Claiming His Lady: Novella (Norfolk Knights Book 1) Page 3

  “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 4

  “’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.

  Rowena knew the question Birghiva wanted to ask, but she wasn’t of a mind to answer it. Let people think what they wished. For, if people thought she hadn’t lain with Saher, that they weren’t properly married, then it could be the worse for her—Saher could expel her from the castle on any grounds whatsoever. She sighed. “So would you be.”

  Birghiva raised an amused eyebrow. She wasn’t to know that the cause of Rowena’s tiredness was the fact she’d lain awake all night watching the man who was her husband. At least he’d taken the hint and slept on the pallet she’d placed on the floor for him. She felt as if she’d lain the whole night watching the course of the moon track across the room, illuminating his body, his hair, the rise and fall of his chest. The light brought form to his face, form to her fate. She supposed she must have dozed as some point but she’d been awake and arisen before him. And she wanted to be away on her business before him. He might want time together. But she most certainly did not. She had a merchant to meet and illicit funds to receive, neither of which she wanted the king’s man to witness.

  “There,” Birghiva patted Rowena’s hair and stepped away. “That should do it.”

  Rowena fastened the silver clasp of her cloak around her, glad of the cloak’s warmth in the chill of the summer morning. “Your cloak, Birghiva. Come, we mustn’t delay.”

  Birghiva swiftly obeyed. “Aye.” She swept it around her shoulders. “Although why you don’t wait for Sir Saher, I don’t know.”

  “Because I don’t wish to be with him. He may be my husband but he is not, and never will be, my keeper.”

  She took one last look out the window at the jagged edged tower—a symbol of everything she feared—and silently pushed open the door and slipped past the solar where Saher lay.

  * * *

  Rowena looked up from the clerk’s figures with satisfaction. They accounted for the goods currently being loaded onto her ship—a fine cog, bigger than the others that were tied up beside it at the quay. A line of men carried the cargo aboard—grain, hides and wool destined for Germany—that made her estates so profitable. She inhaled the unique port smell of salt air, rank mud and the fragrant food from the nearby Inn and stalls that lined the road. She glanced at the sun. It would soon be time for her meeting with the Flemish merchant to arrange the next shipment and collect payment on the last. She was relieved she’d managed to evade Sir Saher. He would ask awkward questions, questions she couldn’t answer honestly, not if she wanted an escape route.

  “Good morning, my lady.”

  Rowena jumped at the whispered greeting, close to her ear, and blushed, as if caught red-handed, wondering if her thoughts hadn’t somehow summoned him to her. She recovered quickly and gave him a cool stare which seemed to amuse him.

  “Sir Saher! I did not expect to see you here.” She was suddenly nervous, aware of what her father’s reaction to her disobedience would have been. But, strangely, his expression was not one of anger.

  “And I didn’t expect to be here, my lady, I assure you. What I expected was to break my fast in a leisurely fashion and to be shown around the estates by my wife and steward. Not chase around the countryside after my wife.”

  “It just shows that life seldom gives us what we expect. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend.”

  She turned away and walked along the wooden planks placed on top of the mud for the men loading the cargo. She’d hoped he’d take the not-so-subtle hint and leave, but he fell into step beside her.

  “Excellent idea. I’ll join you and you can show me the Gresham holdings while I am here. Let’s not make it a total waste of a morning.” Her heart sank. How was she going to lose Sir Saher before she met up with the merchant? “This vessel is very fine,” he indicated the large cog before them.

  “The finest.” She stopped walking and looked up at the ship proudly. “It can sail all around Cape Skagen to get to the Baltic, with no ill effect. And the fore and stern castles, which you see we’ve added, are the best defence against pirates. Our trade with the Baltic and Germany is flourishing because of it. The merchants will take as much grain as we can produce.”

  “Excellent. I can see the estate’s business is in good hands.”

>   She turned to him in surprise. “You would leave it to me, sir?” She could barely hope that such a man as this would allow his wife any authority.

  She jumped as he reached out and took her hands in his. “These hands are capable, I’ve no doubt, but do not think I allow you complete control over the estate’s affairs, for I do not. I will be looking through the accounts later today and I expect you to inform me of all I need to know.” She wanted to pull back her hands from his but she was frozen, aware only of the gentle way he held her, and of its effect on her. She swallowed and held his gaze, waiting with a heightened sense of anticipation to see what he would do next. He smiled. “Now, lead on, show me the Gresham warehouse I’ve heard so much about.”

  She did as he bid, not least so she didn’t have to look into those dark grey eyes that seemed to see directly into the heart of her. She shook her head in a vain attempt to rid it of the confusion brought about by his touch and words, and stopped beside open warehouse doors from which a stream of men laden with cargo emerged.

  “The Gresham warehouse. We keep the goods here until the cog has returned. My father employed learned men to advise on its construction and the goods therefore keep well and are sought-after because of it. We keep a mix of…” She blushed, suddenly realizing she was getting carried away with her enthusiasm for the subject. She waved her arm. “I’m talking too much, I’m sure you’re not interested. Few people are. But it’s what has made us prosperous in bad times.”

  A smile flickered on his lips, as though he found her passion amusing. “Impressive,” but he was looking at her. “A fighter and a businesswoman.”

  “My father taught me to take care of business. He taught me to look out for myself, to not trust others.”

  “These are good lessons. But you know, Lady Rowena, he trusted me with his most beloved possession. Should you not also?”

  There was a heavy pause and she couldn’t prevent herself from frowning as the truth of his words hit home. She’d loved her father, despite his many faults. Not least of which was the imprisonment of her mother, a woman whose unbalanced and passionate nature had been her downfall. But he had always been mistrustful of people, except obviously, of this man. Should she trust him?

  She only knew it was too soon, she knew him too little. Besides it wasn’t in men’s words that she could trust—she knew that through experience—it was in their actions.

  “You must have business of your own, sir. I am merely meeting a merchant to discuss a further shipment.” She waved her hand in what she hoped was an airy, unconcerned fashion. “’Tis nothing important, too small to interest you.”

  “Believe me, my lady. I am very interested in all your business.” He narrowed his eyes. “And I doubt very much ’tis ‘small.’”

  Rowena turned away, and drew in a sharp, anxious breath, and walked into the shadowy interior of the warehouse where she knew the merchant secretly awaited her.

  She walked past the barrels and pallets, most of which contained grain bound for Germany, but still others with goods bound for Iceland and the Baltic countries. She hoped the smell of the dried fish awaiting despatch to various English ports would put Saher off but no, his footsteps followed her, echoing on the dusty wooden floors.

  She indicated to her steward, who was looking nervously on, to do something.

  “Sir Saher!” he called. “Last night you mentioned your interest in the French wine we are importing. Do you care for a taste of our most recent imports? ’Tis the best.”

  Saher looked from Rowena, to her steward and then back to Rowena again. “It seems, my lady, your men are loyal. I’ll go now. But I’ll return in a few moments.”

  As soon as Saher had walked out into the bright sunshine, Rowena moved quickly to the rear door where she was met by the merchant. Accustomed to transacting their business discreetly and swiftly, the negotiations were soon complete. He’d indicated which casks, amongst the many, contained the coins and now all Rowena had to do was somehow remove them securely from here and deposit them at the Priory. Her hopes for the future depended on it.

  Within moments the merchant had stepped towards the door but hadn’t reached it when she heard the steward’s voice rising in warning. She turned as Saher bore down on her. He tried to look over her shoulder and there was nothing else for it—she knew the merchant had yet to leave the warehouse—and she grabbed Saher’s hand and clasped it tight between her own. He turned sharply towards her.

  “My lady? What is the matter?”

  “The matter?” Rowena’s mind raced as she tried to think of something, anything, that would prevent him from discovering the merchant, so obviously Flemish, so obviously flouting the law. “I… I’ve been thinking about what you said… about,” she cleared her throat, “us…”

  Concern was replaced by suspicion. “Us?”

  A quick glance over his shoulder revealed the merchant frozen into inaction, unwilling to open the door and be revealed in the sudden blast of daylight. She had to do something and something fast. Without thinking further she stood on tip-toes and pressed her lips to Saher’s.

  She closed her eyes as his lips instantly responded with a pressure of their own, claiming her mouth with a sensuous caress that sent shivers of desire through her body. Neither moved for shocked moments, simply focused on the pressure of their lips against each others, in a kiss which held the rest of the world at bay. The raucous shouts and cries of the town outside the warehouse faded away; the pungent smells of the warehouse were replaced by the fresh outdoors smell of Saher’s skin. The rough texture of his woollen cloak over which her hands had curled, was more dominant in her mind than the casks of coin beside which they stood.

  She may have taken the initiative, but it was he who now took control. With a sharp intake of breath, he drew her body tight against his, his hands fanning around her waist, back and lower. At the same time, his lips explored hers as if savouring the sweetest delicacy. She felt his low rumble of pleasure against her mouth, intensifying the breathless tension that coiled deep inside of her.

  The kiss must have lasted moments only, but when he pulled away from her and caressed her cheek briefly with his hand, she could have sworn more than seconds had past. She felt different. Her hands continued to hold on to him, as if wanting to prolong the connection that seemed to penetrate deeper than their skin.

  “Interesting,” he murmured. “Very interesting.”

  He stepped away and her hands fell, almost reluctantly by her sides. She took a deep breath, trying to quiet her breathing but she felt weak and gripped the edge of a barrel for support. “Interesting,” she repeated raggedly. It wasn’t an adequate word for what had just passed between them but it was surely a safe one. She tried to regain her focus, tried to think, but nothing made sense apart from an overwhelming need to have those same lips, that same body, pressed tight against hers once more.

  It was only when she heard the calls of the porters outside the warehouse that she dragged in a deep breath of pungent stale air and remembered where she was, remembered the contents of the heavy cask upon which her hand rested. The weight of freedom.

  She glanced over his shoulder, the merchant had disappeared. “And now,” she cleared her throat to try to make her voice less husky. “I think we’d better return to the castle.”

  “Indeed.” He glanced at her briefly, frowning as if he was also trying to understand what had just passed between them.

  She, too, was trying to understand. It was a kiss, yes, but nothing like the few she’d experienced before. Not even like the kiss he’d given her the day before. That had been all about domination. But this kiss? It didn’t dominate and destroy, it created sensations that consumed all thought.

  He cleared his throat and looked out through the open doors of the warehouse to the light and busy street beyond, as if searching to ground himself in reality again. “Although I can’t say I’ve not enjoyed this… interlude, but your steward is waiting patiently for us to taste the w
ine and then, afterwards, I would like you to show me the estate.”

  She brought the cloak tightly around her and stepped hesitantly forward from behind the huge barrels that had sheltered them from view. “Of course.”

  She walked beside him to her steward who’d poured out three goblets of the latest import of wine from France and accepted one of them. She glanced up at Saher, suddenly shy, but he stood with the brightness of the open door behind him and she couldn’t see the expression on his face. She glanced away and sipped her wine. Leaving him discussing the wine with her steward, she walked outside, needing to be grounded in the reality of the world.

  She watched the plodding horses pull their heavy loads through the muddy street, the cluster of men—merchants and free workers alike—sup ale at the alehouse across the road, and the women call to their neighbours from the doorways of their tiny cottages that tumbled down the hill from the church, around the green, following the road to the quayside.

  This was the real world, she chided herself. Where survival was difficult and vigilance was required. Not that other one she’d briefly experienced within the warehouse. That had been but a kiss. Only a kiss. To lose her wits because of it would surely be fatal. She couldn’t be weak, as her mother had been. Her passion had led to her banishment from the castle, her banishment from her children and ultimate confinement to the tower. She glanced up at the tower that was visible for miles around. That had been her mother’s fate. It would not be hers.

  “My lady?” She turned to see Saher holding their horses. “Come. I would see what else lies in store for me. This day is proving more interesting than I had imagined.”

  Rowena’s glanced at the casks that represented her freedom, checked that the extra guards she and her steward had ordered were in place and then nodded coolly in agreement to Saher. “Of course.”