Dance of Desire (46 page)

Rexana touched his arm. "Fane."

Bitterness tore through him. "I held her as she died. She made not a sound. She smiled up at me as her life's blood ran onto the tiled floor, and the light left her eyes."

He did not realize Rexana had snuggled herself against him until he felt her hand curling around his neck. "I am sorry," she whispered.

Drawing her close, he said, "As am I."

"You must not blame yourself for her death. Leila made the choice to return to
Gazir's
castle."

He blinked wetness from his eyes and kissed her hair.

"She acted of her own will."

"True." Fane breathed in Rexana's scent, the essence of his life now. Locking his heart against the past's pain, he caressed her satiny arm. "In the same way, love, you cannot be responsible for your brother's deeds."

Rexana stared at him, then pulled out of his embrace. Before Fane could tug her back, she dove into the water with the barest splash.

She drifted to the surface, and he scowled down at her. "Why did you run away?"

She blew a stream of bubbles. "I wished for another swim, 'tis all. I know we will begin the journey back to Tangston soon." Crooking a finger, she murmured, "Will you join me?"

Fane sighed. She avoided giving him an honest answer. Yet, no matter how she felt about her brother, she could not escape the truth. Her destiny, and Rudd's, forged separate paths.

Fane jumped into the water. The murky depths cocooned him before he rose at her side. He kissed the tip of her nose, and she giggled.

The musical sound touched deep in his soul, rousing the joy, desire and love buried there. Rexana belonged to no man but him. He would die before he let her suffer for her brother's treachery.

He would die before he ever let her go.

Blinking away tears
, Rexana tossed the wax tablet down on the bed. Yesterday, on the ride back to Tangston, Fane had promised to show her the evidence against Rudd. True to his word, Fane had brought the accounts and documents to the solar the next morn.

She stared at the tablets, laid out upon the coverlet and lit by the sunlight streaming in through the open shutters. The words taunted her. The accounts Kester had carefully documented reinforced what Fane had told her — that Rudd met in local taverns with known conspirators to plot treachery.

Equally damning was the missive Fane had shown her. He had not let her touch it, but had held it out to her. Once she had seen Rudd's unmistakable, scrawled signature, Fane had tucked it into his belt. She shivered, remembering his shuttered expression. Despite his feelings for her, he took no chances she might snatch the parchment and toss it into the fire.

She rubbed her lips together, silently praying for strength.

Dragging her gaze from the tablets, she said, "I cannot believe it."

"Why not?" Fane lounged with one hip against the trestle table, holding a half eaten block of cheese. He wore black hose and a russet tunic, the shoulders still damp from his hair. They had bathed together earlier, but the wash had quickly progressed to lovemaking in the tub.

His eyebrow arched. Wanton sparks shot through her. He had quirked his brow before he cupped her wet breasts in his hands and seduced her. He had been very attentive since telling her of his past, as though he feared she now despised him. Yet, how could she, when she had no doubt he cared for her and Leila was long dead?

By the saints, how could she, when he knew how to spin her body into a wondrous sensual whirl?

"Well, love?" With an eating dagger, Fane sliced some cheese and slid it between his teeth. "What more proof do you need? '
Tis
more than sufficient to convince the King's Courts of your brother's guilt."

She drew her legs up under her chin, adjusted her gown, and dropped her forehead to her knees. "I know what the accounts and his signature imply. Yet, I know my brother. He would not betray the king."

Fane sighed. The eating dagger clicked on the table before he strode to the bed. He rubbed his hand over her shoulder, a skilled touch that fired her every tingling nerve and made her burn for him. "Come. Break your fast. You will feel better, and your thoughts will be clearer."

A bit of bread, cheese, and fruit would not change her mind about Rudd. Yet, Rexana slid off the bed and walked to the table. Grabbing the dagger, she cut into the peel of an orange. The zesty scent burst into the air.

Fane retrieved the tablets and stuffed them into a leather bag. "I have matters of estate to attend this morn. Duties I should have addressed yesterday, except I was delightfully occupied." His mouth curved in a roguish grin. "If only I could set my High Sheriff duties aside yet another day."

His smile flooded her with sensual anticipation. She swayed her body in brazen invitation. "I shall await your return."

"I am counting on it." He crossed to her. His mouth danced over hers in an arousing rhythm. As his scent mingled with the orange's, loyalties warred within her. Her fingers itched to drop the fruit and grab the missive, while her mind scorned the hope that she would reach the hearth in time to toss the parchment into the flames. Her heart screamed that Fane would consider such actions the worst betrayal. He would never, ever forgive her.

Why did the thought of betraying him hurt so much? He had come to mean as much to her as her own brother.

Before she had a chance to resolve her dilemma, he groaned, then pulled away. "Think of me, as I will think of you. I will see you anon."

He slung the bag over his shoulder and strode toward the door.

"Wait." She hardly dared ask, yet she must. "May I visit Rudd?"

Fane looked at her. "Why?"

"I must speak to him about this evidence you have collected. Please."

His gaze sharpened, as though he considered the wisdom of her visit. Then, he nodded. "When I return, I will go with you."

Relief filtered through her. "Until then, may I send him clean garments? Surely that is not too much to ask."

"I had thought to see it done myself. Speak with Tansy. She will help you find clothes to fit him, and will see them delivered."

Rexana smiled. "Thank you."

He smiled back. "Thank you, love, for the pleasure you have given me. Our marriage will only get better."

He winked and opened the door.

Dropping the orange and knife onto the table, she hurried to the doorway, her silk gown brushing at her ankles. As Fane turned onto the landing that led down to the hall, she waved. He disappeared from view, and she ordered one of the guards to send for Tansy.

Rexana closed the solar doors and leaned back against them. Her gaze fell to the half eaten food. Anticipation drummed to life in her blood. A plan, hovering at the edge of her consciousness, coalesced in her mind.

Could it succeed?

With slow strides, she crossed to the table. The eating dagger glinted in the sunlight. 'Twas a common knife, devoid of fancy patterning like Fane's. The dagger was one of several brought up by the kitchen staff, used by the chaplain and steward, and made available to visiting dignitaries who had forgotten their own.

She fingered the small knife. Nausea churned inside her. She had no choice. If she did not seize this opportunity, her brother might end up beheaded. She knew him to be innocent, but the evidence she had seen against him was overwhelming.

Oh, God. Could she conceal the dagger in the clothing she sent to Rudd? Could she betray Fane's trust?

Her stomach clenched. She could. She must.

A knock sounded on the door. Tansy.

"One moment." Rexana grabbed the knife, slashed an opening in her sleeve's cuff, then pushed the dagger inside. She forced herself to ignore her conscience's warning cry and the ache consuming her heart.

She could. She must.

As Fane climbed the
forebuilding's
steps to the hall for the midday meal, his strides lightened. He had investigated a dispute between neighboring cotters, collected overdue tithes from a nobleman, and dismissed baseless accusations of stealing brought against a peasant girl. Fane smiled. That afternoon, he would have time to spare, and would spend it with Rexana.

Their coupling in the bathtub had been extraordinary. What would it be like to make love on the garden bench?

He imagined Rexana's bared breasts, shimmering in the sunlight like pearls. Her pale skin flushed and damp. Her nude body, stretched out on the stone, writhing against him. He could not remember desiring a woman with such hunger.

As he took the last step, he forced his mind to neutral territory. He smiled at the matrons and young children waiting patiently beside their tables, nodded to the men-at-arms, and crossed to the dais.

Rexana sat in her usual place, beside his.

She looked up, smiling as he approached, yet the warmth did not completely reach her eyes. She looked a little pale.

A pang of disquiet jarred through him, but he shrugged it aside. After the evidence he had shown her that morn, she had every reason to be unsettled. No doubt she had thought about Rudd's fate all morn. No doubt she was realizing she had misjudged her brother.

Fane dropped down into his chair and kissed her cheek. "Love."

"Milord."

He poured wine into the silver goblet set before her. "You had a good morn? You found plenty to amuse you, and did not get into mischief?"