Crystal Moon (21 page)

“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 silky 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. Water 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

body gliding along his. Each touch generated a wave of longing.

She pressed close, melding her flesh to his from shoulder to

knee.

Secure in his embrace, she floated. Like liquid satin the

water stroked them, while scented steam drifted above the black

surface of the pool, swirling gently in the air.

“Touch me,” he groaned. His tongue teased the sensitive

hollow behind her ear.

Made bold by his plea, she ran her palms down his arms. In

response his fingers dug almost painfully into her waist. At her

small sound of distress his grip eased, and his hands stroked

over her hips to clasp her buttocks. His arousal throbbed

insistently against her belly.

Fingers probed between her thighs. In a moment of panic

her muscles clenched, then memories stirred, and her body

seemed to liquefy. Except for the band of Kyne’s arm around

her hips, she felt at one with the pool—soft and flowing, warm

and open. Her legs drifted apart. She rested her cheek against

his shoulder and pressed her lips to the moist skin of his throat.

His low growl of pleasure spurred her to imitate his actions

and taste the flesh behind his ear.

“No more, little witch, or I’ll disgrace myself. I was too

rough and quick this morning. You are still raw and swollen.”

His fingers lightly stroked the sensitive flesh, and she felt a

twinge of pain. But the feeling was quickly overwhelmed by

others far more compelling. Wanting more, she pressed her

hips into his hand.

His soft chuckle made her flush with embarrassment and