until Gazir recalled his guards from the city." He exhaled. "Escaping the dungeon was a tremendous moment in my life, yet I was also scared beyond reason. Gazir could still find us. He would not be merciful. Leila . . . understood."
Rexana's lashes flicked down. "You mean, you coupled."
Fane stared down at the rock. He had never told anyone what had happened between him and Leila. Yet Rexana, of all people, deserved to know. He prayed she would not loathe him.
"She begged me to lie with her. I will not speak false, Rexana. I desired her. I had not been with a woman in months, and I owed her my life. Would you not have done the same, if you thought you might not live one more day?"
To his relief, Rexana's gaze did not harden with disgust. She swallowed and looked out across the water, as though deciding what to make of his words.
"We coupled only once. 'Twas not love." He caught her fingers, picking at a ridge of stone. " 'Twas not at all what I shared with you."
A breath shivered from her. "I will try to believe you."
" 'Tis the truth."
"Please, tell me the rest."
He squeezed her hand, forced himself to tell the story to its wretched end. "At dark, Leila and I left for the city gates. Half way there, she handed me her ring and a dagger she had stolen— the jeweled one I still use —and told me where to find a horse. She told me to ride to my king, for she would come at dawn. I tried to stop her from returning to Gazir's castle, but she refused to listen." He paused, his throat raw. "She kisse
d me, then ran into the darkness. That was the last time I saw her alive."
"Gazir found her," Rexana said, her words hushed.
Fane nodded. "When she did not appear the next day, I asked to speak with the king. He had received my missives and knew of the threat Gazir posed. He assigned me an army of knights and we thundered into the city. We besieged the fortress. In the main hall, I found Gazir holding a knife to Leila's neck. She had freed the other courtesans and poisoned his wine before trying to flee, but he had caught her. He knew that she had freed me."
A violent tremor tore through Fane's body. "I tried to save her. I could not stop him. He slit her throat." His voice shook. "I cut his head from his shoulders."
Rexana touched his arm. "Fane."
Bitterness tore through him. "I held her as she died. She made not a sound. She smiled up at me as her life's blood ran onto the tiled floor, and the light left her eyes."
He did not realize Rexana had snuggled herself against him until he felt her hand curling around his neck. "I am sorry," she whispered.
Drawing her close, he said, "As am I."
"You must not blame yourself for her death. Leila made the choice to return to Gazir's castle."
He blinked wetness from his eyes and kissed her hair.
"She acted of her own will."
"True." Fane breathed in Rexana's scent, the essence of his life now. Locking his heart against the past's pain, he caressed her satiny arm. "In the same way, love, you cannot be responsible for your brother's deeds."
Rexana stared at him, then pulled out of his embrace. Before Fane could tug her back, she dove into the water with the barest splash.
She drifted to the surface, and he scowled down at her. "Why did you run away?"
She blew a stream of bubbles. "I wished for another swim, 'tis all. I know we will begin the journey back to Tangston soon." Crooking a finger, she murmured, "Will you join me?"
Fane sighed. She avoided giving him an honest answer. Yet, no matter how she felt about her brother, she could not escape the truth. Her destiny, and Rudd's, forged separate paths.
Fane jumped into the water. The murky depths cocooned him before he rose at her side. He kissed the tip of her nose, and she giggled.
The musical sound touched deep in his soul, rousing the joy, desire and love buried there. Rexana belonged to no man but him. He would die before he let her suffer for her brother's treachery.
He would die before he ever let her go.
Chapter Eighteen
Blinking away tears, Rexana tossed the wax tablet down on the bed. Yesterday, on the ride back to Tangston, Fane had promised to show her the evidence against Rudd. True to his word, Fane had brought the accounts and documents to the solar the next morn.
She stared at the tablets, laid out upon the coverlet and lit by the sunlight streaming in through the open shutters. The words taunted her. The accounts Kester had carefully documented reinforced what Fane had told her — that Rudd met in local taverns with known conspirators to plot treachery.
Equally damning was the missive Fane had shown her. He had not let her touch it, but had held it out to her. Once she had seen Rudd's unmistakable, scrawled signature, Fane had tucked it into his belt. She shivered, remembering his shuttered expression. Despite his feelings for her, he took no chances she might snatch the parchment and toss it into the fire.
She rubbed her lips together, silently praying for strength.
Dragging her gaze from the tablets, she said, "I cannot believe it."
"Why not?" Fane lounged with one hip against the trestle table, holding a half eaten block of cheese. He wore black hose and a russet tunic, the shoulders still damp from his hair. They had bathed together earlier, but the wash had quickly progressed to lovemaking in the tub.
His eyebrow arched. Wanton sparks shot through her. He had quirked his brow before he cupped her wet breasts in his hands and seduced her. He had been very attentive since telling her of his past, as though he feared she now despised him. Yet, how could she, when she had no doubt he cared for her and Leila was long dead?
By the saints, how could she, when he knew how to spin her body into a wondrous sensual whirl?
"Well, love?" With an eating dagger, Fane sliced some cheese and slid it between his teeth. "What more proof do you need? 'Tis more than sufficient to convince the King's Courts of your brother's guilt."
She drew her legs up under her chin, adjusted her gown, and dropped her forehead to her knees. "I know what the accounts and his signature imply. Yet, I know my brother. He would not betray the king."
Fane sighed. The eating dagger clicked on the table before he strode to the bed. He rubbed his hand over her shoulder, a skilled touch that fired her every tingling nerve and made her burn for him. "Come. Break your fast. You will feel better, and your thoughts will be clearer."
A bit of bread, cheese, and fruit would not change her mind about Rudd. Yet, Rexana slid off the bed and walked to the table. Grabbing the dagger, she cut into the peel of an orange. The zesty scent burst into the air.
Fane retrieved the tablets and stuffed them into a leather bag. "I have matters of estate to attend this morn. Duties I should have addressed yesterday, except I was delightfully occupied." His mouth curved in a roguish grin. "If only I could set my High Sheriff duties aside yet another day."
His smile flooded her with sensual anticipation. She swayed her body in brazen invitation. "I shall await your return."
"I am counting on it." He crossed to her. His mouth danced over hers in an arousing rhythm. As his scent mingled with the orange's, loyalties warred within her. Her fingers itched to drop the fruit and grab the missive, while her mind scorned the hope that she would reach the hearth in time to toss the parchment into the flames. Her heart screamed that Fane would consider such actions the worst betrayal. He would never, ever forgive her.
Why did the thought of betraying him hurt so much? He had come to mean as much to her as her own brother.
Before she had a chance to resolve her dilemma, he groaned, then pulled away. "Think of me, as I will think of you. I will see you anon."
He slung the bag over his shoulder and strode toward the door.
"Wait." She hardly dared ask, yet she must. "May I visit Rudd?"
Fane looked at her. "Why?"
"I must speak to him about this evidence you have collected. Please."
His gaze sharpened, as though he considered the wisdom of her visit. Then, he nodded. "When I return, I will go with you."
Relief filtered through her. "Until then, may I send him clean garments? Surely that is not too much to ask."
"I had thought to see it done myself. Speak with Tansy. She will help you find clothes to fit him, and will see them delivered."
Rexana smiled. "Thank you."
He smiled back. "Thank you, love, for the pleasure you have given me. Our marriage will only get better."
He winked and opened the door.
Dropping the orange and knife onto the table, she hurried to the doorway, her silk gown brushing at her ankles. As Fane turned onto the landing that led down to the hall, she waved. He disappeared from view, and she ordered one of the guards to send for Tansy.
Rexana closed the solar doors and leaned back against them. Her gaze fell to the half eaten food. Anticipation drummed to life in her blood. A plan, hovering at the edge of her consciousness, coalesced in her mind.
Could it succeed?
With slow strides, she crossed to the table. The eating dagger glinted in the sunlight. 'Twas a common knife, devoid of fancy patterning like Fane's. The dagger was one of several brought up by the kitchen staff, used by the chaplain and steward, and made available to visiting dignitaries who had forgotten their own.
She fingered the small knife. Nausea churned inside her. She had no choice. If she did not seize this opportunity, her brother might end up beheaded. She knew him to be innocent, but the evidence she had seen against him was overwhelming.
Oh, Go
d. Could she conceal the dagger in the clothing she sent to Rudd? Could she betray Fane's trust?
Her stomach clenched. She could. She must.
A knock sounded on the door. Tansy.
"One moment." Rexana grabbed the knife, slashed an opening in her sleeve's cuff, then pushed the dagger inside. She forced herself to ignore her conscience's warning cry and the ache consuming her heart.
She could. She must.
As Fane climbed the forebuilding's steps to the hall for the midday meal, his strides lightened. He had investigated a dispute between neighboring cotters, collected overdue tithes from a nobleman, and dismissed baseless accusations of stealing brought against a peasant girl. Fane smiled. That afternoon, he would have time to spare, and would spend it with Rexana.
Their coupling in the bathtub had been extraordinary. What would it be like to make love on the garden bench?
He imagined Rexana's bared breasts, shimmering in the sunlight like pearls. Her pale skin flushed and damp. Her nude body, stretched out on the stone, writhing against him. He could not remember desiring a woman with such hunger.
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