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 little wench succeeded where many grown men had failed—again. This inexperienced woman used words to goad him into losing his temper as if he was nothing more than a callow youth.
He’d crushed the life from men more than twice her size. His words could cut her show of bravado into ribbons. Rhys glanced down at her. A tinge of pink still colored her cheeks.
Nay, striking out at the spirit of so regal a cub would not sit well on his conscience. It’d be child’s play and he did not intend to amuse the child in either of them.
She goaded him beyond reason and struck where no others dared. In the short time he’d known her, Lyonesse had made him feel emotions that he’d thought well buried. Hatred and anger blended with pain as raw as it had been years ago.
Yet beneath those mixed emotions lay something far more dangerous. And far more enticing than any great wealth. Passion and desire threatened to awaken from their long lonely slumber.
Rhys stood, seeking to escape to safety. He motioned for Howard. “I would return to my cell now. The company there will be much more soothing for the digestion of my meal.”
While Howard unlocked his fetters from the bench, Rhys smiled down at Lyonesse. He’d not let her see the warring that took place in his mind and soul. Gently lifting her wrist, he placed a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. He felt the furious beating of her pulse against his fingers. Briefly, he wondered which upset her more, his lingering touch, their nearness, or his smile?
He leaned close, so no one else could hear him answer her last, half-spoken question. “A devil needs none to give him the right to do anything he desires.” Watching the blush fade from her cheeks, he added, “Beware of what you cause to begin, little lioness, you may not be able to control the outcome.”
“Why, you—”
Her response was abruptly cut short by a loud commotion coming from the entrance doors to the hall.
Clearly unable to decide what to attend to first, Howard looked from Lyonesse, to Rhys, then to the door.
Rhys spread his arms as far apart as the chains would allow and nearly barked, “Good Lord, man, I am going nowhere. Escort your lady and I will follow.”
Quickly springing to action, Howard assisted Lyonesse from the bench and led them to the entrance.
Over the yells of the men, Rhys heard a loud cry that drew him through the open door and out onto the wallwalk. Ignoring Lyonesse’s shouted order to halt, he breathed in the crisp air and gazed up at the sky. The familiar cry of an eagle broke through the gasps of those gathered outside.
Rhys turned and glanced at Howard, hoping the man would lend his assistance. He then crossed his left arm over his stomach, giving him enough length on the chain to hold his right arm up at about chest level. “Cover my arm.”
Howard looked at him as if he’d gone mad.
To Rhys’s surprise, Lyonesse grabbed a cloak off a passing guard and wrapped the thick wool around Rhys’s forearm. “I want to see her.”
He pursed his lips and gave two short whistles. Instantly, he was rewarded by another cry. His heart raced as he moved closer to the wall.
Within a heartbeat Jezebel circled those gathered on the wall and reached out with talons that could crush a man’s bone with one hard
