Dance of Desire by Catherine Kean Page B

she said, "With only days to prepare for the wedding, I had no time for visits. I am sorry."

"You are heartless." His bloodshot eyes hardened. "Rudd rots in the sheriff's dungeon. You do naught to help him. Instead, you wed that crusading bastard. You should be marrying

The noise around her quieted. Warning buzzed in her veins, as well as anger. Did he not see how mortifying this was for himself, and for her? Did he intend to cause a scene? "Garmonn —"

"Do not marry Linford." His fingers tightened on her, crushing her mantle and gown. The mare flailed her head, and with a gasp, Rexana struggled to keep control of the animal. "Listen to me." He leaned closer, his lips wet with spit. " ' Tis dangerous —"

"To mistreat my bride," boomed a deep voice. "Unhand her, or you will find yourself in my dungeon."

Her breath caught. The crowd parted as Fane strode toward her, flanked by men-at-arms, one hand on his sword's grip. Sunlight gleamed on his silky hair and embroidered blue tunic, crafted from the most beautiful fabric she had ever seen. The lavish garment denoted wealth and authority.

She swallowed. "Sheriff Linford."

"Milady."

Her horse snorted, sidestepped. Fane reached up, caught the jingling bridle, and steadied the animal. His gaze slid to Garmonn. "Lord Darwell's son, I believe?"

Garmonn's face reddened. He managed an unsteady bow.

"Your father is looking for you. He hoped you would honor Rexana and myself by attending the wedding ceremony." Fane shook his head. "I vow you should go sleep off your drink."

With an awkward gesture, Garmonn smoothed his tunic. "I am not besotted."

"You reek of tavern smoke and ale." Fane's eyes narrowed. "You have already embarrassed my bride with your foolishness. Leave, before I choose to take exception to your crudity."

"You dare to call me crude, you bast —"

"Leave," Fane snapped. "Now." His hand closed on his broadsword's hilt.

Garmonn reached for the dagger at his hip.

A hush fell over the crowd.

A sickening tightness clawed at Rexana's chest. She stared down at Garmonn, his face a ghastly shade of purple. If she did not intervene, he would attack Fane. She knew well of Garmonn's twisted cruelty.

"Please." She softened her words to remove any hint of insult. "Do as he says. Rudd would wish it, as do I."

Garmonn's gaze held hers. His eyes scorned her, condemned her. Called her a liar. Fear stormed through her.

"When Rudd is proven innocent and freed from the dungeon," she soothed, "I will tell him to come see you."

As though her words eased an internal dilemma, Garmonn smiled, then spat out of the side of his mouth. He sheathed his knife. After casting Fane a last, disparaging glance, he turned and staggered through the crowd.

She sighed. Her shoulders sagged. Past the rushing sound in her ears, she scarcely heard Fane's command to his men-at-arms. "Find Garmonn's horse. Make sure he leaves and does not return."

Guards thundered past. The chatter and music resumed.

Rexana unwound the reins that had somehow become twisted tight around her fingers. Bits of meadowsweet, dislodged from the saddle during the fray, tumbled to the ground.
    The mare suddenly eased into a walk. Rexana looked up, to see Fane leading the horse off the main street into an alley cluttered with broken wine barrels and crates. The crowd moved back to allow them room to pass. As men-at-arms stepped forward to control the throng, Fane said, "Do not let anyone follow."
    He strode farther into the alley. His tunic glittered and outlined the muscled swell of his shoulders. Lower down, the fabric shifted against his buttocks, suggesting taut muscles and curves. Rexana quickly averted her gaze. She should not notice such things.
    "Where are you taking me?"
    He glanced over his shoulder. "To the church, love, to make you my wife."
    Frowning, she pointed to her right. "The church is in that direction."
    "I thought you might need a moment to calm yourself and right your garments." He kicked broken