Falcon's Desire. Denise Lynn

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      Chapter Two

      An early evening breeze brushed lightly across Lyonesse’s cheek. The gentle current carried a fine, cool mist from the sea it just crossed, causing her to pull the woolen mantle more closely around her to ward off the chill. Her perch in the crenellation of the stone wall may have shielded her from a person’s view, but it provided little shelter from the seeking wind.

      She’d had two days to think. Two long days to figure out what to do with Faucon until his time ran out.

      So far she’d come up with little else besides holding him in her tower. He’d only laughed at her with a deep, sinister laugh that sent shivers down her spine. He didn’t realize that she knew about the king’s command. Faucon had one short month to prove his innocence, or die. If she could hold him long enough, his death would not be on her hands.

      Faucon would have to be content with being held captive—for a time. She’d ordered the chains securing him to the bed removed, making his lot slightly better. A thick, iron-studded door with a locking bar on the outside, secured him within his tower cell.

      “The murdering scum be dead?”

      Lyonesse jumped at the intrusion. “No.” Intent on her thoughts, she gave Sir John little more than a glance.

      He grasped her shoulder. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

      She jerked away from his unwelcome touch, reluctantly climbing down from the wall. “No, Faucon is not dead.”

      “’Tis not what we planned.” Anger tinged his words. “Milord du Pree will not wait forever for his revenge.”

      Lyonesse lifted an eyebrow at his impatience. “What does a day or two matter to one who is dead?”

      Sir John loomed over her, his lips curled into a snarl. “Lord Guillaume trusted you. Like a besotted fool he was ready to give you everything.” He spat on the wooden planks of the wallwalk. “You dishonor him with your hesitation.”

      “I dishonor no one.” She swallowed her fear of the man and stared up at him. “Faucon will pay for what he did.”

      “When? You have had time aplenty to finish the deed.”

      Howard’s dire warnings about trusting Sir John rang in her mind. No. She would not tell him her plans.

      “What would you like me to do, Sir John? Run a sword through him with Ryonne’s captain at hand?”

      Sir John’s smile sent a tremor down her spine. “I can see to your captain easily enough.”

      “You will not endanger Howard.”

      The man stepped away. “If the deed is not done by this time tomorrow, I will see to it myself.”

      “Give me no ultimatums. I will deal with Faucon.”

      Lyonesse gasped when he grabbed her arm. “Unhand me.”

      He tightened his hold. “The time for games is over. I came to you to fulfill my lord’s final wish and I will see it done. No one will stop me. I will kill any who get in my way. It will give me great pleasure when Sir Howard seeks to interfere.” Releasing her, he started to turn away, stopping long enough to add, “Until this time tomorrow, Lady Lyonesse.”

      She watched his retreat and wondered why she had ever trusted him. ’Twas simple—because she’d been too distraught to think straight. Grief had made her more than eager to seek revenge on Guillaume’s murderer.

      And now she’d made Sir John an enemy. An enemy who threatened to kill Howard.

      Sir John left her no choice. She would have to set aside her new plans of letting King Stephen deal with Faucon and fulfill the old ones.

      She still thirsted for his blood, but would she be able to take his life? Is that what Guillaume would have wanted?

      She turned back to the wall, watching the flurry of nighttime activities in the outer bailey. Fires for cooking and warmth glowed from the doorway of each cottage and hut. The smells of food being prepared set her stomach rolling.

      The calls and laughter of those gathering their tools and closing their shops for the day made her smile wistfully. They were going home to wives, husbands and children. Their lives might be poor and humble compared to hers, but they had someone to go home to, someplace to call home.

      While she had nothing and no one. Nay, her chance at having someplace to consider her own was lost. She closed her eyes tightly against the tears. Her chance at having a happy, fulfilling life had been taken from her.

      Lyonesse turned and glared across Taniere’s inner courtyard. Her heated stare swept across the muddy practice yard, past the stables and mews to fly up the earthen motte that supported the high walls of the keep. Aye, lost because the monster locked inside the tower knew not the meaning of honor.

      He’d killed Guillaume as if the man had been nothing but a mere foot soldier, instead of heir to a title and great wealth. It would have been of more benefit to take Guillaume for ransom, than killing him in such a cowardly fashion. No sane man would have mutilated Guillaume beyond recognition. Only someone of the devil’s ilk could have committed СКАЧАТЬ