Page 32 of Saxon Blade Norman Blood
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” William growled, emerging from his hiding place. “Not if you want to have children one day.”
The youth gave a startled cry and retreated hastily. It occurred to him that he probably didn’t understand his language, but it mattered not. William’s stern tone would have made his meaning clear, as would the hand on the hilt of his sword. He was not to touch the girl.
He leaned back against the tree to indicate he would not pursue the men any further if they made the right decision and left her alone.
11
A snarl woke Rowena. Had a wild animal entered the meadow?
No.
Her heartbeat, which had gone wild at the thought, settled as soon as she saw William standing in front of her, his back propped against a tree trunk. The sight reassured her, even if she could not understand what he was doing in the meadow. He would not be so relaxed if a danger was threatening them. Yet he was not looking at her, his gaze was fixed on a point behind her. She turned and saw two men eyeing him warily.
She covered her bare legs in haste and stood up. The air bristled with tension, and she understood the snarl must have come from William himself. Far from being relaxed, his body was taut as a bow string, and his hand was poised at the hilt of his sword.
Ready to strike.
“What is happening here?” Only once the words left her mouth did she realize she’d aimed the question at him, not her countrymen.
“Our friends found you asleep in the grass and were considering taking advantage of the fact,” he answered in a clipped voice. “I think they are now rethinking the wisdom of this decision.”
Indeed the men were watching the exchange with worried faces.
“You were wrong Oswald. She’s a Norman, like him,” one of them said under his breath. “We had better get out of here.”
Rowena’s temper flared at this. “I’m not a Norman,” she said, reverting to her language.
“No. But he definitely is.” The man gestured toward William, whom no one could have mistaken for a Saxon. “And he knows you. Is he your lover?”
“Certainly not!”
“Why are you on your own together, if not for a tryst in the woods? He seems determined that no one else should have you.”
“I had no idea he’d followed me,” she explained with diffidence, shocked at the way the man spoke about her. He seemed to say that, as a woman, she was ripe for the taking, no matter who did it or her opinion on the matter. Suddenly, Saxon as he was, the man did not seem like an ally, whereas William, despite being her enemy, was prepared to defend her virtue.
Without thinking, she took a step toward him.
“So you are not together?”
She hesitated then answered the man’s question. “No.”
They weren’t. Not in that sense at least.
“Does he speak our language?”
“No.” She wasn’t sure how much William understood of the exchange, though. He’d said he didn’t speak but he did know a few words.
“We will help you get rid of him then.” The man turned to his friend. “Go get the others. They are scything in the field yonder. The girl and I will keep him waiting. This promises to be worthwhile.”
Oswald disappeared in the blink of an eye. Rowena thought quickly. As far as the men were concerned, this was an unhoped-for opportunity to rid themselves of a despised Norman baron. Once the other men arrived, William would be outnumbered, perhaps ten to one. He wouldn’t stand a chance.
If she told them she was his prisoner and beg for their help they would only be too glad to give it. But there was no need. It seemed their leader had already made up his mind the Norman would not leave the meadow alive. The men would pounce and probably inflict all sorts of humiliations before killing him. Her mother and stepfather would be avenged a hundredfold. The Saxons would do what she could never do on her own. Not only kill him, but make him suffer in the process.
There was only one problem.
William did not deserve such a fate, not when he’d prevented the two men from assaulting her. She knew he wasn’t lying about that, she had seen for herself the lewd glint in their eyes. Who was to say they’d leave her alone once he was dead? There was no knowing how many men were on their way, and they might well expect her to show them gratitude for their help against her supposed enemy.
What if they decided to celebrate their victory over the Norman with her body? Fear sliced through her. For better or for worse, she and William were in this together. Handing him over to the men would only place her into danger.
