Valley of Silence by Nora Roberts Page A

through the rain of glossy brown.
    He saw the minute she sensed she wasn’t alone. The sudden stiffening in her shoulders, and the slide of her hand into the folds of her gown.
    â€œIf you’ve a stake tucked in there,” he said, “I’d as soon you didn’t point it in my direction.”
    Though her shoulders didn’t relax, her hand dropped to her side as she turned. “I didn’t see you. I wanted some air. It’s so warm inside, and I’ve drunk too much.”
    â€œMore that you didn’t eat enough. I’ll leave you to your air.”
    â€œOh, stay. I’m only taking a moment, then you can have the damned air to yourself again.” She pushed at her hair, then cocked her head.
    He got a good look at her face now, her eyes, and thought, yes, indeed, the little queen was on the way to being plowed.
    â€œDo you come out here to think deep thoughts? I can’t decide if deep thoughts require space like this, or are better turned over in confines. I imagine you have many thoughts, with all that you’ve seen.”
    She stumbled a little, laughed a little when he caught her arm. And immediately released it.
    â€œYou’re so careful not to touch me,” she commented. “Unless you’re saving me from death or injury. Or bashing at me in training. I find that interesting. You’re a man of interests, how do you find it?”
    â€œI don’t.”
    â€œExcept for that one time,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken, and moved a step closer. “That one time you touched me good and proper. You put your hands on me then, and your mouth. I’ve wondered about that.”
    He very nearly took a step in retreat, and the realization of it mortified him. “It was meant to teach you a lesson.”
    â€œI’m a scholar, and I do love my lessons. Give me another then.”
    â€œThe wine’s made you foolish.” He was annoyed with the stiff and pompous sound of his own voice. “You should go in, have your ladies take you to your bed.”
    â€œIt has made me foolish. I’ll be sorry for it tomorrow, but well, that’s tomorrow, isn’t it? Oh, what a day this has been for me.” She did a slow turn that had her skirts swaying over the stones. “Was it only this morning I walked to the stone? How could it be only this morning? I feel I’ve carried that sword and the stone with it through this day. Now I’m setting them down, until tomorrow, I’m setting them down. I’m the worse for drink, and what of it?”
    She stepped closer yet, and pride wouldn’t let him back away.
    â€œI’d hoped you’d dance with me tonight. I hoped, and I wondered what it would be like to have you touch me when it wasn’t in a fight or out of manners or mistake.”
    â€œI wasn’t in the mood for dancing.”
    â€œOh, and you’re full of moods, you are.” She watched his face carefully, studying him, he thought, as she might the pages of a book. “And sure, so am I. I was in an angry mood when you kissed me before. And a little frightened around it. I’m not angry or frightened now. But I think you are.”
    â€œNow you’re adding ridiculous to foolish.”
    â€œProve it then.” She closed that last bit of distance, tipped up her face to his. “Teach me a lesson.”
    He could hardly be damned for it. He’d been damned long before. He wasn’t gentle; he wasn’t tender. But yanked her against him and nearly off her feet before his mouth swooped down to plunder hers.
    He tasted the wine and the warmth—and a recklessness he hadn’t anticipated. That, he knew, was his mistake.
    She was ready for him this time. Her hands were in his hair, her mouth open and avid. She didn’t melt against him in surrender, or shudder from the onslaught. She strained for more.
    Need clawed at him, one more demon sent to torture him.
    She