Heather leaned against him making strange little noises. Jack felt panicky. Bartholomew had told him. ‘When you’ve got her ready, boy, get on with it.’ Was Heather ready? Jack decided she must be and it was up to him ‘to get on with it’. It was easy enough to pull up her skirt with her moving about so much, but what came next? He tried to force his mouth away from hers to gulp in some much needed air but she roughly pulled him back.

Jack’s arousal was so strong his insides felt they were knotting, intricately entwining and about to explode. She helped with the move he made to lie over her. Again he wished he could recall his first intimate experience; he wasn’t sure of the exact outlines of a woman’s anatomy.

Suddenly Heather cried out. ‘You bloody swine! Don’t ’ee know anything, you stupid bugger!’ Shoving Jack off she scrambled to her feet. ‘I thought you knew what t’do, you’re nothin’ but a useless…’ A stream of obscenities went up and hit the night sky and echoed amongst the stars as she ripped the cloak out from under Jack’s hands and knees. Snatching up her lantern the furious bal-maiden ran off, keeping up the tirade of abuse until it ended with a short scream.

Jack sat shivering in his crumpled suit on the crushed foliage. He felt sick and ashamed. He stayed there staring into the night sky until he could find the strength in his legs to get up.

‘What a foul-mouthed, bad-tempered… what a spitfire,’ he told Meryn, his source of comfort, a confidante who couldn’t repeat what she had seen and heard. ‘If that’s women for you, I give up. Bartholomew and Paul can keep them all.’

Chapter 14

Trecath-en’s farmhouse was traditionally heavily decorated every year at Christmastide. There were three more weeks yet to Christmas but Rosie could think of no reason not to look out for the best holly, mistletoe and ivy among the giant trees of the Pengarron oak plantation.

It was not unusual for her to be up in the arc-shaped forest high above and sheltering the manor house. Through all the seasons she walked the grassy rides with their rich habitat of wildlife and abundance of flora. She followed the twists and turns of the stream that fed the river that provided the fresh sparkling water supply of the manor. Along its banks she picked watercress and dropwort leaves for the wild salad Kenver was partial to. She also gathered wild herbs, berries, nuts and leaves in a flat narrow wicker basket for Beatrice.