Free The Spitfire by Bertrice Small Page A

but Jasper Keane would not allow it. His sly innuendos regarding Arabella’s fate should she leave him for even a short time frightened as well as angered her, for she knew he was once again prowling the borders like a tomcat.
    “Then let Arabella go, my lord, for I cannot bear the thought of my cousin, the queen, believing we do not care.”
    He considered her request and then, to her surprise, acquiesced. “Aye, let the king see our sympathy and loyalties are with him in his time of sorrow. Besides,” he grinned, pinching one of her nipples fondly, “you are far more entertaining these days than my little bride-to-be. While she is gone we shall ride the hills together and visit some of my pretty little friends. We shall have a ménage a trois, my pet. I enjoy being entertained by two women at a time. Once Arabella and I are wed and I have broken her to my bridle, you will join us in our bedsport, Rowena. Will you not enjoy that, or will it make you jealous to share my favors?”
    “My lord! You forget yourself! I will never partake in such a vile debauchery,” she cried, shocked.
    He laughed. “Ah Row, sweet Row. You will do precisely as you are told, because if you do not, I have the means by which to make you suffer as you have never suffered before.” He tipped her face to his and kissed her lightly. “You know that in your heart, my pet, do you not?”
    And she did. She had known almost from the first night that this was a terrible and dangerous man. She knew, but she was also aware that the king was not knowledgeable of Sir Jasper Keane’s dark soul. Richard was a noble and decent man with a good heart, but she could not go to him and expose Jasper Keane, for to reveal the true nature of Sir Jasper was to reveal her own shame.
    “Arabella must start tomorrow,” she said quietly, pretending not to have been frightened by his implied threats.
    “I shall arrange a suitable escort, my pet,” he replied, knowing she feared him now and would do whatever she had to in order to protect her child. For now it contented him to leave the child alone, although of late he had noticed her little breasts beginning to bud quite prettily beneath her bodice. A tasty dish was best savored over time, he thought.
    Arabella was gone several weeks, most of her time spent traveling back and forth between Greyfaire and her royal cousins. The queen, she reported upon her return, was inconsolable at the loss of her only child.
    “Ahh, Mama,” she said. “It would break your heart. Poor cousin Anne weeps constantly. Neddie’s death has fair destroyed her.”
    “But was she glad to see you, Arabella?” demanded Sir Jasper. “I hope your presence was not an additional pain to her, lest she think ill of us all.”
    “Nay, my lord,” Arabella said a trifle stiffly. “My cousin, the queen, was happy for the company. She said I reminded her of better times and took away some of her sadness.”
    “I am glad for that,” Rowena said softly, “but what of the king? He must be as devastated by little Edward’s death as is poor Anne.”
    “He is, Mama,” Arabella replied. “Sometimes he does not even hear what is being said to him. His heart and the queen’s have been broken, especially as the physicians say cousin Anne can have no more children. There are some who say the queen will die of her sorrow.”
    “Then the king can take a younger, more fertile wife,” remarked Sir Jasper.
    Arabella rounded on him. “My lord! Where is your heart, or is it true as I have heard, that you have none?”
    Jasper Keane was momentarily stunned by her words, which were both sharp and knowing. He stared at the girl, seeing her as he had not seen her before. True, she was Row’s daughter, but her outburst made it more than clear she was more her father’s daughter. Henry Grey, a man who had doted upon his sweet and helpless wife, was also a man with a famous temper. Arabella had obviously inherited that temper.
    “What, poppet?” he said