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  “Enough.”

  She closed her eyes, trying desperately to regain control of her life, of her thoughts… But she opened her eyes and the man still loomed tall over her, dominating her. But, beneath it all, her sense of betrayal ground into the pit of her stomach, undermining everything. “How did you know my father? How did you make him do such a thing to me?”

  She saw a flicker of reaction in his grey eyes that warmed and swept his features as if he was, himself, frustrated. He turned to the sheriff. “Sir William. Lady Rowena accepts the terms of the will, as do I.” He turned back to her. “Don’t you?”

  She nodded stiffly.

  “I have a financial settlement drafted if you care to look at it.”

  “I care all right.” She took the document and read through it. If he should die she’d be well cared for—the dower package was generous. She looked up at him and nodded. “’Tis satisfactory.”

  “Good. Sir William, I would have the betrothal ceremony witnessed before you leave.” He glanced at Rowena. “So everyone will know the Lady Rowena has consented, that our marriage will be legal… once consummated.” He reached for her hand but she stepped away, putting both hands behind her back. He shrugged. “I take you as my wife. Do you wish to take me as your husband?”

  Rowena tried to speak but her mouth was dry with shock. She took a deep breath and swallowed, holding her head high. “If I have to.”

  “If you wish to stay here, you do.”

  “Then I will take you as my husband.”

  He took her right hand and this time she didn’t withdraw it. She had no alternative but to suffer his large, calloused hand wrapping around, and dwarfing, hers. He looked at her sharply, obviously aware of the tremor in her hand. “I take you as my wife, for better or worse, to have and to hold until the end of my life and of this I give you my faith.” He bent toward her. “Come, lady, say the words and it will be over.”

  Then he squeezed her hand, his thumb sweeping over the back of her hand in a gesture of compassion that startled her. She gazed up into his eyes and knew she had no option but to continue. “I take you as my husband, to have and to hold until the end of my life and of this…” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “I give you my faith.”

  He dropped her hand, taking away his warmth and careless gesture, bringing her back to reality. “Good.” He turned to Sir William. “Thank you, Sir William, for your help in this matter.

  “You are most welcome, my lord, and congratulations on your good fortune. As to the marriage, there will be no need to issue bans, or for a ceremony at the church door. It is sufficient that we have witnessed it on behalf of the King. No-one dare gainsay it. All you have to do now, sir, to complete the deal, is to consummate it.” He glanced at Rowena and returned an amused look back to Saher. “Good luck with that.”

  Saher ignored the innuendo. “Are you sure you don’t wish to stay for more refreshment?”

  “I must return to Norwich. I wish you well in your new endeavours.” He turned to Rowena. “My lady, I wish you well, also. No matter what you think, your father sought the best for you. I suggest you make the best of it.”

  Rowena nodded coolly. “I intend to, sir.”

  Sir William gave a pointed glance at Sir Saher. “Good luck, sir, I think you’re going to need it.”

  She walked away from them, hoping that Sir Saher would leave also. She poured herself more wine and sipped it with her back to the door. Suddenly there was silence. She waited, her ears acute, listening for the slightest sound, hoping against hope that she was now alone. But then she heard his footfall approach her. She closed her eyes once more.

  “I made your father do nothing, my lady. I spent many months with him five years ago, in France. He was a tough man with a hard heart. He did nothing on a whim. He knew me well, knew what I sought, and believed I could be of use to him. And of use to you.”

  “And what is it that you seek?”

  “Lands, a wife, children.”

  She pressed her hand flat against her chest, trying to come to terms, now, with the idea of lying with this stranger. It was unthinkable. She’d lain with a man years before and had had her heart broken. She’d vowed then and there to never allow herself to be vulnerable again, to allow the needs of her body to lead her to destruction. She’d fought off any suitors, much to her father’s amusement. And he’d let her. All the while knowing that he planned her marriage after his death. It had been convenient for him to have the attentions of the daughter with whom he was closest. That was all.

  She took a deep breath. “Well, you have the first two on your list. Do you care to make a start on the last item? The solar is empty. You could throw me over your shoulder and take me to bed, now. No-one would know. In fact, forget the bed, pull up my robe now and be done with it.”

  He sighed, strode up to her and gripped her arms. His fingers dug into her skin but she refused to look away from him, or to flinch. He dipped his head to hers. “Now, that is an idea.” His breath was unexpectedly warm and pleasant against her cheek and sent a ripple of sensation across her skin that travelled beyond where his breath touched her. She widened her eyes, suddenly alarmed, suddenly out of her depth, suddenly aware that he’d noticed her reaction. His lips upturned into a slow smile as he swept a finger along her jaw line. “I was wrong. Your softness isn’t in your heart—there, you are like your father—it is in your body. You think you don’t want me, you believe you are impervious to men—you are mistaken.”

  She didn’t move. She couldn’t move. Her whole body was held in thrall by the stray touch of his hand on her face. It was as if his touch delved deep into her body, like the last quivering note of a lute, designed to transport the heart to a different place. Then he withdrew his touch and the magic was broken. She stepped away, feeling as if she’d drunk too much of the Bordeaux.

  “I think… I think, I should know my own mind, my own heart, my own body.”

  “Aye, but you don’t.” His finger insolently stole round her neck and she gasped. “Do you? Look at how the blush creeps up your neck and fills your cheeks. At how your breath quickens and the indentation in your neck flutters.” He shifted his hand up until it rested on a hollow and she felt the quickened movement under his fingertips. “Just here. You are not immune to me in the least. You want me. And you shall have me.”

  She brought her arm up and pushed his away. “I will not. Go, sir. Go now. Leave me at once.”

  “I will not be leaving here, my lady. Didn’t you hear Sir William? I just need to bed you and we will be married.”

  “Then we shall never be married because I will not sleep with you. I will never lie with you, never have your children.”

  “Listen here, lady. We will live together, we will sleep together and everyone will believe we have lain together. It will be enough for others. But for me? No. I will not leave you until I’ve bedded you.”

  “You would not force yourself on me?”

  “I won’t have to. I’ve plenty of experience with women. I know an aroused woman when I see one. I know the look of a woman whose eyes explore the lips of a man they wish to kiss and whose thoughts stray to a man’s body, wondering and wanting.”

  She swallowed and forced a low laugh. “I’m sure you would believe every woman wishes to bed you. However, in my case, your knowledge has proved faulty. I would sooner bed an adder; I would sooner lie in the filth of an animal’s pen; I would sooner kiss a leper.”

  He smiled. “I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but, by the Lord, I had no idea it would be such entertainment.”

  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 o
utside 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, unuse
d 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.”