Dance Of Desire

by Catherine Kean

  "Rudd will still be there," he said, "no matter how soon we arrive."

  She glanced over her shoulder and grinned, her face lit by a rare warmth. "You cannot keep up, husband?"

  He grunted, then gave her a crooked smile. "I can keep up, love. I have plenty of stamina, as you will soon learn."

  Blushing, she looked back at the keep. "How do we get to the dungeon?"

  With a swift, efficient tug, he hauled her backward into his arms. She squawked, struggled, until he slid his arm around her waist, turned her to face him, and silenced her with a thorough, wet kiss. She responded eagerly, as though the joy welling up inside her could never be silenced. His loins hardened. Ah, for a bed. Now. Now!

  Mint carpeted the ground near his feet. If he pressed her down amongst the piquant leaves, covered her with his body, devoured her lips —

  Her muffled protest pierced his lust-hazed brain. "The dungeon?"

  Fane clenched his teeth against his burning arousal. He straightened his tunic and caught her hand again. "Follow me."

  He led her into the keep. As they descended the musty stairwell to the fortress's lowest level, her fingers curled tighter into his. He felt the shudder rippling through her, and his jaw tightened. He would not apologize for the unpleasantness she would experience here. Tangston's dungeon was far better than General Gazir's.

  Still, he prayed under his breath that he had not erred in judgment by letting her see Rudd. That her tender spirit would not be wounded by what she saw. That she would glean from her brother details which would lead to the traitors' capture and help crush the stirring rebellion.

  Fane halted at the bottom of the stairs. She stopped beside him. Hesitated. In the shadowed light, her face looked tense. She glanced at the iron barred cells, her eyes gleaming with anxiety, yet also hope.

  A guard crossed to him and bowed. "Milord."

  "Lady Linford wishes to see her brother," Fane said. "I have permitted her a short visit."

  As he looked back at her, she tugged her fingers free. He sensed her withdrawing into herself, steeling herself for what she might encounter. She ran a hand over her gown, then said in a calm, quiet tone, "Where is he?"

  Admiration flooded through him. She might be unsettled, but she would show a strong front to her brother.

  Fane pointed across the dungeon. "There."

  Chains rattled from the farthest cell. Rudd's strained voice came from the darkness. "Rexana? Is that you?"

  A cry broke from Rexana. She tore across the dungeon, her breath lodged tight between her ribs. She flung herself at the bars, wrapping her hands around the cold metal. "Rudd!"

  He pulled at the end of taut chains fastened to his wrists and ankles. Oh, dear God. His hair was matted, his fine garments filthy and torn. The odors of mold and misery wafted from the cell. A painful sob welled in her throat, but she swallowed it down. She must be strong. He must not see her despair.

  Rage roiled in her belly, and it growled like an angry fox. How dare Fane treat her brother this way? How dare he?!

  "Rudd," she whispered. She stretched her arm through the bars. Tried desperately to reach him. Clawed against air.

  He jerked hard against his chains, but their fingers did not meet. "I cannot reach," he said, his voice cracking.

  She heard Fane's clipped footfalls. Sensed his presence behind her. He touched her shoulder, a small gesture of comfort, but she shook it off. Hands clamped into fists, she spun to face him. Her body shook with the storm of fury churning inside her.

  "Why do you treat him this way?"

  "He is a traitor."

  Fury turned her tone shrill. "He is the son of an earl and lord of his own keep, yet you hold him like a beast. Is he so dangerous that you must chain him?"

  Fane's eyes narrowed to angry slits. His mouth opened, as though he intended to reply. Then his gaze slid past her. He nodded.

  Keys clinked. She whirled to face the cell. A guard strode to the door, unlocked it, and pulled it open.

  She ran inside and threw herself into Rudd's arms.

  With a ragged moan, he caught her in a rib-crush- ing hug. He smelled as though he had not bathed in days. The manacles at his wrists pressed into her back. Dust from his garments stung her eyes. She did not care. It felt wondrous, truly wondrous, to hug him.

  "Come away," Fane muttered.

  "Never." She shook her head against Rudd's shoulder.

  "The guard will remove his chains, if you allow him."

  Fane's gritted words pulled at her like invisible hands. She drew back a fraction. "Do you speak true?"

  "I do."

  Gratitude warred with her simmering anger. Fane had made this concession for her. Rage quickly snuffed the idiotic sentiment. Her brother did not deserve to be chained at all.

  She stepped back, catching Rudd's cold fingers, then releasing them. At the terse wave of Fane's hand, the scowling guard strode forward, hunkered down, and unlocked the manacles at Rudd's ankles. The metal sprang open. The chains clattered to the ground. Rudd stood motionless, his moist gaze locked with hers, as the guard freed his wrists.

  The instant the chains fell away, he stumbled to her and hugged her tight. The guard strode away.

  After a long moment, Rudd held her at arm's length. His gaze shot to the doorway, then back to her.

  "You are well?" His voice sounded unsteady.

  Smiling, she nodded. "Better now I have seen you."

  "I asked to see you. Linford refused."

  The scrape of a boot from the doorway warned her Fane stood nearby. Close enough to hear their conversation. Resentment flamed inside her like burning oil. Still, she would not waste her precious moments with her brother. "I asked to see you too." She pressed her hands over his, felt the tremor that ran through him.

  "I cannot believe you are his wife." Rudd drew a harsh breath. "How did this come to be? He has not harmed you, has he? Mistreated you? God's holy teeth, if he —"

  "He treats me well. How do you fare?"

  "I cannot wait to quit this wretched place."

  Anguish underscored his words. He obviously tried to be brave, but he was only ten and five. Far too young to spend the rest of his life locked behind bars, or to be executed for treason.

  She looked up into his unshaven face. "I know you are innocent of treachery. Tell me how I can prove you are not guilty, and I will do it. I promise."

  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. Zounds! Why had she not 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. Had not Thomas's brother made her brooch, as a token of thanks?

  Exhilaration flowed through her, hot as molten metal. 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 had failed to prevent her marriage to Fane? He had failed to live up to her expectations? He had 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 would not 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 s
aid 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 did not hear.

  She straightened. Shock pounded in her veins. Her palms coated with sweat. She glanced at him — she could not keep from looking — but his face remained in a tender smile, as though he had not 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 did not hear. There must be a reason why Rudd 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, like the tart residue from an unripe lemon. A voice inside him whispered he had been deceived.

  He had witnessed her visit with her brother. He had listened, assessed, and committed details to memory, like the occasions when he had been dragged in chains to Gazir's palace hall and displayed as a prized war trophy to visiting Saracens. Rudd had not 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 vibrated from her, potent as a hooded cobra poised to strike.

  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, 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. "Aye, 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 did not 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 groomed 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 horse?"

  They shook their heads.

  Rexana prayed that the shouts had not 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 your 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. As she waited, tapping her foot in the dirt, she prayed Fane's patience would last a bit longer, and that he had not 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.