Chapter Three
Once Jackston left the manse, he made it as far as the stables.
There, he came to a halt. His steed was in one of the stalls, munching happily on the grain provided, and Jackston wandered over to the beast, affectionately slapping the big rump. All the while, however, his mind was whirling with what he’d just witnessed – Lizelle’s behavior, Rora’s reaction, his own feelings in general. All of it was spinning around in his mind so that it was difficult to isolate just one thought. They were all related, all tied up together, and he could hardly make sense of them.
Do I marry Lizelle as I once promised to do?
Or do I forsake me parents’ honor and run?
More and more, he simply didn’t want to be bothered with this. He didn’t want to marry Lizelle but didn’t possess the patience any longer to make a game out of it so she would be the one to refuse the betrothal. Now, he simply wanted to leave and never look back. He couldn’t envision himself married to a woman he may have been fond of once, but distance and time had reduced that fondness to indifference. With a mean streak in her, Lizelle wasn’t anyone he wanted to be saddled with.
Perhaps the best thing to do was simply speak with her father and be honest.
Surely Robert Menzies knew that his daughter was a spoiled shrew. Surely he would understand if Jackston explained that the vow he’d once given to marry her was a child’s vow, something he’d given and had no idea of the seriousness of it. But remembering the welcome he’d been given by Robert, Jackston was coming to seriously doubt the man would take it well if Jackston told him he had no intention of marrying his daughter. In fact, it might crush Robert more than it would crush Lizelle. He was coming to think that Robert wanted his daughter married simply so she would cease to be his problem any longer.
God’s Bones… what would he do if Robert begged him to take her off his hands?
And then there was Rora….
Beautiful, simple, sweet… he didn’t even really know the lass, but what he did know of her, he liked. And not in a lustful sense, either, which was unusual with him. There was something very strong yet incredibly fragile about Rora, an allure he’d never before experienced. But the fact that she was a servant… it wasn’t something he could pursue with her.
… or was it?
He was planning on returning to England, anyway. What if… what if he were to take her with him? No one would know she had only been a servant. She was finer and more beautiful than any noblewoman he’d ever known, angelic to a fault. It would be easy to believe she was bred from fine stock.
But for what purpose would he take her with him? To marry her? To simply take sport with her?
He really wasn’t sure.
Someone entered the stable at that point, distracting him, and he glanced up from his horse’s rump to see that Rora had made an appearance. The sunbeams streaming in from the ventilation windows high on the walls caught her hair, glistening off of it, and Jackston stood straight as she entered, drinking in the sight of her. Their eyes met as she scampered in his direction.
“I-I saw ye leave the manse, m’laird,” she said before he could speak. She was breathless, as if she’d been running. “I wanted tae thank ye for speakin’ up for me to Miss Lizelle. It was very noble.”
He smiled at her. “It was the truth.”
“Ye musna do it again.”
His smile faded. “Why not?”
She sighed heavily, an expression of pain and fear crossing her features. “Because she will only take it out on me,” she said quietly. “Miss Lizelle… she doesna like it when her word is challenged.”
Jackston could see that was true. He eyed Rora a moment before taking a few steps over to the stable wall, sliding down to his buttocks. He patted the hard-packed earth next to him.
“Come here, lass,” he said. “Sit down. I want tae speak tae ye.”
Obediently, Rora went to sit next to him, a proper distance between them. She looked at him, wide-eyed and expectant, and he found himself studying the lines of her face. She was quite fascinating to look at. He could also see the nearly perfect handprint on the left side of her cheek and neck from where Lizelle had struck her. That brought his anger about all over again.
“How long has she been treating ye so poorly?” he asked.
Rora lowered her gaze. “Oh…,” she said, shrugging faintly, “I dunna know. I have been her servant since I was very young. It is simply her way.”
Jackston didn’t like that answer. “It is not a good way,” he said. “Do you understand that?”
She looked up at him. “It doesna matter. I have no say in what she does.”
That was very true. But Jackston didn’t like to hear that. “I know ye dunna, but does her father ever say anythin’? Surely Robert doesna approve of the way she treats her servants.”
Rora shrugged. “The laird keeps tae himself. Miss Lizelle does as she pleases.” She paused a moment, looking at Jackston in a way that suggested she had no idea why he was concerned for her. “Miss Lizelle isna always as ye see. Sometimes, she can be kind. But kindness is not truly who she is.”
“What do ye mean?”
Rora cocked her head thoughtfully. “I mean that we all have things we keep hidden, that we dunna want others tae see,” she said. “It is who we truly are, our hidden heart, and most of us keep it buried. Miss Lizelle’s hidden heart is full of fear and cruelty. She is afraid of many things, and that fear causes her tae become cruel. She has been speakin’ of yer visit for years and today, she was a-feared it would be ruined so her cruelty came out.”
It was an astonishingly insightful analysis from a woman who lived a simple life of servitude. No education, no real opportunity to expand her mind, yet Rora had a grasp of things few people did. That impressed him greatly.
“And ye?” he asked quietly. “What is yer hidden heart?”
Rora smiled bashfully. “I’ve never given much thought tae it.”
He smiled because she was, his gaze drinking in every movement, every flutter of her eyelashes. “Then let me tell ye,” he said. “I suspect yer hidden heart is one of patience and compassion, for it is a rare woman that would see inside others like that. I sense that ye feel some pity for Lizelle.”
The warm expression on Rora’s face faded. “She is unhappy.”
“Why?”
Rora shook her head. “A lot of reasons, I think,” she said. “But it wouldna do for me tae tell ye. That is somethin’ she must tell ye herself.”
He respected the fact that she wasn’t going to gossip about her mistress. He leaned back against the wall, his gaze still lingering on her as if he were incapable of looking at anything else. He found that he wanted to know more about this insightful young woman he was so attracted to.
“Ye’re correct,” he said. “If anyone is tae do the tellin’, it should be her. But I dunna want tae talk about her anymore. I want tae talk about ye. Ye told me that yer da sold ye tae Robert Menzies in payment for a debt.”
Rora nodded. “Aye.”
“Tell me about yer family. I want tae hear of yer people.”
She considered his question. “There isna much tae tell,” she said. “Me family is from Lonmay, tae the north. Me da is a smithy but he wanted tae try his luck with a herd of cattle. He did some work for Laird Robert and asked for a loan of money. Laird Robert wouldna give him a loan, so me da sold me tae Laird Robert for the money. I have three brothers, ye see, and bein’ the only lass, I suppose he did the only thing he could tae get the money he needed.”
Jackston was listening intently. “So he sold ye.”
She nodded. “Aye,” she said. “Me ma was dead these many years and I suppose me da had no use for me.”
She spoke as if using her as a business transaction was of no consequence. Of course, transactions like that happened all of the time, but still, there was something cold about selling flesh and blood. Jackston shook his head. “I’m not sure I could sell me daughter,” he said. “Seems like a harsh thing tae do.”
Rora didn’t see his point. “Why?” she asked. “I live in a big house. I have a bed tae sleep in and food tae eat. I’m not sad for what me da did. I am in a better place.”
Jackston was touched by her optimism. “Ye’re in a place where yer mistress beats ye,” he said, reaching out to grasp her chin gently and turn her face to get a look at the handprint on her skin. “Truly, Rora… ye have a brighter outlook on life than I would in the same situation. It doesna quite seem fair.”
His touch seemed to do something to her; Rora’s breathing seemed to come faster, her full bosom heaving gently beneath her tunic. “Nothin’ in life is truly fair,” she said, trembling as he ran a finger over the red welt. “But I am more fortunate than most. I thank God that I have a warm bed and good food. And… and I hope not tae be here forever.”
He dropped his hand from her face although it was difficult; he was fighting the urge to pull the woman into his arms. That silken skin and lips the color of a ripe peach were calling to him.
“Is that so?” he asked, simply to distract himself. “Where do ye plan tae go?”
She looked at him, smiling. “Somewhere far away,” she said, her expression taking on a somewhat dreamy countenance. “Can…can I tell ye a secret?”
“Of course.”
“Ye willna tell Miss Lizelle?”
“Never.”
She bit her lip in a gesture that suggested she was about to lay forth a tremendous secret. “There are travelers that stop here sometimes,” she said. “I listen tae them speakin’ in the hall, tellin’ tales of their travels. Sometimes… sometimes I hope that Laird Robert will sell me tae one of these merchants so that I can travel with them. I want tae go tae London and Paris, or even Rome. I heard a man say that all of Rome is built with golden pillars. It seems tae me that tae travel tae a place like that would be just like goin’ tae heaven.”
He was grinning. “And ye want tae see that?”
She nodded eagerly. “I do,” she said. “Very much.”
Jackston had to admit that she had him fairly enchanted by this point. Not only was she a beautiful woman, but she was intelligent and had ambition. He found that a fascinating combination. Unlike Lizelle, who was content to sit in her solar and rot, Rora had dreams. She wanted to learn, to see, to grow. Jackston liked that a great deal.
“Then I hope yer dreams come true,” he said. “I have dreams meself.”
Now it was her turn to be fascinated. “Ye do?” she asked. “But I heard that ye were a great knight. Surely, ye’ve lived yer dreams.”
He shook his head. “Not nearly enough,” he said. “Surely, I have seen a lot. I have accomplished quite a bit. But there is much more tae life and I want tae see and do all I can before it’s over with.”
Rora smiled at the appeal of living fully. “As do I,” she said. “I wish ye good fortune, then, in doin’ all ye wish tae do.”
“I wish ye the same.”
They gazed at each other for a moment and Jackston could feel the warmth between them. He was hoping it wasn’t imagination on his part because he was attracted to the little servant as he’d never been attracted to anyone in his life. There was so much more to her than most women he’d met, something sweet and alluring. What was it he’d said about her hidden heart? Truth be told, there was much more than patience and compassion there. Much, much more. But they were all things she kept tucked far away.
She was close enough to grab and he did so, reaching out to cup her sweet face as his lips slanted over hers. That urge he’d been fighting since she came into the stable overwhelmed him until it was no longer something he could ignore. He had to taste her, at least once, to know what he would be forever missing. A forbidden kiss and nothing more. He would be satisfied and, perhaps, not so infatuated with her.
Unfortunately, his attempt to taste something forbidden worked against him.
He wanted more.
Pulling Rora into his arms, his kisses became more insistent. His tongue licked at her, gently prying her lips apart and snaking into her mouth. Against him, Rora had collapsed completely, overwhelmed by his strength and his power. She hadn’t resisted at all. But the truth was that she was a servant and if a man above her station had a mind to take her, then she didn’t have much say in it.
That thought ran through Jackston’s mind as he suckled on her lips, feeling her heaving body in his arms. He didn’t want her to accept his kisses because she was afraid to refuse.
He wanted her to want him.
“Do ye want me tae stop?” he asked huskily.
Rora was barely coherent. “If…if ye want tae.”
He grasped her by the chin, his face very close to hers as he stared into her eyes. “Nay,” he muttered. “Listen tae me. Do ye want me tae stop?
It seemed to occur to her what he was asking. Her mouth worked a moment as she tried to come up with the correct words. “Ye should,” she breathed. “If Miss Lizelle were tae know….”
She trailed off and he understood, at least from her perspective. If Lizelle discovered he’d kissed Rora, then it would go very badly for her. He simply sat there a moment, gazing down at her, into that sweet face with those glorious eyes. He was drawn to those eyes time and time again. The hand on her chin began to caress her skin.
“Has anyone ever done this to ye, Rora?” he asked softly. “Have ye never been kissed?”
She shook her head, quivering as his hand move to the soft skin of her neck. “N-Never.”
“No man has forced himself upon ye?”
She was quiet for a moment. “Some of Laird Robert’s men have tried,” she said. “When I tell Miss Lizelle, she becomes very angry and Laird Robert dismisses them.”
“So no man has… touched ye?”
She shook her head. “Nay, m’laird.”
He gave her a half-grin. “Considerin’ that I just kissed ye, addressin’ me formally sounds strange.”
“Then… then what should I call ye?”
He leaned forward, capturing her sweet lips in his. He suckled her bottom lip before releasing it. “My name is Jackston,” he whispered. “Let me hear ye say it.”
Rora was breathing so heavily it sounded like she was gasping. “Jackston.”
He licked her upper lip. “Say it again.”
“Jackston.”
Grinning, his mouth slanted over hers again, pulling her so tightly against him that she grunted with the force of it. She was sweet and soft, warm and pliable, and his mouth soon left hers to force a blazing trail down her neck and to her shoulder, where tender white skin beckoned. He suckled gently on her skin, pulling the top of her tunic away and down one arm, pulling it so low that he exposed her left breast.
Jackston could feel Rora tense in his arms as her breast sprang free and she tried to cover it back up, but he wouldn’t allow it. He trapped her arm with a big hand as his mouth moved down her shoulder to the swell of her breast. She was starting to gasp now, in both uncertainty and in passion, and when his heated mouth claimed a nipple, her gasps became louder.
God, those sounds fueled his lust!
But he didn’t want their passion to be heard. In order to quickly silence her, Jackston’s mouth quickly returned to hers, kissing her deeply to stifle her noise even as a hand moved to her exposed breast and fondled her. He pulled at her nipple, teasing it, feeling her buck and quiver in his arms. Nothing in his life had ever excited him so much and his stiff manhood was straining against his braies. More kissing, more fondling, and he was ready to push her onto her back and throw up her skirts.
But something stopped him.
Attracted as he was to her, he simply couldn’t bring himself to take her in a stable, grinding her tender back into the urine-soaked earth. He had more respect for her than that and, no matter how physically ready he was to mate with her, he just couldn’t do it.
More than that, there was something emotional between them now, a warmth and a bond like he’d never experienced. But she was a servant… God help him, she was a servant and his parents would never accept her as a wife to their heroic son, a man who would assume the Daviot lordship someday as the 2nd Lord Daviot, heir to a small empire. A woman sold into servitude as the wife of a great warrior?
It could not exist in his world.
More thoughts of taking her to England swamped him and his lusty kisses eased. Confusion was sucking the passion right out of him and he slowed his onslaught, pulling back to look at the woman as she lay dazed in his arms. The truth was that even if he took her to England to start a life with her, his parents would still know the truth. They would know he’d taken a servant for his bride and they would be shamed by it. Their foolish son would have passed on wealthy Lizelle Menzies only to marry a servant girl by the name of Rora of Lonmay.
He had to stop and think about all of this. But one thing was for certain; he knew he couldn’t leave Rora behind.
Wouldn’t leave her behind.
But he couldn’t seem to let her go at the moment, either, and that indiscretion was his undoing. As he went back to suckling gently on Rora’s naked breast, one of Lizelle’s women, a round little mouse who spied and shared gossip with her mistress, made her way into the barn. The woman had kept her eye on Rora. She had seen from her vantage point in Lizelle’s bower window when the servant girl had fled the manse and disappeared into the stables.
Suspicious and nosy, the woman had quickly followed simply to see what Rora was up to and having no idea that Jackston was in the stable, too. But when she peered around the side of the entry and saw Rora in the arms of Miss Lizelle’s betrothed, she nearly shrieked aloud. She saw the man nursing on Rora’s naked breasts, the servant girl with her arms over her head, letting him take advantage of her. It was both shocking and disgusting.
Miss Lizelle must know!
In a flash, the round little woman was scurrying for the manse with a great tale to tell.