Claiming (3 page)

Before she could reply, he’d slipped his hand around her head and pressed his lips against hers in a kiss designed to dominate. But his breathing quickened, his lips moved as though he wanted to explore hers, and a groan of pleasure, ran through his body, under her hands that were pressed against his chest, ready to push him away. Ready… but not pushing.

For one long moment neither of them moved. Then a shout from outside brought them both to their senses. She raised her hands from his unyielding chest and slapped his face.

“How dare you, sir.” She stepped away, horrified at his response… and hers.

“I dare many things, my lady wife. But I’m not in the habit of pressing myself on women who don’t want me. It won’t happen again.” He turned away, and walked to the door where he hesitated and turned once more to her. “Until you instigate it yourself, that is.”

“Then it will never happen,” she spat out.

The door slammed shut on her. And she was glad that he was no longer there to witness the vivid colour that had spread over her cheeks, the shaking hand that she pressed against her hot lips, and the panting breath that refused to subside.

She staggered back into a chair and put her head in her hands. What was happening to her? In one afternoon, she’d had that which she valued most—her home—taken from her, and that which she feared the most—the passionate nature she’d inherited from her mother, revealed to her. It couldn’t be. It
mustn’t
be. She refused to succumb to such a passion. It had been her mother’s undoing. It would
not
be hers.

CHAPTER THREE

Rowena scowled as she looked around the hall from her position at the raised table, and skewered another piece of meat from her trencher.

She’d been over and over her predicament in her mind, trying to find a way to rid herself of this man, to reclaim her lands and herself. But there was none. Sir Saher not only inherited her father’s estate legally, but he also held it in fact. His men were fighters, hers were farmers and there was no-one willing to gainsay either the Earl of Norfolk or the King, no-one to defend her lands or herself. Her father’s “friends” hadn’t answered her urgent request for help, no doubt preferring to have Saher as their protector rather than a weak woman.

She was no match for him. She could leave. But where would she go, on her own, without money? She would have nothing. To one of the suitors she’d rejected in the past? Even if she could get one of the few who remained unmarried to marry her, and persuade them to fight for what was rightfully hers, she’d be no better off than she was now.
 

She refreshed her goblet and sat back in the chair with a sigh. She could go and join Melisende and her aunt, the Abbess, at Blakesmere Priory. It wasn’t a life she wanted for herself but she’d go if she had to, and take her money with her. Her aunt and sister were the only people she could trust with her money. It would be safe there.

Rowena glanced at Saher who was questioning her steward on the estate’s accounts. She hoped her steward had done as she’d instructed and hidden well the money which was hers—and would stay hers—alone. She had to bite her lip to stop herself from interrupting. It would only make it appear she had something to hide, which she had. Silver—which she was due to collect from the Flemish merchant, with whom her father had secret business, on the morrow. Some called such business smuggling, but in these times of heavy taxes, her father had called it prudent. It would be enough to buy her a future with the Priory should she ever need it. She just needed Saher gone so she could collect the casks of coin from the merchant and deliver them safely to the Priory. But how to rid herself of this unwanted husband who’d made himself so at ease in her own castle?

Saher turned and dipped his head to her ear, so he could be heard over the raucous laughter and noise in the Hall. “You are looking thoughtful, my lady. Considering what names to call our children?”

She wanted to ignore him but he was too provoking. “’Tis blasphemous, sir, to suggest I could bear a child without having done the necessary deed to produce it. You liken me to a lady to whom no mortal could aspire.”

His laugh was loud and filled the Great Hall. “Least of all you. The Blessed Virgin would be the last person I would liken you to.”

She looked around quickly. “Hush, ’tis rowdy talk.”

He leaned forward. “And you don’t like rowdy talk?”

“’Tis not appropriate only days after my father’s burial.”

He placed his goblet thoughtfully onto the table. “Ah yes, your father. His sudden passing must have been a shock to you.”

Rowena glanced at his face but found him to be serious and turned away sharply, narrowing her eyes as if she was looking for someone, trying to cover the swell of mixed emotions his words evoked.

She cleared her throat. “Indeed. I had imagined he would live a long life. But ’twas not to be.”

She felt his eyes suddenly upon her and wondered for a moment if he could detect the pain that gave a slight tremor to her words. But he couldn’t have done, for he looked away just as quickly.

“You were his great companion, I understand.”

She hesitated before she spoke, as her mind turned back to her beloved father. “Yes, we enjoyed each other’s company. I gave him due respect and love and he gave me free rein around the estate and castle.” She bit her lip as she felt the pain in her heart that her father’s passing had left. She cleared her throat and blinked. “The fire is exceptionally smoky tonight.” She signalled to an attendant to add more wood. Although it was summer, the nights were chill and the Hall was large.

“Free rein? I think not. While he was alive to watch over you, you had your
supposed
freedom. But he knew, full well, that you and the estates needed protection after his death. And you must have known, too, that your father would choose a husband for you.”

She shook her head. “He tried once or twice, of course, but I refused.” She shrugged. “I have no interest in men.”

“Now
that
, I do not believe. Maybe you were put off men for one reason or another, but I do not believe you had no interest.” His eyes narrowed. “You have passion in your eyes. I can feel it, I can see it. What went wrong?”

How could he have guessed so accurately? A vision of the young man who had stolen her heart and her virginity flashed into her mind. She’d been fifteen—too young, too impetuous and too easily fooled by a few flirtatious words and flattery. Another woman—older and wealthier than she—had beckoned to him and he’d gone. Sold to the highest bidder. She’d decided there and then that she would never again fall prey to the appetites of her body, appetites that had also been her mother’s downfall.

She shrugged in what she hoped was a casual manner. “My past is none of your business.”

“True. But I’d always found understanding people helped greatly in everything I do.”

“Everything? You are a mercenary, are you not? So understanding people helped you to murder them?”

“
Was
a mercenary.”

“You still are sir. You’ve sold your services to the highest bidder, as before. My lord father must have thought it a great joke, to match me up with you.” She didn’t even try to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

“He knew that I could guard and protect you and his lands like no other man could.”

“Strange form of protection—gifting my life to a stranger.”

“Better than gifting to you a life of certain defeat and ignominy.”

She placed her wine goblet carefully on the table, trying not to spill the ruby liquid, trying not to reveal the fact that she feared he spoke the truth. “Nothing is certain, my lord. Not defeat, not ignominy. Only death.”

“Come now. You are too young and beautiful to contemplate death.”

She glanced at the rapidly reducing wine flagon. “The wine is obviously addling your eyes and brains. I am too old to be considered young.”

“You consider twenty-one years of age, old?”

“You know it is. All my friends were married by the time they were eighteen, or earlier. And, as to your other point, I have too healthy a complexion and body to be considered beautiful.”

His eyes travelled leisurely down her curves. She met his gaze with a narrowed one of her own. “I see nought to complain about.”

She leaned toward him, as if to speak confidentially. “How ill you are at the gentle art of wooing, my lord. Because, even to me, unused to such talk, ‘nought to complain about’ is seldom used to flatter a lady.”

“Indeed, you have me there.” Even under the intermittent flicker of the torchlight, Rowena could see the unmistakable flare of interest in his eyes. Eyes that had grown darker with each passing moment. “While I hardly think I need to woo my wife, all this talk of beauty makes me think that you desire me to court you.”

“That’s…” she spluttered, “that’s utterly ridiculous. I have no wish to be courted.”

“Just bedded and married then?”

“Certainly no wish for either of these.”

“The last of these has been accomplished but I can add in some wooing if it sweetens the idea of being bedded. You are obviously acquainted with the art of wooing for you to criticize my efforts—”

“Not at all—”

“Tell me, what words should I be using?”

“I have no interest in such matters. You purposely misunderstand.”

“Your protestations simply convince me further of my rightness.”

“So… if I speak, you disbelieve me, and if I say nothing, I cannot defend myself.”

“
That
is about the sum of it.”

“Then I shall save myself the bother of conversing.” Rowena rose. “I’ll bid you goodnight, sir. Do not even think to disturb me.”

“You seem to forget, lady, that we share the same solar.”

“You touch me and—”

“You would enjoy it, believe me.”

“You would not force me?”

“You’re right. I would not. I never have, and I never will, force a woman into my bed—the thought is abhorrent to me. But I will lie close to you, watching you, but not touching you. And then there’s tomorrow. Tomorrow, ’twill be different.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “Tomorrow we will begin our courtship.”

A thrill of excitement shot through her, as she remembered his lips against hers. She couldn’t risk being close to him, couldn’t risk being weakened by lust. “Surely you have better things to do.”

“Aye. I have. We can inspect the estates together. Tomorrow, show me the estate’s business at the port. Seduce me with your words of business and I’ll seduce you with my words of love.”

“You’re wasting your time. Instead of seduction you should be about your business.”

“As of today, seduction is my business. And I’m going nowhere until you come to me willingly.” The noise she uttered made him laugh. “Go to bed, sweetheart, gather your strength. You’ll be needing it.”

Rowena gritted her teeth at his arrogance but did not reply. She didn’t trust herself. Instead she walked away without a backward glance, calling to her maid who was laughingly fighting off the attentions of one of Saher’s men.

It certainly wasn’t the heat of the fire that enflamed her cheeks and her body now, but anger at finding her freedom curtailed. Nothing else. Certainly nothing to do with the hot lick of desire his touch, his words and his eyes had sparked. Certainly nothing to do with the knowledge that there was clearly only one way to get him to leave the castle—to allow herself to be seduced by him.

CHAPTER FOUR

“’Tis too dark to see in this small room, my lady,” Birghiva muttered as she opened the shutters to let in what little light there was, before returning to fuss over Rowena’s hair.

Rowena’s gaze was immediately drawn to the faint outline of the deserted tower on top of the hill, barely visible in the pre-dawn light. Despite her dread of the place and the memories it held for her, her gaze was inevitably drawn to it, a constant reminder of what could happen to a woman.

“Turn to me, my lady, I cannot dress your hair if you insist on twisting around.”

“Keep your voice down, Birghiva. I don’t want Sir Saher awakened.”

“You look tired, my lady,” she whispered.