Dance Of Desire by Catherine Kean

Author:Catherine Kean
Language: ron
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

A MAN'S BELLOW ECHOED ACROSS THE MEADOW, jolting Rexana from the haze of desire. Her pulse lurched into a sickening thud-thud. She had heard a cry like that once before. It still echoed in her nightmares.

Scrambling off her, Fane rose to his knees. His expression grim, he fastened his hose, shoved his knife into his belt and pulled on his leather boots.

A foul, metallic taste flooded Rexana's tongue as horrible memories invaded her mind. Swallowing hard, she sat up, pushing her gown back down to her ankles, even as her gaze flew to the meadow.

Riders were silhouetted on the road. Two of Fane's guards stood on the outskirts of the grove, yelling and waving at him. The other two, their horses at a full gallop, were half way to the stream, pursuing a lone man on horseback. Ahead of the guards by several paces, he kicked his mount as though he were possessed.

With another angry roar, he whipped a sword from its scabbard. Steel gleamed in the sunlight.

Sweat dampened Rexana brow. Her hand, pressed to the rock, curled around the gold arrow. Her nails scratched on the stone.

Her mind had not played tricks on her.

Garmonn was near enough that she saw the fury contorting his mouth and his jaw's ugly set. Her chest tightened. It hurt to inhale. She heard a strange, wheezing sound, and realized it was her own breathing.

Fane glanced back at her, his visage partly hidden by his snarled hair. "Stay here. Do not move from this rock."

She shivered at the controlled fury in his words. Memories of Thomas's anguished cry, of bloodstained snow, whipped through her mind. This time, Fane's blood would be spilled.

Panic welled between her ribs. She could not let Fane suffer at Garmonn's hand.

She grabbed Fane's leg. "Be careful."

His lips tilted in a grim smile. "He will not harm me. 'Tis time he learned a lesson or two."

"Nay! He—"

"Later, love, you will tell me. Stay on this rock. Do not cross to the shore until I say you can."

His boots clipped on the rocks. He leapt off and onto the stony shore. He stooped, collected a few pebbles, then set his hands upon his hips.

Fingers pressed to her mouth, she watched Garmonn tear toward Fane. The guards behind him shouted for him to stop. They kicked their lathered mounts faster.

They would not catch him. He was too far ahead. He was skilled at eluding pursuit. Many times he had boasted of outrunning murderous Saracens in battle, when they tried to corner his mount and cut his head from his body.

As his horse bore down on Fane, the ground seemed to shake. The air pulsed with tension. Her body stiffened. Quivered. A scream burned for release.

Garmonn leaned over his horse's neck. Adjusted his hold on his sword's grip. Aimed the blade straight at Fane's heart.

The horse's hooves clattered on the bank. Closer. Closer.

Garmonn's battle roar ripped through the air.

She lunged to her feet. "Naaayyy!"

His face twisted in surprise. The blade wavered a fraction. At the same moment, Fane darted aside.

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