Dance of Desire (33 page)

"Nor do I." Fane brushed his thumb over her wrist in a deliberate caress. "Yet, I was almost run through by his sword. I believe I am entitled to the truth."

He felt the shiver that coursed through her body. She twisted in his hold, but he did not relax his grip.

Her eyes blazed. "What can I say that you do not already know? He is Rudd's friend. He is arrogant and reckless. He is good with a sword, and he despises you."

"He desires you."

Anguish shivered across her face. "His interest in me is of no consequence any longer, now you and I are wed."

Fane's gut wrenched.
Ah, love, but you and I are not fully man and wife. We have not yet consummated our marriage.

"Do you desire him, Rexana?"

An incredulous laugh burst from her. She shook her head, as though struggling to make sense of what he had asked. "You are jealous of Garmonn?"

Fane's cheekbones stung, but he refused to look away. "I am jealous of any man who dares to lay claim to what is mine.
You
are mine. Until the day I die. I will tolerate no other man in your heart."

A sad smile curved her mouth. Her hand relaxed in his hold to curl like a blossom against his. "I could never hold Garmonn dear."

Pleasure unfurled within Fane. He resisted a smile. His blood screamed for him to pull her close and kiss her. Yet first, he must have answers to the questions that ate at him. "Why not? Once, did you not consider marrying him?"

She looked out across the shifting sea of grass and flowers, as though she saw into the past. "When he and I were younger, marriage was discussed between us, but we were not officially betrothed. My parents were friends of Lord Darwell. He encouraged the marriage. At first, my family supported the idea. I imagine there were many benefits to a union between our two families." With her free hand, she swept away windblown hair. Her gaze shadowed. "After Garmonn returned from crusade, he was a different man. Cold. Ruthless." She paused. "Frightening."

Fane nodded. "War oft changes a man. It can shrivel a soul. Turn it cold."

She looked at him, an intense stare, as though she saw far more than his sun-bronzed skin and disfiguring scars. "You are not cold. In your years of imprisonment and torture, I vow your soul suffered worse than his."

Fane started, for her words touched a protected, tender place in his heart. A howl ripped through him, echoing again and again in his mind, as though he yelled into a fathomless cave. How dare she speak of his soul in the same breath she spoke of Garmonn's? She had no right to pass judgment, when she did not know what Fane had endured, or the decisions he had been forced to make in the name of God and king.

"We do not speak of me," he bit out. "We speak of Garmonn."

Moisture glinted in her eyes, and she blinked before she looked away. Did she weep for Garmonn? For the man he had once been, before battle, bloodshed, and death had changed him? Mayhap she missed the respectable, prominent marriage of which she had dreamed and which never came true.

Fane fought to keep his tone civil. "When he returned to England, did he expect to wed you?"

Her head dipped in a jerky nod. "He made many visits to Ickleton. He courted me. Brought me flowers and gifts. Spoke of the day when we would be man and wife. He was . . . persistent."

"Persistent?"

She shrugged. "He wanted me to press my father for a formal betrothal. When I refused, he tried to kiss me. I pushed him away. He got angry. Father told him not to return until he could control his temper." Her throat moved with a swallow. "I told my father I did not want to marry Garmonn. Father understood. He, too, did not like how Garmonn had changed. Nor did he appreciate the dangerous, foolish pranks Garmonn coaxed Rudd to take part in."

She paused to flick an ant from her gown. "I believe Father intended to tell Lord Darwell there would be no wedding. Before he could, both he and Mother fell ill. They died."

Her words faded to a whisper. With a muffled sniff, she tugged at her hand. "Release me now, Fane. I have told you all you wished to know."

Nay, she had not told him all. She had convinced him she did not lust for Garmonn, but she left a great deal untold. Tension still lined her eyes, while her posture held a hint of caution.

If he drew her into his arms, would she soften against him? If he offered her kisses and caresses, if he coaxed her to confide in him, would she yield what she knew? Would she then let him press her down on the blanket and ease her tension with slow, tender love- making?

Fane's heated blood urged him to touch her. His mind scorned him. He had not wooed her enough. She was not yet completely his.

With a last caress, Fane released her. Wiping her eyes, Rexana pushed to her feet. She exhaled and thrust her shoulders back, as though, despite all that had occurred, she would not fail to carry on.

Fane stood. "Some day, love, you will tell me the rest."

"The rest, milord?"

He smiled.

In the brilliant sunlight, her face paled. Her gaze sharpened. He braced himself for her retort. Instead, she grasped her skirts, turned away, and marched toward the grazing horses.

Her posture told him what her luscious lips had not.
Never.

Fighting the scream welling in her throat, Rexana reached her mount. As the mare shook off a fly and stepped forward to nibble more grass, Rexana retrieved the dangling reins.

Some day, love, you will tell me the rest.

With a firm mental shake, she forced aside Fane's words. She would
not
be ruled by the disquiet pulsing in her blood, or the looming sense of entrapment. She had told Fane what he wanted to know. She had confessed her dealings with Garmonn, yet she had not told of Thomas. Thank God.

The sweetish, comforting smell of horse filled her nostrils. She set both hands upon the mare's warm hide, then shut her eyes. As a child, she had often streaked through the fields on horseback, at one with the animal and the wind, Rudd not far behind. In those irreverent rides, she had escaped her boredom and tiresome duties.

If she leapt onto the horse, kicked it to a gallop, and rode as far as the dusty road took her, would she recapture that exhilarating sense of freedom?

Would Fane thunder after her, or let her go?

Over the sighing breeze, she heard him cinching the leather sack. A moment later, he shook out the blanket with a brisk snap.

She scowled. Her foolish thoughts corrupted her reason. She could not leave Rudd in the dungeon. She could not shirk her responsibility to find the missive, free him and see the treason charge dismissed. She could not ride away, because her duty to Rudd would draw her straight back to Tangston Keep.

The subversive voice in her mind taunted her. She could never flee, even if Rudd were free, because her body, as well as part of her heart and soul, already belonged to Fane.

Grass crunched behind her. Fane strode toward her.

She felt his gaze wandering down her back. Her blood heated in response.

Some day, love, you will tell me the rest.

Nay! She would not. The risk was too great.

Her hands curled around the mare's reins, and her mouth pinched with resentment. Why should she tell him? He had given her little insight into his past. He wanted her heart, yet the gossips whispered he had a passionate affair with a Saracen courtesan. Some said he had loved her.

Had he?

As he approached the destrier, Rexana glanced at him. She was his wife, yet even she did not know the truth. 'Twas not fair she had to reveal her past, when his remained cloaked in exotic mystery.

Even more unfair, she found she wanted to know what had happened between him and his eastern lover.

Fane slung the sack over his horse's saddle. Muscles shifted beneath his tunic as he tied the bag in place, and she tore her gaze away.

"We will leave now."

"Aye."

"I realize you do not trust me enough yet to reveal all you know of Garmonn. For some reason, you are afraid. Yet, I promise you this. He will never hurt you.
I will not let him."

She adjusted her saddle. As Fane's words wrapped around her like an embrace, part of her wept with relief. For months, she had kept the truth of that winter day to herself. Did she dare confide in Fane ? Would it ease the hurt inside her?

Another part of her shrilled a warning. With gilded promises, Fane coaxed her to tell him all. Yet, if he knew the truth, he might be duty bound to investigate. Garmonn would know what she had revealed. Rudd's life would be in jeopardy.

"I have told you what I can of Garmonn. Why do you press me?"

Fane's head swiveled. "I can protect you best if you trust me, and share what you know."

"Trust
you? A difficult task, when you hold my brother prisoner. Indeed, milord, I hardly know you. You are my husband by law, yet most of what I have learned about you has come from rumor and gossip."

He shrugged. "In time, you will come to trust me."

"Will I?"

His gaze turned assessing. "Do you believe all the rumors about me, Rexana?"

"Nay, but —"

"Does part of you worry what Garmonn will tell others about today? Do you fear what the gossips will say about us?"