Page 9 of Saxon Blade Norman Blood
He should be questioning her, forcing her to name her master, then punishing her for her role in the whole affair.
*
The hand on her stomach was so warm, so comforting… Rowena was confused. What was happening? With that possessive yet respectful gesture, William seemed to say he wanted to make love to her, but that he would not take her against her will.
The man was full of surprises. He felt desire for her, but he was leaving her to choose what they did in bed. He had just found out she was here to kill him, but he hadn’t exacted his revenge on her. Why was that? Surely he should be furious and have her punished?
Her mind whirred, trying to find a way out of this impasse.
William seemed to think an enemy had sent her here. This could be her salvation. He might spare her if he believed she did not have her own motives for wanting to kill him but was following someone else’s orders. Aye, but who could she blame? Lying would lead to too many questions, as he would hardly be satisfied with just a name and no explanation. And if by some miracle he believed her, she did not want him to take his revenge on someone innocent.
He lifted smoldering eyes to her and something within her uncoiled, reminiscent of the rush of sensations he had provoked within her earlier.
Rowena blinked in shock.
How could he do something like that with no more than a look? And why did it affect her so much? This man was her enemy but in this moment she wanted nothing more than for him to caress her like he had done before, to slide his hand lower down her stomach and…
She scrambled away from him, away from the perverting influence of his hazel eyes. This was wrong.
He smirked. “So. You are not going to kill me after all?”
She would not, not now at least. Even supposing she could have overcome him, she would never be able to stab him in cold blood. It was one thing striking someone in the heat of the moment, out of vengeful fury or to stop him from hurting her, quite another to do it whilst calmly looking him in the eye.
Whilst he was waiting for her to do it.
“It would be difficult without my dagger,” was all she said.
He left the bed and retrieved it from the table. Then he forced her to her feet.
“Then here, take it.” He handed her the knife and wrapped her fingers around the hilt when she did not move.
She could not move. For the first time, William was not an enemy talking to her stepfather with his back to her or a mighty lord sitting at a table on the far side of a room. He was a bare chested man standing right in front of her, all six foot three of him. He hadn’t seemed that tall next to her in the bed. Or that muscular.
Her gaze flicked to his groin before she could stop it. The bulge she saw there caused her to gulp. Despite knowing she was here to kill him, he was aroused by her proximity.
Though he must have seen her looking at him, his eyes never left hers, not for a heartbeat. Rowena’s blood was roaring in her veins. What was he about to do?
“How did you imagine you would kill me? Where would you have struck? Here?” Still holding her hand, he pointed the dagger at his heart.
Rowena watched, fascinated, as he pressed the blade onto his honeyed flesh. Muscles rippled with each movement, making her catch her breath. Dear God, he was so beautiful.
“Would you have slit my throat perhaps?” He brought the knife to the side of his neck, where thick veins ran under the skin. “Or would you have cut my wrists and watched me bleed to death?”
He placed the blade on his left wrist and she stopped breathing. One wrong move and she would cut him but suddenly the idea of piercing his flesh horrified her. Rowena disentangled her fingers from his hold and took a step back.
“It’s not so easy to kill a man, you know,” he said, pressing his advantage.
“Is it not? That you of all people should say this!” she cried, remembering how he had plunged his sword into her stepfather’s chest in one smooth jab. It had been easy for him. There had been no hesitation.
“Why wouldn’t I say this?” He regarded her curiously.
She bit her lip, knowing that in her anguish she had said too much. “For no reason, only I assume that you have already killed men, in battle if nothing else.”
“I have. That is why I’m telling you it’s not easy. You could do it to save your life of course, anyone could. But failing that, you would need a very good reason to kill someone. He would have to be a dangerous, mortal enemy. However, I know for a fact that I have never threatened you.” William threw her a scorching look, as if to remind her of the pleasure he had coaxed out of her earlier that night. No. He had never hurt her, quite the opposite. “So tell me, why do you want to kill me? What have I done to deserve such a fate?”
“You have done nothing to me,” she said in a breath.
He towered over her, brooding and seductive, addling her powers of thought. Rowena was afraid, but much too fascinated to take a step back. They were so close, she could smell the male scent of him, pine with undertones of spice. She could have touched him if she’d lifted her hand. She almost didbecause she badly wanted to touch him. His round shoulders in particular fascinated her, as did the vein running along the bulge of his bicep. His skin seemed so smooth, she felt the need to reach out to check if it was as soft as she imagined.
