Page 42 of Saxon Blade Norman Blood
“I will hazard a guess that your dream was about me,” he said wryly, releasing his hold. She had never objected to him holding her before, so it was the only explanation. The way she was pushing at him made it clear he had frightened her.
“I cannot be next to you. I cannot,” she gasped.
Why not, all of a sudden? They had been sleeping together for days, and this without any protest on her part. His chest tightened. What had happened in the herb garden that afternoon was undoubtedly responsible for her change in attitude. She must have seen the desire in his eyes and taken fright. She was aware his control now hung by a thread.
Damnation, he should never have allowed himself the pleasure of touching her in such an intimate manner. It would only lead to unwanted complications, and the situation between them was already beyond what was comfortable.
But how could he keep a cool head around such an intoxicating woman? With each passing day he found something else to admire about her. She was brave, witty, resourceful, honest, curious, kind, she made him laugh, she impressed him with her dignity and she had brought some much needed spice in his dull, predictable life. Her spontaneity ensured that he was never bored, and her presence at the castle gave him a reason to get up in the morning other than duty. Being with her wasa welcome relief from his endless and often tense negotiations with Saxons.
“Nothing will happen, I promised I would not touch you when we arrived at the castle and I meant it,” he said through gritted teeth. He could not let her suspect how much it cost him to hold on to that promise, not when she was already on the verge of panic.
“You were holding me in your arms just now,” she countered, her breathing labored. “How is that not touching me?”
So he’d been right; shewasafraid he’d lose control while she was in his embrace. “That was different. You had a nightmare, you screamed, I was trying to—”
“I cannot sleep with you,” she all but shouted, scrambling away from him. “I need to go.”
In the darkness, he could not see her properly but he heard her ragged intakes of breath. Whatever he had done to her in her dream had frightened her out of her wits.
“You cannot go anywhere, it is the middle of the night,” he said gently.
“I will sleep on the floor then.” Before he could protest, she dragged one of the fur covers off the bed. “I can’t… I cannot be with you right now.”
She would only refuse if he offered to sleep on the floor himself and panic if he forced her back into the bed. There was nothing he could do but allow her to do what she wanted to do. She suddenly seemed desperately afraid of him.
Why? Was there more to it than a simple nightmare? Had he tried to touch her in his sleep? It was possible. His desire for her left him no peace. What if he’d unwittingly reached for her while he slept? She could have mistaken it for a conscious assault. His hands could have inadvertently landed on herbreasts when he’d turned around, or she could have thought he tried to subdue her when he’d held her close just now.
In any case, and whatever the reason for it, she could not bear his presence by her side.
The oddness of their arrangement struck him anew. This unknown girl shared his bed, spending night after night in his arms. No other woman had ever done so, despite a fair few of his conquests trying to secure a place in his bed. If these women saw that he’d bestowed what they perceived as a privilege to a girl who’d tried to kill him, they would rant and fume against the unfairness of men.
He had to admit it was a bewildering decision.
Keep your friends close and your enemies closerhad always been his way of operating. But “closer” did not usually mean in his arms and of course, he didn’t really consider her his enemy now.
Everyone at the castle was still ignorant of the true reason behind their acquaintance. They assumed she was the woman currently warming his bed, which she was, but only in the literal sense of the word. He had never touched her.
Well, almost never.
A surge of desire ran through him at the memory of what they’d done the night they’d met. Was it because he craved to possess her more completely that he kept her so close at all times? Was she sharing his bed because he deemed it the easiest way to ensure his safety, or did he have a further motive? Was he not, in actual fact, waiting for an opportunity to make her change her mind?
If this was the case, he’d made little progress, he acknowledged ruefully. She preferred to lie on the cold, hard floor instead of running the risk of being in bed next to him. William muffled a curse, turned his back to her, and knew he would never get to sleep now.
When a grayish dawn broke, he looked at the girl, half expecting her to be wide awake as well. But she was curled in a ball, asleep under the fur cover. He briefly considered bringing her back into the warmth of the bed, but resisted the impulse, wary she would misinterpret his intentions if she awoke while he lifted her off the floor.
He arose and shrugged his tunic back on. He would order food to be brought to the room. First, he would go and write some letters, then he would come and join her so they could break their fast together.
Before he went, he stole a last glance at her and felt an odd tightening in his chest at the sight of her small hands bunched in a fist by her head. He frowned. In that moment she reminded him of a lamb having been thrown into the wolves’ lair to bring down the alpha, too fragile and innocent for the task demanded of her.
How long until something had to change between them?
Not long, he suspected. The situation was quickly becoming untenable.
15
Realization dawned, making Rowena shiver in foreboding.
She would have to kill William today or she would never do it.
