Crystal Moon

by Elysa Hendricks

  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