Page 6 of Saxon Blade Norman Blood
Though she was exhausted, Rowena lengthened her stride as soon as she saw the imposing shape of the motte and bailey castle ahead of them. Her clothes, which had taken the best part of the day to dry, were now just as wet as they had been when she’d emerged from the river.
Shivering, she followed William into a well-maintained courtyard, then finally, blissfully, into the warmth of the main building. Exclamations burst in all directions when they entered, but since they were directed at him, not her, she headed straight to the center of the room where a huge fire roared, a most welcome sight after the day they’d had.
As she rubbed her chilled hands in front of the flames, the smell of roasted meat floated to her nostrils. Her stomach growled loudly. She was ravenous as well as chilled and weary to the bone.
William gave various orders to his people with a tranquil air. He asked for dry clothes to be found for both of them, for food to be prepared, for someone called Simon to be summoned. His unshakable poise unnerved her. Though he was as soaked as she was, and undoubtedly just as famished and parched, he acted as if none of it had effect on him. The man was clearly impervious to hunger, pain, fear.
Remorse for the killing of innocent men.
How would she get the better of such a man? Rowena watched him act as master, and a long shiver ran down her spine, only this time it had nothing to do with the cold. His calm authority reminded her of the shocking orders he had given her the night before.
And how much she had enjoyed obeying them.
“Go to my room,” he instructed, barely looking in her direction.
The abrupt command made her forget all about dry clothes and food.
“Through that door,” he explained when she remained frozen to the spot.
Oh, but she had not been wondering where the room might be, rather worrying about what would happen once he joined her there.
Heart beating wildly, she went.
A moment later a knock sounded on the door. It would not be William, she guessed. It was nowhere near commanding enough, and of course he would never ask permission to enter his own room.
“Come in.” Nervousness made her voice shaky.
A maid entered, carrying a tray laden with food in one hand and a dress in the other. The disapproval on her face told what she thought of her master treating a Saxon girl so well. She did not address her a single word and left as soon as she’d discharged her duty. Rowena did not care; she was too hungry to let the scorn of the maid worry her.
As soon as the door closed, she fell onto a piece of cheese, biting into it with gratitude. The bread was whiter and softer than any she had ever eaten. She spread some honey on it and chewed with a smile on her face. Delicious. The slice of roasted suckling pig was next, and when the succulent meat hit her tongue, she moaned out loud in delight. Heavily spiced and refined, this was not food as she knew it.
With her hunger sated, her thoughts went to her wet gown. She paused, considering her options. The last thing she wanted was for William to walk in whilst she was changing. Seeing her naked would only put ideas in his mind.
However, she did not want to remain in her wet clothes at the risk of catching a cold. With some difficulty she pushed a heavy chest in front of the door and, safe at last, proceeded to peel the dress off her body.
No sooner had she smoothed down the folds of the new gown than she heard someone trying to open the door. William, this time, undoubtedly. No one else would have presumed to just walk in so boldly. There was a muffled oath followed by furious banging when the chest stopped him from entering.
“Open the door!” he bellowed.
Rowena suspected he was only giving her the chance to show she had not barricaded herself in for the night. A single chest would offer little resistance to a man like him. If she had managed to move it, he would have no difficulty in kicking it out of the way.
She opened the door.
Eyes sparkling in ill-contained fury, William walked in. He had changed into dry clothes as well and his velvet tunic fit him like a glove. The warm brown color made his eyes appear a shade lighter. He looked better than he had ever done, which only added to her annoyance.
He rounded on her. “What was that?”
“I did not want you to walk in on me as I undressed.” The haughty glance she threw him hopefully made it clear she thought him a fool for not having guessed as much already.
“You think I sent you the dress as a ploy to see you naked and take advantage of the fact?” His eyes narrowed.
“You have to admit it sounds like something a man like you would do.” She raised her chin. “You are no chaste monk, as we both know.”
“A man like me? What do you know of me? May I remind you that we only met yesterday?”
“That doesn’t mean I do not know what you are capable of,” she countered. Did he think her a fool? “You asked me to bare myself to you as soon as you found me in your room.”
Her cheeks burned when she remembered what that particular demand had led to. Irritatingly, her core spasmed at the memory.
His lips curled into a smile. “Do not think I have forgotten what happened last night.” All traces of annoyance vanished from his face, replaced by something altogether more worrying. “I also remember that you did not dislike it. Far from it.”
He took a step toward her, but she swiftly moved away, not wanting to find herself trapped between him and the wall. There was a predatory glint in his eyes, making them shine like amber. She gulped.
“Why am I here, then, in your room?” If he had come with the intention of bedding her she would fight him off.
“You are here so I can keep an eye on you,” he answered in much the same air she had used to show him how foolish he was for not having guessed the answer to his question. “You are going to sleep with me.”
“I don’t—”
“Not like that, no,” he cut in when she recoiled in fright. “You are going to sleep in my bed if you prefer, like you did last night. I tend to keep my enemies where I can see them.”
“Pinned under you?”
His eyes flared. Was it anger or desire that had transformed them into two golden flames? She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.
“So far my would-be murderers have been men so I have never felt the urge to make them share my bed,” he said in a clipped voice.
Rowena’s heart skipped a beat. He truly was formidable when he wanted to be. “Why don’t you chain me somewhere and ask someone to watch over me?” She tried her best to remain calm at the dreadful prospect. “Isn’t that a more usual way of treating would-be assassins?”
He raised a brow. “Are you telling me you would prefer that fate to sharing my bed?”
“I would, if sharing your bed includes satisfying your urges.” This was the truth, even if the idea of spending the whole night chained to the wall in a dank room was enough to send shivers down her spine.
“How many times will I need to tell you that I do not intend it like that?”
His patience was running thin. In a moment he would snap. Perhaps it was unwise to provoke him so, but she was not impressed by his empty promises. Controlled though he may be, he was still a man. A strong, virile man at that.
She knew he desired her, she had felt it, many times, and he had all but admitted to it. Why would he not want to slake his lust whilst she was in his bed? Why would he try to respect the wishes of a woman who was there to kill him, who would die once he had extracted the information he wanted from her?
As his captive, she had every reason to fear him. Say what he might, he was no angel.
“I do not see why I should believe you. You asked me to your room yesterday, and we both know what you did once I was there.”
“I asked you to my room to spare you Malemort’s advances,” he reminded her, running a hand through his hair.
“Don’t tell me you did not seek to take advantage of the fact I was in your room! You asked me to bare myself to you as soon as you walked in and would have taken me had your man not interrupted you.”
“Because I thought you wanted me to!” William barked, closer to explosion than ever. “Need I remind you that you were already lying in bed when I walked in, showing me your legs? Your intentions were clear, I would say.”
Now her cheeks raged with heat. Indeed, there had been no ambiguity in her gesture. “It was not to—”
“No. Of course, I had not realized then that all this was only a performance destined to get me killed once I was in your arms,” he snapped. “Now that I know just how adverse you are to my bedding you, however, I will not do so. It is not my style to take reluctant women, never has been, whatever else you think me capable of.” He gave her a long stare, daring her to doubt his word. “But I will keep you close, so you will share my bed, unless you insist on spending your nights chained to the wall, in which case I would hate to deprive you of that pleasure. But I know which one I would prefer if I were you.”
She wavered at the intensity of the tirade but she could see that, though she had pushed him over the edge, his control was still in place. He spoke harshly but she did not feel physically threatened.
“No, I… Please. Not the chains,” she croaked. The thought was too dire to contemplate.
“As I thought.”
She exhaled in relief and could not stop herself from asking one final question. What truly frightened her was not being arrested for murder but being raped and she could not be sure that William would make any effort to resist the desire she provoked in him if they slept in the same bed. The idea terrified her.
“You swear you will not touch me?”
The question, or rather the hitch in her voice seemed to act like a bucket of cold ice over his boiling anger. His face softened, and he gave a sigh.
“Yes. I swear it,” he said more gently.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Could she believe him? He took two steps toward her, and this time she didn’t move. She let him walk all the way to her until he was within arms’ reach.
“I need to know who sent you and why, for my own protection, so I will not let you out of my sight, but I will not lay a finger on you. I will not deny that I find you a most alluring woman, whatever else you turn out to be, but you need not fear I will act dishonorably because of it.”
His voice was strained. Rowena saw how much the promise cost him, and oddly, that was what made her trust him. He wasn’t pretending he didn’t feel any desire for her, rather he seemed annoyed that he did.
“Thank you.” The words came out by themselves.
“And now I’m hungry,” he said slowly.
“H-hungry?” she stammered. The change of subject had thrown her.
“Yes, hungry. Don’t you know the meaning of this simple word? I need to eat is what I mean.” A smile made it clear he was amused by her reaction. He nodded at the tray of food the servant had brought earlier. “Fortunately, you left me some cheese and bread, though not much. I will finish this off if you don’t mind.”
He bit into the bread with appetite but even then, his gestures were more graceful than most men’s. This was what would best define William de la Falaise, she thought.
Refined.
Not rough or violent, but elegant and controlled. Everything about the life he led was luxurious, if not in an ostensible manner. The clothes he wore, the horses he rode, the food he ate. It was a far cry from the household her stepfather had kept.
She recalled his coarse language, his dirty hands, his poor table manners. Above all she remembered his appalling attitude toward everyone, his own wife included. Rowena had always wondered what her mother had seen in Godric the Redman. How could she have married such a man after being married to her father? It was difficult to imagine two more dissimilar men, both in appearance and behavior.
But her mother had seemed subjugated by her second husband, so much so that she had found it unimaginable to live without him. Rowena knew her desperate gesture had been dictated by her inability to envisage a life without Godric rather than a means to defend herself from the two men’s assault. After all, she could have stabbed them rather than herself. Such a gesture would have dampened their ardor and given her time to escape or call for help. Instead, she had plunged the blade into her own breast and asked her eighteen-year-old daughter to kill a man in his prime, a near impossible task.
“Are you ever going to tell me what your name is?” William asked, settling himself in a chair. His attitude reminded her of the previous evening when he had demanded that she touch herself. Her cheeks burned again, which he seemed to take for an admission of guilt. “I see. You don’t want to make it too easy for me to find out more about your master.”
If he thought she was doing it deliberately Rowena reasoned she might as well keep her identity a secret. It would not serve to give him more information than strictly necessary. She didn’t want him to make the link between her and Godric. Without knowing quite why, she felt more secure if he did not know much about her.
He stood. “Now tell me. This master of yours—does he enjoy your favors?”
Outrage made her gasp. How could he suppose she was that sort of woman? Before she could think on the wisdom of such an act, she lifted her arm. She never even touched him. He stopped her hand in mid-air and kept her wrist in a hold, the grip firm but not so much as to inflict pain.
“You are rather touchy,” he growled. “That was unnecessary, not to mention ill-advised.”
“I will not be taken for what I’m not. I’m not a whore!”
“I never said you were.” He seemed surprised at her vehemence. Maybe he had not meant to insult her.
“Good, because I’m not. And I won’t s-service you,” she stammered, feeling distressingly close to tears.
William still held her wrist. He took the other one in his hand and drew her close to whisper in her ear.
“I won’t ask you to. Listen to me. For the last time, nothing is going to happen, since we have already established that you are not a whore, and I do not bed unwilling females. Do you understand? I need you to trust me on that, whatever else is at stake between us.”
Rowena stayed very still, waiting for him to let go of her wrists. She did not try to fight him off, confident he would release her when he was ready. If he wasn’t prepared to let her go there was little point in struggling. He was just too strong for her.
When she nodded, he released her. Although he had not hurt her, she made a point of rubbing her wrists. The smile he threw her told her that her efforts were wasted. He knew very well she wasn’t in any pain. If he had truly wanted to hurt her, it would have been too easy.
He took a step away.
“I will leave you to get settled for the night. I still have a few matters to attend to.”
“A guard will be posted at the door to prevent my escape, I assume?”
“No. Neither will the door be locked. But you will never leave the castle unnoticed, this much I can promise you. Everyone has been told you are to remain here for the time being, and no one wishes to incur my wrath.”
“No. I imagine they don’t.” For all his civil manners, Rowena could well believe William de la Falaise was not a man to cross.
“Well then, make sure you do not. If I have to leave the castle tonight to fetch you in the driving rain, I will not be best pleased.” His tone was still pleasant but there was a hardness behind his eyes she couldn’t ignore. “You might find me less averse to having you chained to the wall after such defiance.”
“What if I were to succeed in escaping? You talk as if I have no chance.”
William’s lips twisted in appreciation. He liked her defiance, she realized.
“If you did manage to leave the castle—and I’ll admit it is a possibility, given how resourceful you seem to be—then I will find you.” He leaned in to whisper in her ear as he had done before, and this time, she could not ignore the goosebumps covering her skin. His proximity did not worry her; it aroused her. “It doesn’t matter how long it takes me, make no mistake about it, I will find you, wherever you are. Then you will be sorry.”