LadyOfConquest:SaxonBride by Tamara Leigh Read Free Book Online

necessarily deliver Thomas’s murderer to him—not directly.
    Though Maxen had listened in on Rhiannyn’s conversation with Christophe and heard her tell it was not Harwolfson who had killed Thomas, he had not believed it until he had himself seen the injury to the man’s sword arm. As she had said, it would have been impossible for him to throw the dagger after receiving such a serious wound. But then, which of these men had bled out Thomas's life?
    The fire in him growing, Maxen saw the approach of the one Harwolfson had surely ordered to keep watch over the monk and lowered his gaze so the hulking man would not see what was surely in his eyes.
    Soon , he told himself, every one of Harwolfson’s rebels will know the yoke of Norman rule, including Rhiannyn.
    First, though, he must discover Thomas’s murderer.

CHAPTER SEVEN

    “This troubles me.”
    Until he spoke, Rhiannyn had not known Edwin was behind her. She had been too engrossed in the gathering before the campfire to heed his approach.
    “What do you mean?” she asked, keeping her back to him.
    “There is something about Brother Justus. I do not trust him.”
    “As you do not trust me?”
    He laid a hand on her shoulder and began kneading the strained muscles there. “Perhaps.”
    Having expected something different—scornful words, a reprimand, even rough handling—Rhiannyn was surprised by his gentle touch. And unnerved. Did it mean the trials to which he had subjected her were at an end? Was this forgiveness?
    “He speaks the word well,” she said, having discovered a liking for Brother Justus’s deep, cultured voice, and especially his message.
    “That he does.”
    “Still, you are suspicious.”
    “Are you not? I saw it in your eyes yesternoon when he arrived.”
    “Aye, but he does seem genuine.”
    “He has been here not even two days,” Edwin reminded her, “and yet you would toss caution aside and embrace him?”
    “Not entirely.” She wished Edwin would take his hand from her. Considering all he demanded of her, this small intimacy made her uncomfortable, and not a little resentful. In the next instant, his breath brushed the side of her neck, next his lips.
    “Do not!” She lurched forward.
    He caught her about the waist and pulled her back against him. “None can see, Rhiannyn.”
    True, for she had chosen to watch Brother Justus’s oration from a distance—in back of the others and from among the bordering trees. But this was not the reason she protested. Simply, it felt wrong, especially since she had accepted Thomas’s curse that she would never know marriage or motherhood.
    “’Tis improper,” she hissed.
    “We are betrothed.”
    “Are we? That is the first I have heard of it since I arrived.”
    He chuckled near her ear. “Of course we are. That has not changed.”
    It had, but the time was not right to tell him. Latching on to the one thing certain to douse his desire—a question she had put to him several times—she said, “Have you discovered Thomas’s murderer?”
    He tensed. “Leave it be, Rhiannyn. Whomever it was, ’tis done.”
    She turned and peered into his hard, flushed face. “It is not done. Were it, Maxen Pendery would not be planning our deaths.”
    She spoke of the bits she had overheard from those who spied on the Penderys. It was said the castle was being fortified, great blocks of stone arriving to replace the wooden palisades. The training of knights and men-at-arms lasted far into the night, and the steady ring of metal testified to the forging of weapons.
    “My goal is no different,” Edwin reminded her, the mouth that had tenderly touched her flesh now a thin line. “The Normans will leave England, and those who do not will possess no more than the soil in which their bodies rot.”
    Deciding it best to remove herself from him, she stepped back. He let her go, but as she moved toward her tent, a high-pitched wail sounded. She swung around.
    Wan hair flying, old Dora swooped upon