“And you are so proper, my lady.” He grinned, smacked her horse on the backside and they both galloped off to where his men were waiting with the hawks.
Rowena followed the course of the tawny-plumed falcon as it soared into the sunshine until the brightness made her eyes water and she had to look away. Saher stood, hands on hips, watching the bird he’d just released enjoy its new-found freedom. But, she realized, he stood with the confidence and knowledge that he might have set him free, but that the bird would return.
They watched him swoop and soar in sheer joy before suddenly plummeting down to earth, then returning to Saher’s outstretched hand, with prey in its beak.
“He’s young, this one. Smaller than the female.” Saher took away the prey and tossed it into a bag.
Rowena watched, mesmerized as Saher calmed the young falcon, who was skittish with excitement at the kill, smoothing his ruffled feathers until he positively preened to his touch. Then, he slipped on the hood and the bird relaxed under its comfort.
“Try this one.” Saher beckoned to a squire who presented Rowena with a female falcon, much larger than the male, who lifted her head proudly once the hood had been removed and looked around serenely, as if it not much mattered whether she was hooded or not.
“She is beautiful.”
“And she knows it. Is she too heavy?”
She was heavy but Rowena would never admit it. She lifted her higher, straining her muscles. “No, I can manage. I’m used to doing more than embroidering pretty pictures.”
Saher reached over and ran his fingers along the long muscle of her arm. She closed her eyes briefly as if she, too, were the female falcon, responding to her master’s touch. Then she turned away and let loose the bird. This bird rose higher than the male, and did not swoop with delight but flew with a focus and surety which entranced Rowena.
“Your birds are well trained, sir.”
His eyes searched her face with an insolent expression. “I make sure of it.”
She turned away suddenly, torn by her arousal and fearful at what his words implied.
The hours slipped by, judging by the lowering of the sun in the sky and the sacks full of rabbits and other small prey that would supplement the castle’s kitchen.
The last bird returned to the gloved hand of the man they knew instinctively to be their master—Saher, who now held Rowena’s full attention. His strength, control and command of the birds had impressed Rowena, despite herself and now that the shadows were lengthening she allowed herself to admire him—his long dark hair pushed away from a face of chiseled cheekbones and strong lines. She watched in a daze, feeling as languid as the hot afternoon, as he quieted the bird. He whispered words that made the bird shiver and sink into his feathers before passing him to one of his men.
She should speak, she should mount her horse and return to the castle. But she did neither of these things. Instead, the daze lingered and her eyes dropped to his lips when he turned to her. She turned away immediately but not before he’d smiled a private smile that created a low, fluttering tension deep within. She walked over to her horse and fiddled with the reins as she remembered how his hard cock had pressed against her belly the previous night, imagining it in place of her fingers, seeking out her damp heat. Hot colour flushed her cheeks.
What was she waiting for? If she truly wanted him gone—at least for a while—then she knew how to effect it.
“Are you ready to return, my lady?” She jumped around startled, not realizing he was so close.
She opened her mouth to speak but it felt parched, dry. She licked her lips and swallowed, her eyes seeking his mouth once more, which was now curled into a sensuous smile. “Dismiss the servants.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
He cocked his head to one side in surprise and then shouted a few words at the men who promptly took the birds and left the clearing. They were quite alone.
“And what, lady, do you have in mind?”
“Something that may as well be done in the fields, with the animals, among the flowers.” She looked around. There was not a soul to be seen. The clearing in the woods glowed in the late summer sunshine, its grasses interspersed with the wildflowers—from the yellow of Mary’s Bedstraw, to the vivid blue of the Mary’s Slipper. She sighed and sat amongst the flowers. “It’s beautiful here.”
He sat beside her and plucked some of the pale yellow flowers and brought them up to her face. He gently pushed away her hood and one by one joined them together until they wove through her hair. “Summer… a time for lovers. It’s ever been that way.”
Gone was the stranger who wanted to rob her of her inheritance. In his place was a man whose dark eyes were hot with desire. She reached out to touch his cheek with tentative fingers and he caught her hand with his, turning it against his lips and kissing the palm of her hand.