His anger dissipated instantly.
For the first time in years, Valteri hesitated. Deep, dark red cloth hugged the woman’s voluptuous body, spilling onto the floor like a puddle of blood as the sunlight cut across her features and highlighted them. Her flaxen hair lay atop part of the kirtle, its paleness contrasted by the dress’s richness. Never before had he seen a kirtle made in such a shade, nor hair the color of hers. They were so vibrant that they appeared to be living entities all their own.
A golden cross lay in the hollow of her throat, pulsing with each beat of her heart. Its shape glinted in the dying sunlight that still illuminated the room.
His hands suddenly clammy, Valteri wondered at the way his heart raced. He was far from the days of a callow youth, yet that was what he felt like as he stared at her. There was something about her that seemed ethereal. Untouchable. Like the first time he’d been alone with a woman.
He was as nervous now as he’d been for that first paid-for kiss. And that truly infuriated him.
What kind of fool am I?
Granted, it’d been the better part of five years or more since he’d last seen a noblewoman, but still… He shouldn’t bethisnervous.
You’re just not used to seeing a woman not mired in pig shit and dressed in rags.
Aye, it was nothing more than that.
Wanting to prove it, he reached out and gently turned her face toward him.
The sight of her features struck him like a blow. She was stunning. Flawless. And he knew every line of those high cheekbones and that alabaster skin.
’Twas the face that haunted him from his dreams.
Gasping, he took a step back, releasing her. For once,hefelt the need to cross himself, and he didn’t believe in such stupidity.
How can this be?
Sweat broke out on his forehead. Could he have conjured her? Was this some trick of the light?
A low gasp escaped her lips as her chest rose with a deep breath. His men stepped back in unison, some crossing themselves as if they feared her as much as they feared him.
That finally broke through his mental fog.
Superstitious fools!
Regaining control of himself and forcing away his initial shock, Valteri scoffed at their ridiculousness.
And his own. She was a woman.
Plain and simple.
No more. No less. How she’d infiltrated his dreams, he didn’t know, but he refused to believe for one moment that she had any more supernatural power than he did.
Indeed, too many years of people crossing themselves whenever they looked upon him had left him skeptical over the presence of demons and witches. Warlocks and elves, and other such nonsense.
He believed in nothing save his own sword arm.
Had there ever been a God, He’d abandoned him long ago. And so Valteri had chosen to return the favor.
Her long, dark lashes fluttered open, displaying a beautiful pair of deep blue eyes. Aye, the wench was as lovely as any he’d ever seen, and he could imagine how angry her lord must be over her loss. No doubt he was frantically searching everywhere for her.
A frown creased her brow and she sat up, rubbing her forehead as if an ache beat inside her skull. “Where am I?”
His body inflamed by the sound of her rich voice speaking flawless Norman French, Valteri stared at her. How had a Norman lady come to be stranded in the middle of Saxon lands?
And she was no doubt a lady. Her dress and manner could never belong to serf or merchant.
“You are in Ravenswood Hall, milady.” He waited for her to look athim and cringe in terror. It was what everyone did the first time they saw his mismatched eyes.
