Page 5 of Saxon Blade Norman Blood

Heavy as a stone, Rowena plunged into the icy depths of the river.

Thousands of needles pierced her skin all at once. Before she could try to close her mind to the pain assaulting her, her cloak wrapped around her face, closing over her mouth as if to muffle her cries of horror. The waters swirled around her, dragging her down, swallowing her up.

The river was deep enough that the fall had not killed her but that was small consolation. Perhaps it would have been better to fall on some rocks and smash her skull. At least that way death would have been instantaneous. Instead she was about to drown, a much more frightening proposition.

Soon she would have no choice but to open her mouth and choke as water suffocated her.

The last image flashing through her mind was not one of her mother or father, it was that of a perfect, masculine face with blond hair and blazing hazel eyes. Then the very features she was imagining came into view.

An arm closed around her waist, an irresistible force propelled her upward and a moment later she burst through the surface, gulping air that had never tasted sweeter.

William was behind her, holding her tight against his chest, maintaining her head above the water. Rowena closed her eyes in relief. She hadn’t drowned.

Her problems were far from over though. The current swept the two of them along at frightening speed, dragging them under, stealing her breath away, causing William to cough and splutter. She could tell he was trying to divert them toward the edge of the stream but with little success. She had no idea how to help him so she relaxed in his grip while he fought for survival. The water churned around them, doing its best to separate her from him. Though she remained still so as not to impede his movements, it quickly became obvious it was a near impossible task for him to keep her afloat and break away from the current at the same time.

In her cloak she guessed she would be heavy and cumbersome. Thank the Lord William was not wearing chainmail for he would never have jumped after her if he had.

And she would be dead now.

A low branch hung over the water some distance ahead, the only chance at safety. Before long he would be too exhausted to move, she would be unable to do anything, and they would both drown.

“Left!” she cried in his ear, unsure whether he had seen it or not.

He let out a grunt and moved in that direction.

Throwing out his free arm, he managed to seize the branch but, no doubt numbed by the cold, his fingers could not get any purchase on the wet leaves. He had to let go. Still, it was enough to save them.

The momentary interruption had slowed them down and, grunting in desperation, William swam to the nearest bank before the current sucked them back in. Finally, he hauled her onto a gravel beach and hoisted himself up after her. For a long moment they both lay panting on the shore, drained by the effort.

Rowena’s every muscle was rigid with cold and exertion. She stole a glance at William, the man who had saved her. Flat on his back, he looked utterly spent, and no wonder. She was out of breath herself and she had done nothing more than let him hold her. He appeared unable to do anything else other than breathe; his lips had taken on a blueish tinge that worried her. She eyed him over to make sure he was not injured as well as winded—and her heart flipped over in her chest. His wet tunic was plastered to his chest and his hose molded his muscular legs. The result was indecent, and almost as intimate as seeing him naked.

Cheeks aflame, she unfastened her heavy cloak and lay gasping for air, looking at the skies. She was cold to the bones, but she was alive. She had survived her fall into the river thanks to the man she had vowed to kill.

“I can’t swim,” she rasped.

The comment was unnecessary, he would have seen that for himself but she needed to say something. She needed to know she could still breathe, could still talk, needed to know that she hadn’t died.

“I had guessed as much, thank you.” He sounded annoyed. Then he muttered a curse between his teeth.

Rowena closed her eyes, more worried than ever.

No doubt he would make her pay for this.

*

William had no time to think, no breath to spare, however much he wanted to curse the girl for forcing him to take a bath in the icy river.

For the second time in as many days he had narrowly escaped death. Both times it had been courtesy of this girl of unassuming build and angelic face. She had placed him in more danger in two days than his enemies had done in ten years. Who would have thought it? Certainly not him. When he’d spotted her during the banquet the evening before, he had not imagined for a moment she could pose any danger to him.

Which showed appearances could be deceptive. He had better not underestimate her.

When his breathing returned to normal he sat up to look at her—and bit back an oath.

Just like last night, she lay in front of him. And once again, the picture she presented threatened to compromise his sanity. Her dress clung to her body in a thoroughly indecent manner, highlighting her feminine curves. The cold of the river had made her nipples hard as pebbles and the wet fabric did nothing to hide the fact.

He clenched his jaw, trying not to imagine how good they would taste right now, cool and sweet. The soaked folds of her gown had gathered between her thighs, drawing his gaze to her most intimate place, the place he had caressed the night before—without ever staking his final claim. He inhaled a shaky breath.

What the hell was wrong with him?

This girl had tried to kill him yesterday, and now he had almost died in the river because of her. He was frozen and angry and still, still , all he could think about was losing himself inside her flesh. Despite the cold, he was hard, so hard it ached. Damn it all, she was supposed to be punished for the failed attempt on his life, but it seemed he was the one destined to suffer. Having her pressed against him earlier on the horse, all warm and slight, with her neck close enough for him to kiss had been torture. But there was worse. It wasn’t simply humiliating to have her see how much she affected him, it was also unwise. Because the moment she knew what power she held over him, she would try to exploit it to her advantage.

William gritted his teeth. He would have to come to his senses and stop being such a fool.

He stole another glance at her, lying by his side. Thankfully, her eyes were still closed. When she looked at him, he had himself under control once more.

“Let’s go,” he ordered, not bothering to ask if she was ready. They had to move before he did something he regretted.

“The men—”

“Don’t worry about them. We will find them at the castle now.” He would have a word with young Simon, who’d allowed his horse to run away, thereby landing them both into this mess.

William bent down to retrieve the girl’s cloak, then walked on. It was better if she followed him, not the other way around. Walking behind her undulating hips swathed in wet fabric would be too taxing. Besides, he knew how to get back to his castle. She didn’t.

Or maybe she did. After all, though he was ignorant of everything relating to her, she probably knew an awful lot about him. Whoever had sent her to kill him would have given her information about his habits and lifestyle. Who could that be? For the hundredth time he pondered the question and found no answer.

They walked in silence for a while then he heard her speak, her voice hesitant.

“Why did you jump in after me?”

“Why did I save someone who tried to kill me you mean?”

William snorted. Why indeed?

All he knew was that it had been the obvious thing to do, a gut reaction. Even before he’d heard Gilbert’s warning shout, he’d started running toward the girl. He had seen how wary she was around horses at Old Sarum and he’d guessed that having a mighty stallion coming at her on such a narrow bridge would frighten her at best, unbalance her at worst.

In spite of his forethought, he’d not reached her in time. The moment he’d stepped onto the bridge, she had toppled backward into the churning waters. He’d only had time to unbuckle his scabbard before jumping after her. Leaving her to fend for herself had not been an option.

“I didn’t like to see you drown,” he offered in a clipped voice.

“No. But people are not usually so keen to come to their murderer’s help.”

So… The girl did not shy away from her intentions, nor did she try to pretend to have changed her plans. A reluctant smile tugged at William’s lips. Whatever else she was, the Saxon was not easily daunted. Nor was she patient. She repeated her question with more than a hint of irritation.

“Why did you save me?”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t have?”

“N-no.” She would never thank him, of course, but he was certain she knew she would never have made it without him. “All the same, I’m surprised you did.”

So was he. He remembered the intensity of his distress when she’d fallen off bridge. He’d jumped after her, not just because he would have saved anyone from the dreadful fate of drowning, or because he needed to find out who was after him, but because he had been compelled by a mysterious force.

Desperation.

Why he should want to save someone who wanted him dead, however, he didn’t know. Neither did he understand why she would want to kill someone who had never done her any wrong. They had never met, of that he was sure. Her blue eyes framed by fiery lashes would have haunted him if he had taken but one look at her. If they had talked, he would have noticed the way her tongue caressed the sounds of his language, and he would not have forgotten the sensual lips uttering the words.

Above all he would have remembered her indomitable spirit.

Since their paths had crossed, she had met every challenge thrown her way with unwavering determination. Although she had plainly been new to it, she’d obeyed his instructions to touch herself with such brazenness he had not been able to remain seated in his chair. She had also recovered from the shock of her near drowning with surprising alacrity. Even more significantly, she had not shied away from her intentions of killing him, insisting that she was not following any orders, at great personal risk. At no point had she tried to beg for his forgiveness. This Saxon girl was unflinchingly determined.

And he was more intrigued than ever.

“I haven’t finished with you yet,” he said, realizing she was still waiting for an answer. That at least was true. “I am not willing to let you go before I have found out who you are and why you came to kill me.”

“ Let me go ? You think I jumped into the river as a way of escaping you?”

She sounded incredulous, as well she might. But of course he did not truly believe that a woman who couldn’t swim would have chosen such a hazardous way of escaping but he pretended to consider it a possibility. Maybe he would learn something if he kept her talking.

“You have to admit that I am allowed to wonder. We both know you are not here for the pleasure of my company.”

“No. But what happened was an accident. I would have drowned without you.” Her small voice tugged at his heart. She sounded on the verge of tears.

William shook his head. Why could he not remain detached where this girl was concerned? It made no sense. Earlier he’d been worried by the purple shadows under her eyes indicating she hadn’t had much sleep the night before. Now compassion twisted his guts at the sound of her vulnerability.

Irritation swept through him. So what if she was tired or feeling sorry for herself? She was alive, and that was more than she had the right to expect under the circumstances. She should have thought about the dangers before coming to his bed armed with a dagger. And he should stop worrying about her comfort and focus on catching her master instead. This was all ridiculous.

“You could have left me to die to get your revenge on me that way. Many men would have thought it a neat solution,” she added after a while.

“True, but I am not like many men, and I think you’ve seen that for yourself. After finding you with a weapon, I could easily have killed you outright, raped, or injured you in retaliation, handed you over to my men for punishment at the very least. I did none of those things.”

Only silence answered him. William imagined her biting her bottom lip in acknowledgement to his words. Her luscious bottom lip.

“No. I don’t think you’re like other men. But don’t you think you might live to regret your decision?” Asking the question showed commendable aplomb. A smile tugged at his lips. That girl was undaunted.

“Live. Or die, as the case may be. Unless… Have you decided to spare me after all?” She remained silent. His smile broadened. “I see. You have not. In that case yes, I may well come to regret my impulse, but it is too late now. I did save you.”

He stopped and turned to face her, but as he had not warned her about his intentions, she slammed straight into him.

*

Without warning Rowena found herself pressed against a hard, muscular chest clad in wet velvet. Inevitably she was reminded of what lay under William’s clothes. The memory of his naked chest, golden in the candlelight, would haunt her mind forever, as would what had happened in his bed. She still did not understand what he had done, and it frightened her. What dark power did this man have over her? How could he make her forget her vow to kill him simply by touching her? His beauty shouldn’t sway her so.

He leaned in, and his hazel eyes darkened. Her throat went dry.

She hadn’t taken a step back since she’d walked into him, and they were pressed together as tightly as only lovers could be. The last time they’d been so close he had caressed her with dizzying confidence and made her body explode.

He dropped her cloak to the ground and peered into her eyes as if he would find an answer to his questions without asking. Then he placed a finger under her chin and smiled.

“I am starting to wonder how I will force you to tell me who sent you,” he murmured. “My natural instincts do not lean toward torture. But how else will I ever extract the truth from you? You are tougher than I had given you credit for.”

“I told you. No one has sent me.”

His arched eyebrow made it clear he did not believe her. “If you are here by your own initiative, then tell me what I have done to make you think I deserve to die.”

Well. That was the crux of the matter.

From the very start Rowena hadn’t been sure he was the one she ought to kill.

Although he had killed Godric, honesty compelled her to admit that this alone would not have been enough to make her pursue him. What she truly wanted to avenge was the death of her mother, not her stepfather’s murder. And that was where it became more complicated. William had not actually assaulted her mother or wielded the weapon that had killed her. He was not directly responsible for her demise, and Rowena had always been uncomfortably aware of that fact.

But she’d needed to cling on to her hatred, for it was all she had. Killing him was the revenge her mother had demanded of her; he was the one she had named as their enemy. And so, over the long months spent plotting her revenge, Rowena convinced herself that killing William de la Falaise, as her mother had wanted, would make her feel better. Would show that she had done something .

At first, she had tried to find the two men who had assaulted her mother, as they were the real culprits, but it had proved impossible. She did not know their names or where to find them. William’s name she knew and, as a man of importance, his movements were more easily trackable. If she killed him, her mother would know she had done her best to avenge her memory.

“I don’t see why you would risk all to kill me.” He leaned into her, eyes aglow.

She had to step away from him now or she might well blurt everything out. Being close to him created havoc within her, reducing both her body and resolve to warm butter.

“We were on our way to your castle, I believe?” she said, making it clear that the discussion was at an end.

He smiled and let her go. “Yes. We were.” Before she could move, he picked up her cloak again. She did not protest.

They carried on walking in silence for a while, him leading the way as before.

“We have a whole afternoon ahead of us,” he told her once they had reached a dense wood. “Time might pass more quickly if we had something to discuss, don’t you agree?”

She did agree but she found it difficult to behave naturally in front of him. He seemed to see nothing extraordinary in making idle conversation with his would-be killer, but she certainly found it awkward. As if it was not enough, this man had made her do things that on their own would justify the most acute embarrassment on her part. How was she supposed to be at ease with a man who had touched her as intimately as he had only the day before? This man had kissed her breasts and caressed her in places she’d never explored herself, and now he wanted them to discuss the weather.

It was disconcerting to say the least.

“We are not looking at each other,” he argued. “Surely that makes it easier for us to converse. I won’t see it if you blush.”

Rowena gave a gasp. How had he known what she was thinking about? She heard a soft chuckle and almost tripped over in confusion.

“I’m thirsty,” she breathed, before making her way to the river side. Anything to put an end to the conversation.

Once she had quenched her thirst she sat in a pocket of sun and lifted her eyes to it, trying to capture some of its warmth. Thanks to her wet clothing her body was frozen to the bone, but that was nothing compared to the chill pervading her soul.

What had she got herself into?

William was not only a ruthless warrior, capable of skewering an enemy with his sword at a moment’s notice, but he also had the ability of stealing her breath with nothing more than a whispered word or a well-placed look. All this made him a positively alarming opponent.

Hanging over the water was a hazelnut branch. The sight reminded her she had not eaten since dawn, when she’d been too nervous to eat more than a few mouthfuls of gruel. She cracked a hazelnut open under his eagle eye.

“I’m not going to offer you one in case you thought I was trying to poison you,” she said, prising the kernel out of its shell. It was still underripe, but she liked them that way.

“I’m not worried. I know an innocuous hazelnut when I see one,” he answered, reaching for a higher branch. “Besides I’m sure you’ll agree that it would be more satisfactory to plunge a blade into my body or bludgeon me to death than poison me. Much more satisfactory.”

He knelt by a flat stone and cracked a nut open in one neat, efficient strike. She had the impression he was mimicking her smashing his skull open with relish and shivered.

He popped the kernel into his mouth as he straightened back up and bit it with a smirk. “Mmm. Tart.”

Just like her, he meant. Rowena refused to respond to this provocation. “Is the castle far away?” she asked, busying herself with the opening of another nut.

“We should get there just before nightfall.”

Draping the cloak over his arm, he offered his hand to her with one of his elegant gestures.

She stood without his help. “I don’t need your help. And I’m perfectly capable of carrying my cloak myself.”

“Then please do. You will not hear any complaints from me.”

As he gave her the wet, cumbersome cloak she cursed her sharp tongue and the extra weight she could have done without. She set off behind him and did her best to ignore the stiff muscles in her legs and the pain in the soles of her feet.

The wind picked up as soon as they left the riverbank, and the fact did nothing to help with the feeling of cold—or her mood. It would be a miracle if she didn’t get a chill after today. Her clothes were still damp and dusk was already descending. Before long it would get even colder. She glanced at the sky warily. The clouds had gathered all afternoon and were now ready to burst, almost purple in the fading light. She and William would never make it back to the castle in time to avoid the downpour.

A moment later, a few scattered drops fell on the dusty track, proving her right. Without further warning, the heavens opened. Rowena put her cloak above her head, but she was drenched almost immediately. For a while they carried on in the mud then she called out for respite.

“We might as well carry on now,” William said once they had come to a halt under a rocky ledge.

He was right. As exhausted and cold as she was, she knew that they could not afford to be caught outside after dark. A woman and an unarmed man presented too easy a target for ill-intentioned people.

“The rain shows no signs of stopping and the castle is just on the other side of the forest.”

William rubbed a hand through his short hair. The rain had made the blond hue several shades darker, and Rowena could not help but admire the result. She watched in fascination as a drop slid along his temple and his cheek before landing on the corner of his lips, making them glisten.

Until the day before she would not have been able to say what she liked in a man but now it was staring at her right in the face. Everything about this Norman baron fit her description of male beauty. She wondered how much of this was influenced by what he had done to her the evening before. It seemed impossible for a woman to be indifferent to a man who had given her such blinding pleasure. It had to be the explanation behind her unspeakable feelings, she decided, for deep down she knew she should be scared out of her wits by what he could do to her.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yes.”

A good soaking in cold rain was what she needed to come back to her senses. She walked resolutely forward, leaving him to follow her if he wanted to. At this point she might have been relieved if he had decided the time had come for them to part ways.

A moment later she felt his warm, solid presence by her side. Her heart fell to the pit of her stomach.

He was not finished with her yet.