Dance of Desire (48 page)

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.

It still did.

He would recapture the traitors.

He would not fail his king.

Fane guided his horse to the stable, and, without waiting for a mounting block, slid from its back. He tossed the reins to a waiting stable hand.

"You caught the traitors, milord?" The lad's question seemed to be what all the folk lingering around the shadowed stables wanted to hear.

Fane shook his head. "Not this day. We will search again on the morrow." Managing a smile, he added, "We did find the boy. The traitors let him go."

A woman moved out of the throng. The hostage boy's mother. She gasped and, with a curtsey, bolted past. She hurried to Kester who was assisting the boy down from his horse.

"Mama!" The child ran forward and threw his arms around his mother's waist. She hugged him.