Dance of Desire (8 page)

"'
Twould
please me to have a closer look at your brooch. The unique design intrigues me." Linford's fingers skimmed up and down her arm, an insistent touch. "Remove it, love."

Protest burned within her. Her eyes stung. Blinking away fresh tears, she said, "I cannot part with my brooch."

His smile thinned. "Fear not. I shall return it to you this eve. You have my word."

Her hand dropped from her throat to fist into her skirt. Numbness swept through her, chased by frustration. If she declined, would she further arouse his suspicions about the relationship between her and Rudd?

She scrambled to hone her thoughts. What would a peasant dancer do? One whose livelihood depended upon the generosity of the man standing before her. Watching. Waiting.

She was not in any position to refuse.

Fighting bitter regret, Rexana reached up and unfastened the brooch's clasp. She dropped the ornament into his palm. The little arrow glinted, a flash of light, before his bronzed fingers closed over it.

Across the chamber, the man-at-arms cleared his throat.

Fane dropped a light kiss on her cheek. "I must leave you now, but I will return as soon as I am able."

The brooch!
"Milord —"

"I will take good care of your jewel, I promise. Think of me, as I shall think of you," he whispered. "I look forward to the pleasures to come."

He bowed to her in farewell, then turned and crossed to the waiting man-at-arms. The door closed behind them.

Rexana crossed her arms over her bodice. Already she missed the brooch's delicate weight. What did Linford intend to do with it? Show it to Rudd during the interrogation? Demand to know why he gave it to her, as well as his feelings for her?

The
solar's
silence pressed down upon her. She paced the floorboards. Fie! Rudd would recognize the brooch. He did not know of her dance this eve or the mission to save his honor, so he had no reason to deny knowledge of the brooch. What might Linford do, when he learned the truth? To her? To Rudd?

She pivoted sharply. She could do naught shut away in Linford's chamber. She must think of a way to deceive the
solar's
guards and escape. Now.

As Rexana started back across the chamber, she caught metal shining on the table. The wine jug.

She hurried to the table, scooped up the heavy vessel, then tossed the remaining wine into the fire. The blaze hissed and belched a cloud of smoke. A shame to waste good drink, but that could not be helped.

As she adjusted her grip on the curved handle, the sapphire ring weighed upon her knuckle. Anger stirred. Why should she not keep the ring, in payment for Linford confiscating her brooch? With a furious sigh, she slipped it off and tossed it onto the animal skin. She had no desire to keep Linford's gift, or to be in any way indebted to him.

After reviewing her plan one last time, she crossed the chamber to yank open the door. Rowdy cheers and music echoed in from the corridor outside. A boon, that the revelry in the hall continued. She had hoped as much.

The nearest guard, a stout man with greasy brown hair, frowned. "What do ye want, wench?"

Rexana bit back an indignant retort. She must remain in character, at least for a while longer. "Sheriff Linford finished the wine before he left." With a sensuous turn of her wrist, she held the vessel out for the man's inspection. " '
Twould
be discourteous of me not to get more."

The guard grunted. "I will summon a kitchen maid."

A brazen laugh rumbled in Rexana's throat as she flattened one hand against the door's embrasure. Leaning forward to display more cleavage, she tilted her head toward the merriment. "All the servants are tending the lord's guests. They are far too busy to see to this little errand. Direct me to the kitchens, good man, and I will fetch the wine myself." Brushing a finger down her veil, she winked at him. "No one will ever know."

The guard licked his lips and glanced at his fellow sentry, who snapped a reprimand. The brown-haired man's grin vanished. "Ye cannot leave. Our strict orders —"

She clucked her tongue. "His lordship will have great thirst when he returns from his important duties. Imagine his fury, when I tell him you prevented me from fetching more wine."

The two guards exchanged glances.

"Are you afraid I will run away?" she cooed. "Why would I wish to? His lordship has offered me riches if I please him this eve, and I intend to claim them all."

Shaking his greasy hair, the guard said, "Come. I will go with you." He pointed down the passage. "That way."

Clutching the jug, she walked down the shadowed corridor. The guard clomped beside her. His unwashed body smelled as strong as the acrid smoke spewing from burning torches along the walls. Rexana gritted her teeth. She must elude this armed oaf at the earliest opportunity. How?

She squinted through the smoke fogging the passage. Ahead, brightly colored tapestries which depicted crusading knights winning a bloody battle against gruesome demons decorated one wall. With a shiver, she forced herself to block out the images and quickened her pace.

"Milady."

The whisper came from the tapestry portraying a hideous, fanged, three-headed beast run through by a crusader's sword. A shriek bubbled in her throat. Did her mind play tricks on her?

"Zounds! Milady, do not scream."

The guard froze. His face crumpled into a wary scowl. "Did you speak?"

Moistening her dry lips Rexana halted. "Nay, good man. Mayhap 'twas a . . . monster?"

The tapestry shifted, as though the beast writhed in its dying moments. The guard blanched. He reached for his sword. Before he unsheathed the weapon, Henry lunged out from behind the hanging and smashed his fist into the guard's jaw. With a grunt, the guard staggered back, struggling to draw his weapon.

Henry kicked him in the shin. The guard bent double. Lunged at Henry. Plowed him back into the tapestry. A cloud of dust
poofed
into the air around them.

Rexana's fingers tightened on the jug. Ignoring the panic quickening her breaths, she swung her arm high. Brought the jug arcing down. Smacked it into the guard's head with a metallic
clonk.
The guard slumped to the floor.

"Well done, milady." Henry straightened, shoved aside the sleeve of his gray woolen cloak, and scrubbed his hand over his reddened nose. "
Pah
! Wretched dust."

Rexana hurried over and clasped his free hand. At the familiar feel of his rough, wrinkled skin, reassurance flowed through her. "I am glad to see you."

His eyes crinkled with a smile. "And I you." His gaze softened with puzzlement. In hushed tones, he asked, "Why are you not dancing in the hall? Why do you carry a wine jug?"

A blush heated her cheeks. "I will explain later. You had no trouble slipping past the sentries? You have the missive?"

Henry's smile vanished. "Milady, I do not."

The tapestry's colors blurred before Rexana's eyes.

The breath rushed out of her lungs and she fought to keep her voice lowered. "Oh, God!"

Thrusting up his hands, he said, "I could not find a way past the guards, or another entry into the solar. Nor could I subdue two armed men on my own without causing a commotion." He shook his head. "When they questioned me, I pretended to be drunk. I asked directions to the
garderobe
. I hid behind these tapestries, waited for one of the guards to need a piss, but —"

"Henry, Linford has arrested Rudd for treason."

The old warrior's jaw dropped. "What?"

"Rudd is imprisoned in Tangston's dungeon. Linford is interrogating him now. The sheriff took my brooch, so I fear Rudd will tell —" Linking her fingers through Henry's, Rexana stepped over the guard's limp body. She tugged Henry back down the passage, heedless of his muffled protest. "We must return to the solar and find the missive. Then, find a way to free Rudd."

Henry pulled her to a halt. "Milady, nay."

She spun to face him, her skirt wafting to stillness about her legs. As she planted her hands on her hips, the jug thumped against her hip, releasing the tang of residual wine. "I do not fear Linford," she said, grateful for a steady voice.

"Mayhap not," — Henry tapped his broad chest — "but I do. I worry for more than my cracked old bones. You must not risk your own capture, or your brother's
life, by attempting to free him when the dungeons are crawling with armed guards. Think, milady. What will Linford do when he discovers who you are?"

Frustration swelled inside her. "Henry —"

His tone roughened. "I promised your parents as they lay dying that I would watch over you, protect you. Please. The dangers this eve are too great."

As she held Henry's beseeching gaze, a chill crawled down her spine. The draft, gusting over the floor, brushed over her toes and ankles like thin bone fingers. Was the air as cold in Tangston's dungeon?

"I cannot bear to be without Rudd," she whispered.

Henry patted her shoulder. "You must. For now. If luck is with us, we can meet up with the musicians and ride with them to Ickleton. 'Twill be safest to travel the road together."

A nearby torch spat. Over the smoky crackle, she caught the unmistakable tromp of footsteps.

Had the other guard by the solar heard the scuffle?

Had he decided to investigate?

She glanced at Henry. "Run."

"Wait." Reaching into his cloak's folds, Henry withdrew the leather slippers she had bought on a visit to market with Rudd. Blinking back tears, she set the jug on the floor near the fallen guard and yanked on the shoes.

As she straightened, Henry tossed his long cloak around her shoulders, then drew the hood over her face. The garment smelled of smoke and horses.

The footfalls grew louder.

Henry pulled her to a lope. "Keep your head down," he said over her chiming bells. "I will find the bailey."

"How?" As she ran, she fumbled to unclasp the noisy bracelets. Stuffing the first into the mantle's pocket, she said, "Do you know the way?"

Henry shot her a worried glance. "While I look, you pray."