Dance Of Desire

by Catherine Kean

  As he took the last step, he forced his mind to neutral territory. He smiled at the matrons and young children waiting patiently beside their tables, nodded to the men-at-arms, and crossed to the dais.

  Rexana sat in her usual place, beside his.

  She looked up, smiling as he approached, yet the warmth did not completely reach her eyes. She looked a little pale.

  A pang of disquiet jarred through him, but he shrugged it aside. After the evidence he had shown her that morn, she had every reason to be unsettled. No doubt she had thought about Rudd's fate all morn. No doubt she was realizing she had misjudged her brother.

  Fane dropped down into his chair and kissed her cheek. "Love."

  "Milord."

  He poured wine into the silver goblet set before her. "You had a good morn? You found plenty to amuse you, and did not get into mischief?"

  He spoke in jest, yet she visibly tensed. Her expression softened, and she laughed. "Milord, the only mischief I entertain is with you."

  He chuckled. Leaning close, he began to whisper a naughty secret in her ear.

  Footfalls rose above the hall's chatter. "Milord!"

  Fane halted mid sentence to glance toward the commotion. Armed guards hurried toward him, their weapons drawn.

  Silence fell in the hall.

  "What has happened?" Fane snapped.

  "Villeaux," a guard said. "He and the prisoners escaped the dungeon."

  "What?" Fane slammed down the jug. Wine sloshed over the rim to stain the tablecloth.

  "They are in the bailey. Villeaux has a knife. They have hostages."

  Rexana gasped. "Nay!"

  Barely holding back the fury scalding his lungs, Fane rose to his feet. "How did this happen? I gave orders —"

  "I do not know, milord."

  He exhaled on a growl. He looked down at Rexana, her face ashen. Anger and dismay roiled in his gut. Curse Villeaux for provoking a confrontation. Curse Villeaux for choosing to take hostages. The situation did not bode well for a quick recapture, for it could only lead to bloodshed.

  How in hellfire had the traitors escaped their cells?

  He yanked his jeweled dagger from its sheath.

  Rexana's hand flew to her mouth. "What will you do?"

  "Whatever I must."

  Her chair squealed back. "I am coming with you."

  "You will stay here."

  Fane skirted the table, stepped down from the dais, and marched across the hall. The armed guards fell in behind him. He took the forebuilding's stairs two at a time, and threw open the door to the bailey.

  Clad in a loose-fitting brown tunic and hose, Villeaux stood near the stables. His right arm was wrapped around a young boy's neck. Fane recognized the lad as one of the stable hands. A knife glinted at the boy's throat.

  An eating dagger.

  Fane scowled. He had forbidden implements of any kind to the prisoners. Who had dared to defy his orders? Rage blazed through him. He would find out, and they would pay dearly.

  A pained grunt drew his gaze to the other three traitors who stood near Villeaux. They wielded swords, stolen from the dungeon guards. They stood over one of the guards, whom they had forced to kneel in the dirt. Blood ran down his face. He swayed from side to side, as though on the verge of fainting.

  With measured strides, Fane crossed to Rudd. "Let the boy go."

  Rudd smiled. The knife edged higher. The lad's eyes flared with fear. "He comes with me. I will not release him and let you kill me."

  In the near distance, Fane heard a woman's scream. The boy's mother. Her cry became hysterical sobs.

  "Mama." The lad's face crumpled. Tears welled in his eyes.

  Fane sensed Rexana step into the bailey. For an instant, no more than the space of a blink, Rudd looked at her. Then, his gaze shot back to Fane.

  Awareness of Rexana whooshed through Fane, even as his anger surged. He had told her to stay in the hall. He had tried to shield her from the inevitable fight. Did she really want to watch him subdue her brother with brute force?

  Frustration pressed like an iron fist against Fane's ribs. Forcing his emotions aside, he weighed his options. The archers on the battlements could shoot the three men, but could not wound Villeaux without harming the boy. Tangston's men-at-arms could overpower the escapees, but again, the child could be injured or killed. So could the guard.

  The knot in Fane's belly tightened. Did he risk harming a defenseless child to recapture Villeaux? Did he risk the guard's life, when the man was newly wed and his wife expected a babe? Did he risk killing Villeaux, likely one of the rebel leaders and thus a key prisoner Fane wanted alive?

  Were such choices not barbaric?

  A grim smile hardened Fane's mouth. Villeaux might not have the stomach to murder a child before a score of witnesses. Villeaux might be bluffing.

  Yet, he did not know Villeaux well enough to know for certain.

  As though sensing his dilemma, Rudd tipped his head to the stable. "I want four horses. You will clear the guards from the gatehouse and let us pass."

  "If I refuse?"

  Rudd's expression darkened. He no longer looked like a misguided youth, but a determined man. "I will slit the boy's throat. My friends will kill your guard. Their deaths will be on your conscience."

  "You would kill a child?"

  For the briefest moment, hesitation flashed in Rudd's green eyes. His fingers curled tighter around the knife's hilt. "Do not force me, Linford."

  "Rudd," Rexana cried. "Nay!"

  Fane heard her skidded footsteps a moment before she reached his side. She looked at him, her gaze frantic. "Let me go to him. I can reason with him."

  "You will go no closer." Fane looked back at Rudd. "He is armed and trapped."

  "He will not harm me."

  Fane's jaw tightened until it hurt. His stomach twisted, as though a knife had plunged into his flesh. It was not mere coincidence that the day she delivered Rudd clean garments he escaped the dungeon. Had she slipped him the dagger? Had she brought about this wretched dilemma? He would ask her, as soon as he resolved the imminent danger.

  Fane signaled to the men-at-arms who had moved into the bailey. Two approached. "Escort Lady Linford to safety," Fane muttered. "Keep her well away from these ruffians."

  The men guided Rexana back toward the forebuilding.

  "Fane!"

  He shut out her indignant shrieks. Strode closer to the rebels. A decision consolidated in his mind. One he despised, but the only choice to avoid bloodshed.

  Yet, his decision might lead him to the rat's nest of traitors.

  "You will have your horses." He ignored the shocked gasps that rippled through the onlookers. "Let me send stable hands to ready them."

  The tension in Villeaux's face eased. "A wise decision."

  Murmurs rose behind Fane. Biting back his fury, he ordered four horses saddled and readied. He sent a man-at-arms to the gatehouse, with orders for the armed guards to leave.

  The rebels abandoned the wounded guard to mount their horses. They grinned in triumph.

  Rage boiled inside Fane and threatened to explode.

  Yet, if his plan developed as he hoped, he would be the victor.

  As Villeaux forced the terrified boy onto the horse, determination burned in Fane's blood. Villeaux might think he had won, but this battle was far from over.

  With an insolent whoop, Rudd urged his horse toward the gatehouse. The other traitors followed. Hoofbeats thundered on the drawbridge.

  Fane turned to the servants nearby. He pointed to the injured guard. "Get him to the healer. See that his wounds are tended, and find his wife." He looked at his soldiers. "To your mounts. Now."

  "You let them escape," the mother wailed. She swooned into the arms of two young girls, a hand clutched to her breast. "My son."

  "We will bring him home safely," Fane said. "This I promise."

  Shouting to their squires, knights hurried to the stables. Bridles jangled. Men-at-arms and stable hands l
ed out horses, including Fane's destrier, which snorted and flicked its tail. The air hummed with anticipation of battle.

  Fane set his hands on his hips. He glanced at the dust rising on the road beyond the drawbridge, then looked to where the guards had taken Rexana. She would answer to him now.

  She was no longer in the guards' care. She stood a hand's span away, her hair mussed. How hauntingly lovely she looked. He cursed the appreciative groan that even now rumbled inside him.

  Her guards hovered at a discreet distance. With a nod, Fane dismissed them.

  He stared at her. Hard.

  "Rudd would not have harmed that child," she said with quiet conviction.

  "You do not know that for certain."

  "I do."

  Fane snorted. "I vow the brother you once knew no longer exists."

  Anguish shivered across her face. She glanced away, as though fascinated by the noise and activity at the stables. His mouth tightened. She would not escape so easily.

  "You gave Rudd that eating dagger. Aye?"

  Her chin nudged up, even as she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. She had done that the last time they coupled, just before she climaxed around him and sent his pleasure soaring.

  Emotions warred within him, the desire to yank her close and kiss her, as well as the urge to shake her. Instead, he cupped her chin, forcing her gaze back to him. "I want an answer."

  She swallowed against his fingers. "Why ask me? A servant may have delivered the knife to him along with his food."

  "They were warned against such folly. None of them would dare to disobey me." His thumb brushed her petal soft jaw. "The only one who might defy me is you."

  After a silence, she said quietly, "I gave him the knife."

  "You concealed it inside the clothes?"

  Her head jerked in a nod.

  Fane swore. His hand fell to his side. "Foolish, wife."

  "I know what you believe. I know what your evidence implies." She trembled. "I tell you, Rudd is not a traitor. He cannot confess his crimes because he has done naught wrong."

  A sigh hissed between Fane's teeth. "He is a criminal. If you will not accept the evidence I showed you, his actions today prove it." His voice thinned to a dangerous growl. "Your actions also make you suspect, love. I trusted you. I granted you a kindness, by sending your brother clean clothes, and you betrayed me."

  She shook her head. Tears misted her eyes. They turned as green as the glade's lush grass. Despite his fury, despite what she had done, he hated to see her cry.

  His voice shook. "We enjoyed such passion, Rexana. We began to trust. Why did you betray me in this way? Why?"

  She did not speak, yet he glimpsed an answer in her watery gaze. She had deceived him to save her brother, yet she had also acted out of self-interest. His soul screamed, as though she had ripped it from his chest. In her heart, she did not really trust him. Like so many others, she saw him as the misfit barbarian who had bedded a Saracen courtesan.

  No matter how he tried, he could never completely win her.

  I do not love you. I never will, she had said the day he had proposed marriage.

  She had spoken true.

  Painful words ground between his teeth. "After what you have done, I should imprison you."

  She wiped tears from her face. "I am no traitor. Yet, if I must be imprisoned for my actions, so be it."

  Fane glanced over his shoulder. "Guards."

  As the men-at-arms approached, she tensed. Yet, her head remained at a proud tilt.

  "Escort Lady Linford to the solar. She is not to leave it. I also want guards posted under the window. From this moment on, no one enters or leaves the solar without my permission."

  Her gaze turned as cold as sleet. "Why not throw me in the dungeon and chain me to the wall, as you did to my brother?"

  He looked at her, a deliberate stare that began at her mouth and traveled down the slender length of her body, then back up to her pursed lips. Ah, God. Even now, he wanted her. Even now, she stubbornly held his gaze, taunting his mangled patience. Even now, she radiated insolence and utter conviction in her wretched brother.

  With cool purpose, Fane arched an eyebrow. "You are still my wife, Rexana. Have you forgotten that I may do with you as I please?"

  Fighting a hurt she had never before known, Rexana walked with the guards to the solar. She stood in the silent chamber, her hands fisted by her sides, as the men pulled the door closed behind them.

  She was alone. Her husband's prisoner.

  Fane's words taunted her. Have you forgotten that I may do with you as I please?

  A sob caught in her throat. She tried to swallow, but her throat refused. Her breath gasped between her lips and, clasping her hands, she pressed them over her heart. It hurt as though tearing in two. One half loyal to Rudd, the other to Fane.

  Stumbling past the bed, she struggled to shut out memories of her and Fane together, naked, rolling, and kissing in their lovemaking. Despite his lust, he had always been gentle. She knew without a shred of doubt that he would never do her physical harm. Yet, his words stung.

  Rage had roughened his voice, yet also anguish. He had taken her actions as a personal rejection. Like a trapped animal, he had lashed out. She had wounded him in a way no swords or arrows or physical scars could, though she had never meant to.

  "Oh, Fane," she half sobbed, half whispered.

  A cold shiver snaked through her. She approached the fire, hugging her arms to her chest. How could she have avoided hurting him? She had been right to free her brother. He did not deserve to languish in the dungeon and face punishment for treason he did not commit.

  She hoped Rudd used his freedom wisely. She hoped he stayed hidden until he could prove beyond doubt he was not guilty. Under her breath, she prayed for his safety and that of the hostage child. As soon as he reached a safe haven, Rudd would let the boy go. The child would not be parted from his mother for long.

  Of course he would not.

  On the heels of that thought, Fane's furious expression blazed into her thoughts. He had worried for the boy. He had feared for the child's life, as well as that of the other wounded hostage. For those who still believed him a heartless barbarian, his honor and integrity was laid bare for all to see.

  How proud he had made her in that moment.

  Exhaling a tortured breath, she knelt by the fire. How could she choose between Rudd and Fane? Would she forever be torn by her loyalties? Chills ripped through her, colder and deeper than before. Sobs burned her throat. Tore from her. She clutched her belly and let the anguish weep from her soul.

  The fire's heat wrapped around her like an embrace. Her body ached for Fane's touch. For his whispered words. For his kisses filled with love, that lightened her spirit and whisked her to a realm of wonder, joy, and pleasure.

  Did he still want her? Would he ever make love to her again with the passion that touched her soul, or had she destroyed all chance of happiness? Would theirs become a marriage in name only, a legally binding union that became an invisible, loveless trap?

  She squeezed her eyes shut. She loved her brother, but she could not bear to live without Fane's love. She would not be wed to him, while he took a mistress to his bed. With a low moan, she sat on the warm hearth tiles and drew her knees up to her chin. She must find a way to resolve this dilemma. Oh, God, she must.

  Or she might lose Fane forever.

  The twilight breeze stirred the destrier's mane as Fane rode into the bailey. His men-at-arms followed several yards behind, and the clatter of armor and horses' hooves rang in the open courtyard. His gaze shot to the guards standing by the keep's wall, as he had ordered earlier, then up to the shuttered solar window. What new betrayal had Rexana plotted in his absence?

  Hurt welled up inside Fane in a violent storm. He still could not believe what she had done—and that he had been fool enough to trust her so completely.

  All afternoon, his heart had throbbed with a terrible pain. It had devoured
him. Robbed him of concentration. Corrupted his logic.

  Was that why he had failed to find Villeaux and his cohorts?

  Fane swore into the breeze and stared at the solar window. He would not allow distractions to undermine his responsibilities. Somehow, he would smother the inconvenient angst. He had survived worse torment in Gazir's dungeon. As he had vowed then, his crown duty took priority.