Falcon's Desire. Denise Lynn
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noted that the captain had enough decency to look ashamed. “Milady, I—”
Lyonesse cut him off with a wave of her hand. “It matters little, Howard. He is here and will be my guest. I am certain his presence will cause little harm.”
She looked back at Rhys and added, “Since I have already invited him, I doubt that he will decline my offer and return to his cell. However, should he think to try anything foolish, I would be delighted to have him become the main course.”
Ah, yes, it was going to be a grand meal. Amused, Faucon followed her retreating form to the table on the raised platform at the head of the hall and took the only seat available—the one next to her on the bench.
He tried to ignore the large tapestry hanging behind the table. The stunning needlework depicted a lion and his lioness, staring out as if guarding those seated below. A brief chill raced up his back and lifted the hairs on his neck. For a moment, Rhys wondered if this is what prey felt like right before an attack.
Howard mumbled curses as he secured Rhys’s leg shackles to the bench before taking a position against the wall behind them. Rhys wanted to laugh at the absurdity. What would he do in a hall crowded with Lyonesse’s men?
They were everywhere he looked; seated at the many trestle tables scattered about the great hall, standing in small groups alongside the whitewashed walls, leaning against arched support beams and lounging by the open fire off to one side. No, he would do nothing to incite those gathered for the meal.
He turned his attention back to his prey and touched the finely woven linen sleeve of her gown. “Ah, but were I to leave, I would not be able to tell you how the color of this gown makes your eyes sparkle like gems.”
She leaned away from him. “And I would not have to listen to your silly lies.”
He trailed his fingertip up the back of her arm to stroke a ribbon entwined in her loosely braided hair. “Or that your hair would be a magnificent silken veil were it loosened from its confinement.”
Rhys leaned closer, ignoring her soft gasp of shock at his familiarity, and touched the jewel-encrusted gold torque around her neck. “If it were not for me, you would never know that this collar and your hair should be your only adornment.”
He lowered his voice. “Just envisioning the sight could make any warrior wish to take you somewhere private to see if your beauty did indeed match his dreams.”
Her flaming face, blazing eyes and sudden intake of breath should have prepared him for the slap that landed on the side of his face.
Chapter Five
At the sound of the loud, stinging smack, all talking in the hall ceased.
Howard stepped away from the wall. The scraping sound of metal swords being pulled from wooden scabbards caused Rhys’s heart to miss a beat. At any other time, the noise would have been music to his ears. Now the reverberating sound reminded him of a hissing, deadly serpent intent on striking its helpless prey.
The smile froze on his lips as Rhys wordlessly watched the ire in her eyes recede. When fear quickly replaced her anger, he leaned away from her. After turning to look at the many tight faces watching them, Rhys lifted his goblet of wine. “To your lady. May she never again have to deal with another such as me.”
A quick glance at the stiff figure beside him made him urge in a whisper, “I am chained and unarmed, but I will not go down without taking a few of your men with me. Smile, Lady Lyonesse, live up to your name and put them at ease.”
Her temples throbbed. As much as she would like to see this loathsome creature’s blood, she did not wish it spilled at this moment.
“Milady.” Howard moved closer. “I can return him to his cell.”
She shook her head before taking the goblet from the vile miscreant. Lyonesse lifted it toward her people. “Eat, drink. We should be thankful that Lord Faucon took no offense at my ungraciousness.”
When a few of the men did not waver from their ready stance, she added, “Having never been to court, I knew not that he was jesting. Surely you can forgive my lack of humor?”
The apology tasted bitter on her tongue and she longed to take it back. She’d not been the one in the wrong. He deserved the slap.
She breathed a sigh of relief when all but Howard relaxed at her words. The captain sheathed his partially drawn sword and moved back to his position against the wall.
Faucon took the untouched goblet from her hand and raised it to his lips. “Such a pretty speech, Lady Lyonesse. Your people will be grateful that you kept the peace so readily.”
It would be so much easier if he could simply choke on the wine he was drinking. “What my people do or do not appreciate is none of your concern.”
She jumped when his hand closed over her own. “I would say that as a captive in Taniere, there is much to concern me.”
Lyonesse was fascinated with the way he could make a soft-spoken whisper sound like a threat. Fascinated, but not afraid. She studied his face from beneath her eyelashes.
Not the slightest evidence of a frown marred his dusky complexion. In fact, the only visible creases were the laugh lines at the sides of his glittering eyes. She had an overwhelming urge to see that smug smile removed from his face.
She pulled her hand out from under his, straightened her back and asked, “What can you find so amusing? Is the mighty Faucon so invincible that his confinement does not matter?”
Prompted by his silence, she continued. “Do you not find yourself wondering if you will live or die? Or does death have no meaning to an offspring of Satan? Have you been given everlasting life in exchange for killing innocent humans?”
Lyonesse ignored Howard’s groan. Instead, she watched Faucon’s jaw tighten.
Still the smile did not leave his face.
After placing a hand on the bench for support, she leaned closer to him and lowered her voice. “How many lifetimes were you given for the murders of your wife and infant son? Did you gain as many eternities for Guillaume’s demise as you did for theirs?”
Now the smile was gone.
The dusky complexion was replaced by a paleness that did not seem natural for one so dark. His glittering gaze danced briefly to Howard before returning to pierce her with a look of anger and pain so intense that for an instant Lyonesse regretted her words.
Faucon’s grasp on her wrist stopped just short of crushing the bones that connected her hand to her arm. His voice was still nothing more than a whisper. “You may be able to coax or goad others with your quicksilver tongue. But, Lady Lyonesse, you are not dealing with one who is willing to play your games.”
“I am not—” When he none too gently pulled her arm up, she forgot the rest of her sentence. “What are you—”
He quickly cut off her response by slapping the handle of her eating knife in her hand and ordering, “Eat.”
Who did he think he was? Lyonesse stared at their shared trencher. He was not the Lord of Taniere. This murderer had no right to speak to her in this manner. Faucon was a prisoner here. A prisoner who had no right to be in her hall, or at her table.
She trembled with rage. “What gives you the right…” Suddenly she realized that she’d given permission for him to be here. If he’d pushed her good humor over the edge, she’d no one to blame but herself.
Lyonesse bit her tongue, stopping the rest of her words and viciously stabbed her knife into a piece of meat. It would have been much more satisfying if it had been Faucon’s heart.
Rhys flinched. He could almost feel her knife rip through the flesh and muscles of his chest as the sharp point sought his heart.
The vengeance-seeking