‘I think you did, for the blood has rushed to your cheeks. They are bright red.’
‘That must be shame,’ she said, covering her face with her hands.
He tore them gently away. ‘There is shame in it, at first, for a lass. But once you practice, there is a hunger to do it over and over. I wanted to do right by you, Rowenna. Forgive me if I hurt you, and forgive me for taking you in this joyless place. It should have been on a bed of furs before a warm fire, or did your ardour for me keep you warm?’
She smiled and looked away. ‘Oh, do not shame me more.’
Rowenna could not look at Jasper. He was so happy, but guilt made her burn as if she was tied to the stake. And she was a witch, and a whore, and all manner of wickedness. She would be consumed by hell’s flames for her sins, and they were grave indeed. One was lying with Jasper to free her brother, but the other was far worse – enjoying it so much that she longed to do it again.
Jasper eased his manhood out of her, and she felt a gush of warmth between her legs. Her bare thighs were chafed where they had rubbed against the scratchy sacks. She was sore elsewhere too - a bruise inside, overlaid with a lingering throb of pleasure. Jasper gathered her in his arms, and Rowenna pressed her face to his chest, wriggling as the edges of the sacks dug into her side. Strange, how she did not notice them before when he was on top of her, his bulk pressing her down hard. Would there be marks on her skin tomorrow? She deserved them for giving in to such delicious sin.
‘You are shivering, lass. It is cold down here. We should tidy ourselves and go above.’
‘Not just now. Can you please just hold me a while,’ she replied, clinging to him.
Jasper stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. ‘Rowenna, you have made me very happy this day. One, I am still breathing thanks to you, and two, I have finally made you mine forever. I give thanks to God.’
‘I don’t think God would approve of what you just did.’
He laughed and hugged her closer. ‘No, you are right. But, lass, I am alive because of you and I owe you a great debt.’
‘So can you find it in your heart to let me visit with my father’' she said, not daring to look at him. ‘He might have news of Cecily.’
‘Aye. I will allow it. How could I not, with such beauty before me? But, lass, I doubt any news has come.’
‘I worry for her constantly.’
‘You are my wife, and your family shall be under my protection as much as you are.’ He pulled back and pressed his mouth to hers, and she let him. His kiss was fierce with emotion.
Protection, when he had Bran in is dungeon? How easily he lied, but was she any better? Jasper could have been rough – just taking what was his by right – but he was gentle, kind even, in that gruff way of his. He had taken the trouble to arouse her and see to her pleasure. Surely, he would grant her wishes if she kept him happy. Already, he seemed softer. But why did she feel so bad if she had got a little of what she wanted?
‘Jasper, did I please you? Did I do it right?’
A shadow crossed his face. ‘Aye, more than you could know and never doubt it. You are mine now. No one can take you away from me. You will have my protection, Rowenna, always.’ He leapt up, grabbed her hand and hauled her onto unsteady legs. As he tugged her bodice up over her nakedness, he smiled, and it was unbearable - beautiful, not brutish. ‘Come, we will go above and find some warmth.’
***
Hours later, Rowenna was still on edge, pacing in her shift and robe. She could not rest. Jasper had left her before a roaring fire with a kiss and orders to climb into bed and rest. Since then, she had been a flurry of confusion. Why did he go? She wanted him to come back. She missed him. But she did notknow how to face him. She wanted to be in his arms, to be held and comforted, but then she would have to hide her lies from Jasper’s searching eyes.
And then there was the barrage of feelings that came with losing her innocence, which she could not make sense of. How could the act seem so dirty and low, and yet beautiful, at the same time? There was horror and fear to it, excitement and exultation and a greater, painful truth. She had lain with Jasper not to help her brother but in a fog of lust mingled with fear.
Now, it seemed like the worst kind of folly. Had she whored herself for Bran’s life, or had she just succumbed to lust, letting Jasper Glendenning lead her by the nose like a fat, juicy piglet to the slaughter? What madness was lovemaking, if you could call such a sweetly violent act anything to do with love. It had been painfully pleasurable, and even hours later, Jasper’s smell was on her, his seed sticky between her legs, and yet she was reluctant to wash it off.
On her wedding night, it hurt when Jasper pushed his manhood inside her. She had suffered it like the conquered suffer an invading army – resentful but resigned to her fate. But this time had been gentler, bringing forth little explosions of passion and joy such as she had never experienced. Now, she wanted to be invaded, conquered, taken. Jasper’s lovemaking had consumed her as if the old Rowenna had burned up and floated away as ashes in the wind.
She should not have asked for her favour so soon after. Jasper had shown no hint of offence at her asking to go and see her family, but who knew what he was thinking. He had agreed readily enough, yet Rowenna could not escape the feeling that there was a price to pay.
The door creaked open, and there he was. They locked eyes briefly, and then Jasper took her in his arms. Wordlessly, he led her to the bed and shed his clothes and hers. They made love in silence, and his light touch brought forth such passion in Rowenna that she cried his name into the night, even though she swore she never would.
Afterwards, emboldened by what they had shared, Rowenna asked a question she had been dying to ask.
‘Jasper, am I as pleasing to you as your wife was?’
‘What is this, jealousy?’
Rowenna stroked her fingers through the thick down of golden hair on his chest and tried to sound nonchalant. ‘It is just that you never speak of her, and I wonder if maybe you had some affection that I cannot match. She was rich and beautiful, so I’ve heard.’
‘And you are kind, strong and beautiful, which I prefer. The riches I thought I wanted meant nothing in the face of Isobel’s coldness.’ There was darkness in his voice.
