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She shifted to the side to escape it.
    "Ha. My seed is dribbling from you but I trust you will retain a sufficient quantity in order to conceive, my lady."
    "What? I—" Jane clamped her legs closed and rolled to lie on her side, her back to her husband. If her part in this endeavour amounted to no more than producing the heir so vital to Roseworth, then she would do her bit.
    *****
    Alas, despite Jane's best efforts, and her husband’s dutiful monthly visits to her chamber, no heir had yet been forthcoming. In the four years since that fateful night, twice Jane had conceived, and twice she had miscarried in the fourth month of her pregnancy. Her babies were too little to discern their sex, but in her heart Jane believed them to be the sons her husband desired and it was her duty to provide. Although he did not say so, she knew Gerard considered her to be barren, the very worst kind of liability for a man of his station.
    Her mother never missed an opportunity to remind her of her obligations, and the potential consequences of failure. Lady Margaret was currently making an extended visit to Roseworth following the death of Sir William and a subsequent, very public, altercation with the new Countess of Acton. Eleanor, wife to Jane's eldest brother Edward, had declared the dowager countess to be an unbearable shrew and ordered her from Haveringham.
    Lady Margaret had arrived at Roseworth in the full expectation that she would be welcomed with open arms by her most precious daughter and her noble husband. Gerard had shrugged and bade his mother-in-law make herself at home. Jane had written at once to Eleanor but to no avail. Haveringham was closed to Lady Margaret. Further missives established beyond doubt that neither of her other sisters were likely to exhibit even the slightest interest in their mother's welfare. Resigned to her fate Jane realised she had better make the best of it.
    Jane drew no comfort at all from Lady Margaret's observation that an heir had better be forthcoming without delay or Sir Gerard would likely find no alternative but to resort to such remedies as might be available. After all, who would blame him? Jane might yet find herself set aside, banished to rot away the rest of her life in the cloister. Men had legitimised bastards before now, and the good Lord knew Gerard had plenty to choose from.
    As she lay in her lonely bed, her husband long departed for whatever warmer nest he might find, Jane reflected on that truth. She recognised her husband's features on more than a few infant faces around their keep and the nearby villages and hamlets. Her barren marriage was clearly not his failing. What would become of her if he did indeed conclude that an infertile wife was of no further use to him?
    Jane pondered the lacklustre nature of their personal relationship and wondered if the outcome might have been different were she able to stir her husband's passions even slightly. He was a man with healthy appetites, but it seemed nothing about her inspired his hungers. Although spankings had been mercifully few and far between she could hardly even describe their relationship as convivial. His visits to her chamber had been regular over the years, but his lovemaking was merely functional. Her handsome husband did not seek out Jane for her company nor for conversation, and most certainly not for sensual pleasure. All those he found elsewhere. The one thing he looked to her for, she could not provide.
    Jane toyed with the notion that a more passionate relationship might have borne fruit, but quickly dismissed that foolishness. She knew of plenty of children who were the products of loveless marriages such as hers. No, she was merely unlucky.
    Hours passed as she tossed and turned, seeking a comfortable position and finding none. The silence of the huge stone castle was eerie, the darkness outside her narrow window absolute. She could not discern so much as one star in the inky sky, no moonlight, nothing to lift