Rising Fire by Terri Brisbin Page A

him.
    William.
    Brienne stepped back into the shadows of the cottages and watched him, for from his demeanor and gait, it was clear he did not wish to be recognized or seen. He’d taken only a few strides toward the village when he lifted his head and met her gaze.
    The fire pulsed in her now, not just heat or something indefinite as before. The flames urged their release from her. She closed her hands into tight fists to keep them within.
    â€œBrienne.” His whispered voice spoke her name. He took one step toward her and then another and again until he stood before her.
    Power flowed from him, much as hers had in the presence of her fath— of Lord Hugh. But his was different and didn’t seem to come from fire. Strength. Loyalty. A man of war. A defender.
    Brienne shook her head and realized where she was. She stood barely a pace away from a complete stranger, a man, a noble perhaps, but at least a knight, capable of all manner of things. Her parents had warned her of the danger in such situations as this, and yet she did not feel threatened.
    Intrigued. Curious. Drawn. But not threatened.
    When his gaze moved to her mouth and then down her body, a shiver passed through her. Those eyes, like the icy surface of the loch when it froze, seemed to look right through her.
    What would his touch be like?
    â€œAye, how would it feel, lass?” he asked, lifting hishand toward her face. As he turned it so that he could skim down her cheek, she closed her eyes and waited for . . . for . . . The moment before his hand touched her, she shook her head and stepped back.
    â€œCan you hear my thoughts?” she asked, putting a short distance between them. “Who are you?” In truth, she should be showing him respect and not nay-saying him, but she wanted to know. He was unlike any man she’d ever met.
    â€œI am William, the king’s man.” He bowed slightly to her as though she was worthy of such regard. “I come to meet with your lord.”
    â€œHe is not yet returned,” she blurted out.
    In spite of her father’s warnings not to speak of Lord Hugh to outsiders, she just had. Did he hear her thoughts
and
control her speech? His mouth curved into a smile then, easing the masculine sharpness of his features.
    â€œI suspected as much,” he said. “Where is your father?”
    Brienne glanced over her shoulder and in the direction of their cottage and the smithy. “He is working in the smithy now.”
    â€œAh, so he made the weapons you brought in your wagon?”
    Finally gathering her scattered wits about her, she did not let the words leave her mouth. It would be unwise to be caught speaking to a stranger, let alone giving him information about anything that involved Lord Hugh. He was not tolerant of those who spilled his secrets or spoke unwisely about him.
    â€œMy father is there, if you wish to speak to him.”
    The warrior, for that was what he was, turned andlooked back toward the woods and then at the village as though deciding which path to take. When his foot took a step away from the village, her heart ached.
    She needed to ask him . . . She wanted to speak to him. . . . She wanted to know . . . everything. If he left now, Brienne knew she would never discover why his presence seemed to strengthen her powers when no one else’s ever had.
    Except for Lord Hugh, her true father.
    â€œWill you return?” she asked.
    â€œI have business with your lord,” he said, nodding. Then, with a quick glance over her shoulder, he disappeared into the thick copse of trees faster than she thought a man could move.
    The crunching and crackling of leaves behind her told her of another’s approach. Now she understood William’s hasty leave-taking—he did not wish to be seen here. Puzzling over it, Brienne turned and watched as James made his way to her.
    â€œAre you well, Brienne?” he asked.