Master Of Surrender Read Online Free PDF Page B

for Russell, Isabel would not acquiesce so easily. Let her strike a bargain, but on her terms. “I have only my person, sir!”
    He grinned wide, showing straight white teeth. “’Tis what I speak of.”
    His men hooted and caterwauled, egging him on. Isabel’s resolve stiffened. “I cannot give you what you ask for, sir knight. I am promised to another. Would that my betrothed gave his permission, then I would see your request met. But he is not here.”
    His face darkened. Hope swelled. Isabel pressed the point. “Sir knight, wouldst you defile the lady of the manor only to have my people raise up and take arms against you to defend my honor?”
    His eyes flashed. “I would kill any man or woman who raises a hand to me or my men.”
    “Would you steal then what is not yours to take? Are you a thief as well as a murderer?” she accused.
    “I am no thief.” His lips tightened, and his eyes turned frigid. His gaze scanned the room to the gathered villagers. “Does one of you call this maid your intended?” he asked in English. It didn’t shock her that he spoke her tongue, though it should have.
    Wide-eyed, the people of Rossmoor remained silent. The knight turned his attention back to her. “Your gallant is not here. His lands, as yours, are no doubt in the hands of my fellow Normans. Your betrothal is no longer valid, unless William commands it.”
    “Arlys is one of Harold’s most trusted vassals. He will not lie down easily.”
    “Harold is no more.”
    “That may be, sir, but Arlys is a nobleman. He fought beside Harold at Stamford Bridge and my father and brother at Hastings. You may rethink your position here. I expect their return any day.”
    He grinned then. Instead of softening his face, it hardened the angles sharpening them to hewn stone. “I was there. There were few survivors at Senlac Hill. William ruled the day.” His eyes swept her person, and she read contempt in the gesture. “Do you not think your kin would have returned home by now should they live?”
    Her stomach fluttered as if a swarm of angry bees buzzed inside. She fought the urge to retch. Knowing he spoke the truth made Isabel solidify her resolve. Her father and her brother would not have died in vain. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them and peered at the man standing in front of her. He gave no care to her heart, or the hearts of other Saxons, knowing such blood was lost forever and to a bastard conqueror no less! Isabel stood resolved. Until she had proof positive that her kin lay as one with the English soil, she would do everything in her power to keep what was rightfully theirs from the hungry hands of these men of the bastard duke.
    Aye, the Norse blood of her great-grandmother Signund ran as hotly through her veins as did the warrior spirit of her Saxon kin. She raised her chin a notch, refusing to give up or give this man before her the satisfaction of seeing her cower. She was Isabel of Alethorpe and the warrior sprit ran long and deep in her blood. “Do not be so sure my kin will not return. Lord Dunsworth will have your head for your trespass, as will my sire and my brother. You have no right here.”
    “I have every right. William is rightful king. I am Rohan du Luc, his captain.” Sir Rohan turned to the gathered people of the hall. “He gives me right to claim land in his name.” He turned back to Isabel. “I see no living heir here. By right of conquest, I claim this manor, its people, and all that surrounds it.” He stepped closer to Isabel. “That includes you, Lady Isabel. From this moment forth, you and everything tied to this holding are William’s property.”
    The harsh truth of his words penetrated her denial. Should Arlys magically appear, chances were their pledge of marriage would hold no weight with this new reign of terror. And so she would use any methods at hand to sway this scourge to leave them at least to a semblance of their former lives, until such time as they could