Rowenna rushed away as Bran called after her, ‘Only your scruples lie between me and death, sister. Make him happy. Please.’
She hurried back up the staircase, cursing. Must she always be the one to sacrifice for the sake of others, and what had it brought her so far? Her father was still letting his birthright fall to rack and ruin, Bran was still blaming others for his mistakes, and Jasper’s men had found no trace of Cecily. And worst of all, Jasper, for all his smiles and so-called restraint, had betrayed her and taken her brother prisoner. Damn all men, and damn Jasper Glendenning to hell.
Chapter Seventeen
A sleepless night brought a frosty dawn, and Jasper barging into her chamber, all eagerness.
‘I have come to relieve your boredom,’ he declared.
Rowenna shrieked, sat up and clutched the blankets to her. ‘What? No. Get out!’
‘Fear not. I’ve not come to ravage you.’
‘Then why are you here? Are we under attack?’
‘Not just yet. But give it time,’ he murmured. ‘I am here to take you hunting, as you demanded. So make haste and get dressed before my mind turns to warmer pursuits. I will see you at the stables, and then we will head for Slayfell Wood. Plenty of rabbits and deer there. You can show me if you are as good with a bow as you claim.’ Jasper turned to leave and then said. ‘Oh, and try not to aim at my back, Rowenna.’
She sighed and got out of bed, shivering as she donned her warmest clothes. Though she hated to do it, she pulled on the fur-lined cloak Jasper had given her. She was grateful for its thick folds as she headed to the stables and whatever awaited her in Slayfell Wood.
***
A few miles of galloping across fields silvered with frost brought them to the gloom of the woods. All was quiet, save for small birds greeting the day with their song. Rowenna was comforted by her crossbow as it bumped gently against her hip,and her heart lightened at being outdoors after being shut up in Kransmuir. But she was alone in a deserted place with Jasper, and she could not decide if she was nervous around him because of his threat to consummate their union or because she wanted him to. As the day wore on, her stomach clenched every time she looked at him, though he barely glanced her way and said little.
‘Are you tiring, lass?’ he asked eventually.
‘No.’
‘There’s plenty of game here, but it is wily. We must creep up on it.’ said Jasper.
‘I know how to hunt, Jasper.’ He just smiled in reply, turning her knees to jelly because he looked good when he smiled. Was it the cold that made her hands shake or Jasper’s looming presence and intense scrutiny? He could do anything he wanted to her out here, alone. Was he thinking the same?
A shaft of sunlight lit some fallen trees, and a flash of colour caught Rowenna’s eye. Bluebells, flowering early in the season, a sign of hope and new beginnings. Some leaves rustled nearby, and a plump rabbit emerged from a bank of ferns, nose twitching at the morning air.
In one swift movement, Rowenna slipped off her horse, loaded an arrow and fired. The rabbit scuttled and fell over, and she could not suppress a yelp of delight. When she glanced at Jasper, he was lowering his own bow. He had not been as quick as her.
‘First blood to you, lass. Well done,’ he said.
‘I told you I could hunt.’
Jasper picked up the dead rabbit by its ears. ‘He’ll do nicely, lass. Let us see if that was a lucky shot or real skill, shall we?’
Once the challenge was laid down, Rowenna was determined to win, so by the time the sun was well up, three more rabbits were hanging from Jasper’s saddle. Two were hers, and only one was his, and it was clear he was feeling his loss.
‘Shall we call it a day and return to Kransmuir?’ he muttered.
‘But we are just getting started,’ she said with a smile.
They had stopped near a little burn deep in the woods. As he tethered their horses, Rowenna marvelled at how a big man like Jasper could move so silently and gracefully. When she stumbled over a tree root, he took hold of her arm and hauled her up as if she were a feather. She stared down at his hand, but he did not release her. When she met his eyes, there was desire there but some kind of desolation, too. Perhaps she could kiss him and see how it would feel to follow Bran’s plan. His mouth had been gentle before and pleasing on hers. It might be bearable.
Her courage turned and fled. ‘The game will have gone to ground if we tarry,’ she said, and he snatched his hand away as if her flesh burned his fingers.
Rowenna scooped a handful of water from the burn. It dribbled down her chin, and suddenly, Jasper was there, gently brushing it off her skin with his thumb. He took his time over it, and all the woodland noises faded. There was just his face close to hers, the white mist of their breath mingling in the cold, crisp air.
Jaspers took hold of her waist and pushed her back against a tree. ‘God, I admire you, Rowenna.’
‘Why?’ she croaked.
‘You have humbled me on this hunt and you have such strength. Aye, you are soft on the outside in a way a man wantsto sink into, yet so hard within. What goes on in that bonnie little head of yours? Tell me. I would know.’
