Dance of Desire Read Free Page B

upon their departed souls, had expected her to remain pure for her noble husband and the sons she would bear him in love and honor. By God's holy rood, she wanted to keep this vow.

But Rudd's life was more important than her virtue.

Her fingers tightened on the jewel. She had no other way to protect Henry and win time for him to find the missive, but to accept Linford's offer. From what she had heard of the sheriff, she doubted she could simply refuse, hand back the ring, and walk out of the hall. If she declined, he might toss her over his shoulder and carry her off to his private chambers, as she had heard was the custom of hot-blooded infidels. Dread and excitement trembled through her.

Conversation began to fill the hall. The sheriff's interest in her was already inciting gossip. Turning her head a little, Rexana glanced at the musicians. The drummer met her gaze, scratched his cheek, then shook his head. The signal. Henry had not yet returned.

Anticipation buzzed in her veins like a swarm of bees. Until Henry had the missive, she must act her role to the fullest. Like the courtesan Linford thought her to be, she must tempt. Seduce. And, if necessary, yield her body to him.

Curving her mouth into a smile, she raised her lashes. "Your gift is most generous, milord." Panic swelled up between her ribs. She struggled to ignore it.

"The stone is of high quality." With strong fingers, Linford clasped her hand. He tilted it sideways, so light gleamed off the sapphire's polished surface. "It is exquisite," he murmured, "as are you."

"You are equally generous with your flattery."

He smiled. His palm cradled her hand. How neatly her fingers fit into his. His breath fanned across her brow and, as he leaned closer, she caught the scents of spices, red wine, and sweet figs.

Pleasure tingled inside her, swiftly followed by caution. So easily, she could be swayed by his intriguing scent and false praise. Spoken in a husky whisper, his words had glided off his tongue with the practiced smoothness of a rogue skilled in the art of seducing women. Foolish, that her heart had fluttered.

Yet, no man had ever spoken to her with the passion underscoring his tone. Certainly not Darwell's son Garmonn, who courted her with all the charm of a randy bull.

Blocking out the memories of Garmonn, she thought of the arrow brooch. Why she always wore it. Why, even if it cost every last bit of her courage, she was honor bound to save Rudd.

Linford's callused thumb brushed over her wrist. A caress. As she feigned a coy giggle and glanced back at him, she noticed a servant setting fresh jugs of wine on the lord's table. A plan floated into her mind. Reassurance flooded through her like cool, refreshing rainwater. She might not have to yield her virtue, after all.

If she kept her wits about her, she could ply Linford with drink as she laughed, teased and tempted him. When his eyes rolled back into his head and he toppled over in a drunken stupor, she could slip away. Leaving his gaudy bauble behind, of course. He would gain naught from her but a sore head.

A delighted laugh bubbled in her throat.

He gently squeezed her hand. "You accept my offer?"

"Aye." She withdrew her fingers from his. Turning her hand over, she slipped on the ring. The gold band was too large, but it did not matter. She would not wear the jewel for long. With a lazy shrug, she eyed the stone. "How could I refuse?"

Grinning, he lowered his mouth to her ear. "I am pleased I did not mistake your craving for adventure, or your wild and lusty spirit." As he exhaled, his breath blew over the silk covering her ear. Her head spun.

Wild and lusty spirit} She gulped. "You are indeed . . . most perceptive."

"And ravenous." His mouth curved into a wolfish smile that blazed its way through her entire body. Her sheer silk garments suddenly felt tight and unbearably hot. Before she could protest, before she could refuse, Linford took her hand. He drew her toward the dais. Toward the