‘Oh, God. Let us hope you are wrong.’
It was all worse than she thought. Rowenna had clung to the hope that Cecily had run away with someone. She hoped Cecily had gone south, over the border to Cumbria or beyond, and was living her life, in love and happy. But the thought of her beautiful, soft sister having anything to do with Sir Henry or his spawn made her blood run cold.
‘I must go,’ she said.
‘You can’t ride home in the dark,’ said Rufus. ‘Tis too dangerous in these times, and who knows if the Warden is lurking out there.’
As if he had ever cared.
‘I will stay here tonight, I suppose,’ said Rowenna.
‘Will your husband not object?’
‘I do as I please. Jasper will not miss me.’
‘Ah, his lust has waned, has it? Did he put a bairn in your belly?’
‘No. Not yet.’
‘You’d best hurry up before he tires of you. That is your only surety. And Rowenna, you’d best keep my secrets, for if Jasper finds out about the Warden being here, it will go badly for me.’
‘He will cast you out and burn Fallstairs to the ground.’
‘Aye, and you will be cast aside too, bairn or no bairn. So we both need to keep our mouths shut.’
‘You should never have made a friend of the Warden and an enemy of Jasper.’ She sighed. ‘Lord, I am so done with the folly of men.’
Once her father had sloped off to bed, Rowenna was left in the cold hall, alone with her thoughts. She might never see her sister again, or know what had happened to her. Jasper would never forgive her for lying about Bran. She had sacrificed his budding affection for Bran’s sake, and it was all for nought, for her brother heartily deserved his dungeon. And now that she knew the full extent of her family’s folly, how could she ever return to Kransmuir?
Morag shuffled in and lit a few candles. Then she sat down with a hefty sigh and poured Rowenna a mug of ale. ‘Here, drink it to fortify yourself.’
‘How much did you know, Morag? I know you’ve been eavesdropping on Father and me.’
‘I knew Bran was up to his neck in that raid. As for Cecily, do you think I would have let her go off if I knew she was meeting some man?’ Tears welled, and she sniffed. ‘What if it is the Warden’s son, and he is a villain like his father?’ She grabbed Rowenna’s wrist. ‘I hate it when Sir Henry comes here. He has the feel of the grave about him, and his son can be no better. Cecily could be lying raped and butchered in a ditch somewhere.’
‘We do not know anything for certain, Morag, so there is no use in tying yourself up in knots.’
Morag wiped her nose with the back of her hand. ‘I know, but what is to be done? I go out every day, in all weathers, looking for the lass.’
‘That is kind of you. Jasper’s men have searched too, but they found nothing.’
A heavy silence fell between them. ‘Are you staying?’ said Morag. ‘Fallstairs is not the same without you two lasses. Whatmen we had left have all run off and found other masters, and your father will let the whole place fall to nothing.’
‘I do not know what I will do, Morag.’
Later, when she found herself in her old chamber, Rowenna was forced to acknowledge that truth. A lone candle sent shadows up the walls. The fire was struggling, and the bed stone cold, so she wrapped herself in the fine cloak Jasper had given her and curled into a ball. Memories of lying in bed with Cecily flooded back. They would snuggle together to keep warm and share secrets under the blankets, dreaming of the men they would marry and the children they would have. Now, she was so lost and fearful that she could not think straight.
Slowly, Rowenna gave in to exhaustion. Her eyelids grew as heavy as her heart, and she was just drifting off to sleep when the door creaked open.
Rowenna sat up with her heart thumping.
‘So this is where you ran to. Not much of a sanctuary, is it?’
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jasper stood before her, his face devilish in the half-light of a candle. He turned and locked the door, and Rowenna was trapped.
‘What are you doing here, Jasper?’ she said.
