Dance of Desire (37 page)

After replacing the items in Fane's chest, she shut the lid and stood. Hugging her arms to her bodice, she strolled to the solar window. Dusk had fallen like a gray blanket. Stars twinkled, tiny winking pinpoints of light. Sparks of hope in the vast stretch of blackness.

Rexana closed and latched the shutters, curtailing the cold breeze. She had sought to save her brother's young life. She had found proof of the bitterness in Fane's.

How foolish, that she wished she could share some of her love with Fane.

Fane raked his hand through his hair as he started up the landing's stairs. Below, in the shadowed hall, castle folk slumbered. Weariness made his steps heavy, and he willed away the fatigue. He would not allow it to impair his judgment, or allow Rexana to glean answers from him that she would no doubt demand. Answers his duty forbade him to reveal.

He had no wish to do battle with her. 'Twas well past midnight, yet he had not obtained all the answers he sought from Villeaux. The lad refused to tell all he knew about the traitors or outright confess his guilt, but the link between Rexana, Newland, and Rudd was clear.

Fair Rexana had acted with rare courage the day she risked her own life to save Newland's. If the events had transpired as Rudd said, she had selflessly accepted responsibility for the life of a man well below her station, whose death few would have noticed.

Yet, Fane had to wonder . . . Why had she fought through the driving snow to save Newland? Why had she risked her life? What bound her to the humble farmer, whom, Rudd claimed, she had not met until the day she saw him floundering in the snowdrifts, wounded by his own arrow which had bounced off a rock and buried deep in his leg?

"She is guilty only of a tender heart," Villeaux had said. He had repeated this several times during the questioning. A grudging smile touched Fane's mouth. Mayhap, indeed, she had not wished to see the man die.

He strode into the passage and hailed the guards on duty. When he looked at the solar doors, his gut clenched. She had accepted a similar responsibility for saving her brother. Yet, the evidence Kester had collected and Rudd's own words proved '
twould
be nigh impossible for her — or even a High Sheriff — to prove him guiltless.

Unless Villeaux withheld information that would illuminate his innocence, and explain why his signature came to be on the list of traitors.

Fane frowned. Why would the lad refuse to talk? He knew he faced the King's Courts and grave punishment. Even death.

Unless he had a very good reason to remain silent.

A draft skimming through the passage set the wall torches flickering. Fane rubbed his brow, which pounded with the beginnings of a bad headache. His big, comfortable bed, behind the doors, beckoned.

He hesitated outside the solar. As soon as he stepped in, Rexana would cross to him, demanding to know what his men had discovered about Rudd. Fane knew his wife well enough now to predict the tight pursing of her lips and her narrowed eyes.

He did not want to discuss Rudd. He did not want to argue. He wanted to crawl between the sheets, draw her into his arms, and thoroughly woo her. Make her his. Though the way his eyelids drooped, he doubted he had the stamina to make love to her with any kind of finesse, as she deserved.

A wretched, embarrassing thought.

He depressed the door's handle. The panel did not swing inward. With a tired grunt, he pushed harder. Inside the dark room, an object scraped across the floorboards.

Astonishment slammed through him. Rexana had blocked the doorway. Did she intend to keep him out? Was she still miffed by their earlier disagreement in the bailey?

He shoved harder. Stepped forward. His calf knocked against solid wood, and he yelped.

Across the chamber, the bed ropes creaked. Sheets rustled.

Squinting down, he spied a stool. "Hellfire!"

One of the guards strode to him. "All is well, milord?"

"Aye," Fane snapped. The man's footfalls receded.

As Fane kicked aside the wooden stool, Rexana hurried to his side, her shift flapping about her legs. Eyes wide, she pressed a hand to her mouth.

"I. . . Oh, I am sorry. Are you hurt?"

He scowled down at her. Did she blush, or did the fire lit shadows play tricks on his weary gaze?

He shoved the door closed. "You set this stool here?"

She gave a sheepish nod.

"Why? You intended to send me sprawling to the floor? Or even unman me?"

"Of course not. I planned to return it to the hearth after I had disrobed, but —"

"You forgot."

She crossed her arms. "Aye, I forgot."

He closed the space between them. Stood close enough that her arms brushed against his tunic. Her tousled hair tempted him. So did her unique scent. He longed to take her in his arms to pleasure her . . . yet, God help him, even his loins were too exhausted to manage more than a feeble stir.

He brushed past her. Strode to the side of the bed.

Sat and began to unlace his boots.

Clasping her hands together, she padded to his side. "We must speak, milord. I must know of Rudd and —"

"Not now." As Fane yanked off his tunic and shirt, he prayed his gruff voice was enough to dissuade her. He reached for the points of his hose.

She swallowed. Yet, she did not avert her gaze. In fact, she stared at his loins with undisguised hunger.

Ah, God, 'twas his own fault. Had he not promised, as he left her standing in the bailey, that he would see her later in their bed? Had he not implied that he would couple with her?

He groaned. To his shame, he sounded like a camel with a rotten bellyache. "Rexana."

"I have not uttered one more word. You will not let me."

He sighed. " '
Tis
late. I am weary."

"Please. Rudd is all I have."

"You have me."

She nibbled her bottom lip. To his surprise, she did not challenge his statement, but nodded. "I have you."

He rose, the points of his hose gaping. His pulse thumped. Had he finally won her? Had she accepted him?

Had she realized that they were destined to be together?

His loins warmed. As he reached out to touch her cheek, his hand trembled.

Pressing her lips together, she turned away. He listened to her walk around the bed. The bed shifted and squeaked. She lay still.

Running his tongue around his suddenly dry mouth, he stripped off his hose and tossed them on the carpet. He climbed between the sheets to lie staring up at the beams overhead.

The dryness spread to his throat. He felt parched, like desert sands after months of no rain. Rexana was like cooling, soothing water. He would perish without her.

He must find a way to win her heart. He must make her believe, with all the fire in his own soul, that no matter what happened to her brother, she would forever be Lady Rexana Linford.

Rexana awoke with a start. Her cheek pressed to the pillow, she blinked in the watery light filtering in through the open window. The smoky tang of the blacksmith's fire carried on the breeze, borne up from the bailey. Zounds! She had not intended to sleep so late. Last eve, as she had yielded to a restless slumber, she had vowed to rise with Fane, to demand to know what he had discovered.

A knock sounded on the door. The same noise, she realized
muzzily
, that had interrupted her sleep. She pushed up to sitting. The sheets on Fane's side of the bed were cold. She inhaled his scent clinging to the rumpled linens and scowled. He had managed to rise, wash and dress without her hearing. He had clearly made an effort not to rouse her.

Anger surged inside her. He had slunk away like a slick fingered thief, before they could discuss what he had learned from his men. Mayhap he never had any intentions of revealing what he had learned about Rudd.

Yet, she had every right to know.

The knock came again. Rexana glared at the door. Fane, being chivalrous? Nay. He would not bother to rap, but would stalk in. She shoved aside the bedding and set her feet on the floor. Well, whoever stood on the other side of the door would not prevent her from doing what she must to free Rudd.

She would begin this morn, by visiting him in the dungeon.

She opened the door to see Tansy, Nelda and Celeste. They carried cloths, along with water for washing, and a trencher of bread and cheese accompanied by an eating dagger.

With a polite smile, Rexana ushered them in. The sooner she ate and dressed, the sooner she could see Rudd.

Celeste and Nelda hurried to the bed and began to straighten the sheets. Humming a familiar love song, Tansy set the trencher, water, and cloths on the nearby table. Then, she eased a rolled parchment from her bodice. "For you, milady."

All trace of sleep vanished from Rexana's mind. A message? From whom? Dear Henry? Rudd? Had her brother managed to acquire parchment and ink? She smiled. Her brother had always been resourceful.

She snatched the parchment from Tansy's fingers. "Who gave this to you?"

"Winton." Tansy turned back to the cloths. Humming again, she dropped one into the water.

Rexana ignored Celeste and Nelda's inquisitive whispers. A frown tugged at her brow. Rudd would not have given a message to the steward, who was loyal to Fane. Yet, the efficient little man did get to all parts of the keep in his daily duties. Mayhap one of the other servants had handed it to Winton, and asked that it be delivered.