Chapter Eight

Rowenna stirred her bowl of thin grey porridge. She would have to force it down, or her stomach would groan all day. Meals were often a sorry affair at Fallstairs, but even by MacCreadie standards, this was desperate.

‘Is this slop all we have?’ demanded Bran, who had recently skulked back home.

‘Winter is dragging on, and our rations will not stretch,’ muttered Rufus, slurping down the awful stuff. ‘What spare coin we had was used to buy feed to keep the horses going or gambled away by you in search of an easy fix to our woes.’

Bran looked pained. ‘Had luck been on my side, Father, I would have seen us through with my winnings. But the men at the tavern are all cheats and rascals.’

‘I know, son, I know.’

Hopelessness settled on Rowenna like a shroud. Why did her father always make excuses for her lout of a brother? It would never change.

Morag dawdled in. ‘There’s men in the yard. Come to see you, Master.’ She shot Rowenna a smile dipped in vinegar.

‘Better send them in then,’ said Rufus.

Four men entered, and at their head was Wymon Carruthers, looking remarkably rosy-cheeked for a man on his deathbed. Rowenna rose in surprise, but Rufus betrayed no surprise at all and carried on eating.

Wymon bowed low and winced with the effort. ‘I have come as instructed.’

‘Did you bring the money?’ said Rufus.

‘I did indeed, and now I can claim my betrothed.’

Someone had to tell him the news if her father was not inclined to. ‘But, Laird Carruthers, Cecily has vanished. We do not know where she is, and there has been no news of her.’

Wymon regarded her with a steady grin, and Rowenna’s stomach lurched as her father’s trap clanged shut. Her legs almost went from under her, and bile rose in her throat.

She turned to her father. ‘No. I will not. Never.’

‘I…er…what is going on? You said the lass was willing, Rufus,’ whined her awful suitor. ‘I want her, and I have come ready to pay.’

Rufus rose from the table. ‘Of course, she is willing. Rowenna will be honoured to be your bride and unite our two houses.’ He cast a look at her - craven, shameless - then shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘Better wed than starving here, lass.’

‘But it is Cecily, you want, Laird Carruthers. She might return any day now,’ said Rowenna.

‘She’s not coming back,’ said Bran.

Rowenna mouthed at him. ‘Please, Bran. Help.’ But he ignored her.

‘We all know this union will strengthen our two houses,’ said Rufus. ‘Just think of all the fine dresses and jewels you shall have, Rowenna. My hearty congratulations, Carruthers, for winning my daughter’s fickle heart.’

Her father was so weak that he would take the easiest course out of their problems, even if it meant selling her like an animal. And judging by Morag’s smug expression, she was in on the plot. Rowenna almost exploded with rage at her family -if you could call a nest of snakes a family. No, snakes were more worthy. Her family was a tangle of slimy, slithering worms.

There was a sudden clatter of boots, and Jasper Glendenning burst in with his men, scattering Wymon’s men like a flock of startled pigeons. With a cold glance at her and a dismissive glower at Wymon, Jasper marched right up to Bran, took hold of him by the throat, and lifted him off his seat. With a stab of satisfaction, Rowenna watched the smile melt off her brother’s face, her father’s too. A gurgling sound filled the hall as Bran tried to take a breath, and when her father stepped forward to intervene, swords scraped against scabbards.

Jasper glowered at Rufus while choking Bran. ‘I have come to call in my debt, MacCreadie, and get answers about your allies, the Gunns.’

‘Gunns?’ yelped her father. ‘What’s this about Gunns? Hold, please, Glendenning. We can satisfy you, I am sure.’

Jasper dropped Bran to the floor like a stone and spat his words in her brother’s face. ‘Do you have my money, wretch?’

‘No…I…but I can get it, I swear…and….’ Before he could continue, Jasper hauled him to his feet and threw him across the table with astonishing strength. Bran landed on the other side with a thump and a groan. Jasper followed, grabbed him by his jacket and began pummelling him with his fists. ‘I want answers, MacCreadie. Did you raid my cattle and slaughter them. Did you kill my villagers, carry them off?’

‘No, never,’ groaned Bran. ‘I would not dare.’

‘Not good enough,’ snarled Jasper.

The hall echoed with the thud of Jasper’s fists meeting Bran’s flesh until Rowenna shouted, ‘Stop. Please, before you kill him.’

Jasper let go of Bran and marched up to her. Blood stained his knuckles and plaid. There were several spots of it on his face. He was terrifying.

‘Stay out of this,’ he snarled, and then, as if he came to his senses, he looked about the room, taking in Wymon and his men. His brows knitted. He jerked his chin at Wymon. ‘Who are you? Are you collecting on a debt too, or just conniving with these rats?’

The old man stepped forward. ‘My name is Wymon Carruthers, and I am not collecting a debt. I am here to claim a prize.’

‘What prize?’

‘Her,’ said Wymon, his bony finger pointed at Rowenna. ‘We are betrothed, and I have come to fetch my bride.’

A rushing sound filled Jasper’s head. He could scarcely believe what he was hearing. He glared at Wymon until the old man looked away. The thought of the lass being polluted by the filthy old goat, with fumbling hands and wrinkled cock, filled Jasper with loathing. So, it must be unbearable for Rowenna to face such a fate.

‘Is this the best you can do – a withered old man?’ he hissed to her. ‘Surely, a lass as comely as you deserves better?’

‘I beg your pardon,’ shouted Wymon, with misguided courage.

‘You’ll not have my pardon,’ sneered Jasper over his shoulder with casual contempt, still holding Rowenna’s gaze. ‘So it seems your father is open for business again, lass, selling you to the highest bidder.’

Wymon was incensed. ‘I am a worthy suitor, and I have vast holdings in the East March.’

Jasper smiled into Rowenna’s eyes. ‘His holdings may be vast, but in all the essentials, trust me, everything else shrinks with age.’

Rowenna stared wide-eyed at him, then blurted out, ‘He is not my choice. I don’t want to go with him.’

‘What? I will not stand to be disrespected like this,’ said Wymon. ‘I came in good faith, and I’ll have you know I am a laird.’

‘And I am a villain, so begone, before I open your flapping old gullet,’ shouted Jasper, blasting the old fool with his white-hot anger.

Wymon and his men scuttled out, and Jasper tried to calm himself. He would commit murder otherwise. He tore his gaze from Rowenna and marched to Rufus, towering over him. ‘I demand the debt I am owed and an answer for your son's treachery, or else there will be bloodshed this day.’

‘I know nothing of treachery,’ said Rufus. ‘Bran is a good lad. He has lost his way of late, but you will get your coin, even if I have to sell all of Fallstairs. But it is a small debt, really. Nothing to you.’

A small debt. Yet Rufus was prepared to put his daughter into an old lecher’s bed to get his hands on enough coin to pay it. How he hated the man as he glanced at Rowenna, so bonnie, vulnerable and sweet, sending an unwanted thud of lust to his loins. She deserved better than her family. Better than this life.

Jasper jerked his head towards Bran. ‘Your son owes me. So I will take him back to Kransmuir and clap him in irons. Let us see how a few months in the black bowels of my castle suits him.’

‘No. You cannot,’ shouted Rufus.

‘Then pay what you owe in coin or blood, MacCreadie.’

‘You know I cannot pay.’

‘Blood it is then.’ Jasper swept his sword out and held it at Rufus’ throat.

‘Stop. Please.’ Rowenna’s pleading cut through his rage. ‘My father is in his dotage. He cannot fight.’

‘I must have satisfaction, and he has had fair warning,’ spat Jasper.

‘Please. I beg you.’

To his horror, Rowenna fell to her knees at his feet and pressed her hands together in supplication. Raging inside, the cruel part of Jasper enjoyed seeing her beg.

‘I am sure Bran will account for himself. There must be some bargain you are willing to consider, Laird Glendenning,’ she pleaded.

‘Bargain?’

‘Aye. There must be some other way to settle this debt.’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘Are you offering to settle the debt for these two fools?’

‘I will try, but at present, I have no money. But you will get satisfaction, I swear.’ She gave her father a pleading look.

‘Daughter, hush your mouth,’ said Rufus, shaking his head.

‘Hush yours, MacCreadie,’ said Jasper. ‘There is more than one way to settle a score. I am prepared to take the lass as payment for the debt, and you should be thankful for that mercy.’

‘No,’ cried Rowenna, leaping to her feet. ‘You cannot. I didn’t mean…’

‘You cannot take my daughter and defile her,’ cried Rufus. ‘She is a virtuous lass, untainted by the hand of a man.’

‘I can take her, and I will. What are you going to do to stop me? And who said anything about taking her virtue?’ said Jasper. ‘I mean to take her as a hostage until I get my money, though, now you mention it, her virtue seems like a good trade.’

Rowenna looked at her father for help, but that was a fool’s errand. Her hands clutched her skirts.

‘Look at me,’ said Jasper to Rowenna, taking her jaw in his hand to force her to face him. ‘Come with me as surety for your brother’s paying up, or stay here and get sold off to the next old man with deep pockets.’

‘I won’t be sold to you or anyone,’ she said.

‘This is not a negotiation where I am bargaining for your hand, lass. This is the price of your brother’s life. You put yourself in my path, so you will remain at Kransmuir and work off the debt until it is paid.’

‘On her back?’ snapped Rufus in a rare display of defiance.

‘Any way I see fit,’ said Jasper. ‘But I will not dishonour her.’

How the hell could he not dishonour her when lust was taking flame in his loins every time he looked at Rowenna MacCreadie, when she had stalked his thoughts these last weeks?

Taking the lass fit his desires so well that he thought the MacCreadies might have planned it this way. He jerked a thumb at Rowenna. ‘Go and fetch whatever you need for your stay at Kransmuir.’ But the lass was frozen, stricken, just staring at him. ‘Go, I said.’

It was only when Rowenna rushed off that Jasper happened to glance at Randel. He looked thunderous.

‘Jasper, hold and consider,’ he said.

‘No. Make sure she does not run away like her sister.’

‘If you like,’ said Randel evenly.

‘What? Speak.’

‘Are we to go here again, Jasper? I know why you are drawn to the lass, but it will only end badly, and you know it.’

‘Coming with me is safer than staying here to have her virtue sold to the next old lecher who comes calling.’

‘And you think that lass’s virtue is safer with you? This is not the honourable course.’

‘Since when were we honourable? You want to see her in the bed of that old maggot or someone worse. Rufus will do it, you know that.’

‘But to take the lass and ruin her. ‘Tis not right.’

Jasper had no answer for that, so he turned away and fixed his gaze on Rufus, who had collapsed to the floor with his hands to his face. Jasper could barely contain his contempt for the old fool. He was not bemoaning the loss of his daughter, more the loss of Wymon Carruther’s money. An idea wormed its way from Jasper’s loins to his head, bypassing his heart, for that was shuttered for good.

‘How can this be?’ whined Rufus, a picture of self-pity. ‘How can my daughter be shamed in this way? I would have done right by her with a respectable marriage.’

‘Alright then,’ said Jasper. ‘I will forget the debt if you give me Rowenna’s hand. How much did that dried-up old husk offer?’

‘Jasper, stop. See sense now,’ cried Randel.

Rufus’ eyes lit up. ‘I…er…her hand?’

‘Speak, fool.’

‘It was a large sum, with land and cattle.’

‘I will let you ponder on a sum for a while. Send word to Kransmuir when you have come up with an amount which does not insult me or your daughter.’

Randel took his arm. ‘Jasper, this is reckless. You have only just lost your wife.’

‘And I need a mother for my child.’ He shook Randel off and stood over Rufus. ‘I need to ensure an heir comes, so Rowenna will be handfasted to me for a year. If she does not conceive, I will return her to you, and you can do whatever you want with her. Are we agreed, you drunken old wretch?’

Rufus nodded, and it was done.

‘God save you, Jasper. There will be hell to pay for this,’ said Randel. ‘And that lass will as soon slit your throat as share your bed.’