Page 3 of Saxon Blade Norman Blood
Later.
He would make the most of her later, in the privacy of his bedchamber, with no one to interrupt them. He’d had no intention of actually bedding her when he had lied about having her, but now he was sure he would try to seduce her.
Her gaze was too bold by half, and he suspected she would not be adverse to the idea. She wouldn’t be looking at him the way she was if he did not provoke at least some sort of emotion within her.
One thing was for sure. He was not bored anymore.
He speared what was left of his pheasant breast and smiled to himself. Just like that, his appetite was back. Even the music seemed more cheerful.
*
As she walked back to the kitchens, all Rowena could hear was the blood roaring in her ears. It was a marvel she had managed to keep still when the man grabbed her. She had been about to slap his hand away in panic when, with a few chosen words, William de la Falaise had freed her from that boor’s clutches and, more to the point, made it a whole lot easier to achieve her purpose.
Later tonight she would be alone with William, in a position to do what she had been plotting to do all these months.
Kill him.
She retrieved the small dagger she had hidden in a sack of grain in readiness for that moment. It was the one with which her mother had ended her life. The horn hilt settled in Rowena’s hand, almost warm to the touch. She tightened her fist around it and felt her resolve stiffen.
William had no idea who she was or what she wanted from him, of this she was certain. He would not be on his guard.
A smile bloomed on her lips as she slipped the dagger into the ribbon holding her stocking at the knee. Tonight, she would go to him by his own invitation. There would never be a better opportunity to strike. In helping her he had signed his own death warrant.
The thought was not a pleasant one, but she forced herself not to dwell on it. The man had not sought to protect herfrom a drunken man’s assault, he had only meant to prove his supremacy over a vassal and take her for himself.
This ill-advised impulse would prove to be his demise. Before dawn, her revenge would be exacted.
As soon as she entered the banqueting hall with a tray of sweetmeats, William’s gaze fastened onto her. Why was he looking at her thus? Had he seen the dagger hidden under her clothes? Guilt made her squirm but she reasoned it was impossible for him to have guessed what her intentions were. Then why was he looking at her so?
His lips twisted, and suddenly Rowena understood the reason for his scrutiny. He was not suspicious at all, only eager to take her to bed. Her heartbeat increased at the prospect. She told herself it was because she was about to kill him, and not because he appealed to her.
Doing her best to be discreet, she surveyed him more attentively.
In her mind, William de la Falaise had assumed an evil dimension, so much so that she was stunned to find out that he was, in fact, a handsome man, nothing like the monstrous enemy she had imagined for many months. He was also younger than she had thought, not yet thirty years old.
His features were those of a Norman, though. He was taller, blonder than Saxon men, and his short hair was cut in a different style. His jaw was clean-shaven, and his hazel eyes, the color of which was rarely seen around these parts, sparkled with vitality.
How had she not noticed his striking looks before? It was all she could think of at present.
Rowena could not deny a moment of alarm at finding him so much to her tastes. Why couldn’t he be a gnarled old man such as the one who had tried to grab her earlier? She sighed.William’s attractiveness was a complication she could have done without.
He brought a piece of meat to his mouth, and she remembered that, handsome as he was, he was also ruthless.
The elegant fingers she was admiring had closed around the sword that killed her stepfather. The mouth she found the height of sensuality had issued the order to rape her mother. William de la Falaise might look like an angel fallen from the heavens, but he was a devil created in the deepest pit of hell.
And he wanted to bed her.
She gulped and brushed the hidden dagger for reassurance. She would have to be quick and determined, for the last thing she wanted was for him to touch her. As soon as he came close, she would take out the blade and plunge it into his heart, his stomach, wherever she could reach.
Rowena had never killed anyone before, and she suspected it was not as easy as it sounded, especially when the target was a strong, fit man like the Norman.
It mattered not.
Before long she would know what it felt like to stab a man. She would be a murderer, but her mother would be avenged at last.
She would be at peace.
Once the sweetmeats had been consumed, a male servant, obeying William’s silent nod, led her to a private chamber.
