Dance of Desire Read Online Free PDF Page B

Oh, God, she must know.

She smoothed her veil and schooled uncertainty from her tone. "What could possibly be more important than pleasure?"

"Traitors."

"Here? In Warringham?" She cleared the catch from her voice. "Who would attempt treason with you as High Sheriff?"

"Indeed." With a faint smile, he closed the distance between them. His gaze held hers with fierce intensity. Her stomach did an unsettling swoop, like a swallow plummeting to snatch a fat worm. Did he suspect her?

He moved so close, his breath warmed her brow. She took a step back. Bumped against the rough stone wall. The splinter bit deeper into her foot, and she winced, even as she forced a giggle. "Surely you do not believe —"

"— that I frighten you? I know I do. You will not fear me once we have coupled. Of that, I am certain." He flattened one hand on the wall beside her head. His expression turned stark with sensual hunger, and he kissed her temple. "I will return to you as soon as I can. I vow upon my honor, I would rather stay here with you than question the traitors, but I cannot ignore my duties to the king." His voice softened, became a warm tingle against her cheek. "Do you understand, little dancer? Until the moment I return, I will be thinking of you, your beauty, and all the secrets we will share."

His words became a throaty murmur, a sound like a cat's purr. Unable to resist, she looked up into his eyes. This close, they were a decadent brown shade, the color of a mélange of costly spices. Cinnamon. Cumin. Coriander. His lashes dropped on a blink. In that gesture, he promised her a multitude of sinful pleasures. Her skin prickled with delight.

Nay! She should not be tempted by what he offered.

Henry and the others could be in danger.

Linford's fingers skimmed up her forearm in a feather-light caress. Skilled. Sure. A lover's touch. Her flesh throbbed with the contact, even as sudden heat swirled down to her belly. Her breath puffed against the veil.

Disquiet and yearning pulled at her heart, even as his fingers glided up past her elbow. How could one touch elicit such a multitude of sensations? As she willed the muzzy haze from her mind, his fingers snagged the veil's edge. Tugged.

He intended to see her face!

She swatted aside his hand and whirled away, her skirt swirling about her legs. Forcing a petulant tone, she said, "You should not tease me when you cannot stay. Shame, milord."

Chuckling, he started toward her. "Little dancer—"

Her frantic gaze fell to the wine goblets. "A drink, before you leave?" She limped to the trestle table and picked up the jug. Wine splashed over the goblet's rim.

Spattered on the table. Dripped onto the floor with a steady pat, pat. Under her breath, she cursed her trembling hands.

Hearing him stride up behind her, she turned and pressed the goblet into his palm. He raised the vessel to his lips.

"To your pleasure," she said in a bright tone.

His lazy smile returned. "To our pleasure, love." He took a sip, then frowned. "Why do you not drink?"

Her fingers fluttered to the veil. "I am not thirsty." As she shifted her weight to ease pressure on the splinter, pain shot through her sole. She smothered a gasp. "Later, when you return, we can drink tog—"

His goblet clanged down beside her. He crowded her against the table. The hard edge pressed against the back of her thighs. As his masculine smell enveloped her, and his legs bumped against hers, she wilted to half sitting on the table's edge. She barely resisted bolting for the door.

"You find fault with the wine?" Her fingers clutched the table's edge so hard, she vowed the wood would snap.

"The wine is delicious. I must keep a clear head for the interrogation." He smiled. "Now, before I go . . ."

His hands landed upon her hips. A firm, deliberate touch. His fingers splayed upon her skirt. Then, with agonizing slowness, they slid down the curve of her hips, bare legs, and calves. A thorough, appreciative touch, as though he relished the