lifted her chin, refusing to let him intimidate her. "If you never wanted to see me again, why did you come to the masquerade? Why did you dance with me?" She took a deep breath. "Why did you kiss me?"
He stiffened. She saw his hands clench at his sides, and knew it was not to still their trembling, but to restrain his anger.
"I know it was you," Rhianna said, "so you needn't try to deny it."
"Leave my house," Rayven said, biting off each word. "Leave now, while you can."
Rhianna looked deep into his eyes. Past the anger lurking there, beneath the harsh timbre of his voice, she sensed the loneliness that plagued him.
"I've missed you, my lord," she said quietly. "I had hoped you missed me."
A muscle twitched in Rayven's jaw. It was the only visible sign of the tension that was spiraling through him. He drew a deep breath, and the scent that was hers assailed his nostrils - the soap she bathed with, the mutton and cheese she'd had for supper, the scent of her hair and skin, the fragrance of her perfume.
He could smell the nervousness that made her heart beat fast, smell the blood that flowed in her veins.
A sharp blast of wind buffeted Rhianna's cloak, its chill breath making her shiver. A moment later, there was a blinding flash of lightning, followed by a tremendous clap of thunder, and then it began to rain.
Rayven swore under his breath. Even the elements seemed to be conspiring against him. He took a step back so she could cross the threshold.
"Come in," he said, though there was no warmth in his voice, no welcome in his eyes.
"My horse..."
"Bevins will see to it," Rayven said brusquely. "Come in."
Afraid he might change his mind, Rhianna quickly did as bidden. She unfastened her cloak, felt Rayven's hands at her shoulders as he took it from her and hung it on a wooden clothes peg, then shut the door.
Wordlessly, he walked past her.
She hesitated only a moment, then followed him down the long narrow hallway that led to the library.
How many hours had she sat in this room, reading to him? she wondered. How often had she watched him, wishing he would take her in his arms, that he would kiss her as she had longed to be kissed? Had he known how she felt? Was that why he had sent her away?
She paused in the doorway as a horrible thought crossed her mind. Perhaps he was in love with someone else. Perhaps he hadn't wanted to be bothered with her silly infatuation. Only it wasn't some childish infatuation she felt for him.
He sat down in his favorite chair, his back to her. "Come in, Rhianna," he invited softly.
Feeling suddenly shy, she crossed the floor and took a seat in the chair across from his. It seemed strange to sit there, as if she were his equal. Most nights, she had sat on the floor with her back to the hearth.
She glanced around the room, finding it exactly as it had been the last time she had seen it four years ago. An ancient-looking sword hung over the massive fireplace. A long oak table covered with a black lace cloth stood beneath a pair of tall, stained-glass windows. A narrow shelf made of dark oak held several pewter figurines in the shapes of snarling wolves and ravens in flight. There was no other furniture in the room save for the two high-backed chairs.
"You should not have come here." His voice was low and soft.
"I'm sorry if my presence upsets you."
One corner of his mouth turned down in a wintry smile. "You have no idea what your presence does to me."
"I am most happy to see you again, my lord," Rhianna said candidly. "I had hoped you would feel the same."
"Rhianna, I have longed for you these past four years in ways you cannot begin to imagine."
She shook her head. "Then why are you so angry with me?"
"I am not angry."
He looked angry, she thought. His hands were curled over the arms of the chair, his knuckles white with the strain. His posture was stiff, unyielding. She could almost see the tension radiating from him.
"What is it, then?" she asked.
"I fear you are not safe here."
"Not safe?"
He stared past her, listening to the rain drumming on the roof. It was going to storm all night, he mused bleakly. There was no way he could send her home, not now.