Falcon's Honor. Denise Lynn
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heart jumped. Her father had always called her his princess as an endearment. It sounded strange coming from another. “Princess? I am not certain who you are speaking to, but since only the two of us are in this chamber, I can only assume you are confused.”
“Some of Browan’s guards were only beaten, not killed. The men who murdered the others asked the whereabouts of the Princess.”
Rhian’s mouth went dry. “Have you discovered how the others died?”
“At first glance it appeared their throats were slit. But the chain mail would have made that difficult.” Faucon’s eyebrows met as if he was considering the method of death even now. “I am certain once the bodies are cleaned up that we’ll be better able to discover how they died.”
She rubbed her throbbing temples. “What does that have to do with me?” She needed to think this through before telling him what she knew. Would it help or hinder her cause? She couldn’t decide right at this moment and the men were already dead, so speaking out would do nothing for them.
“Little things. The fact that the murderers are seeking someone. Or that Browan Keep is so poor that nobody of any consequence would come here knowingly, unless of course they were hiding. And the fact that you are the only stranger to have happened upon Browan mere days before this attack on the men.”
“From that you have determined that I am the woman they seek?” It was all she could do not to roll her eyes. She would have come to same conclusion if she’d been in Faucon’s place, but she’d not tell him that.
He said nothing. Just stared at her.
“Faucon, it is nothing more than a coincidence. I only happened upon Browan while walking through the forest. If anyone had been following me, I would think they’d have captured me before I entered these gates.” When his expression didn’t change, she asked, “Have your men found the murderers? Are they still within the gates?”
“Nay. They have searched every corner here and found nothing.”
“Then whoever it was, obviously isn’t looking for me, else they’d still be within the walls.”
“Perhaps.”
A small little voice inside her heart urged her to tell Faucon all. Her mind bade her wait a little while longer. Confused, Rhian sighed. To tell or not? She stared up at him. “Faucon…” No. Wait.
“What?”
“Nothing, Faucon. Never mind.”
He crossed the floor and stood over her. “Nothing? It sounded like more than nothing.”
Leaning back on the pallet, Rhian craned her neck back to look up at him. A position that simply would not do. “Either go stand across the room—” she extended her arm “—or help me up.”
“Nay.” He made a big show of crossing his arms against his chest and shaking his head. “I rather like our positions.”
But when she waved her hand at him, he relented and pulled her to her feet. His palm was warm against hers, chasing away the chill. Rhian stared at their entwined fingers.
Faucon brushed his thumb across the back of her hand. The small movement chased the breath from her. Good heavens, what was this? And why did his hand engulfing hers feel so right?
Rhian backed a step away and looked up at him. Even though she now stood, she still had to tip her head back to look at his face. Far too tall. She really did not like men who were so much taller than she. It put her at a disadvantage.
Firelight danced off the silver strands of his otherwise black hair. Far too wolflike. She’d never been fond of wild animals. They were too unpredictable.
His jewel-toned eyes glimmered like emeralds against his sun-darkened skin. Far too searching, too knowing. How would anyone keep secrets from eyes that seeking? He’d eventually be able to discern her thoughts without any words being spoken. Did he already know that she hid secrets from him?
His square-shaped jaw clenched and unclenched. Far too strong. Stubborn men irritated her beyond belief. They were no fun to argue with because they either lost their temper too quickly, or they sulked in silence.
Without releasing her hand, he tugged her against his chest. Far too muscular. She rested her forehead against his chest, fighting to clear her suddenly foggy mind.
Faucon lifted her chin with one finger, then stroked her neck. To retain a semblance of balance she closed her eyes and placed her other hand on his shoulder. Far too broad. Men with broad shoulders assumed the world and all its troubles could rest upon them. For an instant she wished he could carry her troubles.
“Rhian.”
His deep voice whispered across her ear like a warm caress. Far too inviting. A voice like that could convince her to… Why he could…and she would…and they—
He lightly brushed his lips against hers.
She leaned closer. Her heart jumped to her throat. Her pulse raced in expectation.
He slid his arm across her back, holding her to him. This time his kiss was far more than a feathery brush. Insistent. Searching. Exploring.
When he ran the tip of his tongue across her lower lip, Rhian gasped at the bolt of fire and ice that rushed clear to her toes. He was everything she disliked in a man, yet she would willingly—
Dear Lord, what was she thinking?
Rhian shook her head and pushed against his shoulder. “Release me.”
Faucon instantly unlaced his hand from hers and stepped back, shooting her a rueful look. “I can’t imagine what I was thinking.”
To her amazement, a flush of red crept up his neck. Since he didn’t spin any excuses, oddly enough she believed him. And that belief made not telling him what she knew even more of a crime.
Still, Rhian kept her distance. “There is no need to apologize.” When he didn’t protest the apology he hadn’t given, she walked toward the window and stared out at the twinkling stars. “I was obviously thinking the same thing.”
She heard him approach. Just his nearness put her senses on alert. He caused her heart to race, her breath to catch, her throat to close and her skin to tingle. Rhian knew with a certainty that this sudden unnaturalness, this inability to think clearly, was not a good thing. Thankfully, when she lifted a hand as if to ward him off, he stopped.
Faucon cleared his throat. “Honesty. What a unique attitude.”
“It would be rather hard to lie would it not?” Then why was her conscience snickering?
“Perhaps. But would it not be expected?”
She turned and looked at him. “How so?”
“A man alone with you in an empty chamber. Would it not make more sense for you to feign the injured virgin?”
And far too arrogant for his own good. “And why would I do that?”
He shrugged. “Had someone walked in, would it not have been the best way to avoid unwanted gossip?”
“Even had someone seen us, I need feign nothing. For one thing I care not what others may or may not think. For another, I am a virgin and the only person that will concern is my husband the day we marry.”
Rhian paused and bit her lower lip with indecision. When her conscience threatened to choke her, she finally said, “Faucon, we have another concern at the moment. Something of more importance than unwarranted gossip.”
The tone of her voice, the squaring of her shoulders and the serious, unemotional look on her face, drew Gareth forward. He leaned against the wall on the other side of the window, hoping it was far enough away to make her feel at ease and to calm his still-racing heart.
This woman with her midnight-black hair and shimmering blue eyes