Daring Damsels

by Domning, Denise

  His mouth curved in a shaky, almost regretful grin. His gaze dropped to the brooch pinned to her bliaut. “You wear it. I am glad.”

  Smiling, she touched the little arrow. “Of course I do. I treasure its beauty, and wear it every day. I shall wear it even when you are free and cleared of all wrongdoing.”

  As she fingered the gold, an idea blazed into her mind. Why hadn’t she thought of it before?

  Thomas would be able to vouch for Rudd’s honor and integrity. Rudd had visited Thomas with her every week as Thomas recovered from his arrow wound. Her brother had given Thomas’s family coin to pay for a healer and to buy food. Hadn’t Thomas’s brother made her brooch, as a token of thanks?

  Exhilaration, as hot as molten metal, flowed through her. She must visit Thomas as soon as possible, and see her brother freed from this horrible imprisonment.

  Rudd leaned closer, until his tattered sleeve brushed her wrist. “Rexana?”

  “Do not lose hope,” she murmured. “I will not fail you.”

  He shook his head. “I fear I have failed you.”

  His strangled words cut like a sharp-edged stone. What, exactly, did he mean? He’d failed to prevent her marriage to Fane? He’d failed to live up to her expectations? He’d failed a promise he had made to their parents? Stifling a pang of uncertainty, she wrapped her arms around him. Told him, with her snug embrace, that she believed him innocent. That she loved him.

  Tears filled her eyes. Her resolve was slipping. She wouldn’t cry in front of Rudd. Not now. Not when she might have found a way to save him.

  She blinked away the wetness. “I must go now,” she said against his grubby shoulder.

  As she drew away, he turned his face into her hair, as though he meant to kiss her. “Keep the brooch safe,” he whispered against her ear, so quietly she almost didn’t hear.

  She straightened. Shock pounded in her veins. Her palms coated with sweat. She glanced at him—she couldn’t keep from looking—but his face remained in a tender smile, as though he hadn’t whispered those few important words. But he had.

  Keep the brooch safe.

  Why? What was so important about the little gold arrow? Rudd had whispered, so Fane wouldn’t hear. There must be a reason why Rudd had wanted his words to be private.

  She felt Fane’s assessing stare upon her back. Disquiet slid through her to settle in her stomach like a lump of ice.

  Her lips had turned stiff and wooden, yet she managed a smile. She nodded once to Rudd. “We will speak again soon, dear brother.”

  “Goodbye, Rexana.”

  Fane watched the guard secure Villeaux’s cell door, then followed Rexana into the stairwell leading out of the dungeon. She ascended with brisk strides, her shoes tapping on the uneven stones. He watched her bottom’s luscious sway. Her skirts rustled, a familiar sound, yet something was amiss. His mouth filled with a foul taste, akin to the tart residue from an unripe lemon. A voice inside him whispered that he’d been deceived.

  He had witnessed her visit with her brother. He had listened, assessed, and committed details to memory, as on the occasions when he’d been dragged in chains to Gazir’s palace hall and displayed as a prized war trophy to visiting Saracens. Rudd hadn’t slipped Rexana any messages. Nor had he spoken words or phrases that suggested hidden meaning or a brother to sister code.

  Rexana reached the top of the stairs. Her head jerked, and she glanced down the corridor toward the hall. Torchlight played over her bound hair and rigid shoulders. Anger, as potent as a hooded cobra poised to strike, vibrated from her.

  He would know what had transpired. His duty demanded it.

  Before she walked away, he loped up the last steps, caught her arm, and pressed her against the wall. When she cursed and tried to shove him away, he thrust his hips forward, until her body was pinned between him and the mortared stones.

  She looked up at him, her lips set in a mutinous line. “Fane, move.”

  Trailing one hand down her hair, he caught her braid. “You have not spoken one word to me, little fig, since we left your brother.”

  Fury glittered in her eyes. “What is there to say? I cannot bear to see Rudd so. ’Tis unjust, disagreeable, and—” Her body shook.

  Fane gently turned his hand. Her braid, as soft as a silken cord, wrapped around his fingers. “Are you not pleased that I released his chains during your visit? Despite your worries, you have seen he is hale, and not being tortured or beaten.”

  Rexana swallowed. “I am pleased. ’Twas most generous of you, and I thank you for the visit. Yet, it changes naught. Now I have gone, he is once again chained. A prisoner. An innocent man condemned.”

  Misgiving raced down Fane’s spine. She told him what he expected to hear, not what he wanted to know. Pressing his lips to her brow, he said, “What else runs through your pretty head?”

  Squeezed against him, her breasts rose and fell on a huff. “Naught I wish to tell you.”

  He chuckled. “At least you do not feed me a falsehood.”

  “Fie! There is naught to tell. You saw and heard all that occurred in my visit with Rudd.”

  “Did I?”

  Her furious gaze locked with his. “Aye.”

  The braid pulled taught. Her head tipped back against the wall, exposing her creamy neck and bringing her pink mouth closer to his. The lust that had blazed between them in the garden rekindled. ’Twould be easy to woo her into coupling with him, and ’twould all begin with a kiss.

  She tried to shove him away. “Release my hair. I am in no mood to play.”

  “I am.” He nibbled her lips, felt her quiver. “I gave you what you desired, a visit with your brother. Now, you will grant me what I wish. What we both wish,” he amended on a rasp.

  “Fane—” Her plea warmed his mouth.

  He kissed her. “Aye, love, you will cry out my name when I make your body soar.” He flexed his hips and relished her shuddered gasp. “Come with me to the solar. Lie with me, naked, willing, so I may show you this pleasure.” His tone roughened with need. “’Tis our destiny, Rexana, as husband and wife. You know it, as well as I.”

  Her blazing eyes shadowed with longing and—God above—indecision.

  Frustration gusted through him like a winter gale. “Come.”

  She looked away. When she spoke, her words were calm, yet held a residual edge of anger. “I need a moment alone to gather my thoughts. Then, I will.”

  “Nay, love. Now.”

  Her lips curved in a wry smile. “You will not force me. You have had the chance, but have not done so.” Pressing her hand to his cheek, she whispered, “A moment is all I ask.”

  Her thumb swept over his skin in a light caress, and his pulse leapt. His fingers loosened, then he released her braid. “Do not make me wait long, Rexana, or I shall come fetch you.”

  He balled his hands into fists, the only way he could keep from lifting her into his arms and carrying her to their chamber. He fought the hunger wailing in his blood, turned on his heel, and stalked away.

  Exhaling a held breath, Rexana stepped out into the sunlit bailey. She had little time, so she must be convincing. Her acting skills had fooled a High Sheriff once. With luck, she should be able to deceive the stable hands.

  Forcing herself to take unhurried strides, to ignore the fury fizzing inside her, Rexana skirted a group of pecking chickens and walked toward the low-roofed stables. She glanced at the lowered drawbridge, then beyond, to a horse drawn cart rumbling on the dirt road.

  A shiver ran through her. Fane would thunder through the hall, bellowing and searching for her, when she didn’t arrive at the solar. He would be furious.

  As she imagined Fane’s handsome face, dark with rage and disappointment, her conscience pinched. She shoved aside the inconvenient emotion. He could never understand her deep bond to Rudd. Seeing her brother in tattered garments and chains had made her quest to clear his name and free him even more urgent.

  In the sunny patch beside the stable, a man g
roomed a white mare. His tongue stuck from his lips, a sign of intense concentration, as he ran the brush down the horse’s glossy coat.

  She cleared her throat. He looked up, saw her, and dropped into an awkward bow.

  Careful not to rush her words, she asked, “Is my horse ready yet?”

  The man hesitated. “Milady?”

  “I asked one of the maidservants to come to the stable, to tell whoever was here to ready a mount for me. I need to ride into Tangston village.” Rexana sighed. “Did she not relay my message?”

  A frown creased the man’s brow. “I . . . Nay, milady.” He called into the stable, and two young boys poked their heads out. “Did one of the maids tell ye ta ready the lady a ’orse?”

  They shook their heads.

  Rexana prayed that the shouts hadn’t carried up to the open solar window. She resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder to see if Fane stood there watching. “Mayhap the maid told one of the other lads.” She waved an impatient hand at the mare. “This one will do. Please find a saddle. I wish to leave now.”

  The groomer’s gaze sharpened with worry. “Does ’is lordship know of yer journey? ’E must be informed. ’E told us ’e must know all who enter or leave the keep.” Thrusting back his shoulders, the man added, “I will not ’ave poisonous spiders in me bed.”

  She ignored her belly’s nervous swoop and forced a titter. “I plan to buy his lordship a special gift. A surprise. Come, now. I am in a hurry.”

  The man mulled her words, then fetched a saddle and bridle. While she waited, tapping her foot in the dirt, she prayed Fane’s patience would last a bit longer, and that he hadn’t looked out the solar window and seen her.

  After what seemed an eternity, the mare was ready to ride.

  Scratching his head, the man glanced about the bailey. “Where is yer armed escort, milady?”

  Rexana stepped up on the wooden mounting block and swung onto the mare’s back. “They will be along soon. Tell them I am on my way to the village. They can catch up with me.”

  “Ye cannot—”

  She snatched up the reins and nudged the mare’s side. The horse trotted forward.

  “Milady! Wait.”

  The man’s voice was drowned by the rhythmic clop of the horse’s hooves. A moment later, she crossed the drawbridge. As she coaxed the horse to a canter, she smiled.

  She couldn’t wait to speak with Thomas Newland.

  Hands on his hips, Fane scowled down at the stable hand. “She what?”

  The man’s face crumpled. Bowing his head, he turned the grooming brush in his fingers. “She told me she ’ad ta ride into Tangston, ta buy ye a gift.”

  Fane bit back a string of vile curses waiting to explode. Anger thumped in his veins. Rexana had deceived him. Deliberately. She’d never intended to come to the solar and taste passion. As she had pleaded for a few moments to collect her thoughts, she’d plotted to take one of his horses and flee.

  Did she try to avoid the consummation? To escape their marriage? Did she truly believe that after all his careful wooing, he would ever let her go?

  Between his clenched teeth, he said, “Ready my horse.”

  The man bowed and scurried into the shadowed stable. Fane flexed his fingers and shrugged away knotted tension. She might run, but he would catch her. Heart, body, and soul, she belonged to him. She was his.

  The captain of the guard strode across the bailey toward him. “Milord.”

  “Find three of your best men. I need an escort.”

  “Aye, milord.”

  Fane glanced at the drawbridge and the winding road beyond. Disquiet fueled his fury. She traveled alone. To his knowledge, she didn’t carry a weapon. The roads were dangerous enough for armed knights, but a beautiful woman riding alone . . .

  He cursed again. Had she no care for her own safety? Why did she take such a senseless risk?

  The stable hand returned with a saddle.

  “Hurry,” Fane growled. “I have no time to waste.”

  His hand settled on the jeweled dagger tucked into his belt. He turned and stormed back to the keep, almost tripping over a dog chewing on a bone. He must take his sword. Before he gave Rexana a well-deserved tongue lashing, he might have to save her pretty neck.

  Through the stand of sun-drenched alders ahead, Rexana spied the thatched roofs of Thomas’s cottage and barn. She urged the lathered mare to a faster trot.

  Not far, now. She couldn’t wait to speak with Thomas. He would help her prove what a grievous error Fane had made in arresting and imprisoning her brother.

  As the mare clopped into the dirt space before Thomas’s home, two girls, busy milking a cow, glanced out of the barn. They dried their hands, waved, then ran to the house. Excited shrieks drifted to Rexana. “Mama! Mama.”

  Thomas’s wife, Mary, stepped out, a swaddled baby in her arms. The scent of cooking food wafted from the open doorway. She smiled and waved, but the welcoming gesture seemed hesitant. Her face, too, held a wariness that hadn’t been evident in earlier visits.

  Ignoring a twinge of unease, Rexana slid from the mare’s back and smoothed the creases from her bliaut. “Hello, Mary.”

  The woman dropped into a deep curtsey. “Good day, Lady Linford. ’Tis an honor to see you.”

  Rexana suppressed a frown. Mary’s voice quavered. Why? Did she feel differently about Rexana now that she was married to the county’s High Sheriff? Surely Mary didn’t believe that the marriage had changed Rexana.

  Offering a warm smile, Rexana swept hair from her brow. “’Tis good to see you. Is Thomas about?”

  Mary stiffened. “’E is. Ye wish ta speak with ’im?”

  “Aye.”

  Mary’s gaze darkened with trepidation, yet she motioned Rexana inside. As Rexana stepped over the cottage’s threshold, her belly tightened. Why did Mary seem so unsettled, even frightened?

  The shadowed interior, softened by candles and a crackling fire, soothed Rexana’s frazzled nerves. Mary must have heard of Rudd’s arrest. Such news would no doubt have caused the family uncertainty, since Rudd had been generous in helping them and ensuring they didn’t go hungry.

  Thomas sprawled in a rickety chair near the fire, his chin drooping to his chest. His game leg stretched toward the warmth. His open-mouthed snores competed with the pot bubbling over the flames. Stepping over a sleeping mongrel, Rexana touched his weathered hand.

  He blinked. When his gaze focused upon her, he sat up with a start. “Milady!” He struggled to stand.

  “Do not trouble yourself. I know your leg pains you.”

  With a frustrated grunt, Thomas dropped back into the chair. “After many long months. One day, soon, I pray I will be able to walk like a man again.”

  “The healer said your wound would heal,” Rexana gently reminded him, “but ’twill take a while. You must be patient.”

  One of the girls hurried forward with a battered wooden stool. With a nod in thanks, Rexana took it and sat down beside Thomas.

  “May we fetch ye some ale, milady? A bowl of pottage?” Mary asked.

  Rexana’s stomach gurgled. She hadn’t thought to pack any fare before she left Tangston, and the steam from the cauldron smelled delicious. Yet, Thomas had five children to feed—including two sons who worked long days in the fields and in the village—and his family had little enough. She couldn’t take their food and drink. “Thank you, but nay.”

  Thomas looked at Mary. He flicked his hand, signaling her and the girls to leave. Mary lingered, as though questioning the decision, but Thomas gave a sharp nod. She ushered the girls outside. The cottage door banged shut behind them.

  Rexana breathed in, trying to quell her racing pulse. Her stomach tightened even more. She prayed Thomas would give her the information she needed.

  “You have come to speak of Rudd,” he said, before she had a chance to speak.

  She nodded. “Sheriff Linford has arrested him for treason. The sheriff refuses to believe he is not guilty. Please, Thomas
, I need your help. You can tell him of Rudd’s honorable character. You are a faithful subject of the crown, and you know Rudd is loyal too.”

  Thomas looked at her brooch, then stared down at the fire. His face shadowed with an odd expression.

  “Thomas?”

  Low, rumbled voices intruded, coming from outside the cottage. She recognized Mary, speaking to her children. Mayhap her sons had come home early, so she’d told them to stay out of the cottage.

  Rexana closed her mind to the distraction. She leaned forward, her hands clenched into her skirt. “Please, Thomas. You must help me save Rudd.”

  The cottage door crashed open.

  A tall, broad shouldered man blocked the light streaming in from outside. The hair on her nape prickled. Awareness and shock rushed through her, a moment before Fane spoke.

  “You are foolish to come here, wife. Thomas knows Rudd is guilty. As do I.”

  His blood pulsing hard against his temple, Fane watched Rexana rise to her feet. As her body straightened, her bliaut smoothed over her hips, the simple yellow gown provocative in the smoky shadows.

  Her gaze shone with anger. “You followed me.”

  “Nay, love. I hunted and found you.”

  She continued as though she hadn’t heard him and didn’t care that Thomas overheard. Her words flew like chunks of ice. “Did you go to the solar, after we spoke? Did you look down from there, see me at the stables, and decide to pursue me? Or did you simply watch from a distance to give the illusion that I had freedom to go, so you could entrap me?”

  He took a step forward. His arms shook with the fury pounding through him. “I did not see you at the stables. If I had, I would not have allowed you to ride out of Tangston’s gates. Not when you had promised with such sweetness to come to my bed.”

  She flushed. “You could not have stopped me.”

  Lust pulsed hot within him, yet he resisted the urge to march forward, grab her arm, and haul her flush against him. To claim her mouth in a kiss. To feel her body quiver with desire and want. He wouldn’t take her here, in this humble dirt-floored dwelling, and the next time he touched her, ’twould be to couple with her.