his child now made him question her identity.
Could she lie yet again? Deny her relationship with her
father? What of Laila? Guilt and fear made her drop her gaze.
“I am his daughter,” she whispered.
A twinge of what felt like distress touched her, but it
disappeared before she could confirm it.
“See to your patient.”
Relief surged through her. She swayed, catching his arm to
maintain her balance. Beneath her fingers he felt warm and
solid. A sudden longing to rest in his embrace caught her off
guard. Stiffening her resolve, she thrust aside her hopeless
feelings for Rul Cathor. He could be nothing to her or for her,
but Graham needed her.
“Are you strong enough?” Reluctant concern threaded
Kyne’s words but revealed nothing of his true feelings.
Unable to speak for the emotion clogging her throat, she
nodded.
“You may have saved his life, but he’ll not thank you for
it,” Kyne cautioned.
“I don’t seek his gratitude, only his rehabilitation.”
“Will he walk? Althea thinks not.”
“Graham’s recovery will not be easy or painless, but if he’s
determined enough he should regain almost complete mobility.
I’ve done what I can. The rest is up to him.”
“See to him.” Kyne stepped away from her, and her fingers
slid off his arm. “After you finish with Graham, we will speak
in my chamber.” He turned and strode away.
Dread lodged in Sianna’s heart. Of what would they speak?
Her virginity? Or rather the recent loss of it? Her true identity?
What answers could she give to his questions that would not
endanger her sister?
“Milady? Are you well?”
Sianna pushed aside her worry and turned to meet Betha’s
troubled gaze. “I’m fine.”
Tantalizing aromas of fresh bread, roasted shoat, and spiced
fruit drifted up from the loaded tray the plump little woman
carried. Sianna smiled and buried her apprehension in a dark
corner of her mind. “More than fine if this tray is for me. It
smells wonderful.”
“For you and Graham,” Betha said. “Katya asked me to
prepare it for you. Open the door for me, please.”
“Stay, Warda.” The beast snuffed in protest, but settled
just outside the door. Sianna opened the door and stood aside
for Betha to enter the small chamber.
“Get out,” Graham bellowed. “I said I wanted no visitors!”
Betha quaked and would have dropped the tray in fright if
Sianna hadn’t reached out and taken it from her shaking hands.
“I’ll take it from here. Close the door behind you, Betha. No
need for the rest of the castle to hear Graham’s tantrums.”
With a quick, grateful nod Betha scurried away. The soft
click of the door sounded loud in the silence following Graham’s
outburst.
“I hope you’re pleased with yourself. You scared the poor
woman with your ill-natured roaring.” As she scolded, Sianna
busied herself arranging the tray across Graham’s lap, careful
not to put any weight on his injured thigh.
Graham didn’t answer. She sensed the conflicting emotions
chasing through him—relief and regret. Arms over his bare
chest, he glared at her. Anger simmered in the small chamber.
Pale and drawn, he still possessed a powerful and unpredictable
temper. She steadied the tray and prayed he wouldn’t toss it
away. Though concerned for her patient’s well-being, her mouth
began to water in anticipation of food.
“Eat, then I’ll check your dressings.” She held out a knife
and fork. When he didn’t take them from her, she picked up his
hand and closed his fingers around the utensils.
“I’m not hungry,” he pouted.
She took note of the way Graham’s nose twitched at the
smell rising from the cloth-covered tray and how he licked his
lips. “Of course you’re not, but now that Betha has gone to the
trouble of preparing this tray, it would be sinful to waste food.
If you don’t mind, I’ll join you. I’m starved.” She sat on the
chair next to the bed and lifted the cloth.
As she helped herself to the meal, Sianna felt the battle
raging inside Graham. His strong survival instinct commanded
him to eat and live, no matter what, but his stubborn male pride
demanded he live as a whole man or not at all. His internal
struggle played havoc with her already delicate stomach. Finally,
she stabbed a piece of meat and held it to his compressed lips.
“Eat.”
With obvious reluctance, yet undeniable eagerness, he
accepted the morsel and ate. Only when the tray was nearly
empty did he lower his fork and look at her.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she teased.
A cagey grin eased the tension from his face. “Think you’re
smart, do you,” he answered, his normal good-humor slipping
past his angry distress.
“Of course.” She smiled and removed the tray. “Now let
me look at your dressings.” Without waiting for his approval,
she flipped back the blanket and set to work. A small corner of
the cloth preserved his modesty and hers.
Though his legs were swollen—the discolored skin stretched
taut over abused bone and muscle—no telltale streaks of red
around the gash gave indication of inflection. Her neat stitches
held the flesh together, and the bleeding had ceased. She adjusted
the splints that held his legs immobile. The skin around his mouth
went white, but he didn’t object or move.
But he grabbed her hand when she started to spread a
creamy salve over the raw flesh. “What is that?”
“Naught but an herbal ointment to ease your pain and
promote healing. I’ll not injure you further.”
The mistrust in his voice and eyes hurt worse than she had
anticipated. Would they never accept her? Would her father’s
sins be forever laid at her feet?
***
Kyne closed the door to his chamber behind him and leaned
against the raw wood. Though exhaustion dogged him, inner
turmoil kept him tense. What would he say to Sianna—if that
was her name—when she arrived? His gaze went to the
rumpled, stained bedding, then darted away. Guilt and satisfaction
stabbed him in equal measures.
Virgin. The word and memory lingered in his mind. Aubin’s
last words had been of the possibility of a child. But if Sianna
was not DiSanti’s daughter, who was she and why did she lie?
Questions tormented Kyne, but he’d find no answers until
Sianna arrived. Determined to rest, he moved toward the bed.
One small lamp bathed the room in a soft, mellow glow and
forced his attention to changes in the once barren chamber.
Instead of walking across cold stone floors, his booted feet
sank into large sardak-fur rugs. A piece of lace cloth covered
the rough wooden mantel over the hearth. On the cloth a cracked
clay pot held a profusion of wild flowers. He touched the fragile
petals. The si
lky softness and delicate perfume reminded Kyne
of Sianna’s skin and her own sweet, fresh fragrance. Disgusted
to find himself mooning like an untried youth, he jerked his hand
away.
Two chairs and a small cloth-covered table placed before
the hearth invited him to sit and relax. A bottle of wine and a
glass along with a bowl of fruit rested on the table. With a few
small touches, Sianna had turned his chamber from merely a
place to sleep into a comfortable retreat from the demands
outside the door. Faced with anger and hostility, she had created
a haven of peace around her. Defeated by her solicitude, he
sank into a chair and stared at the cold hearth.
Too weary to rise and light a fire against the growing chill
of night, he let his head fall back and his eyes close. How many
times while fighting DiSanti’s forces had he slept on the hard,
cold ground and listened to his men moan in pain? Too many to
count. In comparison, the discomfort of an evening breeze was
nothing.
Soft cushions cradled his body, and wild flower perfume
filled his nostrils, but sleep evaded him as he waited for Sianna.
Sianna eased the door to Kyne’s chamber open and shushed
Warda as he pushed past her into the dark room. The rest of
the castle slept. Did Kyne? She prayed so.
The meal she’d shared with Graham sat heavy on her
stomach. Grit grated in her tired eyes, and the ripe smell of her
own body made her nose burn. The flesh between her thighs
ached and throbbed with each beat of her heart, a constant
reminder of Kyne’s possession.
She had used nearly all her remaining strength to reach
through Graham’s fear and hostility, but she now felt confident
he would recover. Physically and emotionally drained, she
wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep, which she could
do only if Kyne allowed. In the morning she would be better
able to deal with his questions.
“How does Graham fare?”
Startled, she whirled to face Kyne where he sat before the
hearth. “He does well. The bones are properly aligned and
should heal straight. With work he’ll soon be back on his feet.”
Kyne stood, a tall, menacing shadow outside the lamplight’s
welcoming circle. A fall of dark hair concealed his expression
from her, and she received no hint of his emotions. Was he
angry? Hurt? What did he feel about her lies?
Suddenly she no longer wanted to sleep, she wanted to
confront him, taunt him, tease him, until he let loose his rigid
control and freed his emotions to mingle with hers. She
wanted...she wasn’t sure just what, but knew she would find it
only with this man. A rush of exhilaration pushed her toward
Kyne.
His hard gaze locked with hers, and a twinge of
apprehension touched her. Where was her fear? Was she foolish
enough to prod a sleeping sardak? Her shiver had nothing to do
with the chill of the chamber, but she continued until she stood
before him.
She tilted her head back and searched his eyes in the cool,
blue moonlight. “Kyne.” The word was both question and plea.
With a strangled groan he reached out and cupped her face
in his hand. “Who are you?”
His thumb stroked her cheek. A shudder coursed through
her. “I’m Sianna Di...”
Placing his fingers against her lips, he silenced her reply.
“No. Don’t answer. For tonight who you are doesn’t matter.
Who I am doesn’t matter. I won’t let it. For tonight there is no
Aubin. No DiSanti. No rebellion. No Kyne. No Sianna. Tonight
you are naught but a woman and I am naught but a man.
Tomorrow we will sort out the truth.” He held out his left hand
to her, palm up, fingers slightly spread.
His fierce command ignited an answering spark in Sianna.
Trembling, she placed her right palm against his and watched
as his strong, dark fingers closed over her slim, pale ones. Once
again he offered his protection, and once again she accepted.
For this night.
With dawn would come the questions. Would she have the
right answers?
Twelve
Sianna didn’t question as Kyne led her from the bed chamber
and through the great hall. Her feet flagged only briefly when
he lit a small lamp and started down a darkened stairwell. Would
he now confine her to the castle’s supposedly nonexistent
dungeon? The warm squeeze of his strong fingers around hers
banished her fleeting fear. For this moment in time she trusted
him without hesitation.
Like a quiet, dark shadow Warda padded along behind.
Still, she asked, “Where are we going?”
Kyne’s smile flashed white in the dim lamp light. “To the
bathing cavern below. After the trials of this last day, I thought
you might enjoy a bath. The mineral waters are warm and
soothing, the pool deep enough to swim in.”
Glad the darkness hid her sudden flush, she nodded. “You
are kind.”
“Not kind. Practical. At this late hour it would be difficult
to rouse someone to heat bath water and carry it to my
chamber.”
“Kind,” she insisted, “both to myself and those who would
serve you.”
He grunted in reply and strode ahead, his spine stiff with
male pride as if to deny his gentle gesture. A sigh escaped her.
Would she ever understand this dangerous, demanding man?
Would he ever lower the barriers surrounding his heart and
grant her entrance?
At the opening to the bathing cavern she hesitated. She
had no doubt if she entered she would again join her body with
Kyne’s. Could she be satisfied with a physical joining, when
she craved so much more?
“Stay,” he commanded Warda at the entrance. With a
muffled grunt the beast collapsed across the opening, a shaggy
guard to their privacy.
She watched Kyne move around the perimeter of the cavern
and light the lanterns hanging at intervals on the walls. Redolent
with the smell of water and rock, warm moist air swirled around
her. Below the heavy mineral smell, a bouquet of herbs and
spices rose from the rushes scattered across the rock floor.
She breathed deep and let the scent calm her fluttering nerves.
Like yellow stars in an inky night sky, lantern lights reflected
off the pool’s smooth, black surface. Moisture glistened on rough
rock walls and stone floor like crystal flakes. In this enchanted
place, doubts and fears faded.
“There are towels and bathing powder over there.” He
pointed to a shelf filled with fluffy towels and crystal carafes.
He didn’t wait, but started to strip off his clothing, letting it fall
in a forgotten heap.
Unexpectedly shy, she averted her eyes from the sight of
his bared flesh. At the small splash and the ripples on the water’s
surface, she glanced up. Kyne had disappeared. She stepped
to the pool’s edge and gave a strangled cry when his head
surfaced at her feet. Wa
ter lapped the cool stone and soaked
through her thin slippers. Despite the warmth of air and water,
she shivered.
Pushing back his sleek, wet hair, he grinned up at her and
held out his hand. “Join me.”
Trust me. She sensed his unspoken plea. Did she dare?
Could she not?
Water dripped down his sculpted cheeks, beaded on his
eyelashes, and trickled over his lips. Her tongue slipped over
her own dry lips. She sucked in air and another scent assaulted
her—warm wet male.
The naked need in Kyne’s eyes stirred Sianna’s own
dormant passion. Memories of their earlier encounter flickered
through her mind, until her inner heat threatened to consume
her. He wanted her—Sianna. Anticipation tingled in her heart
and body. Before there had been no conscious choice, she had
given herself to him without premeditation or thought. This time
she must decide.
She kicked off her slippers and took a step forward. At the
edge of the pool she paused. The stone felt wet and warm
beneath her bare feet.
“Are you going to bathe in your clothes?” His tone held a
teasing note, but his gaze burned through her thin tunic.
Tendrils of emotion wafted around her. Longing. Fear. The
two emotions twisted and turned within Kyne like mating water
worms, each struggling to dominate the other.
She knelt in front of him, her gaze searching his. “What do
you long for?”
Surprise crossed his face. “You.”
“What do you fear?”
“You.” The word ended in a groan of defeat.
She loosened the ties that held the neck of her tunic gathered
and allowed the loose garment to slither down her body and
puddle around her feet. Kyne’s sudden intake of breath sparked
an answering gasp from her.
“Beautiful.”
Leaning forward, she rested her palms on his wet shoulders.
Warmth crept up her arms, but faded in comparison to the
searing heat of his hands closing around her waist. With
deceptive ease, he lifted her. Shivering, not with cold but with
scalding desire, she seemed to hover above him. Her naked
breasts gleamed white and brushed against his rough cheek.
Her nipples tingled and contracted into small, hard beads. Then
he let her down into the dark, welcoming depths of the pool, her
Crystal Moon Page 17
