gallantry."
Seated at the front of the wagon, beside the drummer who guided the horse, Henry grinned. "My pleasure, milady." His chest puffed out like a proud cockerel's. "I do not regret asking the kitchen maid the way to the bailey. She was besotted, therefore unlikely to remember a word of our chatter." He wagged his eyebrows. "She kissed most sweetly, as well."
The musicians laughed.
The drummer snorted. "I am glad ye were not tempted ta press yer sloppy charms on the guards at the gatehouse. They would not have let us pass so readily."
More laughter. Henry scowled. Rexana smothered a giggle behind her hand. She could hardly imagine a woman, let alone a grizzled warrior, puckering up to kiss either of the grim sentries who watched all who rode through Tangston's gates.
The breeze blew through trees along the roadside, a sound unlike the wind howling past Tangston's walls. With a shiver, she recalled the agonizing moments when the guards had ordered them to stop. As the wagon had creaked to a halt, her anxious mind whirled. Had Linford discovered her missing? Had he learned that she was Rudd's sister? Had he ordered her detained? She had drawn deeper into the folds of the scratchy cloak Henry had loaned her, tugging the hood over her face. After a few words from Henry, and a bawdy jest from the drummer, the guards had waved them over the drawbridge and onto the pitted road which wound its way toward Ickleton.
The horse settled into a steady clop, clop, while the men continued their banter about kissing. Rexana snuggled into the cushions and blankets provided for her comfort. The breeze, heavy with the scent of damp loam, fingered its way under the hood to brush her cheeks. A touch as light as Linford's.
Uncertainty clenched her belly like a fist.
Had they escaped the sheriff? He and his men might be in pursuit. He might emerge from the night's inky shadows, quirk an eyebrow, and demand to know what made her believe she could ever deceive him.
She buried deeper into the blankets. If Linford questioned Rudd about the brooch, would he answer, or would he realize he must protect her identity? A tiny thread of hope wound its way through her. If he did not divulge her, and she found a way to free him within the next day or two, Linford might never know that his veiled dancer was, in truth, a wealthy, titled lady. A virgin who had never experienced a lover's kiss.
The memory of Linford's hungry stare flickered through her mind. The skin across her breasts tightened. Heated. Her lips tingled, as though the cool night conspired against her and mimicked his kiss. What would it have been like to kiss him? Would he have tasted deliciously exotic?
A night bird flapped overhead with an eerie shriek, startling her from her thoughts. She blushed. How shameful to ponder her desires, when Rudd was Linford's prisoner. She rubbed her lips together to squash the queer sensation. Despite her efforts to swallow it, a moan bubbled in her throat.
One of the musicians touched her arm. "Are ye warm enough, milady? Are ye comfortable? 'Twill be a long journey."
She forced a smile. "I am fine, thank you."
Struggling to ignore her unease, she stared into the night. Fog wreathed the shadowed bushes and trees, and swirled around the wagon. By the dawn's light, the mist would disappear. As, too, must all evidence of her night as an exotic eastern dancer.
As soon as she reached Ickleton, she would give the mummer a bag of coins in thanks for the loan of the costume. She would also arrange for the woman to be far from Ickleton by daybreak.
Determination quickened Rexana's pulse. First thing on the morrow, she and Henry would begin a plan. She would see Rudd exonerated. And freed.
Hands on his hips, Fane looked around the empty solar. Emotion seethed within him — anger, frustration, cursed desire — but he leashed the urge to throw back his head and roar like a furious beast.
Nervous shuffles echoed in the open doorway behind him. Idiot
Seated at the front of the wagon, beside the drummer who guided the horse, Henry grinned. "My pleasure, milady." His chest puffed out like a proud cockerel's. "I do not regret asking the kitchen maid the way to the bailey. She was besotted, therefore unlikely to remember a word of our chatter." He wagged his eyebrows. "She kissed most sweetly, as well."
The musicians laughed.
The drummer snorted. "I am glad ye were not tempted ta press yer sloppy charms on the guards at the gatehouse. They would not have let us pass so readily."
More laughter. Henry scowled. Rexana smothered a giggle behind her hand. She could hardly imagine a woman, let alone a grizzled warrior, puckering up to kiss either of the grim sentries who watched all who rode through Tangston's gates.
The breeze blew through trees along the roadside, a sound unlike the wind howling past Tangston's walls. With a shiver, she recalled the agonizing moments when the guards had ordered them to stop. As the wagon had creaked to a halt, her anxious mind whirled. Had Linford discovered her missing? Had he learned that she was Rudd's sister? Had he ordered her detained? She had drawn deeper into the folds of the scratchy cloak Henry had loaned her, tugging the hood over her face. After a few words from Henry, and a bawdy jest from the drummer, the guards had waved them over the drawbridge and onto the pitted road which wound its way toward Ickleton.
The horse settled into a steady clop, clop, while the men continued their banter about kissing. Rexana snuggled into the cushions and blankets provided for her comfort. The breeze, heavy with the scent of damp loam, fingered its way under the hood to brush her cheeks. A touch as light as Linford's.
Uncertainty clenched her belly like a fist.
Had they escaped the sheriff? He and his men might be in pursuit. He might emerge from the night's inky shadows, quirk an eyebrow, and demand to know what made her believe she could ever deceive him.
She buried deeper into the blankets. If Linford questioned Rudd about the brooch, would he answer, or would he realize he must protect her identity? A tiny thread of hope wound its way through her. If he did not divulge her, and she found a way to free him within the next day or two, Linford might never know that his veiled dancer was, in truth, a wealthy, titled lady. A virgin who had never experienced a lover's kiss.
The memory of Linford's hungry stare flickered through her mind. The skin across her breasts tightened. Heated. Her lips tingled, as though the cool night conspired against her and mimicked his kiss. What would it have been like to kiss him? Would he have tasted deliciously exotic?
A night bird flapped overhead with an eerie shriek, startling her from her thoughts. She blushed. How shameful to ponder her desires, when Rudd was Linford's prisoner. She rubbed her lips together to squash the queer sensation. Despite her efforts to swallow it, a moan bubbled in her throat.
One of the musicians touched her arm. "Are ye warm enough, milady? Are ye comfortable? 'Twill be a long journey."
She forced a smile. "I am fine, thank you."
Struggling to ignore her unease, she stared into the night. Fog wreathed the shadowed bushes and trees, and swirled around the wagon. By the dawn's light, the mist would disappear. As, too, must all evidence of her night as an exotic eastern dancer.
As soon as she reached Ickleton, she would give the mummer a bag of coins in thanks for the loan of the costume. She would also arrange for the woman to be far from Ickleton by daybreak.
Determination quickened Rexana's pulse. First thing on the morrow, she and Henry would begin a plan. She would see Rudd exonerated. And freed.
Hands on his hips, Fane looked around the empty solar. Emotion seethed within him — anger, frustration, cursed desire — but he leashed the urge to throw back his head and roar like a furious beast.
Nervous shuffles echoed in the open doorway behind him. Idiot
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