Dance of Desire Read Online Free PDF Page A

was undamaged by the fall. As she fastened it around her wrist, Winton depressed the door's wrought iron handles, pushed open the panels, then motioned her inside.

As though a magical box had sprung open, an exotic scent wafted out of the solar to greet her. A reminder that she entered Linford's lair. A reminder of danger, forbidden temptations, and desire. A shiver tingled down her spine.

As she stepped into the shadowed solar, illuminated only by the hearth's orange-yellow blaze, her breath caught in her throat. Glancing about, she braced herself for Henry's bolt for the door. For Winton's cry of alarm. For the rasp of the guards' broadswords and their bellows to "halt." For the imminent confrontation, in which she must aid Henry and somehow keep the missive from Linford's men.

Her gaze fell to a pair of strangely decorated gold candlesticks on the nearby wall shelf. She edged toward them. A candlestick was a wretched substitute for a weapon, but it must do.

Sweeping through the doorway with a flaming reed, Winton began lighting the wall torches. The room's shadows surrendered to a warm glow. Every nerve in Rexana's body hummed. The sapphire ring pressed against her skin as her hands closed around the candlestick's cool gold.

Few places remained for Henry to hide. Did he stand behind the carved wooden screen to the left of the hearth? Was he crouched on the opposite side of the bed?

As Winton skirted the enormous bed, strewn with pillows and an animal skin she did not recognize, she hardly dared to breathe. She watched, the chased metal slick beneath her fingers, as he knelt, tossed several more logs into the fire, then rose and lit the remaining torches. Without incident.

Relief filtered through her. Either Henry remained well hidden, or he had found a way out of the solar.

Easing her rigid grip on the candlesticks, she sighed.

Winton crossed to her. "You will wait here for Sheriff Linford. I will send a maidservant to treat your foot."

"Nay," Rexana said hastily. "I can tend the splinter."

"Very well." The steward's voice turned stern, as though he addressed a truant child. "You are not to touch any of his lordship's possessions. Including the candlesticks."

Rexana managed an insolent shrug. "I am only looking at the odd decoration." With her fingertip, she finished tracing a curved symbol, then lowered her hands.

Winton's visage softened only a fraction. He tipped his head toward the nearby table. "While you wait, you may have wine. Or figs and oranges from the fruit bowl."

After shooting her a final, pointed glance, he strode through the doors. They clicked shut behind him.

Rexana exhaled on a whoosh. She was alone . . . unless Henry had squeezed himself into a corner and awaited a signal from her before he emerged.

Rubbing her arms with her hands, she whispered, "Henry?"

Silence, broken only by the fire crackling in the hearth.

"Henry, 'tis safe to come out. Are you here?"

No answer. She grinned. He was probably on his way back to the hall to meet up with the musicians.

If Henry had the missive, she did not need to tempt the sheriff. She could regroup with the others and leave before Linford realized she had gone.

The sheriff's parting smile nipped through her mind. She fought a pang of disappointment, for she would not experience his skilled kiss, touch, or breath upon her belly, after all.

Rexana shook her head and dismissed the senseless emotion. She did not crave a barbarian's attentions. Not now. Not ever.

Setting her hands on her hips, she glanced about the chamber. She gnawed her bottom lip. Could she outwit the guards at the solar doors? Mayhap. Yet, Henry had managed to slip out by an alternate route. ' Twould be wiser for her to leave that way too.

Her gaze fell upon the tall, elaborately carved screen which blocked a corner of the chamber. What did the wooden panels conceal? A hidden door? She stepped forward. Pain lanced through her foot. Cursed splinter. No time to remove it. Linford