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 wine 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.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Saher’s gaze swept the crowded hall where wine and ale flowed and the best of food was available for all. The minstrels sang, the lights were bright and, for the first time in many a long year, he felt content. At last, his own castle and estate. He’d imagined he’d have felt easier. And he would have done if it hadn’t been for Rowena’s displeasure. Such marriages were made every day. If it had not been him, it would have been someone else, someone like Angelique’s husband. On their ride home, Rowena had told him about her sisters, about her youngest, Melisende, at Blakesmere Priory, and about Angelique, forced into marriage to a man she despised and whom Rowena believed to be cruel. The thought of a man mistreating a woman made his blood boil and he took a soothing drink of wine and sat back, watching Rowena stretch across the table to reach her goblet.
He marvelled at the fact that most of the day’s pleasure had been gleaned not from the estates, which were impressive, but from this woman. He watched as her sleeve fell back revealing an arm tanned on top, with a pale, delicate underside. The combination of the brown skin of her hands and arms, so disliked by noblewomen, with the white skin, so tender and vulnerable, did something to him. The tanned skin showed a strength and individuality that he admired. He hated weakness in anyone and had seen immediately that Rowena was a strong woman, a woman who could hold his attention and his desire. Then there was the delicacy of her pale, hidden skin, hinting at a vulnerability he longed to explore. He could only imagine how her passionate nature and bold mind would move that lush body once she’d discovered the joys he could bring to her. He hardened at the thought. And she was his for the taking anyway. Not that he would. He had the castle and its lands secure, and he would make his wife totally his, not by taking, but by giving. That was the way with women. And that was the way with him. He’d not lied to her about his aversion to force when it came to women.
She shifted in her chair and he admired the long curve of her thigh. She said something that was hard to hear above the music and laughter in the hall and he shifted closer, until his thigh was pressed against hers. She stilled to begin with but didn’t shift. The blush that rose through her body hardened him further as he imagined the effect on her breasts—full and heavy—just as he liked them.