Read Online Serpent by Kathryn Le Veque - Free Book Online Page B

just arrived at Rhydilian as a result of their flight from the marsh and William was in no mood for foolery. The entire night had been unnerving and exhausting, and his usually calm temper was in danger of flaring because it was clear that Bhrodi de Shera was not happy to see the English upon his doorstep. Instead of polite Welsh hospitality, they were receiving a lashing.
    “I will not speak another word until I know who it is I am addressing,” William said, his tone a growl. “Although I am deeply appreciative of your protection for my people this night, your behavior since I have walked within these walls has been rude and arrogant. I am a lord with titles and honor and will not tolerate your discourteous behavior any longer. Either you bring me de Shera or I will turn and ride from here. I do not speak with hired men on a matter of such importance.”
    Bhrodi was standing near the flames with Ivor, Ianto, Yestin, and Gwyllim. Since the moment they had returned from the marshes near Llyn Llwydiarth, he had purposely kept the English waiting and when he did speak to de Wolfe, it was without introduction. He was making his displeasure at their uninvited appearance known but he wasn’t willing to push it too far; there was a part of him that wanted peace, an alliance, although it was difficult to admit it. Only since he had aided the English in chasing off the beast from the marsh had he really given it serious thought.
    Oddly, it had felt empowering fighting with The Wolfe and not against him. He rather liked the feeling when he should not have. There was a sense of unity and strength, something he’d never known with the Saesneg . Indeed, perhaps he needed to give the marriage proposal more consideration. Perhaps it was time to ease his rough stance and show the English a measure of welcome.
    With a faint sigh, Bhrodi moved away from the flames and in William’s direction. His gaze was intense upon the enormous man with the eye patch . He knew he was looking at a legend; the entire room filled with the presence of de Wolfe the moment the man passed through the doors. There was no mistaking such power.
    “I am de Shera,” he finally said, “and you, my lord, are William de Wolfe. I was raised on stories of your valor. Even Welshmen respect you.”
              William eyed the very big, and very muscular, young lord. He was dark, like the Welsh, but he had eyes the color of emeralds that looked strangely bright on his shadowed face. The most predominant feature about the man that struck William was the size of de Shera’s shoulders; the man was tall, although he’d seen taller, but the pure muscular width of his shoulders and chest was truly something to behold. The only men he’d ever seen close to that kind of power were Kieran and Kieran’s son, Kevin. De Shera radiated nothing but pure, unadulterated power. So many master races culminated in de Shera; English, Welsh, Norse, and Irish. The powerful qualities of each race filled him. The man was bred to kill.
    But h e also radiated a sense of entitlement and arrogance; William could see it in his face. De Shera spoke with a deep, succinct voice, as if there was no room for discussion or debate because he knew better than everyone else. Therefore, William had suspected the man’s identity all along but he wanted a formal introduction. He didn’t like being treated like a lesser class because he was English; it was simply good manners.
    “If that is true, then why have you treated me so poorly since my arrival?” he asked after a moment. “You show your respect in strange ways.”
    Bhrodi smiled wryly. “And you appear in places you have not yet been invited to.”
    William wouldn’t back down, especially not to a Welshman regardless of his titles. “I am here on the directive of my king. If you have issues with whether or not I was invited, then I suggest you take it up with Edward.”
    Bhrodi’s smile turned real. “I intend to,” he