Kitabı oku: «Falcon's Desire», sayfa 4
Before Howard had a chance to answer, the object of the discussion interrupted. “Milady, this means nothing more than a fine evening’s meal in the company of a lovely lady.”
She ignored him and leveled her gaze on her maid. Lyonesse seethed inwardly, wishing she had the leisure to pale and flutter as Helen was doing now.
Chains clanged together as a large, warm hand closed over her fist and deftly pried her fingers open. After kissing her palm, he stated, “And nowhere have I seen a more beautiful creature than Taniere’s lioness.”
Lyonesse tore her gaze away from Helen’s wavering look, and stared down at her own hand. What sorcery had this Spawn of Satan used to bewitch her? Hot and cold tingles ran down to her toes when his lips briefly touched her skin. Was it the vile way he kissed her palm, instead of the back of her hand that caused the unsettling shivers? Or was it the devil’s wicked treachery?
She glanced up at him. The toad smiled at her as if he were attending a festive celebration, instead of rotting in the tower where he belonged. Why did Faucon act this way?
In keeping with a chivalrous code of conduct, she’d permitted him limited freedom. But had she not gone out of her way to show him how much she despised him? Faucon knew full well his presence in her hall was unwelcome.
It wasn’t for the lack of trying, but he’d not truly suffered any true physical or mental anguish under his confinement here. So why did he now play the simpleminded fool?
Her hopes for a peaceful end to this day fell to the hardened dirt floor and shattered like a fragile egg. Lyonesse willed her tongue to remain silent.
Never had a female impressed Faucon as much as the one standing before him now. It had to be difficult for Lyonesse to hold her outrage in check as well as she did. A less composed woman would have dissolved into hysteria by now. Or at the very least would have become too flustered to remain as visibly calm as Taniere’s vicious kitten appeared to be.
Her appearance did not deceive him one bit. Some might have missed the bright glaze of anger that he’d so quickly grown accustomed to seeing. Or not have noticed that her jawbone was too well defined. The normally heart-shaped face was pulled nearly into a square by the tightness of her muscles.
His assessment of her features did not go unnoticed. The lady’s eyes narrowed in apparent distaste before she tore her hand from his and wiped her palm across the folds of the vivid green gown she wore.
Rhys bowed his head slightly and reflected upon her name. Lyonesse. While it was true that her gold-red coloring was well suited for a feline, he wondered if she knew that her namesake had been a bastard in every sense of the word? Her grandsire had been blessed with a reputation that made Rhys’s presumed evilness pale in comparison.
Certain that she could see no other emotion upon his face but pleasant interest, Rhys deepened his smile. How many times had he been told that his wicked grin could cause even a nun to succumb to his charms?
“Lyonesse? How did you come to be named for your grandsire?”
A faint blush tinged her delicate complexion, making her appear more of a child than the oversized armor had. “I am certain my father had his reasons. I have never found myself churlish enough to question the name.”
Rhys ignored the jibe and offered his arm to lead the unwilling lady to the table. He held his snort of amusement as she rested her hand so lightly on his forearm that she barely touched his sleeve. Did she really believe that she could continue to assume such ladylike innocence? No lady would have dared to conceive his capture—let alone accomplished the feat.
By the saints, this was going to be an interesting evening. Even though he’d been free to walk about the keep, he’d been bored to his limits. He’d sought an opportunity to pay his captor back with a little of her own coin. Now that he was certain she’d regained her senses, Rhys looked forward to goading her. After seeing Jezebel this morning, he had an added boon. The knowledge that his men were nearby worked to his advantage with Howard. It’d been simple to convince the captain to permit him to attend the evening meal in the hall.
He placed his free hand on top of hers. The instant he wrapped his fingers around her wrist to effectively hold her near, Rhys wished he had not. The smooth, soft skin beneath his fingers reminded him of how long it’d been since he’d touched anything so warm and soft.
Even though he knew full well that he would drive himself to distraction, Rhys could not have stopped his thumb from stroking the silken flesh if he’d tried.
At first she flinched under his gentle touch, but made no move to pull free. He bent toward her, and groaned silently at the combined expressions of surprise and horror on her flushed face. She might have been betrothed to this du Pree, but his first impression had been perfectly correct; she was an untried girl.
He forced his thumb to stop its steady motion, and waved toward the table. “Shall we sit?”
She jerked away from him. “You should not be here. Be gone.”
“’Tis my greatest wish to be gone from here.” He looked at the door and snapped his fingers before looking back at her. “I willingly make you a deal. Have your guards release me and I will disappear from your life.”
She glared up at him. “You know I will not do that.”
After sighing loudly, Rhys shrugged. “Then I will be content to be your honored guest at this meal.”
Lyonesse narrowed her eyes as she glanced at the chains binding his wrists and ankles. She kept her voice low while agreeing, “Very well, ’tis not as if you can do much mischief with the jewelry you now wear.”
She signaled for Howard. “Count Faucon will be joining us for the meal.”
Rhys noted that the captain had enough decency to look ashamed. “Milady, I—”
Lyonesse cut him off with a wave of her hand. “It matters little, Howard. He is here and will be my guest. I am certain his presence will cause little harm.”
She looked back at Rhys and added, “Since I have already invited him, I doubt that he will decline my offer and return to his cell. However, should he think to try anything foolish, I would be delighted to have him become the main course.”
Ah, yes, it was going to be a grand meal. Amused, Faucon followed her retreating form to the table on the raised platform at the head of the hall and took the only seat available—the one next to her on the bench.
He tried to ignore the large tapestry hanging behind the table. The stunning needlework depicted a lion and his lioness, staring out as if guarding those seated below. A brief chill raced up his back and lifted the hairs on his neck. For a moment, Rhys wondered if this is what prey felt like right before an attack.
Howard mumbled curses as he secured Rhys’s leg shackles to the bench before taking a position against the wall behind them. Rhys wanted to laugh at the absurdity. What would he do in a hall crowded with Lyonesse’s men?
They were everywhere he looked; seated at the many trestle tables scattered about the great hall, standing in small groups alongside the whitewashed walls, leaning against arched support beams and lounging by the open fire off to one side. No, he would do nothing to incite those gathered for the meal.
He turned his attention back to his prey and touched the finely woven linen sleeve of her gown. “Ah, but were I to leave, I would not be able to tell you how the color of this gown makes your eyes sparkle like gems.”
She leaned away from him. “And I would not have to listen to your silly lies.”
He trailed his fingertip up the back of her arm to stroke a ribbon entwined in her loosely braided hair. “Or that your hair would be a magnificent silken veil were it loosened from its confinement.”
Rhys leaned closer, ignoring her soft gasp of shock at his familiarity, and touched the jewel-encrusted gold torque around her neck. “If it were not for me, you would never know that this collar and your hair should be your only adornment.”
He lowered his voice. “Just envisioning the sight could make any warrior wish to take you somewhere private to see if your beauty did indeed match his dreams.”
Her flaming face, blazing eyes and sudden intake of breath should have prepared him for the slap that landed on the side of his face.
Chapter Five
At the sound of the loud, stinging smack, all talking in the hall ceased.
Howard stepped away from the wall. The scraping sound of metal swords being pulled from wooden scabbards caused Rhys’s heart to miss a beat. At any other time, the noise would have been music to his ears. Now the reverberating sound reminded him of a hissing, deadly serpent intent on striking its helpless prey.
The smile froze on his lips as Rhys wordlessly watched the ire in her eyes recede. When fear quickly replaced her anger, he leaned away from her. After turning to look at the many tight faces watching them, Rhys lifted his goblet of wine. “To your lady. May she never again have to deal with another such as me.”
A quick glance at the stiff figure beside him made him urge in a whisper, “I am chained and unarmed, but I will not go down without taking a few of your men with me. Smile, Lady Lyonesse, live up to your name and put them at ease.”
Her temples throbbed. As much as she would like to see this loathsome creature’s blood, she did not wish it spilled at this moment.
“Milady.” Howard moved closer. “I can return him to his cell.”
She shook her head before taking the goblet from the vile miscreant. Lyonesse lifted it toward her people. “Eat, drink. We should be thankful that Lord Faucon took no offense at my ungraciousness.”
When a few of the men did not waver from their ready stance, she added, “Having never been to court, I knew not that he was jesting. Surely you can forgive my lack of humor?”
The apology tasted bitter on her tongue and she longed to take it back. She’d not been the one in the wrong. He deserved the slap.
She breathed a sigh of relief when all but Howard relaxed at her words. The captain sheathed his partially drawn sword and moved back to his position against the wall.
Faucon took the untouched goblet from her hand and raised it to his lips. “Such a pretty speech, Lady Lyonesse. Your people will be grateful that you kept the peace so readily.”
It would be so much easier if he could simply choke on the wine he was drinking. “What my people do or do not appreciate is none of your concern.”
She jumped when his hand closed over her own. “I would say that as a captive in Taniere, there is much to concern me.”
Lyonesse was fascinated with the way he could make a soft-spoken whisper sound like a threat. Fascinated, but not afraid. She studied his face from beneath her eyelashes.
Not the slightest evidence of a frown marred his dusky complexion. In fact, the only visible creases were the laugh lines at the sides of his glittering eyes. She had an overwhelming urge to see that smug smile removed from his face.
She pulled her hand out from under his, straightened her back and asked, “What can you find so amusing? Is the mighty Faucon so invincible that his confinement does not matter?”
Prompted by his silence, she continued. “Do you not find yourself wondering if you will live or die? Or does death have no meaning to an offspring of Satan? Have you been given everlasting life in exchange for killing innocent humans?”
Lyonesse ignored Howard’s groan. Instead, she watched Faucon’s jaw tighten.
Still the smile did not leave his face.
After placing a hand on the bench for support, she leaned closer to him and lowered her voice. “How many lifetimes were you given for the murders of your wife and infant son? Did you gain as many eternities for Guillaume’s demise as you did for theirs?”
Now the smile was gone.
The dusky complexion was replaced by a paleness that did not seem natural for one so dark. His glittering gaze danced briefly to Howard before returning to pierce her with a look of anger and pain so intense that for an instant Lyonesse regretted her words.
Faucon’s grasp on her wrist stopped just short of crushing the bones that connected her hand to her arm. His voice was still nothing more than a whisper. “You may be able to coax or goad others with your quicksilver tongue. But, Lady Lyonesse, you are not dealing with one who is willing to play your games.”
“I am not—” When he none too gently pulled her arm up, she forgot the rest of her sentence. “What are you—”
He quickly cut off her response by slapping the handle of her eating knife in her hand and ordering, “Eat.”
Who did he think he was? Lyonesse stared at their shared trencher. He was not the Lord of Taniere. This murderer had no right to speak to her in this manner. Faucon was a prisoner here. A prisoner who had no right to be in her hall, or at her table.
She trembled with rage. “What gives you the right…” Suddenly she realized that she’d given permission for him to be here. If he’d pushed her good humor over the edge, she’d no one to blame but herself.
Lyonesse bit her tongue, stopping the rest of her words and viciously stabbed her knife into a piece of meat. It would have been much more satisfying if it had been Faucon’s heart.
Rhys flinched. He could almost feel her knife rip through the flesh and muscles of his chest as the sharp point sought his heart.
The vengeance-seeking little wench succeeded where many grown men had failed—again. This inexperienced woman used words to goad him into losing his temper as if he was nothing more than a callow youth.
He’d crushed the life from men more than twice her size. His words could cut her show of bravado into ribbons. Rhys glanced down at her. A tinge of pink still colored her cheeks.
Nay, striking out at the spirit of so regal a cub would not sit well on his conscience. It’d be child’s play and he did not intend to amuse the child in either of them.
She goaded him beyond reason and struck where no others dared. In the short time he’d known her, Lyonesse had made him feel emotions that he’d thought well buried. Hatred and anger blended with pain as raw as it had been years ago.
Yet beneath those mixed emotions lay something far more dangerous. And far more enticing than any great wealth. Passion and desire threatened to awaken from their long lonely slumber.
Rhys stood, seeking to escape to safety. He motioned for Howard. “I would return to my cell now. The company there will be much more soothing for the digestion of my meal.”
While Howard unlocked his fetters from the bench, Rhys smiled down at Lyonesse. He’d not let her see the warring that took place in his mind and soul. Gently lifting her wrist, he placed a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. He felt the furious beating of her pulse against his fingers. Briefly, he wondered which upset her more, his lingering touch, their nearness, or his smile?
He leaned close, so no one else could hear him answer her last, half-spoken question. “A devil needs none to give him the right to do anything he desires.” Watching the blush fade from her cheeks, he added, “Beware of what you cause to begin, little lioness, you may not be able to control the outcome.”
“Why, you—”
Her response was abruptly cut short by a loud commotion coming from the entrance doors to the hall.
Clearly unable to decide what to attend to first, Howard looked from Lyonesse, to Rhys, then to the door.
Rhys spread his arms as far apart as the chains would allow and nearly barked, “Good Lord, man, I am going nowhere. Escort your lady and I will follow.”
Quickly springing to action, Howard assisted Lyonesse from the bench and led them to the entrance.
Over the yells of the men, Rhys heard a loud cry that drew him through the open door and out onto the wallwalk. Ignoring Lyonesse’s shouted order to halt, he breathed in the crisp air and gazed up at the sky. The familiar cry of an eagle broke through the gasps of those gathered outside.
Rhys turned and glanced at Howard, hoping the man would lend his assistance. He then crossed his left arm over his stomach, giving him enough length on the chain to hold his right arm up at about chest level. “Cover my arm.”
Howard looked at him as if he’d gone mad.
To Rhys’s surprise, Lyonesse grabbed a cloak off a passing guard and wrapped the thick wool around Rhys’s forearm. “I want to see her.”
He pursed his lips and gave two short whistles. Instantly, he was rewarded by another cry. His heart raced as he moved closer to the wall.
Within a heartbeat Jezebel circled those gathered on the wall and reached out with talons that could crush a man’s bone with one hard grip.
Lyonesse gasped as the eagle settled on his arm. Rhys rested his arm on the stone wall, crooning, “Ah, my beauty, would that you could carry me away with you.” He smiled at the eagle’s gurgling response.
A commotion at his side startled him and the bird. Jezebel danced from one clawed foot to the other on his arm. He gritted his teeth and nearly begged, “Please, stop.”
He stiffened when the point of a sword pressed against his back. Surely Lyonesse wasn’t going to kill him now with his men so near.
“Release the chains about his wrists.” When Howard hesitated to do her bidding, Lyonesse reasoned, “The eagle carries a missive tied in her jesses. Howard, his legs are still shackled. I have a sword in his back. Release the chains.”
Before the chains hit the wooden floor of the walkway, Rhys plucked the scroll from Jezebel and handed it over his shoulder to Lyonesse. While stroking the chest of the nervous eagle, he urged, “If you can read, milady?”
Howard’s weapon replaced Lyonesse’s while she stepped out of the keep’s lengthening shadow and back into the light spilling from the entrance of the hall to unroll the parchment.
He continued to stroke Jezebel while waiting for his captor to read the missive from his captain. Had there not been so many people gathered so near, Rhys would have laughed out loud at the absurdity of this event.
Lyonesse’s sharp cry frightened Jezebel into flight. Instantly Rhys gave the bird the whistled command to return to Melwyn.
When he was certain of Jezebel’s safety, Rhys turned around. Howard held the sword across Rhys’s chest. “Do nothing brainless.”
Rhys stared down at Howard. “Some day, Howard, I will feed you that sword. Take me to your lady.”
After reaching Lyonesse’s side, he hastily snatched the note from her trembling fingers and read aloud, “My Lord Faucon, an armed force approaches.”
Howard broke the deafening silence first. “Does this army come for you?”
Rhys laughed. “Would my captain go to such great lengths to warn me of my own rescue? Would he seek to tell me if a friend of Taniere approached? Had Melwyn thought to rescue me, he would have approached Taniere on his own.”
Lyonesse paled. Her maid raised a hand to cover her mouth and scurried back inside the hall. Howard cleared his throat and scuffed one foot across the timber of the walkway.
What was the reason for this? Rhys frowned. They acted guilty. He pinned Lyonesse with a questioning gaze. “You do not seem surprised to find my men so near.”
She looked out over the wall for a few heartbeats before replying. “Would not that be expected?”
Her tone of voice was too uncertain. As if she searched for an answer. Rhys turned to Howard. “Would it be expected?”
Howard glanced at his lady. “Lady Lyonesse, please.”
“Howard!” Quickly facing Rhys, she admitted, “Yes, Faucon, your men are near.”
“For how long?”
She shrugged. “How would I know? We did not speak.”
“Speak? To who?”
“Your man.” Howard then explained about the man retrieving the eagle.
Lyonesse glared at her captain as if she’d like to rip his tongue from his mouth. “Thank you.”
Rhys held back his laugh. “Tell me, Lyonesse, how much longer did you think to hold me?”
“For as long as it requires.”
“I am certain my men would have ridden away from the area and just left me here.”
After glancing down at the bailey and back to her keep, Lyonesse muttered, “Keep your sarcasm to yourself, Faucon. I have other things with which to deal.”
Howard sprang to action with a curse. He shouted for the troop to assemble in the bailey. Then he turned to Lyonesse. “Milady, I will do what I must to ensure your safety.”
Before she could reply, Rhys interrupted. “With God’s blessing my men could easily defeat a force of fifty. The one approaching your gates now is too large to confront alone. Else, Melwyn would not have alerted me to the danger.” He glanced at the men assembled in the inner yard, counting thirty. “Do you think there are enough there to hold the enemy at bay?”
Lyonesse nodded and stiffened her spine. Rhys admired her bravado in front of her people, but it did not change the facts.
“How many battles have these lads fought, Lyonesse? I have watched Howard training these young and woefully inexperienced men to become a fighting force to be reckoned with. Are they ready, milady? For the reckoning is at hand.”
Lyonesse shrugged one shoulder. “They have no choice. I cannot conjure more men at will.”
“I can.”
The lady took a small step back. “What are you saying?”
Rhys thought that was obvious. “Allow Melwyn and my men entrance to Taniere. With the added numbers your victory is assured.”
She glanced at Howard, then out over the wall at the forest beyond. “Perchance they wish not to fight. We have no proof of their reasons for approaching Taniere’s gates.”
“Melwyn has no reason to lie.”
Lyonesse’s gaze darted back to him. “He has every reason to do so. Would this not be an easy trick to spirit you out of Taniere? And to spread havoc upon innocent people?”
Rhys could not contain his snort of astonishment. “Innocent?”
She stepped closer. The scent of roses filled his senses with a desire to be alone with this rather amazing woman. Rhys forced his awareness back to her words. She pointed at those in the bailey and spoke in a hushed, raspy whisper, “They are innocent. None captured you but I. Leave Taniere’s people out of this.”
“Agreed.” He nodded to confirm his words before turning to Howard. “If you allow my men to assist you in this coming foray, I vow not to escape. But it is imperative that I answer my man.”
Lyonesse stepped between the two men. “This is my keep, Faucon. You discuss this with me, not my man.”
Howard came to attention behind her. “Milady.”
He fell silent when she raised her hand. “I will not permit your men into Taniere, Faucon. You have given me no proof that we will be attacked.”
Rhys stepped back. “As you wish. But I tell you this, Lady Lyonesse. Every young man that dies here this night will haunt you. Every life that perishes will feed your guilt for the rest of your life.”
“Milady, please.” Howard coaxed Lyonesse to join him a short distance away.
Rhys could not hear their words, but he marveled at Howard’s patience. Even now, when Lyonesse knew the skirmish was lost, she refused to give in gracefully. Her clenched jaw and expressive hand motions conveyed more than words. Previous encounters told him that as soon as her spine stiffened she’d conceded to Howard’s request.
Rhys could understand her anger and her reluctance to do his, or Howard’s bidding. Had the positions been reversed he’d not have permitted a strange force into his keep.
While Howard removed Rhys’s fetters, Lyonesse said, “I will allow your men into Taniere, Lord Faucon. But I do not for a heartbeat believe you will not seek freedom.” She bent, lifted the hem of her gown and pulled a dagger from the garter of her stocking. “So, I will be like a flea at your side.”
Rhys wanted to laugh at the image forming in his mind.
Then he remembered the first time she’d held a dagger to him and immediately wanted to wrest the weapon from her hand.
He glanced down and suddenly wanted instead to run his fingers over the curve of her still-exposed calf. Would her skin feel like a kitten’s fur beneath his fingers?
Howard cleared his throat.
Rhys jerked himself back to the task at hand. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked out over the wall. After whistling three sharp notes into the air he turned back to Lyonesse. “A flea, milady? So small a pest would be easily dismissed.” He glanced back at her legs. “You are neither a pest, nor easily dismissed.”
Following his gaze, Lyonesse tugged at her gown. The folds fell back into place. She leveled a lethal glare on him. “If you are going to summon your men, Count Faucon, do so.”
He casually checked the darkening sky. “’Tis done.” Taniere would be safe till darkness overtook them. He estimated how long it would take Melwyn and his men to arrive.
Lyonesse joined him by the wall. “What do you mean, ’tis done?”
He spared little thought for the woman at his side, instead turning his attention to the coming foray. He questioned Howard. “Someone will greet my men at the postern gate?”
The captain beckoned a guard forward. He explained the situation and sent the astonished man on his way.
Indecision wrinkled Howard’s brow as his gaze darted between Lady Lyonesse and Rhys. “Milady, I…” Howard paused, shrugged and faced Rhys. “Count Faucon, what can I show you of Taniere?”
“Howard!” Lyonesse’s voice rose in chastisement.
While her attention was on her captain, Rhys snatched the dagger from her fingers. He placed an index finger beneath her chin, gently closing her mouth. “Flea, I do not want your keep.” He handed the weapon to Howard. “However, I think your family may.”
Howard agreed. “Milady, while I am well versed in defending Ryonne, I have never had to protect Taniere against an enemy. I would welcome any offer of assistance Lord Faucon wishes to provide.”
Lyonesse started toward the ladder. “Then by all means, let us be off.” She stopped to stare at both men. “Let us further make certain that Count Faucon is aware of each entrance and exit. Let us not miss one avenue of escape.”
Rhys shook his head. “The vow I gave you was not given lightly.”
The heat of her brief glare seared him. Rhys watched her descend the ladder and followed. He wondered, does she distrust all men, or only me?
The three of them had barely crossed the bailey when the cry of an eagle pierced the noisy yard. Rhys nodded at the look of wonder on Lyonesse’s face. “I told you my men had been summoned.”
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