Dance of Desire (54 page)

Laughter ground between Garmonn's lips. "Soon, he will be dead."

"I will not let you kill him. I will stop you."

"How?" He gestured to the armed men surrounding her. Coarse chuckles rippled through the throng, and she fought a suffocating wave of anxiety.

Rudd swore. He shoved Garmonn's arm. "What are you doing? This plan is not what we discussed. You agreed she would not be involved or harmed. You promised."

"I changed the arrangements."

Worry shone in Rudd's eyes before his gaze narrowed. "Escort her out of Warringham if you are concerned she will tell of our plot, but let her go. Do it, or I will not kill Linford."

Garmonn's jaw hardened. His hand on his sword's grip, he turned to Rudd. "If you value your sister's life, you will do as you agreed."

Rudd's eyebrow arched. "You threaten me?"

"Linford must die. We both know 'tis so." With a twisted smile, Garmonn looked back at her.

Panic reared inside Rexana like a frantic horse. She fought her stomach's violent lurch. Never would she let him use her as a pawn to destroy both her brother and Fane.

Rexana caught up her skirts. She bolted for the nearest trees. Men shouted, running for her. She darted from side to side, lunging through gaps between her pursuers.

Rough hands caught her arms. Hauled her back.

She broke free. Tripped on her bliaut. A man catapulted into her from behind. She fell face first onto the grass. Gasping, she spat seeds out of her mouth, pressed her hands flat, and tried to rise.

"Nay, woman." Garmonn sat on top of her, panting. His thighs framed her bottom. She shuddered at the hard, warm weight of him crushed against her. She squirmed. Tried to wriggle free. With a grunt, he caught her arms and wrenched them behind her back. "Rope," he bellowed.

She struggled. Kicked. Screamed. Men knelt beside her to pin her down. The hemp rope scratched her fingers and hands. The binding tautened. Dug into her wrists. She bit her lip against the discomfort.

Garmonn tested the ropes, then hauled her to her feet. He shoved her toward a group of men. "Watch her."

She blinked, fighting tears. She stared at Rudd. With her eyes, she pleaded for him to help her, to defy Garmonn, to rebel against the horrible plan he had devised.

For an instant, her brother's gaze flickered. Then, his expression changed to stony determination. As Garmonn passed, he looked at Rudd. Rudd nodded. Together, they strode across the glade.

Her tears welled. She had not misjudged her brother, had she?

Fane fought the painful oath that rose in his throat. He stared at the forest visible on the road. Remembered.

Ah, God, how he remembered.

With effort, he suppressed the tantalizing memories. Rexana's cries. Her delicious scent. Their wild, glorious consummation. He would not be distracted in this vital time. He must fulfill his duty.

Tightening his grip on his shield, he glanced back at his men. "If the traitors do not yield, kill them."

Fane fixed his gaze upon the road ahead and spurred his horse to a canter. The breeze cooled his face and tangled his hair. As he plunged into the forest's shade, his blood pumped fast and hot. He reached for his sword. The blade hissed out of its scabbard.

In the gray-green shadows, he imagined the earthy smell of sand. Blood. The Saracens' savage war cries. His body thrummed with battle fervor. This time, he would spill English blood in the name of his king, in the name of justice and duty. He would fight to save the woman he loved.

An arrow whizzed past his ear and
tbunked
into a tree trunk. He spied the archer in the trees.

"Surrender to me, or die," he shouted.

Laughing, the man
nocked
another arrow. Before Fane sheathed his sword and grabbed his bow, an arrow launched from behind him. With a gurgled cry, the man plummeted into the undergrowth.

"Thank you, Kester," Fane called.

"My pleasure, milord."

Arrows flew like rain. With a lusty roar, Fane raised his bow. His first arrow flew straight and true. His mouth set in a determined smile. He pitied Villeaux. He pitied all of the damned traitors. Their time had come.

Rexana twisted her bound hands. Broken grass stalks scratched her skin, and she groaned. Cursed ropes. Garmonn had tied them tightly. Her fingers were beginning to go numb.

She fought tears. She must not despair. She must escape.

She must warn Fane.

Drawing in a shaky breath, she pondered her options. Garmonn had forced her to sit on a saddle blanket in the center of the glade, in clear view of his men. As she moved her leg a fraction, easing a cramp in her thigh, her gown rustled. A ruffian near her stopped polishing his dagger, and watched until she settled. She could not even burp without the men knowing.

Indignation heated the anger simmering within her. Earlier, with nauseating courtesy, Garmonn had pushed her down on her knees upon the blanket. "I cannot have you running away, can I?"

She sat, turning her face away.

He chuckled, crouched next to her, and swept a hand down her hair. "One day, lovely Rexana, you will want me."

"Never. My heart belongs to Fane." How easily the words flew from her lips. Her heart almost burst with the Tightness of her declaration.

Garmonn spat in the grass. "You care for him?"

Aye!
The answer soared inside her like a dancer leaping for the sky. "I love him. Body, heart, and soul."

Garmonn's eyes flashed with fury. He had withdrawn his hand, shoved to standing, then stormed off to speak with his cohorts.

Voices carried on the breeze. She spied Rudd standing near the horses, deep in conversation with Garmonn. Anguish slashed through her, so intense she almost cried out. Her brother had made no effort to help her. On occasion he glanced at her, as though to be sure she was well treated, but when she met his gaze, he looked away.

He nodded at something Garmonn said, and her throat tightened. Why did Rudd continue to aid Garmonn? Did he believe Garmonn's threat to do her harm? Did he try to protect her? Or, did he intend to help her escape later, mayhap when darkness fell?

She wriggled her hands again. She would not sit idle and wait for rescue.

A few yards away, men began sharpening their swords. The rasped sound grated on her frazzled nerves. Zounds! If only she could loosen her bindings. Or create a distraction.

A strangled cry came from the woods.

Garmonn froze. The men near her ceased their sharpening.

Another cry. A scream.

Mutters ripped through the glade. The men around her picked up their weapons.

Hope swelled within Rexana, and she tugged on the knotted ropes. Had Fane and the guards somehow tracked her to the glade? Had they come for her? Foolish hopes, yet she could not quell the burgeoning excitement.

She braced herself to run. Any moment now, there would be a chance —

Garmonn stared at her. Hard.

He gestured to the men nearby. "Go check on the others."

They nodded, then disappeared into the woods. Garmonn's gaze remained on her. Rexana trembled.
Look away,
her mind cried.

His lips curled, and he crossed to her. Hellfire! If she tried to bolt now, she would not get more than a few steps. She swallowed crushing disappointment.

As his footfalls approached, she pointedly stared off in the opposite direction.

He kicked shredded grass over her gown. "Get up."

"Why?"

He grabbed her upper arm, and she winced. "Up. Now."

Pushing her heels into the blanket, she rose on unsteady legs. She straightened, just as a man crashed through the underbrush into the glade. Blood stained the front of his tunic and soaked his right sleeve. His eyes rolled in their sockets.

"
Linf
—" With a grisly thud, the man fell face first to the ground. Arrows protruded from his back and shoulder.

Garmonn cursed.