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Authors: Catherine Kean
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guessed." Cupping his hand, he bobbed it up and down. "Oranges! I am a complete fool not to have recognized her earlier."
Darwell was not the only fool.
As the older lord rattled on about his lack of perception, rage blasted through Fane. His fist tightened around the precious jewel until the gold band bit into his palm. Why had she concocted such an elaborate ruse? Did she know of her brother's treachery? Did she support it? Had she aimed to distract Fane and his guards while Rudd attended the tavern meeting with the other conspirators?
A sour taste, as sickening as rotten dates, filled Fane's mouth. Through her highly provocative dance, had she intended to prove the High Sheriff of Warringham to be a barbaric misfit, ruled by lust instead of reason?
By God, he would have answers!
He would not allow Lady Rexana Villeaux to play him for a fool. If word of her deception became known throughout the county, his capabilities as High Sheriff would be in question. One woman — a traitor's sister — would not undermine his efforts to secure Warringham for the crown and to establish peace.
He forced his anger aside, focusing on his plan to snare the lady. He looked at Darwell, who now hummed an off-key tune while wiggling his hips in an appalling imitation of her dance.
Fane cleared his throat. "Milord."
Darwell straightened with a snap and pop of bones. He laughed sheepishly. "My apologies, Sheriff. I did not mean to . . . ah . . . become lost in my thoughts."
"Lord Darwell," Fane said, easing his painful grip on the ring. "You seem a man of integrity. I vow I can trust you?"
Darwell smoothed his skewed tunic. "Aye."
"Before I say more, I must have your solemn vow you will not reveal Lady Rexana's secret."
Darwell's grin wavered. "Secret?"
"That she performed here this eve."
"Ah." With a sly wink, the older lord said, "There is a reason for her disguise, and for dancing half nu — . . . For her enthralling performance." Darwell leaned sideways, as though the crackling flames might suddenly grow ears. "You can confide in me. I swear, I will not tell anyone."
Dragging his hand over his mouth, as though he pondered a matter of grave importance, Fane said, "The crown forbids me to reveal Lady Rexana's role. However, 'tis vital that no one" — his tone hardened — "I repeat, no one, learns she performed at tonight's feast."
Darwell's eyes bulged. "A crown secret? O - Of course I shall not speak of it."
"If you do," Fane said with quiet menace, "I must report your indiscretion to the king's ministers. Without question, this would not bode well for you or your sons." He paused for dramatic effect. " ' Twould destroy Garmonn's chances of a lucrative marriage."
Darwell's face whitened. "I swear, upon my honor. Lady Rexana's secret is safe with me."
"Good." Fane blew a sigh and smiled. "May this eve be the start of a long and valuable friendship. I will send for wine, so we may toast our agreement." As he headed toward the solar doors, he said: "While you are here, you must share with me all you know of Lady Villeaux."
Shaking his head in obvious bewilderment, Darwell wiped sweat from his upper lip. "Whatever you wish to know, Sheriff, I shall be glad to tell you."
Chapter Five
Swinging her shoes in one hand , Rexana walked through the shadowed glade. As birds twittered and flitted from tree to tree, she willed her weary mind to snap fully awake. Willed her anxious thoughts to clear. Willed her worry to evaporate like the morning mist rising from the deep, gray-green pool.
She dropped her shoes into the grass, then walked down to the water, drew her skirts up about her knees, and hunched down in the mud. As she stared at her reflection, she trailed a finger through the shallows. Her features blurred in a cloud of brown silt. An omen of the uncertain future?
A breeze stirred the pond's surface. She shivered. Her body ached from a fitful night's rest. Snatches of sleep were haunted by nightmares of a gleeful
Darwell was not the only fool.
As the older lord rattled on about his lack of perception, rage blasted through Fane. His fist tightened around the precious jewel until the gold band bit into his palm. Why had she concocted such an elaborate ruse? Did she know of her brother's treachery? Did she support it? Had she aimed to distract Fane and his guards while Rudd attended the tavern meeting with the other conspirators?
A sour taste, as sickening as rotten dates, filled Fane's mouth. Through her highly provocative dance, had she intended to prove the High Sheriff of Warringham to be a barbaric misfit, ruled by lust instead of reason?
By God, he would have answers!
He would not allow Lady Rexana Villeaux to play him for a fool. If word of her deception became known throughout the county, his capabilities as High Sheriff would be in question. One woman — a traitor's sister — would not undermine his efforts to secure Warringham for the crown and to establish peace.
He forced his anger aside, focusing on his plan to snare the lady. He looked at Darwell, who now hummed an off-key tune while wiggling his hips in an appalling imitation of her dance.
Fane cleared his throat. "Milord."
Darwell straightened with a snap and pop of bones. He laughed sheepishly. "My apologies, Sheriff. I did not mean to . . . ah . . . become lost in my thoughts."
"Lord Darwell," Fane said, easing his painful grip on the ring. "You seem a man of integrity. I vow I can trust you?"
Darwell smoothed his skewed tunic. "Aye."
"Before I say more, I must have your solemn vow you will not reveal Lady Rexana's secret."
Darwell's grin wavered. "Secret?"
"That she performed here this eve."
"Ah." With a sly wink, the older lord said, "There is a reason for her disguise, and for dancing half nu — . . . For her enthralling performance." Darwell leaned sideways, as though the crackling flames might suddenly grow ears. "You can confide in me. I swear, I will not tell anyone."
Dragging his hand over his mouth, as though he pondered a matter of grave importance, Fane said, "The crown forbids me to reveal Lady Rexana's role. However, 'tis vital that no one" — his tone hardened — "I repeat, no one, learns she performed at tonight's feast."
Darwell's eyes bulged. "A crown secret? O - Of course I shall not speak of it."
"If you do," Fane said with quiet menace, "I must report your indiscretion to the king's ministers. Without question, this would not bode well for you or your sons." He paused for dramatic effect. " ' Twould destroy Garmonn's chances of a lucrative marriage."
Darwell's face whitened. "I swear, upon my honor. Lady Rexana's secret is safe with me."
"Good." Fane blew a sigh and smiled. "May this eve be the start of a long and valuable friendship. I will send for wine, so we may toast our agreement." As he headed toward the solar doors, he said: "While you are here, you must share with me all you know of Lady Villeaux."
Shaking his head in obvious bewilderment, Darwell wiped sweat from his upper lip. "Whatever you wish to know, Sheriff, I shall be glad to tell you."
Chapter Five
Swinging her shoes in one hand , Rexana walked through the shadowed glade. As birds twittered and flitted from tree to tree, she willed her weary mind to snap fully awake. Willed her anxious thoughts to clear. Willed her worry to evaporate like the morning mist rising from the deep, gray-green pool.
She dropped her shoes into the grass, then walked down to the water, drew her skirts up about her knees, and hunched down in the mud. As she stared at her reflection, she trailed a finger through the shallows. Her features blurred in a cloud of brown silt. An omen of the uncertain future?
A breeze stirred the pond's surface. She shivered. Her body ached from a fitful night's rest. Snatches of sleep were haunted by nightmares of a gleeful
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