Dance of Desire (25 page)

Fane caught her elbow and steadied her with a firm grip. His potent male scent encompassed her. Her cravings revived full force, and her whole body quivered, as though he had just kissed her with the exquisite skill he had shown her last eve.

Reproach glinted in his eyes. "I have frightened you."

Her head spun.
Frightened?
Fear did not account for the shivers shooting through her, or the sluggish warmth settling low in her belly.

" 'Twas not my intention to scare you." His thumb massaged her arm through her shift's fabric. "I would never intentionally hurt you, Rexana. You must believe me."

A draft swept across her ankles. Startled her back to her senses. Reminded her she stood before him in naught but her thin undergarment. Reminded her that until moments ago, she had happily enjoyed the bed's warmth.

She shook off his hold. Crossing her arms, she curtailed his wandering gaze. "I am not afraid, milord, but confused. Why do you need the sheets?"

Did a flush stain his cheekbones, or did her eyes deceive her? Before she could insist upon an answer, he turned, grabbed the coverlet and top sheet, and yanked them off the bed. Withered violets swirled in the air and scattered near her feet. He dropped the bedding into a heap, then whipped the bottom sheet off the mattress.

"Milord!"

"Watch. You will understand." He snatched up the knife, then strode toward the hearth, dragging the sheet behind him.

He squatted before the fire and smoothed the creased linen until he found a portion near the middle. Unsheathing the dagger, he cut his little finger.

She hurried to him, her feet pounding on the floorboards. "Stop! God's teeth, are you mad?"

"Nay," he said calmly. "Determined."

He set the knife on the hearth tiles. Relief shivered through her. Thank the saints he would not cause himself further injury. Curse her soft heart, but after seeing his scars, she could not bear to think of him enduring more pain.

Yet, what did he intend? His actions were very deliberate.

The fire's heat reached to where she stood only a few paces from him. She moved closer. Blood glistened on his cut.

"I will fetch you a bandage and salve," she soothed. "Then we will discuss what made you take a knife to your flesh."

Tilting his head, he looked at her. "No need, love. The cut is tiny and will soon cease bleeding." He glanced back at the sheet and smeared his finger on the linen. "There will be no question that we are man and wife."

Cold realization struck her. Plunged into her stomach like a chunk of ice. Mocked her moment of sympathy. Her ambitions of freeing Rudd, then annulling her marriage, shattered to bits like an ice-covered puddle smashed by a rock.

"Virgin blood," she whispered.

Fane nodded. "The servants will look for it when they change the bedding. '
Tis
proof our marriage was consummated."

Her mouth soured with a vile taste. " '
Tis
not my blood."

His narrowed gaze shot to hers. "Only you and I know that. The truth will remain between us."

Angry tremors shook her body.

Grabbing the stained linen in his fist, he shoved it nearer the fire. "I will not have the servants whispering I could not bed my wife on my wedding night."

"You do this to prove your prowess?" she hissed.

His eyes sparked with dark fire. "A warrior's strength is judged not only by his valor on the battlefield, but his skill in bed."

She threw up her hands. "What a selfish, pigheaded —"

"I do not think only of myself." He shifted his grasp on the sheet, and his gaze softened a fraction. "Do you wish to become the subject of cruel gossip? To hear the maidservants' hushed giggles as you walk past? I spare you that indignity."

She ground words between her teeth. "Our marriage, namely the reasons for it, have already incited plenty of gossip."

"With any nuptials, there is speculation."

Frustration heated the skin across her throat. "One stained sheet will not end the speculation about us, milord. Do you really believe that by convincing the servants of our wedded union, that tongues will stop wagging?"

"A naive hope, mayhap. Yet, one day, 'twill come to pass." He smiled and in one breathless swoop, his gaze traveled over her shift. "I only prove with a little of my blood what is inevitable between us, Rexana. I
will
have you."

His words ended on a velvety growl. Need and anticipation swarmed within her. Even now, she craved him. What wretched weakness. She turned to face him with her back.

Her gaze locked upon the mussed bed, even as soft words warmed her lips. "Your reasoning is flawed, milord. I can visit a physician. An examination will prove I am virgin."

His boots squealed on the floorboards, her only warning. His hands closed upon her shoulders, and he spun her around. Fury etched his mouth and knotted his brow.

"You will do no such thing. We made an arrangement. You signed the consent to marriage."

"I remember."

"Then why speak of a physician?" As though catching the thread of ambition in her gaze, his eyes narrowed. "What plot spins through your mind, that you have not shared with me?"

She steeled herself against the urge to break his gaze. She must not imply her guilt, or give away her intentions of an annulment. Her mind scrambled for a convincing answer that would swiftly diffuse his suspicions.

Tipping up her chin, she said, "I do not plot, but think of Rudd. You vowed to do all in your power to save him, if I wed you. I have seen no evidence you intend to do as you promised."

Fane's hold gentled. "Ah. You threaten me, so I will begin helping your brother." He laughed. "You are cunning."

"Determined," she corrected.

He grinned at her reminder of his own words, but his smile quickly faded. "Know this, Rexana. Your plan to see a physician would fail."

Warning flared within her, yet she could not halt the rash words. "You could not stop me."

"I could." His gaze hardened. "I would."

He would, indeed. A man of his authority had means far beyond hers. Why had she been so foolish as to provoke his suspicions? When she wished to secure an annulment, she might need to get a physician's examination.

She forced a careless shrug. " 'Twas only a silly remark. Naught more."

His hands skimmed down her arms and caught her fingers. "I will keep my vows. All of them."

His touch rekindled the forbidden fire in her blood. "Will you?" she whispered.

"I will." He leaned close. His hair brushed her cheek. Of its own cursed will, her body stretched to greet his lips. The remembered taste of him flooded her mind and tongue and drowned her senses. How she craved his kiss!

Yet, at the last moment, he drew back, placed a chaste kiss on her brow, and stepped away.

To her shame, she could not halt a disappointed blush.

He shook his head and growled low in his throat. "Later, love, we will explore our passions. Aye?"

Her flush deepened. Before she could reply, he turned and crossed the chamber. He snatched up the stained sheet, tossed it onto the bed, then dropped the remaining bedding on the mattress. Hands on his hips, he swung back to face her.

"I will wake the maidservants and send them with water, so you can bathe."

A sudden thought trapped the air in her lungs.

"Will you also bathe?"

His lips twitched. "When you have dressed and quit the chamber. If we climbed into the tub together, love, we would do far more than wash."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

A rueful groan burst from him. "One day, soon, you will understand." He spun on his heel, returned to the hearth, and collected his knife. Shoving it into his belt, he strode for the doors. "I have duties I must attend. Later this morn, we will ride. Be ready when I summon you."

"Ride? Where—"

The door clicked shut behind him.

Fane strode across the landing toward the great hall's stairs. He could not move fast enough. His blood pulsed with an earthy rhythm that warned if he had stayed in the solar with Rexana for one more moment, he would have yanked her into his arms. Kissed her. Carried her to his bed. Made love to her until they both collapsed with exhaustion.

How could he have felt otherwise, when she stood before him wearing only a shift? The wispy garment had barely shielded her from his view. The linen's swells and shadows had tempted him more than if she had been naked.

His boots thudded on the staircase, and he stifled a raw laugh. She had wanted his kiss. With the sensual grace of a skilled courtesan, she had raised her lips to him, arching her body to fit against his. How easily he could have slid his arm around her back and drawn her close. Pressed his mouth over hers. Smothered her protests until her virgin passions bloomed.

He scowled down into the darkened hall. Easy to win her body, mayhap. Far more challenging to win her heart.

Snores rattled in the hall. As he stepped down onto the rush-strewn floorboards, he looked across the rows of straw pallets and slumbering bodies. Maidservants. Men-at-arms. Noblemen who had collapsed in a drunken stupor. Dogs.