Page 45 of Saxon Blade Norman Blood
Never had these words sounded more poignant or anyone looked more wretched. The fact that she was trying her best not to cry only made her pain more vivid. In that moment, William understood that she spoke the painful truth. She trulywasall alone. No one would be after her, but equally, no one would help her. No one was waiting for her. She had nowhere to go to, no one to love.
She turned her head to the side and closed her eyes, fighting to keep tears at bay.
He did not insist.
*
Behind her, Rowena heard William stand and walk to the door. No doubt he would call his men now. He had not been concerned for her, he had merely tried to make her talk, and coax her into a confession. His attempt having failed, he was about to hand her over to Norman justice, which would be no more than she deserved after what she had done. He had already spared her from punishment once, no one could blame him for doing what everyone else would have done days ago.
The next thing she knew, he had taken her hand back in his, and he was bathing the wound with a wet piece of cloth. The cold water on the cut stung but she did her best not to whimper in pain.
“I know,” William said in his deep voice. “It must hurt.”
There was a tearing sound, then he wrapped her hand in a piece of fabric, presumably taken from the tablecloth. A knot secured everything into place and he placed her hand back on the bed. She kept her head averted throughout the whole proceedings and swallowed hard when he let out a sigh.
“You will need a drink.”
Rowena was grateful for his matter-of-fact tone, which helped her to hold on to her fragile composure.
“Here.” He pressed a cup into her uninjured hand like he had done before. Instead of drinking, she dared a glance at him. He had still not attended to the cut on his cheek. It had stopped bleeding, but it looked bad enough for her to gulp in shame. The urge to take the wet piece of cloth and wipe the blood off his skin swept through her, telling her it was far too late for revenge.
She would never kill William de la Falaise now, fulfill her promise to her mother or avenge her stepfather’s death.
It was over. She had better learn to come to terms with the notion because she would no more be able to plunge a dagger into William’s chest than she would be able to kill herself.
He was still sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her to take a sip of the drink.
“Is this wine?” she croaked.
“Yes.”
The same wine she’d downed to stiffen her resolve earlier. The idea of tasting it now made her stomach heave. She would never be able to drink another drop of wine as long as she lived. It would always remind her she’d come perilously close to killing a man.
“I cannot. Please leave me,” she said, closing her eyes.
He took the cup without comment. “I will come back later.”
As soon as she heard the door close, the tears she had miraculously kept at bay began to flow down her cheeks. When he came back he would ask her to leave the castle.
Yes. It was all over now.
16
William kept out of the way all day long, only making it back to the castle as crimson ribbons unfurled over the horizon. He came to bed as usual, but for the first time since their time at Old Sarum, he did not touch her. Rowena felt his withdrawal keenly and barely slept, only nodding off at dawn through sheer exhaustion.
“Three Saxon lords are coming today,” he announced in his blandest voice as they were breaking their fast the following morning.
If she didn’t know better, she would think nothing of importance had happened the day before. Like her trying to kill him. Either he was determined to forget the incident, or he was trying to make her feel more guilty by taking the moral high ground. Both were possible.
Still, it mattered not, because he had not asked her to leave.
“You said there would be only one lord, Leowald of Tilburn,” she answered, carrying along with the pretense that her presence at the castle was justified.
She wondered what would happen when the meeting was over and her reason for being there was gone. William would probably send her back to where she came from and forget about her. It was extraordinary enough that she was still there after what she had done to him the previous day.
Rowena eyed the red welt on his cheek nervously. His beauty was unmarred by it, but the wound would leave a scar for certain. Every time he looked into his polished mirror, he wouldsee it. He would never be able to forget that he had crossed paths with a Saxon girl who had tried to kill him.
Twice.
