shall we say, and requested that I ensure the peaceful handover. And now that has been accomplished, we will take your leave.”
“There will be no peaceful handover. There will be no handover at all. The land is mine.”
Saher raised an eyebrow and his hard grey eyes—the colour of flint—sparked with amusement. “You exceed your reputation, lady. I’d heard that you are your father’s daughter, but I had imagined some softening of his character.”
“You imagined wrong. You’ll not be taking my place as head of this estate. I am in charge and always will be. I suggest you leave immediately.”
The smiled broadened, the lines around his eyes crinkling into an intensely irritating smile. “Now why would I do that, when I’ve only just arrived? Be seated, lady, and listen.”
“I do not take orders from anyone, sir. Least of all in my own Hall.”
“Priest,” Sir William interrupted. “Pass Lady Rowena the scroll. Let her see with her own eyes her father’s wishes and those of the Earl and King, and have done with this nonsense.”
The priest, who’d been nervously holding a scroll in his ink-stained hands, unrolled it and passed it to her. “It says—”
She snatched it from him. “I can read.” She scanned the parchment, confusion building with each passing word. She stopped abruptly when she saw her father’s distinctive signature. It was his hand. Betrayal, sickening and lurid, filled her stomach. She turned slowly to this man, this stranger, this barbarian, and took the document and tore it in half. The rending of the precious scroll shocked the observers into silence. She looked from one to the other of them. “This is what I think of the document. Whatever my father did, or did not do, I own the estate and I run the estate. And as to the rest, it will never happen.”
The tall stranger clapped his hands slowly. “Brave, but foolish words. We have other copies of the document.” He came towards her, towering over her, trying to intimidate her but she refused to move. “And it will happen.”
“You seem to forget to whom you speak, sir.”
“I know exactly to whom I speak. I would not mistake the woman whose father left his entire estate—including her—to me.
“What?”
“Yes. Your father not only left me his land, manors and castles. He left me you . We are to be married, my lady.”
CHAPTER TWO
Rowena pressed her hand to her side, trying to stem the pain and panic that swamped her. She could hardly believe it—after all these years of being her father’s closest daughter, to have worked and lived alongside him, for him to then betray her in this manner? They must be wrong.
“You are mad, sir.”
He huffed quietly as if the idea amused him. “No. Despite a life that at times has driven me close to it, I am not mad.” He beckoned to the priest. “Certainly sane enough to ensure that the highest authority in the county,” he nodded respectfully to Sir William, “witnesses our betrothal ceremony.”
It was too much. She paced away from the fire, and looked out the unshuttered window to the busy bailey. Sir Saher’s men were everywhere, commandeering stables, her own people doing as they were bid as if she’d already lost control. She gritted her teeth—she had to fight for this. She turned to him, her hands seeking out the hard, cold stone to stop herself from showing weakness. “You speak of marriage, of being my father’s heir, yet I have no knowledge of your existence before now.”
“Your knowledge, my lady,” interjected the sheriff curtly, “is not important.”
Rowena ignored the sheriff’s comment and continued to look accusingly at the man who was to be her husband. “It is to me.” The sheriff huffed angrily and paced away.
“’Tis fitting for Lady Rowena to know.” Saher answered smoothly. “My lady mother was a cousin of your father’s.”
“No doubt he had many cousins. Why you?”
“I fought with him in France. We got to know
“There will be no peaceful handover. There will be no handover at all. The land is mine.”
Saher raised an eyebrow and his hard grey eyes—the colour of flint—sparked with amusement. “You exceed your reputation, lady. I’d heard that you are your father’s daughter, but I had imagined some softening of his character.”
“You imagined wrong. You’ll not be taking my place as head of this estate. I am in charge and always will be. I suggest you leave immediately.”
The smiled broadened, the lines around his eyes crinkling into an intensely irritating smile. “Now why would I do that, when I’ve only just arrived? Be seated, lady, and listen.”
“I do not take orders from anyone, sir. Least of all in my own Hall.”
“Priest,” Sir William interrupted. “Pass Lady Rowena the scroll. Let her see with her own eyes her father’s wishes and those of the Earl and King, and have done with this nonsense.”
The priest, who’d been nervously holding a scroll in his ink-stained hands, unrolled it and passed it to her. “It says—”
She snatched it from him. “I can read.” She scanned the parchment, confusion building with each passing word. She stopped abruptly when she saw her father’s distinctive signature. It was his hand. Betrayal, sickening and lurid, filled her stomach. She turned slowly to this man, this stranger, this barbarian, and took the document and tore it in half. The rending of the precious scroll shocked the observers into silence. She looked from one to the other of them. “This is what I think of the document. Whatever my father did, or did not do, I own the estate and I run the estate. And as to the rest, it will never happen.”
The tall stranger clapped his hands slowly. “Brave, but foolish words. We have other copies of the document.” He came towards her, towering over her, trying to intimidate her but she refused to move. “And it will happen.”
“You seem to forget to whom you speak, sir.”
“I know exactly to whom I speak. I would not mistake the woman whose father left his entire estate—including her—to me.
“What?”
“Yes. Your father not only left me his land, manors and castles. He left me you . We are to be married, my lady.”
CHAPTER TWO
Rowena pressed her hand to her side, trying to stem the pain and panic that swamped her. She could hardly believe it—after all these years of being her father’s closest daughter, to have worked and lived alongside him, for him to then betray her in this manner? They must be wrong.
“You are mad, sir.”
He huffed quietly as if the idea amused him. “No. Despite a life that at times has driven me close to it, I am not mad.” He beckoned to the priest. “Certainly sane enough to ensure that the highest authority in the county,” he nodded respectfully to Sir William, “witnesses our betrothal ceremony.”
It was too much. She paced away from the fire, and looked out the unshuttered window to the busy bailey. Sir Saher’s men were everywhere, commandeering stables, her own people doing as they were bid as if she’d already lost control. She gritted her teeth—she had to fight for this. She turned to him, her hands seeking out the hard, cold stone to stop herself from showing weakness. “You speak of marriage, of being my father’s heir, yet I have no knowledge of your existence before now.”
“Your knowledge, my lady,” interjected the sheriff curtly, “is not important.”
Rowena ignored the sheriff’s comment and continued to look accusingly at the man who was to be her husband. “It is to me.” The sheriff huffed angrily and paced away.
“’Tis fitting for Lady Rowena to know.” Saher answered smoothly. “My lady mother was a cousin of your father’s.”
“No doubt he had many cousins. Why you?”
“I fought with him in France. We got to know
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