Page 12 of Saxon Blade Norman Blood
Startled by the sudden jolt, Rowena gave a cry. Immediately an arm fastened about her waist. For once she did not object, as she was too afraid she might slide off the saddle if William did not hold her in place.
With every step of the horse, strong muscles moved against her unprotected thighs. The horse was the epitome of power. William’s skill in managing the mount was obvious, however, and put to rest any qualms she might have about her safety. With him handling the reins she would come to no harm. Nophysicalharm at least. She wasn’t quite sure how her nerves would survive the experience. She was petrified. The man holding her in his arms could have killed her and thrown herbody into a ditch without even bringing his horse back down to a walk. She had wanted to get close to him, and she’d succeeded. She was now utterly at her enemy’s mercy.
The enormity of the task ahead hit her anew.
She was an unarmed prisoner and her captor knew all about her intentions. How was she to fulfil her promise now, and escape with her life?
When the company reached a river later in the day, she still didn’t have her answer. The men stopped in front of the bridge, a wooden construction that looked as if it had been built before the invasion and about to collapse.
“We will have to cross one by one,” William declared, something she had already concluded. The bridge looked barely strong enough to support a horse and its rider.
The men dismounted and began to lead their mounts across it. It was rather long but just wide enough to let them pass, with no protection on either side. Rowena was glad she was not the one leading a restive stallion over the churning river. The animals stomped over the planks chuffing and tossing their heads. It seemed the roaring waters underneath unnerved them as much as it worried her.
“You can go now,” William told her once half the company had gone to the other side.
Rowena understood he had waited until enough men were on the other side to prevent her escape should she be of a mind to run. This proof that he was determined to keep her under control did little to appease the tension within her.
She walked to the bridge with a thudding heart. What if the passage of the horses had damaged the rotting wood? Doing her best to ignore the dreadful possibility, she hastened forward, doing her best not to look at the river below. When she was about halfway across she heard a shout behind her, followed by athunder of hooves. She turned in time to see a horse bolt toward her.
In the blink of an eye she understood she was going to fall. There would be no preventing it. She could never keep her footing on such a narrow bridge with a stallion thundering past.
Rowena could only utter a cry of pure terror as she fell into the churning water.
5
Heavy as a stone, Rowena plunged into the icy depths of the river.
Thousands of needles pierced her skin all at once. Before she could try to close her mind to the pain assaulting her, her cloak wrapped around her face, closing over her mouth as if to muffle her cries of horror. The waters swirled around her, dragging her down, swallowing her up.
The river was deep enough that the fall had not killed her but that was small consolation. Perhaps it would have been better to fall on some rocks and smash her skull. At least that way death would have been instantaneous. Instead she was about to drown, a much more frightening proposition.
Soon she would have no choice but to open her mouth and choke as water suffocated her.
The last image flashing through her mind was not one of her mother or father, it was that of a perfect, masculine face with blond hair and blazing hazel eyes. Then the very features she was imagining came into view.
An arm closed around her waist, an irresistible force propelled her upward and a moment later she burst through the surface, gulping air that had never tasted sweeter.
William was behind her, holding her tight against his chest, maintaining her head above the water. Rowena closed her eyes in relief. She hadn’t drowned.
Her problems were far from over though. The current swept the two of them along at frightening speed, dragging them under, stealing her breath away, causing William to cough andsplutter. She could tell he was trying to divert them toward the edge of the stream but with little success. She had no idea how to help him so she relaxed in his grip while he fought for survival. The water churned around them, doing its best to separate her from him. Though she remained still so as not to impede his movements, it quickly became obvious it was a near impossible task for him to keep her afloat and break away from the current at the same time.
In her cloak she guessed she would be heavy and cumbersome. Thank the Lord William was not wearing chainmail for he would never have jumped after her if he had.
And she would be dead now.
A low branch hung over the water some distance ahead, the only chance at safety. Before long he would be too exhausted to move, she would be unable to do anything, and they would both drown.
“Left!” she cried in his ear, unsure whether he had seen it or not.
He let out a grunt and moved in that direction.
Throwing out his free arm, he managed to seize the branch but, no doubt numbed by the cold, his fingers could not get any purchase on the wet leaves. He had to let go. Still, it was enough to save them.
The momentary interruption had slowed them down and, grunting in desperation, William swam to the nearest bank before the current sucked them back in. Finally, he hauled her onto a gravel beach and hoisted himself up after her. For a long moment they both lay panting on the shore, drained by the effort.
Rowena’s every muscle was rigid with cold and exertion. She stole a glance at William, the man who had saved her. Flat on his back, he looked utterly spent, and no wonder. She was out of breath herself and she had done nothing more than lethim hold her. He appeared unable to do anything else other than breathe; his lips had taken on a blueish tinge that worried her. She eyed him over to make sure he was not injured as well as winded—and her heart flipped over in her chest. His wet tunic was plastered to his chest and his hose molded his muscular legs. The result was indecent, and almost as intimate as seeing him naked.
Cheeks aflame, she unfastened her heavy cloak and lay gasping for air, looking at the skies. She was cold to the bones, but she was alive. She had survived her fall into the river thanks to the man she had vowed to kill.
