Chapter Eighteen

Rowenna looked so radiant that Jasper savoured the moment, hanging back to observe her. A shaft of thin light hit her glorious hair, flowing like a wave of sun-kissed silk down her back. How wrong he was to compare her to Brenna. The only similarity was the rare colour of her hair and the soft beauty. Inside, Rowenna was a harder woman altogether. Yet that suited him, for was he not hard inside too, and a little damaged in his soul? He had returned from searching in vain for the third man who had attacked him to find Rowenna’s chamber empty. Since then, he had been scouring the castle for her in a flurry of impatience. He found he was looking forward to seeing her.

Jasper watched her take a bite of the apple and wipe off the juice with the back of her hand, like a child, sending tenderness squirming in his breast while desire fired his loins.

‘Are you lost, lovely?’ he called.

She turned, wide-eyed, stricken, the apple slipping from her fingers. He instantly regretted disturbing her.

‘It seems you are forever frightened of me, lass,’ he said, emerging from the shadows. ‘There is no need to be.’

‘You crept up on me. I was startled, and I am a little wary after today.’

‘Aye. It was a hard day, and I beg forgiveness for frightening you. What are you doing down here?’

‘I was trying to become better acquainted with Kransmuir and got a little lost,’ she said, laughing nervously. Her face was as pale as chalk.

‘Aye, she’s a big old pile. ‘Tis easily done.’

Rowenna frowned and rushed over, taking hold of his arm where his bandage was seeping red. ‘Are you hurt? Why are you bleeding again?’ Her hands shook, and he took hold of them to steady her.

‘I rode a little too vigorously, that is all. No harm done, and my stitches have held. Just a bit of seeping is all. Are you worried about me, lass?’

‘Of course. I am not utterly heartless, Jasper.’

‘Nor am I, lass,’ he said. Jasper took her hand and placed it on his heart. ‘Can you not feel how mine thumps in your presence, beating only for you?’

‘I don’t understand the way you talk at all,’ she said, yet she did not pull away. ‘I suspect much of what you say to me is flattery or nonsense.’

He laughed. ‘Then we should stop talking and do something else, lass. You are trembling. Come here.’

Jasper opened his arms, and Rowenna sank into them and let him hug her. Though it was folly, he could not help it. He bent his head and kissed her. She tasted sweet from the apple. Her lips were warm and a little sticky. And then she opened her mouth a little and kissed him back hesitantly. His lust roared to life.

That was all it took – just a little surrender from her soft mouth. If he took his time to arouse her, then maybe it would go better than last time. He could be slow, gentle. But Rowenna did not seem to want gentle, for she began to return his kiss with equal passion, and she sank her hands into his hair and pressed against him. It must be fear from the morning’s ordeal.

Jasper grasped her firmly, his hands roaming over the curves and hollows of her body. He broke away when he found a lump in her skirt. ‘What is that?’ he said. She did not answer, just staring at him, so he reached into her pocket and took out a hunk of bread. ‘Are you stealing food, lass?’

Rowenna bit her lip. ‘I know it is wrong. But at Fallstairs, there was never enough to eat, so I took it in case I was hungry.’

‘With me, you need never be hungry or unprotected again.’

‘Do you swear it?’ she cried, eyes wide and fearful.

‘Aye, I swear it.’

To Jasper’s surprise, she put her hands on his cheeks and kissed him again. A thud of desire hit his cock so hard, it hurt. He laid a trail of kisses down Rowenna’s neck. Her skin smelled sweet from her bath, and her hair, too, silky soft in his hands. Jasper pulled down her bodice and kissed the hollow between her breasts, breathing in her scent. He could not get enough of it, and it loosed the beast in him. He lowered Rowenna onto some sacks, fell onto her and lifted her skirts, finding her with his fingers. She flinched a little and clutched him tighter. As he stroked her gently, she rose up to meet him, gasping his name and sending little moans into the silence of the cellar.

‘Do you like that, lass?’ he panted.

‘Please, Jasper. Oh, do not stop. I do like it so very much.’

His pride surged. Rowenna was spread out under him, eager. But he must go slowly, lest she take fright and reject him again. Jasper looked deep into her eyes as he plucked at the lacing on her stays. Did he read trust there, desire? He almost lost control when her breasts were exposed as they were so ripe and pale and luscious. He attended to them with his tongue for a while, teasing her nipples to stiff peaks. When he looked up, her face was pink, her head flung back, mouth open, panting his name. As if he needed further encouragement, Rowenna pulled his mouth down to hers, and Jasper tore open his braies and readied himself to enter her.

‘Will it hurt again?’ she gasped, her fingers clutching onto his back.

Her innocence gave him pause. She was his, but he had stolen her. They were handfasted, but she had not chosen him. This was not some cold arrangement entered into for wealth and status. This lass had saved his life, and here he was, taking her roughly and quickly in the darkness like you would a whore.

Jasper heaved himself onto his elbows. ‘I cannot.’

‘What? But you must,’ she cried.

‘Why must I?’

She bit her lip, confusion all over her face. ‘Because I want you to, and I don’t want to die a virgin.’

Did a man need more reason than that? ‘Then not here,’ he said. ‘Not like this. Not thrown down on a bale of oats like a…’

‘I don’t care. Please. I want you, Jasper. If you do not do it now, my courage will fail me. Don’t make me beg.’

‘Alright. But if you want me to stop, I will.’

A soft hand slid about his neck and drew his mouth to hers. Rowenna kissed him with real tenderness, and she kissed well. And Jasper was lost. He spread her wide with his knee and pushed inside her, and she cried out. Then he could not think – only feel, as he rocked gently inside her and drew her legs up about his waist. He tried to go slowly as she clutched at his back and cried his name. She was slick and tight, and, ever so slowly, Rowenna began to meet his thrusts.

‘Ah, please. Do it. Make me forget. Please,’ she cried, burying her face in his nape. She stiffened, her nails digging into his flesh, exciting him without knowing it. Jasper crushed her into the sacks as his release came upon him in a flood of pleasure. It held joy, seasoned with hope, and a strange, soft affection. It almost brought tears to his eyes, so Jasper kept his face buried in Rowenna’s hair so she would not see his weakness.

When he had mastered himself, Jasper stared down into her face. Rowenna’s eyes glowed, and her chest heaved. No tears this time, but even now, he was not sure of himself.

‘Did I hurt you?’

‘A little. Not too much, and it passed quickly.’

‘Did you quicken lass? It seemed like you did?’

‘I don’t rightly know? There was a feeling. I could not stop it and lost my senses a little.’

‘I think you did, for the blood has rushed to your cheeks. They are bright red.’

‘That must be shame,’ she said, covering her face with her hands.

He tore them gently away. ‘There is shame in it, at first, for a lass. But once you practice, there is a hunger to do it over and over. I wanted to do right by you, Rowenna. Forgive me if I hurt you, and forgive me for taking you in this joyless place. It should have been on a bed of furs before a warm fire, or did your ardour for me keep you warm?’

She smiled and looked away. ‘Oh, do not shame me more.’

Rowenna could not look at Jasper. He was so happy, but guilt made her burn as if she was tied to the stake. And she was a witch, and a whore, and all manner of wickedness. She would be consumed by hell’s flames for her sins, and they were grave indeed. One was lying with Jasper to free her brother, but the other was far worse – enjoying it so much that she longed to do it again.

Jasper eased his manhood out of her, and she felt a gush of warmth between her legs. Her bare thighs were chafed where they had rubbed against the scratchy sacks. She was sore elsewhere too - a bruise inside, overlaid with a lingering throb of pleasure. Jasper gathered her in his arms, and Rowenna pressed her face to his chest, wriggling as the edges of the sacks dug into her side. Strange, how she did not notice them before when he was on top of her, his bulk pressing her down hard. Would there be marks on her skin tomorrow? She deserved them for giving in to such delicious sin.

‘You are shivering, lass. It is cold down here. We should tidy ourselves and go above.’

‘Not just now. Can you please just hold me a while,’ she replied, clinging to him.

Jasper stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. ‘Rowenna, you have made me very happy this day. One, I am still breathing thanks to you, and two, I have finally made you mine forever. I give thanks to God.’

‘I don’t think God would approve of what you just did.’

He laughed and hugged her closer. ‘No, you are right. But, lass, I am alive because of you and I owe you a great debt.’

‘So can you find it in your heart to let me visit with my father’' she said, not daring to look at him. ‘He might have news of Cecily.’

‘Aye. I will allow it. How could I not, with such beauty before me? But, lass, I doubt any news has come.’

‘I worry for her constantly.’

‘You are my wife, and your family shall be under my protection as much as you are.’ He pulled back and pressed his mouth to hers, and she let him. His kiss was fierce with emotion.

Protection, when he had Bran in is dungeon? How easily he lied, but was she any better? Jasper could have been rough – just taking what was his by right – but he was gentle, kind even, in that gruff way of his. He had taken the trouble to arouse her and see to her pleasure. Surely, he would grant her wishes if she kept him happy. Already, he seemed softer. But why did she feel so bad if she had got a little of what she wanted?

‘Jasper, did I please you? Did I do it right?’

A shadow crossed his face. ‘Aye, more than you could know and never doubt it. You are mine now. No one can take you away from me. You will have my protection, Rowenna, always.’ He leapt up, grabbed her hand and hauled her onto unsteady legs. As he tugged her bodice up over her nakedness, he smiled, and it was unbearable - beautiful, not brutish. ‘Come, we will go above and find some warmth.’

***

Hours later, Rowenna was still on edge, pacing in her shift and robe. She could not rest. Jasper had left her before a roaring fire with a kiss and orders to climb into bed and rest. Since then, she had been a flurry of confusion. Why did he go? She wanted him to come back. She missed him. But she did not know how to face him. She wanted to be in his arms, to be held and comforted, but then she would have to hide her lies from Jasper’s searching eyes.

And then there was the barrage of feelings that came with losing her innocence, which she could not make sense of. How could the act seem so dirty and low, and yet beautiful, at the same time? There was horror and fear to it, excitement and exultation and a greater, painful truth. She had lain with Jasper not to help her brother but in a fog of lust mingled with fear.

Now, it seemed like the worst kind of folly. Had she whored herself for Bran’s life, or had she just succumbed to lust, letting Jasper Glendenning lead her by the nose like a fat, juicy piglet to the slaughter? What madness was lovemaking, if you could call such a sweetly violent act anything to do with love. It had been painfully pleasurable, and even hours later, Jasper’s smell was on her, his seed sticky between her legs, and yet she was reluctant to wash it off.

On her wedding night, it hurt when Jasper pushed his manhood inside her. She had suffered it like the conquered suffer an invading army – resentful but resigned to her fate. But this time had been gentler, bringing forth little explosions of passion and joy such as she had never experienced. Now, she wanted to be invaded, conquered, taken. Jasper’s lovemaking had consumed her as if the old Rowenna had burned up and floated away as ashes in the wind.

She should not have asked for her favour so soon after. Jasper had shown no hint of offence at her asking to go and see her family, but who knew what he was thinking. He had agreed readily enough, yet Rowenna could not escape the feeling that there was a price to pay.

The door creaked open, and there he was. They locked eyes briefly, and then Jasper took her in his arms. Wordlessly, he led her to the bed and shed his clothes and hers. They made love in silence, and his light touch brought forth such passion in Rowenna that she cried his name into the night, even though she swore she never would.

Afterwards, emboldened by what they had shared, Rowenna asked a question she had been dying to ask.

‘Jasper, am I as pleasing to you as your wife was?’

‘What is this, jealousy?’

Rowenna stroked her fingers through the thick down of golden hair on his chest and tried to sound nonchalant. ‘It is just that you never speak of her, and I wonder if maybe you had some affection that I cannot match. She was rich and beautiful, so I’ve heard.’

‘And you are kind, strong and beautiful, which I prefer. The riches I thought I wanted meant nothing in the face of Isobel’s coldness.’ There was darkness in his voice.

‘But she was English in a castle full of strangers,’ said Rowenna. ‘She must have been lonely.’

‘I made sure she was not. I took my duties as a husband most vigorously.’

‘Because you wanted an heir.’

‘Because she was beautiful, and I wanted her, at first. And aye, a man wants an heir to carry on his name to ensure he has a future.’

‘Jasper, did you ever love her?’

‘No more than she loved me, which was not a lot.’ He gave a bitter laugh. ‘Now I think about it, I doubt Isobel even liked me much. My marriage had been one of convenience, a matter of amassing wealth, getting an heir and above all, giving vent to spite.’

‘Spite? Why would one marry for spite?’

‘Isobel burned with humiliation. She had been spurned by Seaton Bannerman when he had broken their betrothal.’

‘So that he could wed Brenna Curwen.’ The perfect Brenna with whom she could not compete.

Jasper seemed to stiffen against her. ‘Aye, Brenna was his true love. The man almost threw everything away to be with her.’

‘And you stood in the way. He injured your pride to get what he wanted.’

Jasper’s jaw worked, and so Rowenna held her breath.

‘Aye. I had everything he did not, and yet she chose him. Seaton persuaded her to leave me at the altar like a fool, humiliated before all my clansmen. That still burns a little.’

‘I am sorry, Jasper.’

‘No. Do not pity me. I would have done the same to Seaton. But it was the death of our friendship. Now that I have laid bare my humiliation, do you think less of me?’

‘Not at all.’

He stroked her hair. ‘You might not think so well of my next folly, marrying Isobel. I have had a long time to ponder my hasty and loveless union to an English woman and to see the error of my ways.’

Rowenna frowned. ‘Some might say you made a wise choice to marry for riches.’

‘I thought eschewing affection in a marriage would bring me peace from the torment of unrequited love, but Rowenna, I still ached for affection, acceptance, the warmth of a willing woman under me. Isobel made it plain that she suffered, rather than enjoyed, my attentions. When I had done my duty and gotten her with child, she barred me from her bed, and I happily complied. I could never care for her and would never offer my bruised heart again.’

‘And will you ever care for me?’ she said, dreading his answer.

‘Do you want me to?’ His gaze was so intense that Rowenna had to look away.

‘Let us not lie to each other like two fools, lass.’

The silence between them was suddenly deafening, and the ache in her chest was unexpected. ‘When your wife died, did you find comfort elsewhere?’ she said, determined to flay herself with jealousy.

‘A man like me? Of course, but I had to make do with hurried couplings, bought women, who pressed themselves against me in a pretence of love.’

He might just as well be describing her, save for one thing – she had liked his lovemaking. Rowenna’s eyes welled with tears at his loneliness, but she blinked them away. Why was he baring his soul to her? She did not want to think of him hurt and lying alone with no one to comfort and hold him.

Jasper sighed, and she laid her head on his shoulder.

‘Rowenna, you will come to understand that once you have known the sweet madness of infatuation, any pretend kind of love is humiliating. It is like having to make do with bread when you crave meat. After the cold rejection of women, I slowly felt my heart harden. I began to feel hollow, as if all the warmth and hope had been scooped out of my insides, leaving nothing but restlessness and an angry sort of lust.’

Rowenna rolled on top of him, surprised at her own boldness, and kissed him thoroughly, over and over.

Jasper broke away. ‘So soon, my love?’ he said, his manhood stiff again, pressing on her soft parts.

‘Aye.’ She squirmed against it. ‘You seem ready. Does that mean I am meat and not bread?’

‘Definitely meat, lass,’ he said, pulling up her shift and gliding inside her with one smooth thrust, making her squeal. His hands found her breasts and fondled them. When Jasper pulled Rowenna down to kiss him, she sank her fingers into his hair and moaned into his mouth. He pulled away and said, ‘Is this pity, Rowenna? Are you offering yourself to me because I have bared my soul?’

‘No, it is not pity.’ she said, smiling and sliding against him, her pleasure mounting. ‘And I will never own that ruthless Jasper Glendenning has a soul. But I do want him so very badly.’