Chapter Thirteen

Rowenna paced in her chamber, shivering. The roaring fire did nothing to warm her or to turn her mind from the stark reality that she had made a deal with the Devil. A sleepless night had given way to a brittle, frosty morning, and when she peered out of the window, Kransmuir’s dark walls were coated in white, almost purifying the place. But she would not be pure after today. She was to be hand-fasted, as good as wed, and Jasper Glendenning was intent on putting a bairn in her belly.

After she had made her terrible choice, Morgan had departed with bitter words.

‘I would have given you the world, Rowenna, treated you kindly. But if this is your choice, then so be it. You have made your bed of nettles with this fiend, so now you must lie in it. Enjoy your rise in the world, but I will not see you again. You are dead to me.’

It was mortifying to think about. It made her angry, too. Morgan had never asked what she wanted. He had just gone behind her back and asked her father instead. Well, he was as dead to her as she was to him. At least Jasper had given her some kind of choice. That was surprising, but it didn’t make her trust him.

If only she had someone to tell her how to behave and how to place herself when Jasper took her to his bed. She was alone in a castle full of strangers, marrying a man as cold as the frost outside her window. He would put his hands all over her, strip her naked and force his manhood inside her. And if she did not allow him to have his way, then the marriage would not stand, and she would be ruined for nothing.

But if she could bear to let Jasper have her, she would be safe, protected, and live in a fine home. She smoothed down the blue plaid dress he had left for her. It was simple but clean, and the fabric was soft with an expensive feel, unlike the scratchy, poor stuff she had to make do with at Fallstairs.

Aye, Jasper had power and money, things she could use to find Cecily if she learned how to manage him. The very thought of her sister made her want to cry. Dreaming of their wedding days in their youth, Cecily had once said, ‘When you are to be wed, I will find a fine dress and make your hair up the way you like it. I will find the prettiest flowers for a garland. Your groom will be breathless with love for you.’

Well, her groom didn’t love her, and the frost had killed all the flowers in their buds, but this was her wedding day, and she would see it through. She was a MacCreadie, and they were nothing if not survivors. No matter how helpless her predicament, no man was going to force or hurt her. Rowenna placed her dirk under the pillow. If there was no one else to rely on, she must rely on herself.

Seeking comfort and with no idea when Jasper would come for her, she hurried to find Osla and Caitrin. They were huddled before the hearth, and Osla smiled when Rowenna rushed in.

‘Come and warm your bones. You are as white as snow.’ As soon as Rowenna was seated, she handed over the bairn. ‘I was hoping you would come, lass. I was afraid I had frightened you away the other day. My tongue does run on so. You look very bonnie, by the way, all dressed up for his pleasure.’

Rowenna sucked in the smell of Caitrin’s soft head. It calmed her fluttering heart a little. It was nice to talk to someone, even if Osla was a little strange and spoke out of turn. Rowenna suspected she was lonely at Kransmuir.

Osla looked at Rowenna steadily and said, ‘I hear that you will be joined this day with the mighty Jasper Glendenning. What an honour for one such as you.’

Osla’s casual insolence bounced off Rowenna as she stared down into the face of Jasper’s daughter. ‘It does not feel like an honour,’ she said, but if she was seeking reassurance from Osla, she would not get it.

‘No. You’ll be fearful, I suppose, lass. Best just to lie there and let him do as he will. That way, the ordeal will be over sooner.’

‘Ordeal?’

‘Oh, aye, it can be. Depends on the man. It always hurts the first time, though, and he is a big beast. I’d not relish taking his manhood into me, but you will just have to bear it.’

Caitrin wriggled as Rowenna’s body tensed. Suddenly her eyes opened. Blue eyes. Beautiful eyes, fringed with gold lashes. His eyes. The bairn’s gaze locked with hers, drawing her in, and Rowenna’s vision swam. She felt a rush of affection mingled with hope as if the future reached out a hand and squeezed her heart.

Osla patted her hand. ‘It will all be alright and all over with soon enough. I should call you ‘lady’ after your wedding. That is proper. Funny, how letting a man shame you can give you nobility and riches, isn’t it. ‘Tis but a whore’s work, however you look at it, and ‘tis no great achievement to open your legs.’

Rowenna could not look at her. She was frozen and mortified. Was she nothing but Jasper’s whore? How had her life blown so far off course?

Osla rattled on about her son, her village and her quarrelsome family for a while, and then silence fell between them. Rowenna handed back the bairn, wishing she had not come, dreading her wedding night more than ever.

***

Jasper was feverish with anticipation one moment and wracked with dread the next. The priest fidgeted and kept clearing his throat. Where was Rowenna? He had summoned her an age ago. He wanted this done. His family had protested bitterly at his quiet, private wedding, but he had forbidden a big clan gathering to celebrate it, having learned his lesson the first time.

‘If you must hide your nuptials in the shadows, it is because you have an unworthy bride. Repent of this folly before it is too late,’ said his mother.

At that point, something in Jasper had snapped. He had packed his mother and sisters into a carriage and despatched them to an aunt several miles away. But his mother was right. There was shame in it, but not because of Rowenna’s birth. The shame was all his. He was forcing an innocent lass into marriage because he wanted her. Yet he would not repent of it. He meant to have Rowenna, and if he was damned for it, then so be it.

He had foolishly sought out Creidne, hoping the old hag would soothe his conscience. He found her out on the battlements, crouching in a scouring wind, though she did not seem to feel it. She was muttering to herself and tossing stones onto the ground.

‘Why have you come in all your pomp?’ she said.

He had dressed well for his handfasting in the Glendenning plaid of blue, but now he felt foolish for bothering. ‘I would know who stalks me, old woman. There is a plot afoot. I can feel it. Which laird stabs at my back?’

‘It is not clear, but I see a stranger? Black of soul, he is and vengeful. There is an air of otherness about him, no light in his soul. And I see a soft hand touch him on the shoulder, guiding him.’

‘By all that is holy, what does that mean?’

‘You should look for a black shadow moving against you. I see great danger.’ She began to rock back and forth, her eyes rolling back in her head. The hairs stood up on Jasper’s neck. ‘Death is coming - a fire of wrath consuming us all. It burns from Cumbria to the Marches.’

The woman spoke in riddles, yet there always turned out to be a kernel of truth in her strange visions.

Criedne let out a huge sigh as if expelling some foulness from her soul. ‘Should you not be attending to your new wife?’ she croaked.

‘I have not yet wed.’

‘I thought you were running headlong towards doom, like a deer to the hunter’s bow,’ she said.

‘Do not talk in riddles, woman. How could Rowenna be my doom?’

‘That is the wrong question. You should be asking, ‘Is this woman the one for me, doom or no doom?’

‘Aye, she is, if she will have me.’

‘Since when do you ask permission, Laird?’

‘I would not force the lass. I would find a different path.’

‘So you haven’t had her?’ Her eyes widened.

He had not been able to stop thinking about having Rowenna - the velvet feel of her skin, the silky slide of that glorious hair through his fingers, the clinging warmth of sinking into her, deep, hard. Creidne’s gaze pierced him as if she could burrow into his head and see his unholy thoughts, his lechery.

‘No, I have not had her,’ he snapped. ‘The lass is not yet willing.’ There, he had said it. ‘But I must consummate the handfasting, or she will not belong to me in the eyes of God and the law.’

‘She will never belong to you or anyone,’ sneered the old woman. ‘This one is stout of heart, stubborn with it. You must win her, yet you seek only to own her. You have denied the love in your heart.’

‘There is no love in my heart.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Then I pity the poor lass her wedding night. She will suffer, wed to you.’

‘Then what would you have me do?’

‘Be as gentle as your nature will allow. Hide the beast within that would claw at her and break her spirit.’

Jasper stared down at the old crone. ‘Why do I come here when all your pebbles and mutterings mean nothing – just superstitious nonsense?’

‘You come because I speak the truth when no one else will. There are many ways to fight for what you want, Jasper Glendenning, and not all involve violence.’

Leaving Criedne with a heavy heart and cursing his folly in seeking her out, Jasper rushed to the family kirk and sent for Rowenna in a fit of impatience. He stood, cooling his heels with the priest, who kept coughing and swallowing loudly.

‘Can you stop that?’ he snapped.

‘Forgive me, Laird. An irritation of the windpipe. It cannot be helped.’

‘Aye, it can. I can slit your throat. How would you like that?’

The man’s mouth fell open in horror.

‘A jest, that is all,’ said Jasper, but there was no more throat clearing after that, and he felt better, having vented his frustration.

Why must he be some hapless puppet of women – his mother, sisters, that verminous old crone, Creidne. He was Jasper Glendenning of Kransmuir. He could take what he wanted, and he wanted Rowenna.

A discreet cough announced the arrival of Randel, who had scraped his hair off his face and washed his hands in preparation for his role as a witness. Jasper was surprised the man had made such an effort.

‘Did my mother and sisters get there safely?’

‘Aye, no harm done, save for my ears, for there was a lot of shrieking and cursing, I can tell you.’

Jasper laughed, but it died in his throat when Rowenna walked in. She was so like Brenna in looks that he was almost transported back to his first ill-fated wedding day. But with this bride, there was no lavish gown, just the Glendenning blue plaid, a neck unadorned by jewels and honey-butter hair hanging loose about her shoulders. Though she still looked a little wild, everything about Rowenna MacCreadie was delicious, stirring a powerful appetite in him.

‘As bonnie a lass as ever I’ve seen,’ said Randel. ‘Let us hope you have more luck with this one.’

Rowenna glanced at the priest and Randel, and then she turned to him, looking him up and down. Jasper hoped she liked what she saw. He took her by the elbow and steered her away from the other two as one last scrap of conscience pricked him.

‘Last chance to run, Rowenna,’ he said with a wink and a smile.

She frowned. ‘Where would I run to?’

‘So, you are willing.’

‘As willing as I will ever be, Laird Glendenning,’ she said with an insincere smile.

‘Stout of heart and stubborn with it.’ Creidne’s words came back to him.

‘My name is Jasper. Get used to saying it, for once we are wed, and you get to know me, you will cry it out into the night. I am determined on that score.’

‘You are arrogant beyond belief,’ she replied.

He sighed. ‘Do I wash up well, pass muster, lass?’

‘You know full well you look handsome, so do not fish for compliments.’

‘Handsome, is it? I thank you, but you do not look very happy for a lass on her wedding day. You might want to hide that scowl from the priest. He frightens easily.’

Rowenna glanced at the priest, who quivered and began to leaf through his bible.

‘Are you missing that big oaf of a suitor?’ said Jasper. ‘Do you wish you had made a different choice?’

‘I was never betrothed to Morgan. He is nought but another man wanting to own me. And since when did I ever have a choice in anything? It is simple. Take one man or another, and in the end, what does it matter which one?’

‘Why not go with him then?’ snapped Jasper. ‘I would have let you leave.’

Colour flooded her cheeks. ‘I did not go with Morgan because I could not bear the thought of lying with him.’

‘I don’t blame you for that, lass. As unappealing a fellow as ever I’ve seen. And me? Can you bear it with me?’

She pulled her hands free and looked down at her feet. ‘I will do what I must for my family, and a bargain is a bargain.’

Rowenna hadn’t said she couldn’t bear him. That was something, surely? So Jasper took her hand and led her to the priest. ‘Get on with it,’ he said.