Claiming by Saskia Knight Page A

didn’t say anything for long moments, only looked at her in a way that confused her. Then he stepped toward her and she backed up until she couldn’t move. The bark of the oak tree dug into her hot back. He didn’t come any further, merely extended his hand. “Come. I will show you what it is I’ve done.”
    “Already? You didn’t waste any time, did you?”
    “Not with something so important, I didn’t. I didn’t go to Norwich this morning, I considered other work to be more important. Come.”
    He lifted her up onto his horse, leaped up behind, and they galloped off, her men slowly turning the lumbering carts around to follow them.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

    It was early evening by the time they reached Gresham land. A flock of birds flew low over the golden fields of wheat and barley. Men who’d been giving the fallow field a second plough, were returning to their homes. They shot curious glances at Rowena and Saher, but Saher didn’t halt his progress.
    He hadn’t spoken to her all the way back, had simply held her firmly in his arms and yet, despite the circumstances, Rowena felt safe, secure. She wondered as to their destination—they’d ridden past the estate cottages, the church, the mill and brewery, places where she’d imagined they’d been heading. She looked up at him but his gaze remained steadily ahead of him.
    His chin was roughened with stubble but it could not hide the strength of his face. No softness of line or feature now. She turned away, remembering the admiration she’d seen in his eyes at the port, the respect he’d shown for her when she’d handled the falcon, and the passion and tenderness that had been for her only, when they’d made love. Now all she could see was the veil of strength and control he showed to the rest of the world.
    They were nearly home when, instead of continuing along the lane that led down into Gresham valley, they turned right and took the woodland path that led to the ridge. The ancient trees spread their thick canopy overhead and the deep orange glow of the late sun barely penetrated the thickly interlaced branches.
    They climbed up through the shady forest, its coolness a relief from the heat that lay heavy over the land. Then they stopped. Without saying a word, he swung her down from the saddle and threw the reins over a tree branch.
    He took her hand and pulled her out of the trees, toward the clearing. She knew where they were now. How could he, she thought? How could he take her to this place, the tower that represented so much heartache and fear for her?
    She refused to look up at that bleak, decaying building, circled by its remaining habitants of rooks whose ever-present dark halo always sent a shiver of fear through her veins. She refused to accept what he was so obviously forcing on her. The tower that represented the loss of her freedom.
    “Look, Rowena.”
    She did, but not toward the tower. She looked at him and shook her head. “No, I can’t.”
    “Look up.” His rough growl of command was louder this time.
    Just at that moment a skylark burst into song far above them and she looked. Looked up at… nothing. Gone was the tower, a symbol of hatred and fear for so long. There was nothing but a rubble-strewn hilltop under a wide sky, streaked with the orange-pinks of sunset.
    “This was my ‘secret’ plan, my lady. To rid you of the spectre that so evidently haunted you. I wanted to see the shadow of fear vanish from your eyes. I would banish everything that placed such a shadow in those beautiful brown eyes. The tower and all it meant to you had no place on this land, on this estate, in our lives.”
    His words sent a thrill through her body and his hand that reached out to hers reignited a connection that she’d recognized from the first moment they’d met.
    Together they walked up to where the tower had been, to the stones that had been piled according to their size, ready for re-use elsewhere. There was no trace of the footprint of the