Dance of Desire (31 page)

His mouth skimmed lower, to the fragrant hollow of her throat. She jerked sideways, thwarting his kiss. " '
Tis
not. . . being seen."

He paused. "You wish to lie on my tunic? Is the stone uncomfortable?"

She bit her lip and shook her head. "Good." He smiled, then reached one hand behind him. Caught the sodden fullness of her skirts. Tugged.

"Oh!" She struggled to rise.

With gentle persistence, he pressed her down on her back. Kissed her again. Seduced with his tongue, even as the silk dragged against his wet hose. "Relax, love," he whispered. "Let me lead this dance."

Her breaths quickened. Her brow furrowed into a frown, yet before she could answer, he kissed her again. Coaxed her, with nips at the corner of her mouth and down the side of her neck.

"Fane . . . oh. . . .what. . . Oh, mercy."

One swift tug, and he bared her almost to her thighs. He looked between their bodies at her pale skin and slender legs, lying between his own. A shudder tore through him. He must be patient. He must soothe her virgin uncertainties, to ensure that even her first time, she found pleasure.

She squirmed as though self-conscious, then tried to wriggle free of his hold. As he caught her lips in a reassuring kiss, he reached down to brush his fingers over the smooth swell of her knee. "You are beautiful, Rexana. I will make you feel beautiful. I promise."

She moaned. Her lashes fluttered, and he slid a hand under her calf. Raised her leg. Guided her bent leg onto his back.

Her body tensed. "Fane."

Shifting his weight, he eased down to his forearms, until his mouth hovered above hers. His hair brushed her throat.

He kissed her. Slowly. Tenderly.

Then lowered his full weight upon her.

A raw groan ripped through him, the sound of a starving man gifted with a bounteous feast. At last, they lay chest to chest. Belly to belly. Hardness to womanly softness. Despite layers of damp cloth still separating them, sensual fire blazed through him. His loins tightened. As he expected, her body fit well to

his. Their union would be perfect.

He looked down at her lovely face. Her eyes were closed. A blush stained her cheeks. "Fane," she said thickly. "You must not tempt me like this."

"You complain, wife?"

"You are most wicked."

Laughter warmed his throat. "I know."

She half laughed, half sobbed. "Let me up. I can bear no more."

He did not answer. Words could not convince her like his body could. Pressing a kiss to her brow, he flexed his hips.

She gasped. Her lashes flicked open. He caught the self-reproach and regret in her gaze. Why did she feel so? She treasured her virginity? Or, did she fear the moment of pain that initiated her into womanhood and fully made her his wife?

Before he could ask, a primitive cry warbled in her throat. A sound that voiced his own wanting, need, and hunger.

As though the last of her restraint had fled, she clawed her hands into his hair. Hauled his mouth closer to hers. She kissed him hard, a tempestuous clash of lips and tongue.

Her body shifted under him. Arched against him. Fitted him more fully into her body's curves.

He shuddered. "Rexana."

Gasping, panting, he reached between their bodies.

Yanked up his wet tunic. Found the points of his hose and tore them free.

Over her urgent kisses, he thought he heard shouts. His imagination. Had to be. Now, of all times, fate would not be so cruel.

He buried his face against her neck. Pulled the last of his points free. A moment more, then he could ease himself inside her. Plunge into her tight warmth and make her his.

His hardened flesh pulsed with excitement.

Her hands, sliding up under his tunic, stilled. "I hear voices," she said.

The shouts became insistent.

Hoofbeats
drowned out the meadow's seductive hum.

Fane cursed. He would threaten whoever interrupted with a punishment far worse than ten deadly spiders.

He raised his head.

And froze.

A
man's bellow echoed across the meadow
, jolting Rexana from the haze of desire. Her pulse lurched into a sickening
thud-thud.
She had heard a cry like that once before. It still echoed in her nightmares.

Scrambling off her, Fane rose to his knees. His expression grim, he fastened his hose, shoved his knife into his belt and pulled on his leather boots.

A foul, metallic taste flooded Rexana's tongue as horrible memories invaded her mind. Swallowing hard, she sat up, pushing her gown back down to her ankles, even as her gaze flew to the meadow.

Riders were silhouetted on the road. Two of Fane's guards stood on the outskirts of the grove, yelling and waving at him. The other two, their horses at a full gallop, were half way to the stream, pursuing a lone man on horseback. Ahead of the guards by several paces, he kicked his mount as though he were possessed.

With another angry roar, he whipped a sword from its scabbard. Steel gleamed in the sunlight.

Sweat dampened Rexana brow. Her hand, pressed to the rock, curled around the gold arrow. Her nails scratched on the stone.

Her mind had not played tricks on her.

Garmonn was near enough that she saw the fury contorting his mouth and his jaw's ugly set. Her chest tightened. It hurt to inhale. She heard a strange, wheezing sound, and realized it was her own breathing.

Fane glanced back at her, his visage partly hidden by his snarled hair. "Stay here. Do not move from this rock."

She shivered at the controlled fury in his words. Memories of Thomas's anguished cry, of bloodstained snow, whipped through her mind. This time, Fane's blood would be spilled.

Panic welled between her ribs. She could not let Fane suffer at Garmonn's hand.

She grabbed Fane's leg. "Be careful."

His lips tilted in a grim smile. "He will not harm me. '
Tis
time he learned a lesson or two."

"Nay! He—"

"Later, love, you will tell me. Stay on this rock. Do not cross to the shore until I say you can."

His boots clipped on the rocks. He leapt off and onto the stony shore. He stooped, collected a few pebbles, then set his hands upon his hips.

Fingers pressed to her mouth, she watched Garmonn tear toward Fane. The guards behind him shouted for him to stop. They kicked their lathered mounts faster.

They would not catch him. He was too far ahead. He was skilled at eluding pursuit. Many times he had boasted of outrunning murderous Saracens in battle, when they tried to corner his mount and cut his head from his body.

As his horse bore down on Fane, the ground seemed to shake. The air pulsed with tension. Her body stiffened. Quivered. A scream burned for release.

Garmonn leaned over his horse's neck. Adjusted his hold on his sword's grip. Aimed the blade straight at Fane's heart.

The horse's hooves clattered on the bank. Closer. Closer.

Garmonn's battle roar ripped through the air.

She lunged to her feet. "
Naaayyy
!"

His face twisted in surprise. The blade wavered a fraction. At the same moment, Fane darted aside. His arm snapped back. A stone whizzed through the air and smacked into Garmonn's temple.

Garmonn jerked upright. The horse skidded to a halt, reared, and flailed its front legs.

Blood trailed down Garmonn's forehead to the side of his face. With a jerk on the reins, he steadied his horse. He rubbed his brow with his sleeve. Stared at the crimson stain. Pointed the sword at Fane. "God damned
barbarian]"

"You wish to kill me?"

Garmonn's face reddened. "Why should I not? You forced yourself upon Rexana."

Fane laughed. The sound held no warmth, only warning.

Garmonn flicked his sword in her direction. "Rexana's bliaut is ruined. Her hair is tangled. You must have dragged her kicking and screaming through the water."

Rexana hugged her arms across her bodice. If only she had a cloak to draw around her to shield her from Garmonn's roving gaze. Yet, naught could buffer her against his knowing eyes, or the deadly chill that rippled through her. When she saw the anger etched into Fane's features, the chill deepened.

Oh, Fane. Beware.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the guards reach the stream bank. Fane motioned for them to halt. They hesitated, but obeyed.