Chapter Five

Market day in Threave was blessed with sunshine, but it was still bitterly cold. Rowenna shivered and cursed her horse for throwing a shoe. She had walked five miles, leading it by the nose as the wind slid icy fingers into her cloak. Her boots were crusty with mud, and water had seeped inside, turning her toes to ice. Morag had refused to come with her due to the cold, and, for once, the woman had made a wise choice. The market was packed, and Rowenna was shoved and jolted in the throng of people. She sought the market cross and clung to its carved stone for protection, watching the world go by.

Rowenna cast a longing glance at the stalls with their tempting wares. Folk came from far and wide for the market, trading the bounty from their ploughs, looms and gardens. She had hoped to buy herbs as medicine for her father and some pewter goods for their table, but she had no coin to spare now that the horse had to be shod at the smithy. There were ribbons and swathes of plaid on one stall. What luxury to be able to sport a pretty ribbon in her hair or to wrap a plaid around her body and be warm for a change.

Rowenna swept a tangle of hair out of her eyes. She had hardly brushed it these last three weeks. She had scarcely eaten or rested since Cecily had disappeared. ‘Run off,’ Morag insisted, but she had taken none of her possessions, just upped and vanished. ‘Spirited away by witches in the woods,’ others said. Tears came to Rowenna’s eyes at the horror of that fate. Her father had sunk into a drunken stupor day after day, and her useless lump of a brother was nowhere to be found. Was it because Cecily was gone, and now there was no way for the MacCreadie men to wriggle out of the ruin they had sunk into?

The day was moving on, and the ride home would be long and cold, so Rowenna made her way to the smithy. Surely he had finished by now? A steady stream of men went into the alehouse nearby, where they traded in flesh as well as ale. Several gaudy women loitered outside, leaning over to display their wares to the customers. Rowenna stopped dead when she spotted a tall, blonde man tethering his horse. The whores called to him, but he ignored them and strode inside.

Jasper Glendenning! He had shown great interest in Cecily. ‘If Jasper Glendenning has a fancy for your sister, he’ll have her in his bed as soon as may be, whether she wants it or not.’ Morag’s words came back in a rush. Could the brute have her? He was renowned as a man who did not ask permission to take whatever he wanted. Did he kidnap Cecily in payment for the debt and punishment for Bran’s transgression? She could leave no stone unturned. Desperation moved Rowenna’s feet in the direction of the tavern.

With a deep breath, she entered its rank, humid bowels. Inside, the fire smoked, but it was warm, at least, with the throng of bodies crammed in like livestock in a barn. Stale ale assaulted her senses, and a drunken man veered into her, almost sending her flying.

‘Get away from me,’ she snarled, her temper rising. She pushed back at him, and he staggered off.

Jasper was sitting at the hearth with his men. He stood out because of his height, blonde hair, and the clear area around him. No one seemed inclined to go too close. Rowenna pushed forward and stood before him.

‘Laird Glendenning,’ she said but was not heard. ‘Laird Glendenning,’ she shouted over the clamour. He looked up, and his eyes widened. She was about to state her purpose when a hand grasped her buttocks and squeezed hard.

‘Who is this plump little pudding, ripe for the eating?’ cackled an ugly fellow. ‘Someone get me a spoon, for I am as famished as a man can be, and I have a taste for innocent flesh.’

‘Touch me again, and I will open your gullet,’ hissed Rowenna, pulling out her dirk.

‘Think you can best me with that little toothpick, bitch,’ he cried, grabbing her hair and yanking back her head.

‘Unhand the lass.’ Jasper Glendenning said the words quietly but with great menace. The man lowered his arm but did not let go, and the alehouse fell silent. Jasper stood up. ‘Take your hand off the lass or lose it.’ His sword scraped from its scabbard.

The squelch of the man swallowing hard carried in the silence. ‘Forgive me, Laird. I did not know she was yours.’

‘Be gone. Your stench is souring my ale.’

The man rushed off, leaving Rowenna exposed to the stares of Jasper and his men. He sat back down and regarded her coldly, his jaw working.

‘What are you doing in here, Rowenna MacCreadie? Selling your wares at market day?’ A few chuckles followed. ‘If so, I fear you have stumbled into the wrong place.’

‘I have come to talk to you about my sister.’

He frowned. ‘Come and sit beside me, lass, and take your ease, for you are pale with cold.’ He pushed one of his men off a stool. ‘Be gone, all of you,’ he snapped at his companions. ‘I need to have this bonnie one all to myself.’ The others melted away with curious stares in her direction, and Jasper beckoned with his hand.

Rowenna was reluctant to get close to the man, for he was so intimidating. ‘I will not sit. I have come about my sister, Cecily.’

His blue eyes held her prisoner- intent, malicious, probing. ‘What of her? I heard she had run away.’

‘Do you have her?

‘Have her?’

‘Did you take her?’

He sneered. ‘Why would I?’

‘Because you stared at her the whole time you were at Fallstairs.’

‘That is because I was trying not to look at you, lass,’ he replied.

Rowenna stumbled over her words. ‘But…you…Cecily is beautiful, everyone says so, and you showed an interest in her.’

‘How could I not when your father threw her at my head? Is he doing the same now, sending his second-best daughter to tempt me? MacCreadie is in his dotage, but surely he could have mounted his bony arse upon a horse and sought me out for an answer about Cecily instead of sending you. Though I am glad you have come in his stead because you are a good deal easier on the eye than that old goat.’

Rowenna gulped down her fear at the bite of anger in his voice. ‘You must tell me if you have her,’ she cried.

Jasper Glendenning rose smoothly to his feet like a sleek hound, all six feet of him - towering, menacing, and Rowenna took a step back. Then he smiled, and it was as shocking as the scar across his cheek, for it softened his face to the point of beauty. His eyes held hers, and Rowenna was shocked at how fine they were – the dark blue of the sky at twilight. There was a hint of red in his stubble and a pale line down his lower lip, an old scar. Oh, she was staring. She must not, so she looked down at her boots instead.

He gave a snort of laughter and tilted her chin up to meet his mocking eyes. ‘Do not fear. I have not taken your golden sister, nor would I ever, as I have no interest in her. But I am interested in you, lass. It takes courage to come and demand answers of me in a place such as this.’

‘Do you swear you do not have her?’ said Rowenna.

‘Aye, I swear it, for I’ve better things to do than steal silly lasses. Are you satisfied? Can I return to my ale now and send you back to your father. Is he waiting outside? Is your grub of a brother here?’

‘No. I came alone, and I will take my leave now.’

Rowenna rushed away, pushing folk aside in her haste, heart hammering. Outside, she hurried over to the smithy. The sun was already low, sending an orange glow into the clouds, and she had a long ride home. She hastily paid the smithy and was about to mount her horse when a grip on her arm pulled her up.

‘Fool,’ spat Jasper, his face in hers. ‘Everyone heard you in there. All those men now know you are travelling back to Fallstairs alone. It is miles away, and you’ll be lucky to reach it before dark.’

‘Then I have no time to lose. Unhand me.’

‘No. I will escort you.’

‘You cannot. No. I don’t need your help,’ cried Rowenna.

‘Take it all the same,’ he snarled. ‘There’s fell creatures about and wolves creep from the forest at night.’

‘The way I see it, there’s wolves here too.’

He laughed. ‘I suppose you mean me. Do you think I would tear at your flesh with my teeth? I would not cause you pain, lass, quite the opposite if you would only let me show you.’

What on earth did he mean?

‘Come, let us hurry, unless you long to be alone with me in the darkness,’ he said with that wicked smile again, implying all kinds of sin.

She squirmed to free herself, and Jasper jerked her towards him. ‘It was not a request, Rowenna.’

‘I will not go with you. I am not safe in your company.’

His eyes flicked downwards to her mouth. ‘On that, we can agree.’

***

They rode in silence for miles, thundering along the rough road to Fallstairs, and Jasper was content with that. Rowenna was an excellent rider, and her horse was nimble, so his heavier beast only just kept up.

Why the hell had he forced his company on Rowenna MacCreadie when he should have run from the lass as quickly as he could? The setting sun turned her hair to warm gold, and he tried not to look at her but could not help himself. She was thinner than before, harried, and with dark shadows beneath her eyes. Her brother had most likely betrayed him, so why offer the lass protection? He could have left her to the mercy of whatever thug followed her, but something had stopped him. Though it seemed he would get little thanks for doing the honourable thing. Rowenna clearly saw his company as an ordeal, judging by the look on her bonnie face.

They were almost upon Fallstairs when they had to slow their pace to traverse thick woodland. The silence lay heavy between them in the gathering darkness.

‘Are you going to speak, lass?’ said Jasper.

‘I prefer silence.’ Rowenna glowered at him. Her wide brown eyes were fearful yet defiant. She had some steel in her spine, this one, more than her brother and father could summon.

‘So, your sister has run away.’

‘We do not know that for certain.’

‘Word has it, she was not too pleased with your father’s choice of husband.’

‘You should not believe idle gossip,’ she said, staring straight ahead, avoiding his gaze.

‘Come on, admit it. Rufus wanted me to take Cecily in payment of his debts. Your father is not a subtle man. Perhaps I should be offended, as it seems your sister was not best fond of me.’

‘You do not know anything and…’

‘I could tell by the dour look on her face in your father’s hall that she did not consider me the best of prospects,’ he said, cutting her off. ‘Come to think of it, I didn’t care much for her either.’

Rowenna turned to look at him. ‘But Cecily is the beauty of the county.’

He shrugged. ‘Aye, she has the kind of beauty that is obvious. It screams in your face, demanding adoration. But I prefer a quiet kind of beauty, the gentle kind that beckons, not screams. You have that, Rowenna.’

His compliment sounded clumsy to his ears, and she would not take it.

‘Save your flattery for fools who will believe it,’ she said.

‘Trust in this advice, lass. Do not spend your life down on your knees, humbled by your sister’s beauty.’

‘I am not.’

He laughed. ‘I would say that you are. And whatever you think, know this. Cecily did not stir me, and her kind never will.’

‘You are cruel to speak that way about my sister when she is lost.’

He paused, then pressed on. She had a right to know. ‘As I hear it, Cecily is not lost.’

Rowenna pulled up her horse. He had her full attention now. ‘What do you mean?’ she said.

‘I do not know the whole truth of it, but there is a rumour that she was seen in the company of a man out on Crichton Moor.’

‘What man?

‘A man with black hair. Not from around here, by all accounts. It could be idle gossip which, as you say, I should pay no heed to.’

She ignored his teasing. ‘Why would she be meeting a stranger?’

He laughed. ‘Why does any lass go and meet a dark stranger on the moors in secret? Surely you cannot be so innocent, lass?’

‘I…but…you cannot know that for certain.’ Her cheeks had reddened.

‘No. How would I know what any of you MacCreadies get up to? There is always some ruse or other with you lot.’

‘Then you should have no interest in us beyond claiming your debt.’

‘My interest lies beyond the debt. Perhaps it lies with you.’

The lass frowned, and her hands clutched the reins tighter. She kicked her horse forward, away from him. He discomforted her. Was he doomed to do that to every woman who crossed his path or just the ones who stirred his loins? Snarling and threatening had got him nowhere in the past, but what else did he have?

They were almost upon Fallstairs, just visible through the trees. Smoke from its chimneys carried in the wind, and a faint flicker of candles or a fire within sent light out into the icy shadows. He could not bear to just let Rowenna ride off. On impulse, Jasper grabbed her reins and slowed her horse. He dismounted and swept Rowenna out of her saddle.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I’ve a mind to keep you a while.’

‘I want to go home,’ she wailed.

‘No,’ he snarled, and then regretted his harshness.

‘I suppose you think it is your right to manhandle me. Us MacCreadies are of little importance to the lofty Glendennings,’ she spat.

‘We Glendennings are not so lofty, lass. It is but a generation ago that we were as low and ruthless as any other pack of wolves prowling these woods. Do not be fooled, now, by my fine manners and handsome face.’

She rolled her eyes in disagreement.

Jasper squared his shoulders. ‘Do you not find me a fine and handsome fellow, Rowenna?’

‘What do you want to hear, yes or no?’

‘I want the truth.’

She trembled under his hands but did not back down. ‘Men like you never hear the truth from women like me. It is too dangerous for us.’

Any retort stuck in Jasper’s throat because she was right. He could as easily crush Rowenna’s neck with his bare hands as lay her down and make gentle love to her under the trees.

‘I think you just told me a greater truth than any in my life,’ he said. ‘And you are right. Women tell me what I want to hear. But you do not. Why is that? Do you not fear me?’

‘You are in my path, so I have no choice but to face you, fearsome or not.’

Did she really fear him? She had allowed herself to be alone with him. Was that because she was desperate to find word of her sister and protect her drunken sot of a father? Did his hand guide their meeting at the alehouse? Maybe Rufus had thrown Rowenna in his path today, hoping he would take her as a bride now that Cecily had run away.

Suspicion warred with desire as Jasper gazed at Rowenna’s full lips. ‘So, I will have your honest opinion, lass. Tell me what you truly think of me, as if I were a kind, gentle man, and no wolf. Do I revolt you? Do you hate this?’ He traced his finger along the scar running down the side of his face.

She looked about her as if searching for rescue, but they had only the wind for company. Rowenna took a deep breath. ‘The scar does not scare me. It is a sign of bravery, that you can survive a fight. The rest of you, well, many lasses might like that you are tall and strong-looking, I suppose.’

‘But not you?’

‘Strength does not signify much. An ox has strength but no cunning.’

‘Well said. What else strikes you?’

‘When I first met you, it was your eyes. They are a rare colour.’

‘So are yours, lass.’

‘But yours are hard. They could be beautiful if they held any softness.’

‘No softness? Are you sure? Not even now, when I am looking at you?’ he said, like a needy bairn searching for comfort. Jasper despised himself as soon as the words left his lips.

Rowenna blinked rapidly. ‘You can barely see me. It is getting dark.’

‘Aye, but not that dark, and I see you very well, Rowenna MacCreadie.’

She gave him a desperate look, almost vulnerable, and it stirred him to the point where he had to touch her. Jasper took a fistful of honey-red hair, coiling it in his fingers. He held Rowenna’s gaze as he drew her towards his chest. She was small and delicate under his hands, almost nothing really. Perhaps she would warm to him, lie down on the hard ground and let him take her. She might welcome his embrace.

By all that was holy, the lass was as bonnie and bright as summer flowers, her cheeks pink with cold. It was wrong, but he did it anyway. Jasper took her lips with his as gently as he could. He wanted some of her sweetness inside him. Her mouth was as soft as down, ripe, and her lips cool and moist. As he snaked an arm about her waist, she trembled, and her hands came to his chest.

Her lips parted slightly to take his kiss, causing a little light to creep into his soul. But it was banished as quickly as it came when she whimpered into his mouth and pushed back a little. Her body felt stiff in his embrace, enduring, not wanting.

‘There, now you have paid the price for a safe escort home,’ he said lightly, hiding his disappointment.

‘Why did you do that?’ she gasped.

‘I don’t rightly know. Because you are bonnie, and I like you.’

Rowenna took the back of her hand and slowly wiped his kiss away. She looked him straight in the eye with utter contempt. ‘You are just sniffing after my brother, aren’t you? So can I go, now that I have satisfied your vanity?’ she said in a strangled voice.

He shrugged, nursing his bruised pride. Jasper mounted his horse, eager to get away from her.

‘Run back to your cursed father, lass, and tell him I await your brother’s return when there will be a reckoning far worse than the one you just got.’

Rowenna hurried to her horse, led it away, and did not look back at him though he willed her to. Deflated, Jasper waited in the half-light, watching bats flit and glide in and out of the trees on papery wings. The snap of a twig breaking gave away Randel’s presence.

‘Finished your business with the MacCreadie lass?’ he said insolently.

‘I told you to keep your distance.’

‘Aye, you did, but there’s enemies hereabouts, so I stuck close – a little too close, it seems. What interest do you have in little Rowenna MacCreadie?’

‘I thought she might lead me to her brother.’

‘I see. So not because she’s easy on the eye, then?’

Jasper’s anger rose. ‘Keep a man here to watch for Bran MacCreadie’s return. I would have word of it. And send men out to ask about Cecily MacCreadie.’

‘Why?’

‘Because knowledge is power, Randel.’

‘Very well. Now, we had best make haste. ‘Tis a long ride back to Kransmuir.’

Jasper could not bear his cold bed. ‘I’ve a mind to pass the night more pleasantly. Let us find company.’

‘A fine plan,’ said Randel. ‘I am glad to see you back to your old self.’

Jasper glanced back at Fallstairs. He could just make out the brightness of Rowenna’s hair as she reached the outer wall. An unbearable longing pierced his soul, bordering on tenderness. He hated it.

Then she suddenly melted into the shadows like a flame snuffed out on a candle.

***

In the witching hour of the night, Jasper lay on his back staring into a black void. The soft snores of a very skilled whore wafted across the chamber. She had red hair, not the smooth, peachy red of old gold, but near enough, and he had assuaged his aching desire most pleasingly. It was not enough to pull him out of his fresh folly, but at least the burst of lust pulsing from his loins gave him enough joy to hold back the tide of self-loathing that threatened to overwhelm him.

His mother, sisters and clansmen depended on him for their safety and prosperity, and his broad shoulders carried that burden daily. But in the dark of night, he always felt it keenly, and there was no one beside him in life to ease its weight.

He had forever been fighting - for land, riches, and power. He had fought for love, too, and he had lost, leaving a mortal wound to his pride and his soul. It seemed so, for he had vowed never to hold out his heart again. A loveless marriage had only served to harden his heart and take another slice of his pride, for his wife had not wanted him, and she had no interest in his thoughts, dreams, or hopes. He was a means to an end. Beautiful, frosty Isobel Marlowe had only sought status, safety, and revenge for being slighted by Seaton Bannerman.

What was this fresh madness come upon him? There was tenderness when he looked upon Rowenna MacCreadie in all her defiant innocence and a desire to protect her from the wolves at her door. Yet there was an urge to devour her loveliness, to own it, and he coveted that same innocence like a low creature that slithers on its belly. Why must he stumble into this pit of confusion by visiting Fallstairs and laying eyes on bonnie little Rowenna MacCreadie? He cursed to the darkness. Now he had tasted her sweetness, everything else would sour in comparison.

The ghost of his love for Brenna Curwen often visited at night. With Brenna, his desire had been tainted by dread. He wanted to be with her yet feared her contempt. He tried to please her, but deep inside, he knew he could not. It was like crossing a lake of thin ice. He’d always known that there would come a time when he would plunge to his doom. Yet, onward, he had plodded to the inevitable rejection.

This MacCreadie lass looked like Brenna, but she was different – steel in her spine, bite in her words. She did not cower. She stood up to him and hid her fear, and it was that courage which trapped him now. He thought she would resist him - bite and spit and snarl - but kissing her had the sweetness and promise of spring in the midst of winter. She had not pushed him off in revulsion. Had she enjoyed it or merely endured? How could he ever truly know?

‘Men like you never hear the truth from women like me. It is too dangerous for us,’ she had said. Aye, and there was the rub. He could never trust in a woman’s feelings. It was the curse of his life. It was his loneliness and harshest despair, and it came from always wanting what he could not have.

***

Across the moors, with the wind howling under her chamber door, Rowenna curled into a ball under her blankets and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. But she could not blot out the memory of Jasper Glendenning’s kiss. Curse her folly for going into the alehouse and riding with him alone. His sudden, stolen kiss had left her shocked and breathless because danger lurked in every inch of that man. He had looked upon her in an entirely different way to Morgan, who was respectful and almost apologetic in his advances. Jasper’s hunger had burned in his deep blue eyes. That hot look had spawned fear married to excitement, along with a little pulse of lust. Rowenna put her hands over her eyes in shame.

‘What is wrong with you? A man looks at you twice, and you fill your head with carnal thoughts. Don’t be a fool!’ she hissed to the darkness.

But it did not matter that Jasper was a fiend because when his mouth had twisted to hers, he had rendered her beautiful and desired, if only for a moment. His lips were softer and gentler than she had imagined, yet still, she dreaded Jasper Glendenning as much as she was excited by him. Her mind raced frantically at the day’s unexpected turn, and sleep would not come.

Oh, she must not think about Jasper now. She must think of Cecily and the stranger she met on Crichton Moors. Could her sister have taken a lover in secret? Did she run away with him to a better life? Rowenna hoped that was true and that Cecily had found love. But if she had, that meant she was not coming back, and Rowenna found herself alone and at the mercy of fate and Jasper Glendenning’s steely eye, which had suddenly fixed on her like a spider on a fly.

All she had achieved by seeking him out for answers was to bring danger upon herself. She could feel its hot breath on her neck.