Disclaimer: the characters and various plot ideas are based on the 'Twilight' series, which I do not own and did not write.

Author's Note: this story is set in my very own imaginative realm, which bears some resemblance to the Age of Chivalry, but not a lot.

Warning: this chapter contains a love scene and a fighting scene. Perhaps they balance one another out.

Jasper found Isabella fetching her bow from the barn. He followed her inside. Despite Alice's surety, he would rather speak to her before she had an arrow notched.

"I was wondering if I might speak to you, my lady. I fear that I owe you an apology."

"And I owe you thanks for the brooch."

Jasper took a deep breath, "I am very sorry to have offended you yesterday. Everything that I said came out wrong. I meant to say that, after the pool, I realised that you were not only a beauty, but also a generous-hearted woman. After the cave, I saw that you were not too delicate. I do not mean that you are unladylike, of course, but you are a strong woman. You are admirable in all things, and I long to spend my life getting to know you better."

"I do not understand, Sir Jasper. I asked you not to speak of this again. Do you think that new words will change my mind?"

Jasper sighed and stuttered. Alice had joked that he must gird his loins, but surely facing this woman was worse than facing ten enemies on horseback. "I think that you did not understand . . . that is to say, I think that I did not make myself clear when we spoke yesterday, Lady Isabella. I did not tell you that I had spoken to your father, that I had persuaded him to look kindly on my suit. I did not say, that I had planned this match and prepared it, and that all that was missing was your kind word. I failed to make you a proper sounding proposal, and you believed that I was daring to suggest a clumsy scrabble."

Isabella stared at him, taking it in. By the time he had asked her in the cave, he had already spoken to Father. That must mean that he hadn't thought she was compromised at all. He had meant to ask her to marry him. "Oh dear, I can't believe you proposed to me, and I scolded you!"

Jasper smiled, "perhaps we could leave that out when we tell people of your answer. It is, I think, traditional for a woman to save scolding her man until after the wedding day. I am getting ahead of myself, though, please, may I have an answer?"

"Yes, Sir Jasper, I will marry you with the greatest of pleasure."

"I think it might be time for you to call me Jasper, my lady."

"Oh," Isabella blushed, "then you should call me Bella. Only my father calls me Isabella, and I should not like to think of you as being too like my father."

Jasper laughed, "Bella," he said, "I like the sound of that. I will call you 'Bella' every day. My beautiful Bella. And, you will call me Jasper?"

She laughed. "Of course, Jasper. Until we are married, and then I shall call you 'my lord' and be ever so meek and obedient."

"I hope it will not be a hardship for you," he looked at the beautiful girl and wondered what marriage would really mean for her. Was it merely an exchanging of one set of restrictions for another? She had joked that she shouldn't like to think of him as too like her father, but surely he must be. When Bella came home, it would be his duty to protect and shield her from the world. That must involve restricting her. "I will let you watch the hunt," he promised, "whenever it pleases you. And there shall be as many dances as you like."

Bella laughed, "I will not wear you or your floors out with dancing. But, I would very much like to ride out from time to time. Perhaps you will take me."

They shared a vision of riding out together on sunny days. Then they shared a smile.

"We must tell your parents."

"Of course," Bella looked down, "but, I would prefer to be wearing something more suitable." She was dressed in her oldest dress, which was fine for shooting in the grounds, but hardly fitted for an audience with her father. "I ought not to have received you in such drab garb."

"You hardly received me, I sought you out. But, you are right, go and change, then we will approach your father together. I look to gladden him with this news."

"I am sure he will be pleased," there was a coy hesitation, then she said, "Jasper."

He smiled, never having liked his name so well before. "Good day, Bella."

"Good day, Jasper" Isabella said enjoying one last chance to use his name, then rising to leave.

Neither of them saw Edward arrive and stand in the doorway of the barn. He saw them, though. What he saw burned itself into his mind, like a brand, it left a horrible steaming scar.

She hesitantly tipped her head, to allow Jasper to approach her. He stooped slightly and leant in to give her cheek a long, lingering kiss. Once she had told her parents, he would be able to kiss more than her cheek. For, now, however, he would enjoy the feel of his lips brushing this soft skin.

As Bella left the barn, she kept her eyes fixed on Jasper, she didn't see Edward standing in the doorway, until she bumped into him. Then she blushed bright red and muttered an apology.

Edward stared at her, still seeing her face attached to Jasper's mouth. He didn't think that his mind would ever again be without the image of Jasper kissing Isabella's perfect cheek. It would be an epithet that followed his every thought. There she was standing before him, and Jasper kissed her cheek. She wanted to get past him, and Jasper had kissed her cheek. Forever, he would know that and think it.

Seeing he wasn't going to move out of her way, Bella tried to push past him.

Suddenly, Edward grabbed her by the wrist, "stay," he said in a rough, commanding voice, forgetting that they were not alone in his desperation to speak with her. Forgetting, to his great cost, that they were not alone.

A squire must never, ever, ever, lay a hand on a lady. Filling up with a desire to tear and burn, Jasper took hold of his servant by the neck and pulled him away. Isabella fled the room, leaving Jasper glaring at the boy that he held firmly in his hand.

"Are you sick?"

Edward shook his head. Jasper's grip of his neck was making it hard to breathe and he didn't trust himself to talk. He might need that air for later.

Jasper noticed the problem and let him go, though he stayed right next to him, deliberately looming over him, taking full advantage of his greater height.

"Are you mad?"

Edward slunk backwards, he'd given up hope on talking to Isabella now. He would have to find some way to approach her later. Right now, he was bent on surviving Jasper's wrath. "No, sir."

"Then your behaviour is completely unacceptable. You cannot touch a lady. You can certainly not attempt to restrain a lady. That would be bad behaviour from her equal, from you it is such coarse presumption that, had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would not credit it."

Edward cringed, Jasper was making himself angrier and angrier with every word he spoke.

Jasper grabbed a whip, which was hanging on the door and, without even warning Edward to assume a suitable position, struck him hard across the shoulders.

Edward gasped at the sudden pain, and tried to turn and face his master, to offer his apologies, or at least to give him time to calm himself. But, Jasper gripped him again and held him in place. He struck him again, this time on the back.

It was the first time that anyone had thrashed Edward like this. The blows fell anywhere, without plan or measure. The whip fell on his back, on his shoulders, on his hips, on his buttocks, on his legs. Jasper was striking without any thought, but to cause pain.

Furious, and hurt, Edward span back around and raised his own fist, intending to fight back. Jasper grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind his back, using it to hold him firmly in place. Edward pulled back his other fist and struck Jasper hard, catching his eye and dazing him.

But, Jasper had fought before. Being dazed made him raise his guard rather than lower it. Edward kicked backwards, but Jasper saw it coming and shoved him roughly against a convenient table, forcing him up onto his toes and bending him over the table.

Edward was unbalanced, held over the table, only just remaining on his feet. He wasn't going to kick again. His right arm was twisted behind his back, his left arm was crushed under his chest. Jasper pressed down on Edward, holding him firmly and painfully in place. Then, Jasper raised his whip and laid the first stripe across Edward's back.

Now Edward turned his head to protest, to beg for mercy, but Jasper ignored him and the whip struck again, cutting a red line down his cheek.

Shocked, Edward froze for a few seconds. Jasper used that time to whip him all over his back and legs.

This was nothing like that first time that Jasper had beaten him. Then he had been sorry to do it, but he had wanted to teach Edward an important lesson. Now he was furious and he wanted to destroy something of Edward. There was no time to strip his tunic, Jasper was letting the whip tear the fabric; if he kept going for long enough, Edward would be stripped anyway. This time, there was no soft command, no telling the boy that it would be over soon. This time the blows rained down without any suggestion that they might ever stop.

Jasper had not given an order to bend over and he had not given Edward time to steady himself and prepare for the force. His strokes were harsh and rough. At one point, with a savage blow to the small of his back, where the handle caught him as well as the lash, Edward's breath was knocked out. Jasper continued to thrash him, lifting the whip high and cracking it down hard. Edward's collapse against the table was not enough to steady him and he tumbled further, crashing onto the floor.

The thin tunic tore and the ragged edges of the fabric cut into the open wounds on Edward's back. His knuckles were raw, where he'd caught them on the table and the floor. He was bleeding and sobbing, choking on his tears and gasping to catch his breath. Jasper stood over him, striking him again and again.

Suddenly Edward got a new burst of energy. He twisted around looking up at his looming master and shouted, "stop this!"

Finally, Jasper saw what he was doing. He saw the boy, huddled on the floor, his hands held up to protect his head, bearing cuts where Jasper's aim had been particularly poor. Jasper saw the ripped clothing and the thin lines of blood. He saw that Edward was shaking with sobs, but also with fear. He saw that he was stood, his feet holding the boy in place, and he was flogging him mercilessly. He saw that he was not punishing the boy, he was torturing him. He threw the whip away and strode out of the room before he saw himself kicking his squire.