But he was not a sane man. It was not enough to have Rowenna as his wife, in his bed, under his power. The only cure for the heat coursing through his veins was for Rowenna to want him. And handfasting with her was a hollow victory. It did nothing to ease the sickness in his soul. The law said she belonged to him, body and soul, but how could he ever know her heart? Her little gasps had encouraged him, and she had pressed that lovely body against him at one point, but was that through fear or desire? By Christ, he’d lain with enough women to know the difference, so why could he not know Rowenna when she was nought but an innocent lass dragged up by a ruffian of a father?
Jasper’s loins ached with unspent lust, and he stiffened as he thought of her naked. Rowenna had a spectacular body, long-legged but curvaceous, soft yet firm. He could have taken that body over and over on his wedding night, as was his right. But he would never truly possess Rowenna unless she wanted him in return. And now he was in a prison of his own making, flayed by desire and not able to do anything about it. He had made a terrible mistake marrying Rowenna MacCreadie.
There was only one thing for it. Gathering the shreds of his pride, Jasper resolved never to touch her again until she asked him to. He would not lower himself to beg for the favour of awoman whose brother was stabbing him in the back. And what if she knew about Bran’s treachery all along?
‘What is to be done, Jasper?’ said Randel, who had been watching his pacing with a worried frown. ‘If anyone has harmed the Warden’s son, there will be hell to pay. Could it be Bannerman or Strachan?’
‘No, they are not so foolish, especially Caolan. He likes his clever schemes. There is a blunter mind at work here.’
‘And what of Bran MacCreadie? He cannot go unpunished. I could wring his neck, and there’d be no one the wiser.’
‘No, not yet. Grab that MacCreadie whoreson, bring him to me and tell no one. As for the Warden, we will poke a knife in the ribs of his allies and see who squeals first.’
Chapter Sixteen
Early mornings had become the best part of Rowenna’s day. When Kransmuir woke up, all was hushed and calm. It was not so when Jasper was around. He came and went at all hours and did not seek her out when he returned. In fact, he seemed to be avoiding her. Strangely enough, Rowenna had missed his hulking presence over the last two weeks and longed to make sense of what had happened on their wedding night by talking to him. But aside from the odd grunt and nod in her direction, Jasper seemed to want nothing to do with her. He was preoccupied, and she could only conclude that his rapid and fierce infatuation, if it could be called that, had faded as quickly as it had flared.
Rowenna wrapped a fur around her shoulders and stared out the window at the light snow dusting the tops of the trees. Her breath misted against the glass. It would be another bitterly cold day, but the nursery would be warm and cosy.
Osla was not there. Instead, she found a servant girl stoking the fire. ‘You may leave now,’ she said.
‘But the bairn,’ replied the girl, eyes darting nervously to Caitrin in her cot. No one at Kransmuir viewed Rowenna with anything other than distrust.
‘You may entrust her care to me,’ she said. ‘Run along now.’ The lass fled, happy to be out of her presence, no doubt.
Rowenna’s shoulders relaxed. Time alone without the judgemental stares of others was a precious thing, and sheintended to make the most of it. Caitrin stirred in her cot and gave a little hiccup. Rowenna picked up the precious bundle with a smile and held her close. A warm, milky smell came off her head, now capped with down-soft hair. She breathed in the smell, for it was delicious, as was the feel of the plump bairn squirming against her chest.
The fire crackled, and time passed until Rowenna’s face glowed from the heat. Her thoughts strayed to Fallstairs. Did she miss its draughty, mildewed hall, her bare, cold chamber? No. She had been seduced by Kransmuir’s comforts, if not its laird.
Did she miss its occupants? Not her vexing, feckless father, her selfish, drunken brother, and certainly not Morgan with his earnest attentions, or Morag with her casually cruel jibes.
But her heart ached for Cecily, and Jasper’s men had still found no trace of her. Was she safe and well or lying cold in the ground somewhere? A tear welled and trickled, but she wiped it away, leaving a sticky track on her skin. Caitrin stirred, and Rowenna cooed and rocked the bairn back to sleep.
‘Well, isn’t this a pretty picture?’
Jasper leaned on the doorway, his gaze intent. Must he bring his menace into her day?
‘Why were you crying?’ he said.
‘I was not,’ she replied, but the tear track felt like a burn.
He accepted the lie easily enough. Perhaps he did not care. ‘How often do you come here?’ he said.
‘Every day.’
His brows knotted, and the silence swelled.
‘I have not seen you much of late,’ said Rowenna. ‘What have you been doing?’
‘Crushing my enemies.’ He pushed off the door frame and stood over her. ‘Why have a care for my daughter when you have none for me?’
‘I like to see Caitrin. She calms me, and the wet nurse, Osla, is company of sorts.’
‘Of sorts, aye. But do not believe everything that wet nurse says. I am sure she is as fond of me as you are. Take some advice, Rowenna, and widen your circle of friends.’
‘There are few to be had here. It seems most folk think I am little better than your whore, so they avoid me. And I seek out Osla so that I do not go mad with boredom. There is nothing for me to do. I have no purpose.’
‘I can give you a purpose,’ he said with a wicked grin. It was sudden, bright, like a flash of lightening, and as hard to hold onto. It made Jasper warmer, just for an instant, but the look in his eye told her she might still be on dangerous ground. But Jasper was more talkative than usual, so Rowenna took her chance.
