Read Online Rexanne Becnel by The Knight of Rosecliffe - Free Book Online
Authors: The Knight of Rosecliffe
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her?”
“By the rood! That is not a matter a man discusses with his brother’s wife!”
Her blue eyes glittered smugly. “Aha. So you did try. Did you succeed?”
Jasper swore and surged to his feet. “Enough of this.”
This time she laughed. “So you did not succeed.” She grinned up at him, clasping her hands over her knees, and for a moment she appeared as young and merry as nine-year-old Isolde. “Tell me about her. How does she look? How did she
react to your honorable gesture?” Then her expression sobered. “Did she ask about me?”
Jasper knew Josselyn well enough to know she wanted only the truth. “No, she did not ask about you.”
“I see.” She looked away, silent a moment. “What of Rhys ap Owain? Did she mention him? I understand they have mended their differences.”
“Rhys ap Owain?” Jealousy sprang fully formed into Jasper’s heart. “Is she his woman?”
“I’m not certain. There is talk in the village, but gossip is not always reliable. Did she fail also to mention him?”
Jasper’s fingers tightened around his cup. “Ours was not a lengthy conversation,” he muttered in response. Inside, though, his gut knotted. He’d had Rhys ap Owain’s woman in his arms and in a moment of foolishness he’d let her go. Honor and lust had blended to make him behave like an idiot. He’d held the means to lure Rhys ap Owain in, to capture the troublesome young Welsh outlaw and thereby prove himself to Rand. But what had he done? He’d tried to seduce the woman, then allowed her to get away.
When Rand heard of this he would be more convinced than ever that his younger brother was unsuited for any real responsibility. And Jasper could not blame him for it.
“Bloody hell!” he swore and pushed to his feet. “If you will excuse me?” Then he stormed away.
Josselyn was not perturbed by the sudden turn of his temper, however. For a long while she sat as she was, her arms wrapped around her knees while she stared unseeingly toward the remains of the evening fire. One of the maids banked the blaze for the night, piling the embers, then burying them just so with ashes. The hall had begun to thin of people. Yet Josselyn remained where she was.
There had been an attraction between Jasper and Rhonwen. She was convinced of it. No matter that Rhonwen had tried to kill him, Jasper had been smitten with the girl. Except that she was no longer a girl. She was a woman, and a comely one, at that. Yes, Jasper had been intrigued by Rhonwen, but had Rhonwen been equally intrigued by Jasper?
Josselyn gave a wry chuckle. Unless Rhonwen was blind, she would have to be intrigued by Jasper. The man possessed a lethal charm. Tall and straight, with the natural arrogance of a confident man, he was blessed also with a pair of clear gray eyes that could coax a smile from a stone wall. She’d seen the effect of those eyes often enough: Every woman in the castle, from toddler to crone, jumped to do his bidding.
Still, he was English, and Rhonwen despised the English. She’d tried to convince Josselyn not to wed Rand, and when that had failed, she’d withdrawn completely from Josselyn’s life.
But Josselyn knew Rhonwen, and she knew the girl possessed a well-developed sense of integrity. She was brave and often impulsive, but she was honorable. Jasper’s gesture might have surprised her, but it also would have impressed her.
Josselyn smiled and pushed to her feet. Well, and well again. This had been a most interesting evening. She would have to think how best to encourage Jasper’s interest in Rhonwen. And perhaps she’d yet see him settled down with a good Welsh wife.
Isolde waited outside the great hall. Jasper would have to come this way eventually.
She was supposed to be asleep in the cozy nursery she shared with Gwendolyn. But once the younger girl had fallen asleep, Isolde had slipped away. She was too old to be confined still to a nursery. Too old to be sent to bed directly after supper.
“By the rood! That is not a matter a man discusses with his brother’s wife!”
Her blue eyes glittered smugly. “Aha. So you did try. Did you succeed?”
Jasper swore and surged to his feet. “Enough of this.”
This time she laughed. “So you did not succeed.” She grinned up at him, clasping her hands over her knees, and for a moment she appeared as young and merry as nine-year-old Isolde. “Tell me about her. How does she look? How did she
react to your honorable gesture?” Then her expression sobered. “Did she ask about me?”
Jasper knew Josselyn well enough to know she wanted only the truth. “No, she did not ask about you.”
“I see.” She looked away, silent a moment. “What of Rhys ap Owain? Did she mention him? I understand they have mended their differences.”
“Rhys ap Owain?” Jealousy sprang fully formed into Jasper’s heart. “Is she his woman?”
“I’m not certain. There is talk in the village, but gossip is not always reliable. Did she fail also to mention him?”
Jasper’s fingers tightened around his cup. “Ours was not a lengthy conversation,” he muttered in response. Inside, though, his gut knotted. He’d had Rhys ap Owain’s woman in his arms and in a moment of foolishness he’d let her go. Honor and lust had blended to make him behave like an idiot. He’d held the means to lure Rhys ap Owain in, to capture the troublesome young Welsh outlaw and thereby prove himself to Rand. But what had he done? He’d tried to seduce the woman, then allowed her to get away.
When Rand heard of this he would be more convinced than ever that his younger brother was unsuited for any real responsibility. And Jasper could not blame him for it.
“Bloody hell!” he swore and pushed to his feet. “If you will excuse me?” Then he stormed away.
Josselyn was not perturbed by the sudden turn of his temper, however. For a long while she sat as she was, her arms wrapped around her knees while she stared unseeingly toward the remains of the evening fire. One of the maids banked the blaze for the night, piling the embers, then burying them just so with ashes. The hall had begun to thin of people. Yet Josselyn remained where she was.
There had been an attraction between Jasper and Rhonwen. She was convinced of it. No matter that Rhonwen had tried to kill him, Jasper had been smitten with the girl. Except that she was no longer a girl. She was a woman, and a comely one, at that. Yes, Jasper had been intrigued by Rhonwen, but had Rhonwen been equally intrigued by Jasper?
Josselyn gave a wry chuckle. Unless Rhonwen was blind, she would have to be intrigued by Jasper. The man possessed a lethal charm. Tall and straight, with the natural arrogance of a confident man, he was blessed also with a pair of clear gray eyes that could coax a smile from a stone wall. She’d seen the effect of those eyes often enough: Every woman in the castle, from toddler to crone, jumped to do his bidding.
Still, he was English, and Rhonwen despised the English. She’d tried to convince Josselyn not to wed Rand, and when that had failed, she’d withdrawn completely from Josselyn’s life.
But Josselyn knew Rhonwen, and she knew the girl possessed a well-developed sense of integrity. She was brave and often impulsive, but she was honorable. Jasper’s gesture might have surprised her, but it also would have impressed her.
Josselyn smiled and pushed to her feet. Well, and well again. This had been a most interesting evening. She would have to think how best to encourage Jasper’s interest in Rhonwen. And perhaps she’d yet see him settled down with a good Welsh wife.
Isolde waited outside the great hall. Jasper would have to come this way eventually.
She was supposed to be asleep in the cozy nursery she shared with Gwendolyn. But once the younger girl had fallen asleep, Isolde had slipped away. She was too old to be confined still to a nursery. Too old to be sent to bed directly after supper.
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