Dream of Me/Believe in Me

She would change that. Oh, yes, make no mistake, she would change it once and for all.
    Daria looked away from the men at the high table, trying to block out their deep laughter, but the very smell of them overtook her. She was engulfed in the scents of leather, wool, sweat, and something intrinsically male she did not care to know. Her senses whirled and for amoment she thought she would be ill, vomiting it all up right there for everyone to see.
    Father Elbert's pale hand on her arm steadied her. “Be at ease, lady.” His voice was low, sibilant, oddly soothing. She stared into his narrow face lit by coal-black eyes and felt the tumult of the hall fading. Slowly, she exhaled, willing her weakness away.
    “How I despise them,” she murmured, conscious of the need not to be overheard. Anyone observing them would see only a holy man in consultation with a righteous woman, her gaze suitably downcast, her manner humble. Appearance was all.
    “As you should, lady, but the time of repentance is coming. They shall pay for all their crimes.”
    “They cannot pay enough, it isn't possible.” She glanced again at Hawk—big, hard muscled, blatantly masculine in a way that made her strangely unsettled. Her late, unlamented husband had been a weakling, too stupid to do as she directed, too inept to seize the power that had gone to Alfred instead, an utter failure who, instead of making her the queen she was born to be, had dared to die and leave her to live on charity and dreams of revenge. Dreams that could not come true soon enough.
    She had failed once, when that cow Cymbra everyone thought was so beautiful managed to survive being taken captive by the Norse Wolf and thwart the plot to provoke him into killing her, becoming instead his cherished bride. Merely thinking of that was enough to make Daria's gorge rise again. She would not fail this time—she couldn't. Hawk's unwanted Viking wife was due to arrive any day. Turning him completely against her
and
the peace she represented would give Daria more pleasure than anything else in her bitter, resentment-filled life. She glanced down the high table where Hawk sat in conversation with the lords from Winchester. A fierce, dark senseof anticipation rose within her. How eagerly she awaited his destruction, how fiercely she would relish it.
    The prickling at the back of his neck distracted Hawk. He turned slightly, not taking his attention entirely from the man with whom he was speaking but seeking the source of his sudden unease. Such was his life that he had learned long ago the folly of ignoring his instinct for danger. But danger in his own hall, among his own people? Not impossible, to be sure, yet it was unlikely. He knew all the men lately come from the royal court, had fought beside them, shared hardships and hopes, and he trusted them. They were the pick of Alfred's most loyal nobles, the men who were rebuilding England, and he was proud to be counted among them. As for the rest …
    His glance drifted past Daria, swiftly as always for he disliked being reminded of her. So, too, did he spare scarcely a moment's thought for his house priest, the dour Father Elbert. Hawk was of a mind to replace the fellow, he just hadn't gotten around to it yet. That left visitors to his hall, merchants passing through, some he recognized, others he did not. And, of course, the servants of his absent bride, the trio seated together at the farthest table. He had made a point of not looking at the girl but now he did so, finding the sight of her oddly refreshing, as though he had wandered into a cool, sylvan glen. He could almost hear the droplets of water falling through moss-laden rocks. So clear was the sensation that Hawk had to shake himself out of it.
    He frowned, struck yet again by his unwonted susceptibility to the girl, and turned his attention to her companions. The black-garbed woman was busy cleaning the meat from a small pile of bones on her trencher. Pigeons had been served and he supposed that was one of them. Beside her, Thorgold was quaffing ale. He saw Hawk looking at him and raised his cup in salute. The girlnoticed and looked in the same direction. Her gaze met Hawk's and he saw, actually saw across the length of the hall, her cheeks redden. She looked away hastily but not before he was struck by a bolt of lust so intense as to rob him of breath. The sensation stunned him. He was no randy youth to be overtaken by winsome eyes and a fair form. Far from it, he