Denise Lynn - Falcon's Desire

“Faucon, how could you think I wanted anything but your life?”

His dark gaze bore into hers. “Considering what a base clod I have obviously become, I bid you hurry.”

She was surprised by how calm his words sounded. Would he really accept death so easily? “It has taken me months to achieve this moment. Let me savor it a little longer.”

“Oh, by all means, please do enjoy yourself.”

“Always the sarcastic retort? Tell me, Faucon, do you take anything seriously?”

His eyes burned. Golden specks flickered into being. “I take living and dying very seriously.”

Suddenly her mouth went dry. “You may take your own living and dying seriously. What about others?”

“It depends.”

His voice, deep and gravelly, whispered across her ears. She found it difficult to concentrate in the warm chamber. She needed to end this quickly. Now. Before losing her will to see it through.

No longer was waiting for his time to run out an option. She’d come this far—debased herself to catch him off guard. To her amazement and satisfaction it had worked.

Keeping her gaze locked on his, she took a deep breath and in the split second before completing her deed, she wondered if there would be much blood. With all the force she could muster, Lyonesse gripped the dagger, prepared to ram the lethal blade into his heart.

Like a hawk snatching its prey in midair, Faucon caught her wrist in a viselike grasp. “You have two choices, Lyonesse. Either end this now, or submit.”

She stared at the hand gripping hers. The muscles and veins in his hands strained against confining flesh. Blood ran down the front of his tunic. She saw her entire life, her future ebb away as easily as his blood. Swallowing the bile caught in her throat, she looked back up at him. “You have to die. If I don’t do it, Sir John will and he’ll kill all who stand in his way.”

“Fine.” His grip tightened over hers as he forced the point of the dagger deeper into his chest.

Dear Lord, she couldn’t do this. She’d tried. Twice now. And failed. In a whisper, she pleaded, “Guillaume, forgive me.”

Faucon whispered back. “You will never let him forgive you.” Pushing the lethal weapon another hair closer to his heart, he beckoned, “Come, Lyonesse, this is what you want. I am helping you all I can.”

“Stop!” She pushed frantically against his chest with her free hand. “Oh, stop, please. I cannot.”

Entwining his fingers through her hair, he grabbed the back of her neck, stopping her attempt at escape. “I thought this is what you wanted.”

“I do.”

“Look at my chest, Lyonesse. Can you not see my blood run? Does it not give you a taste for more? You are almost there. Why stop now when you are so close?”

She glanced past the blood and stared at him. “I am not like you. I could never kill in cold blood.”

He laughed. “You are more like me than you will ever know.”

“No.” Lyonesse shook her head. “I could never do the devil’s work.”

“Then why do you come to this chamber dressed like a temptress and close out the guards? Who gave you the idea of distracting me with your body, so that you could plant a dagger in my heart? If you think those thoughts came from God you need to think again, Lyonesse.”

She would burn in hell for her actions this day. “You do not understand. If you do not die, Sir John has vowed to see it through. Howard will seek to stop him and when he does…” She couldn’t complete the horrifying truth.

“Do you place such little trust in your captain?”

Lyonesse shook her head. “I would trust him with my life.”

“But not his own.”

She gasped. “I could not bear him to die for my mistake.”

“Then correct your mistake now. Kill me. See it through.”

Her knees buckled. Faucon winced, but pulled her upright. “Damn you, Lyonesse. Get it over with.”

Her breath caught on a choked cry. “I cannot.”

“Then I will end this myself.”

Jerking the tip of the dagger out of his chest, he shook her wrist and the weapon clattered to the floor. Faucon pulled her to him. “I gave you two choices, Lyonesse. The first was to kill me.”

His lips grazed hers. “The second was to submit.”

The warmth of his blood seeped through her thin gown. The heat of his lips tore through her veins. This was insane. Yet that knowledge did nothing to prevent her from leaning even closer against him.

Coaxing her lips to part, he swept his tongue across hers and the fire shot all the way to her toes. Heat and ice both rushed through her at the same time. It left her dizzy, breathless and wanting more.

Faucon released her wrist and wrapped his arm around her. “You were a fool to come here alone.” His hot breath grazed her ear. “What made you think you would succeed?”

Before she could answer, his lips closed over hers. The half-formed response fled her mind.

He stroked her side, his fingertips barely brushing her flesh. Lyonesse shivered from the unexpected contact.

No man had ever touched her like this—igniting fires with a gentle stroke. Not even Guillaume had kissed her in this manner—turning her legs to water and causing her heart to beat so rapidly. Never had she imagined the feelings running through her now. Faucon was just a man and she’d been certain of his reaction upon seeing her indecent clothing. Yet she had not expected him to touch her—or to kiss her.

She’d not expected to become the prey.

He traced across her chin and up to her ear with his lips and tongue. She could no more stop the tremors rushing down her spine than she could stop the moon from rising at night.

Faucon cupped her breast and ran his thumb across her already swollen nipple. “Ah, Lyonesse.” His whispered words against her ear drew a moan from her. His lips against her neck caused her to gasp for breath. He chuckled softly against her skin. “The next time you seek to kill me, do not get within my arm’s reach.”

Threading his fingers tighter in her hair, he pulled her head back.

Lyonesse stared into his eyes. The golden flecks shimmered with life. The fire in her veins cooled instantly. What had she done?

His brows rose and a smile lifted one side of his mouth. “Next time, Lyonesse, I will do much more than just kiss you. I will make you mine.”

She bit her lip as the heat of embarrassment rushed up her face. Pushing against his chest, she swore, “Next time, Faucon, perhaps I will see you dead.”

He laughed at her idle threat. “There won’t be a next time, my love.”

“Do not call me that!” Her gown stuck to the already drying blood on his chest as she pulled away.

Faucon looked down and pried at the cloth, freeing them from each other. “I would appreciate it, if you would summon Howard.”

She backed away and turned to retrieve her mantle from the floor, just as the door to the chamber banged against the wall.

“Again you could not honor Milord Guillaume’s wishes.” Sir John stood in the doorway. His sword already drawn, he started for Faucon. “I told you I would see to it myself.”

Lyonesse grabbed at his arm, but he jerked away from her. “Nay. Do not.”

Sir John paused and looked at her. “Do not?” Narrowing his eyes, he let his gaze travel slowly down her body. His rage, when he returned his stare to her face, was almost tangible. “I see that even you have fallen under this blackguard’s spell.”

Pulling her mantle around her, Lyonesse returned his stare. “Nay. But I will not have him killed. We will let the king deal with Faucon.”

Rhys looked from one to the other. Who was his biggest enemy? Sir John with a heart of hate and a ready sword? Or Lyonesse with a heart of deceit and tongue filled with lies? He’d rather face the sword. At least with Sir John he knew when and where the attack would come. But his unexplained lust for Lyonesse would cloud her approach.