‘Do not play the hypocrite. You hated Brenna.’
‘I did. But she had her virtues. She was raised softly, not dragged up by a drunken sot on a midden. She had grace and manners. This feral she-wolf is ignorant and wild, with a whiff of the savage about her.’
‘Then I will tame her until she is presentable.’
‘You cannot raise a gutter wench to be a laird’s wife.’ His mother’s voice rose to a screech as she sensed he would not give ground.
‘At least if she is a gutter wench, she will not look down her nose at me, like Isobel. And I will prove you wrong, as will Rowenna.’ Already, he was defending her.
‘Go and wound yourself then. The slut will never want you, just like the other one. How it shamed this clan that you humbled yourself for a woman, got on your knees and kissed her feet. And what did you get in return – you were spurned beforeall the clan by an English bitch who favoured that low-born bastard, Seaton Bannerman.’
Must she constantly drive a knife through his pride? It was a death by a thousand little cuts. Jasper’s dam of anger broke. ‘And then you pushed me to marry Isobel, didn’t you?’ he snarled.
‘It was a fine match that brought wealth and status to this family.’
‘I got no love from Isobel, nor would I ever.’
‘You’ll get no love from a MacCreadie slut either. If I must have her in my keep, swallow your scruples and get a son on her, whether she likes it or not.’
They fell silent. Jasper held his tongue with some effort, his fingers curling into fists. His family were like a cloud of annoying midges, always nipping at him, drawing their drop of blood.
‘I will arrange for the handfasting to be done,’ he said stonily.
His mother glared and hurried away, muttering, ‘A fool. I gave birth to a fool.’
***
Rowenna crept along the gloomy hallway. All was deserted in this high part of the castle, but the bustle of its occupants drifted up the stairs, so she was on her guard. She came upon several locked doors and a few windows, which gave her a view down to the yard. No escape there, as the drawbridge was heavily guarded. And there was no moat, just a wide ditch, so her reckless plan of jumping off the walls was useless. She would just break her legs on the rocky ground.
A little cry reached her ears, so faint she thought she might have imagined it - a cat, maybe? Singing followed – a cooingvoice, high and soft. For a moment, she thought it might be the ghost of Jasper’s dead wife coming to haunt her. The hairs stood up on the back of her neck.
Rowenna swallowed hard and followed the sound to a slice of flickering light seeping from a half-open door. She pushed it open and stepped inside. A plump woman sat before a hearth exposing her vast breast to the suck of a tiny infant. She rocked back and forth, head down, singing softly, and a slurping noise filled the room as the bairn suckled greedily. Rowenna could only stare, for it was such a peaceful scene after the turmoil of her day. But she felt indecent in her spying.
She turned to go, but a floorboard creaked, and the woman looked up. The bairn detached from her nipple.
‘Goodness, but you are a bonnie one,’ she said. ‘For a moment there, I thought…’ The woman trailed off but continued staring, eyes scouring Rowenna’s face.
‘Forgive me. I must go.’
‘No, come in, lass. There is nothing to fear from me,’ said the woman, taking hold of her engorged nipple and sticking it back in the bairn’s mouth.
‘I do not want to intrude,’ said Rowenna.
‘Don’t you want to see Jasper’s bairn? Are you not curious?’ said the woman.
‘Why should I be?’
There was a friendly mockery on the woman’s face. ‘Because you are Rowenna MacCreadie, and word about the castle has it that this one’s da has a fearsome fancy for you. Come and warm yourself beside the fire. You are as pale as a ghost, lass.’
Rowenna stood like a fool, not quite knowing how to proceed.
‘Close the door,’ said the woman. ‘I usually like to leave it ajar, for this is a lonely part of the castle - too quiet for me. But the walls have ears, so it is best no one hears our business.’
There was something conspiratorial about ‘our business.’ Rowenna tried to tear her eyes off the woman’s taut, purple-veined bosom, and the pink mouth suctioned onto it.
The woman noticed and smiled down at the bairn. ‘Tis but flesh, lass. Nothing to fear. She is a greedy bairn, strong and lusty like her father. My name is Osla, and hers is Caitrin.’
‘You are a wet nurse.’
