Page 28 of Saxon Blade Norman Blood
This, William could well believe. The girl seemed more determined than ever to fight any desire she might feel for him. Or… did she really feel desire? He was not quite certain. True, on the night of their first meeting, she had not tried to keep him at arms’ length, rather the opposite, but there was an explanation for this—she had been waiting to get him into a vulnerable position.
Even at the time, he’d wondered at her compliance. That she had been new to the experience of baring her body to a man and pleasuring herself had been obvious. However, she had not protested, and instead followed his every instruction. Unaware of her ulterior motive, he’d attributed this eagerness to a state of arousal as high as his, but he had since been forced to reconsider this first impression.
That night, she would have agreed to anything as long as it got her in a position to do what she was sent to do, namely kill him. What a blow to his pride. She had not found his touch irresistible, she had only obeyed her master’s instructions.
And yet…
And yetshe had surrendered to the pleasure he had given her, that was undeniable. He could not forget how her body had pulsed under his caresses. This could not have been feigned. Whatever her reasons for submitting to his touch, she hadn’t been able to fight her longing for more. The way she’d arched her back in silent supplication had made it clear. She’d wanted him to make love to her.
It might have been that once he’d touched her, she’d changed her mind and decided to make the most of the opportunity, wait until after he’d possessed her to kill him. After all, he would have been just as vulnerable immediately after doing so, if not more.
He thought back to the ring she claimed to have found.
Up until this moment, William had imagined the girl to be sent by a Saxon lord but now he was not so sure. It seemed obvious she’d been given the ring as payment for her services, but a Saxon would never give her a Norman jewel.
Was he in fact targeted by a Norman baron, one of his own people? Was this why the girl spoke his language so fluently, because she was in league with a disgruntled Norman who had taught her himself? It was a possibility. His attempts at conciliation with the local population were not popular with all the barons, far from it. Some of them were bent on violence and did not take it too kindly to be denied their sport.
There was another explanation for the ring though.
If Cwenhild could choose one of his countrymen for her pleasures, why would this other Saxon girl not do the same? She might have bought a rich Norman’s protection with her body. She was certainly beautiful enough to make any man do her bidding.
William allowed himself a moment to picture her as she’d been a moment ago, ablaze with indignation. Magnificent.
To replace Adèle’s old dress, he’d found an emerald bliaut which fit her slender frame much better, and not a moment too soon. It had been maddeningly distracting to see more of her body than was decent. The swell of her breasts was just too provoking to be framed by a gaping collar.
It had not been easy to choose the perfect dress, however. The girl’s smooth skin would have put the finest silk to shame and no color was vibrant enough to compete with the fire in her hair or the sparkle in her eyes. In the end, he’d settled on a green linen that was so finely spun, it flowed almost like water every time she moved.
William gave a sigh. It had been a mistake to choose such finery for her. His gaze was drawn to her just as often as it had been in the shapeless woolen dress, if not more. Perhaps a dress that hugged her in all the right places was not an improvement. It only made keeping his untimely urges in check more difficult. Talking about sharing her bed had not helped either, or the hint of jealousy he’d glimpsed in her eye when she’d accused him of seducing Saxon ladies. That had been a surprise. He had not expected her to care about the women he took to his bed… but then, neither had he expected to care about the men she would take to hers, Norman or not.
But he did more than care.
Things were deteriorating, fast. With each passing day his infatuation toward her grew, to the point of making him forget about his intention to discover who she was or who had sent her.
An idea struck him.
Could he win her around and get her to betray whoever had sent her? Only the day before, she had said she approved of his efforts, so it was not impossible. She might come to see she was better off helping him in his endeavors than disposing of a man willing to treat her countrymen decently. It was worth a try.
And once he had her on his side, he should not find it difficult to find out more about her, starting with her name. In his mind she was still “the Saxon girl” and because she had not revealed anything about herself, he was forced to put together a picture of her personality with the few elements he’d gathered over the last few days.
Her innocence was the most noticeable thing about her. Her age undoubtedly accounted for it. She could not be much more than twenty years old. The second trait of character he’d noted was her uncommon courage.
She was brazen in her attitude in front of him, almost to the point of foolhardiness. As a man of some spirit himself, he could not help but admire this. She was also not easily deterred. Anyone less determined would have concluded her chances of success were now extremely slim and given up. But she had not tried to escape, though his security arrangements were lax to say the least.
That was another thing. Why was he so lax? He should have her under lock and key, he should use coercion and intimidation, not give her the choice of whether to answer his questions or not. Starting with the one about her elusive master’s role in her life.
Determined to find out if she enjoyed the man’s favors without delay, he stormed toward his chamber. This time he would get answers.
He found the girl standing by the window. As he could have predicted, she did not turn around when he entered. His mood darkened further.
“Do you have a lover, a Norman baron? Did you go to him today? Is that where you got the ring? Did he reward your services in bed?” he demanded, coming to a halt within touching distance of her. “Did you tell him what I did to you at Old Sarum and how you came undone? Does he know that you sleep in mybed at night—in my arms? Should I expect him to come and kill me himself for stealing his property?”
Anger flared in the blue eyes when she finally looked at him. “I am no one’s property!”
“No, but are you someone’s mistress?” he roared, taking her by the shoulders, barely repressing the urge to shake her like a tree. Right now, it was all he cared about. “Answer me.”
She seemed taken aback by the violence of his outburst, as well she might. He could usually control himself better. But William was furious at the notion that another man might share her bed and get to enjoy the treasures she had to offer.
Treasures she was denying him.
