Claiming His Lady: Novella (Norfolk Knights Book 1)

by Saskia Knight

  “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 7

  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.

  Her heart beat till she thought it would pound out of her chest. His lips against her palm felt daring and intimate, yet it didn’t warn her off, merely made her want more. She rose on her knees to him and brought her face to his. He smiled, knowing what she wanted and closed the distance by slipping his hand behind her head and bringing her to him.

  Any lingering thought of resistance, of her plan to make him leave, of the morrow, vanished under the passion his lips incited. As the kiss deepened—their mouths opening and their tongues tangling—her body was shot through with a need so urgent she could hardly breathe. He thrust his fingers through her hair, loosening it, tossing her hood to the sweet-scented ground. His lips moved down from her mouth, and, breathless, she arched back, exposing her throat to his mouth and her chest to his lips.

  He thrust down her gown, exposing her full white breasts, their cherry red tips tight as buds. His smile was short-lived as he moved his mouth first to one nipple—flicked it with his tongue and then sucked hard—and then the other. She gasped at the exquisite pleasure that consumed her and closed her eyes, her breathing coming fast as her body became overwhelmed with sensation.

  He pulled away and stroked her face. “You are beautiful, my lady.” He put his arms around her and they rolled to the ground as one, the scented grasses crushing beneath their bodies as they lay on their sides. He kissed her and she surrendered to the mindless bliss of sensation that his lips, his tongue and his hands created in every part of her body.

  Then he moved, eased himself away from her and his head blocked out the sun, casting her into shadow, revealing the tower on the hill that dominated everything. At the same moment she felt his rigid cock straining at his hose, against her.

  She froze.

  He pulled away. “What is the matter? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

  She shivered. “I cannot, Saher, I cannot do this.” She struggled up to sitting and covered her face with her hands, whether for shame, embarrassment or fear, she couldn’t have said.

  “And what is it exactly you cannot do? I think your response has proven to both of us that your body is ready for mine, that you can enjoy our coupling more than many. He knelt behind her and gripped her hips, bringing her to lie with her head against his chest. “You want me and you shall have me.” He kissed the top of her head but she shook it and stood up, swaying unsteadily.

  “No, Saher.”

  To her chagrin, he simply smiled as if she’d not said a word. “Look at you.” He rose and ran his fingers over her nipples, visible through her flower-laced hair that had spilled around her semi-naked body. He laughed. “You look like some ancient dryad, some siren of the land, about to seduce a man, to suck a man dry.”

  She frowned at his words, recalling her mother’s intemperate passions and also her own first lover, who preferred a meeker love to her own. She awkwardly tried to pull on her robe once more, to cover her nakedness. “You see me as some unholy demon of a woman? Someone to be feared?”

  It was his turn to frown. “Feared? Why would you think that?” He helped her adjust her clothing for her, tucking in her chemise and gown and smoothing it under her bliaut.

  She shrugged. “Because…” Should she admit that her one and only lover had found her passion too overwhelming and had left her because of it?

  “Rowena. Tell me, what do you know of sex?”

  “I know of sex. I have lain with a man before.” She looked up at him with a defensiveness that made him laugh.

  “Indeed? I am not shocked, my lady, although no doubt I should be. I guessed as much. For someone as passionate as yourself, there must be a reason you have sworn off men. It’s simple. You must have chosen poorly to have been disappointed.” He lifted her chin. “I will not disappoint, nor will I leave. Lay down, my lady and listen.”

  The replies began to form in her head, only to die on her lips. She lay down, curled on her side and watched him sit opposite, idly pick a flower and tickle her hand with it. “So, sir, what tale will you tell me?”

  “No tale, my lady, but a description of my intent. First, I would explore your body.” He smiled, a slow smile that heated her stomach. She smiled back. “I wouldn’t be able to move past your breasts for some time for they are indeed, perfect, and there is much to be admired. With my fingers, with my lips, with my tongue.”

  She shivered and clenched herself inside but her eyes didn’t stray from his. “Go on.”

  “I’d lave my tongue against that cherry red nipple until it grew tight under my caresses. Then I’d take your breast into my mouth, and suckle until you feel like you’re going to explode. You know that feeling, don’t you?”

  She swallowed and nodded, the blush on her face telling him her answer.

  “Then, I would strip you of all your clothes.” He shifted himself and she could see he was aroused. For the life of her she could not lift her eyes from the thick rod that pushed against his britches. “Do you know what I would do then?”

  She shook her
head, unable to speak a word.

  “I would take my mouth and lick you. I would like to taste you. I would explore you with my fingers, with my tongue, I would discover where you like to be touched, where you liked to be teased and tasted.”

  “And I,” her voice was faint. “What would I do?”

  He smiled. “Not lie quietly, that much I am sure.” He took a blade of grass and stroked it up her neck. She grabbed it and drew it into her mouth, sucking the grassy liquid from the blade.

  “Then what?”

  He gazed distractedly at her lips sucking at the blade of grass, before speaking again.

  “Then, you would lay there, the air quickening from your open lips, your quim, wet and ready for me. And you would lie back and open your legs for me.”

  “What if I did not?”

  “I would push them open.”

  “What if my arms held your arms tight so they could not push them open?”

  “Then, I would take the long train of silk from your hood and wrap it around those beautiful wrists and tie them tight so you were held for my pleasure.”

  “Held? But I would not like to be held.” She frowned for a minute but her curiosity won out. She looked up at him and held his gaze with dark, dark aroused eyes. “And then?”

  “I would feel your sex, stroke it with my finger, watch you move, watch you wriggle against me, watch you wanting more. Then,” he shrugged, “I would know you are ready for me and I would plunge my cock into you and you would receive me. It may feel tight to begin with, but, after? Nicely tight.”

  “But…” she stayed her hand on his. “Would you not roll me over first?”

  “Ah, your knowledge is surely limited. But, yes, I could roll you over and take you from behind. Some women like it thus. But I would like to watch you. You have a face that shows exactly what you are thinking. As it does now.”

  “And what is it I’m thinking now?”

  “That your curiosity is vying with your need for control. You want me, but you’re scared about the strength of your body’s hunger.”

  She looked away quickly. “Maybe…”

  “But there is no need to be scared. You will be too busy enjoying the movement of my cock inside you.”

  She gulped and clutched him. “Stop, Saher.”

  “Why? There is nothing to be afraid of, nothing to be scared about. You know it truly. Your body knows it. You’re wet now, aren’t you?”

  She nodded, reluctantly.

  “And you will be even wetter, even more ready for me, I’ll make sure of that. And… after that, there will be nothing but pleasure.”

  She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. She knew of what pleasure he spoke. He’d nearly brought her to its height with just a few kisses.

  He took her hand. “You must trust me, Rowena. The circumstances of our meeting leaves much to be desired but, for better or for worse we are to be together. And I’m thinking it will be much for the better.”

  “For whom?”

  “For both of us, if you’d let it, if you’d trust me.”

  She bit her lip, uncertainly. “Trust you? ’Tis a lot to ask.”

  “Not of a husband, it isn’t. And I am yours, whether you desired it or not. You must trust me with yourself, your body, your mind, your future. I would know all about you. I want to know everything about you, I need to know the truth of you. There’s been enough deceit in my life to recognize it, and to hate it for such.”

  Deceit. The word that so aptly described what she was about to do, damped down the ardor that his touch had ignited. She looked up at the now sunless sky behind the tower. “The light, ’tis fading. People will be wondering where we are.”

  He rose, picked up her hood and brought it over her hair, still mussed and sprinkled with grass and flowers. He carefully tucked her hair under her hood. “My wild lady. I might be marrying you, but I still want you wild. I might tie your hands at night when we are alone, but I would not have you tamed for the world.”

  She smoothed her hair and fixed her hood. “And I would not be tamed, my lord. I cannot be. I would die.” She glanced up at the jagged-edged tower that dominated the skyline. “’Tis getting late, sir. We should return.”

  He followed her gaze to the tower. “What place is that?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing. Just an old place.”

  He looked from the tower, to her, back to the tower again. “A ‘nothing’ place that makes you shudder and casts fear into your eyes? Tell me about it.”

  “’Twas a place used for imprisonment.”

  “Take me there.”

  “’Tis late, we should return to the castle.”

  “Not yet. I would have you show me this place.”

  She bit her lip to try to stem the trembling that just the thought of seeing the tower induced. But she wouldn’t give way to fear. “As you wish.”

  Chapter 8

  Rowena kept her horse to a walking pace, partly because the forest became more overgrown as they approached the top of the hill, and partly because she had no wish to arrive. Eventually they emerged into a small clearing from which the ruin soared high into the blue sky above them. They dismounted and tethered the horses. “This is it. You see, it’s nothing much.”

  “Then why does that look come into your eyes?” He narrowed his own, consideringly. “Like a veil of fear.” She shrugged but turned away, not wanting to give herself away further. “Come, I wish you to show it me.” They walked over and looked inside. “An unwelcoming place. ’Tis on Gresham land?”

  She nodded. “It was the first castle, so I believe, abandoned. A place where things were left… forgotten about.” She tried to turn away but he brought her head round to face him.

  “Tell me.”

  And just with that touch of his hand under her chin, she felt the fear melt a little. She looked up into eyes that were interested and kind. “It was my mother… She… was not my father’s equal in temperament. There was madness on her side of the family, and her behaviour had become increasingly strange. She sought refuge in the arms of other men and ceased to hide it. I heard rumours growing up, none of which I fully understood until the night when Melisende was born. You see Melisende looks nothing like either me or Angelique. I witnessed the accusations and arguments and watched my mother leave. We never saw her again. She was banished…”

  He followed her gaze to the ivy that crept up the flint exterior, its suckers invading the decaying mortar. “To here.”

  “Yes. To here. My father imprisoned her. We did not see her again. Not many years passed before she died. My maid says they were not unhappy years for her, and so I like to believe that. My mother was unbalanced, driven by her passion and in the tower she was controlled and lived in relative peace for the few years she had left to her.”

  “Your father was a hard, unforgiving man.”

  She nodded. “Yes. But she wasn’t well and he had to do something. I suppose he was concerned about her influence on us.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is that, for me, the spectre of madness and passion is all rolled into one and embodied in my mother… in the tower. I used to think…”

  “What?” He slipped his hand around her shoulder and caressed her, encouraging her to speak.

  “That her fate was the fate of a wife and mother. She lost the respect of my father, her health suffered, and she was hidden, forgotten…” She shivered.

  “You have nothing to fear on any of those accounts with me, my lady. My mother taught me well to respect strong women. And I do. I am ruthless with men, but respectful of women. ’Tis my weakness.”

  She looked up to his dark grey eyes that were softer toward her now than before. “’Tis no weakness to respect women, sir.”

  “No.” He brushed a cobweb from her cloak. “I do not think so either.” His eyes bore into hers, making her heart beat more quickly and her stomach flutter with desire. “Especially strong women who deserve all the respect they can get.” Their gaze once more collid
ed, setting her senses into confusion.

  For a long moment she’d forgotten why she was there, forgotten everything except the fire that dwelt in his eyes, heating and caressing her until the flutters grew in her belly… and lower.

  He smiled as if aware of her changed response to him. “Come, let’s leave this dismal place and return to the castle. I would like to see those beautiful lips curve into a smile more often.” He lifted his finger, and gently dragged it against her lower lip. She swallowed down a strange mix of fear and something she’d never felt before, a strumming of excitement that refused to be subdued. “You’ve beautiful lips, my lady.”

  She shook her head and his fingers moved against them, this time pushing over her top lip. He traced the edge of her lips, she was embarrassed by their fullness.

  “Nay.” Her voice was strangely hoarse. She swallowed, desperate to try to be rid of the tension that suddenly existed between them. “They are too full.”

  He frowned. “How can plump lips, so luscious and inviting, be ‘too’ anything? My only criticism is that there is a smudge of something…” He licked his finger and ran it over her lips. She flinched as if struck. But it was not the force that struck her but something quite different. It was as if his finger held sway over her whole body from the fluttering of her stomach, like so many moths around a flame, to the beat of her heart that raced, although she made no movement.

  She watched, fascinated, compelled, unable to move, as he brought the finger that had swept her lips, up to his. He opened his mouth and tasted it. She took a sharp intake of breath.

  “Um,” he murmured. He looked up through lowered lids at her and his eyes were darker than before. She could not, for the life of her, look away. “It tastes…”