Page 25 of Saxon Blade Norman Blood
He tilted his head and gave her a grin that turned her insides to jelly. “I have.”
“And what did you think of your face?”
“I suppose it’s…” His hazel eyes sparkled with mischief. He was about to copy her earlier, bland response. “Adequate.”
Adequate. Yes, he was punishing her for asking a stupid question. How could he not know how good he looked? He was by far too self-assured and confident not to have seen the effecthe had on women. It was not hard to imagine he’d been told many times how attractive he was.
“The mirror was bequeathed to me by grandmother,” he told her softly.
“I am not sure what that word means.Bequeathed.”
“It means she left it to me when she was dying.” His eyes sparkled, as if he’d enjoyed the way she had repeated the unfamiliar word.
It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed he liked the way she spoke.
“You have never considered learning our language, since you now live here?”
“I have, and I manage a reasonable level of understanding. But I have never found the time to learn to speak properly. Perhaps I should. It would certainly help in pacifying the relations between Norman barons and Saxons lords. Are you saying you would like to teach me?”
“No.”
He barked a laugh at her uncompromising answer. “Of course. How could I forget? You didn’t come to me in a bid to improve my linguistic abilities.”
The comment brought a smile to her lips, a smile she found difficult to hide. What was it about this man that made it impossible for her to think straight? Or remain composed?
Or hold on to what had become the aim of her life?
She remained immobile in front of him, utterly under the spell of the moment.
“We will have to get you another dress,” he declared, spanning her waist between his hands, bunching the fabric as he did. Rowena could not rid herself of the notion that he was fighting the urge to do much more. She swallowed hard. “One that actually fits you. This one is far too big.”
“It’s not a problem,” she breathed.
His gaze fastened onto her half-exposed breasts. “Not for you, perhaps, but for me…” He shook his head, as if regretting the comment. “Anyway, you should feel more comfortable in clothes that do not swamp you.” His fingers tightened around her. Another moment and he would draw her into a kiss, she could sense it. Should she let him? Of course not! Why was she even wondering?
“It doesn’t matter what I wear,” she said hurriedly, disentangling herself from his embrace. “I need to go.”
The situation was fast slipping through her fingers. She was unnerved by William’s scrutiny, seduced by his easy manners, and they were in his private chamber, with no one to see or interrupt them. He gave her a slanted look that proved he was aware of her wariness—and why she was wary. The irony of the situation was not lost on her.
He should have been the one wary of her, as she was the one determined to kill him, not the other way around.
“Where do you need to go? What requires your attention so urgently?” He tilted his head. “My murder? You don’t need to leave to accomplish it. I’m right here.”
Rowena refused to be ridiculed. “And where doyougo when you are not with me, I wonder?” she asked, instead of answering. “What does your life consist of? Do you have any occupations apart from keeping me prisoner?”
“I do, as it happens. I visit local lords, travel the land to assess what needs to be done.”
“This is all part of your conciliation program, I take it?” She had heard about it from the servants who had expressed their outrage at the notion. Why did the mighty Norman stoop so low as to accommodate ungrateful Saxons?
“Of course.” Far from being ruffled, William smiled. “You sound as if you disapprove.”
“Do I?”
“You do.” The smile widened. “So let me ask you again. Do you disapprove of my trying to conciliate the Saxon lords and rein in the Norman barons’ greed and violence, or do you merely consider the enterprise doomed?”
She didn’t know what to answer. No one had ever asked her opinion on such weighty matters before. Her stepfather, for all his involvement with the Norman barons, had never once thought to enquire about his wife or stepdaughter’s opinion. That William of all people should want to discuss his plans with her took her aback.
But now she thought about it, his approach actually met with her approval. The Norman barons had antagonized the Saxon lords for long enough. In the last twenty years, the situation of her countrymen had rapidly deteriorated. Their lands had been seized, their villages burned, their livestock taken away, their women despoiled. She could only side with someone who considered them as reasonable people who might be prepared to cooperate rather than savages to be tamed at all cost.
