Claiming(10)

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.