The first scene in a series of narratives from Mr. Rochester's perspective. Each scene is meant to be inserted into the text of the novel "Jane Eyre" by Charlotte Brontë, to add explicit content that Jane leaves out of her autobiography.

This scene should be inserted near the end of chapter 15.

At this point in the novel Mr. Rochester and Jane have begun to fall in love with each other, but neither one has expressed it. Mr. Rochester is married to Bertha Mason, who is mentally insane and homicidal. He believes his marriage to Bertha should be invalid. The marriage took place fifteen years ago in Jamaica. He was tricked into it by his father who wanted him to marry Bertha for her large dowry. Both his father and her family knew she was insane, but they hid that fact from Mr. Rochester. Since then, his father has passed away leaving him in control of the estate. He is unable to divorce Bertha because of the marriage laws of the time. Her worsening condition has forced him to keep her locked up for her own safety, and the safety of others. He moved her to England so he could confine her in Thornfield Hall, his family home. He has kept his marriage a secret to protect his reputation from scandal and is believed by society to be single. He has spent the last several years traveling the world. He has turned to multiple mistresses in an attempt to escape the depressing reality of his marriage. He has grown dissatisfied with his lifestyle and has returned home to Thornfield repentant.

Upon his return he discovers a new employee in his home, Jane Eyre. Jane is an eighteen year old orphan, who was raised in a religious charity boarding school after being cast off at age 10, by her rich aunt. Jane has been hired by Thornfield's housekeeper Mrs. Fairfax to be the governess to Mr. Rochester's ward, Adèle. Adèle is the daughter of one of Mr. Rochester's mistresses. He denies that he is her father, but took responsibility for her when her mother passed away.

This scene takes place after Bertha has escaped from her hidden room on the third story and has attempted to murder Mr. Rochester by setting his bed on fire while he was asleep. Jane was woken by Bertha's laughter as she wandered the hall outside Jane's room. Jane opened the door to investigate the noise and finds smoke. She follows it to Mr. Rochester's room to discover the bed on fire. She tries to wake him, but he has been incapacitated by smoke inhalation. She puts the fire out with water from his wash basin. Then she runs back to her room to get her pitcher as well. Mr. Rochester finally wakes from a splash of water to his face. He realizes that Bertha must have set the fire and is loose in the house. He instructs Jane to wait for him while he investigates. The scene begins as he returns to Jane after apprehending Bertha and locking her back up in her hidden rooms.

I returned to my chamber, taking care to tread softly. I had no wish to disturb any of the servants in the house. When I reached the door, which I had left ajar, I saw her. She was just as I had placed her, seated in my chair. Her feet were pulled up beneath her and she was staring absentmindedly at the fire. My cloak was wrapped about her for warmth. She was worrying the collar with her fingers, tracing its edge across her cheek, feeling its coarse woolen texture. I paused, observing her unawares.

Can one be jealous of an object? I imagined her cradled upon my lap, my arms encircling her instead of that blasted cloak. Her head resting on my chest, as my hand stroked her cheek.

It had been several weeks now since I had begun to notice her. To think of her as more than a hireling. Indeed, she had captured my interest at our first encounter. When I'd come upon her in the lane and was thrown from my horse. She had stubbornly refused to leave without aiding me. I tried to brush her off, but she would not be deterred despite my rude manner. I was not accustomed to being disobeyed, especially by a woman. Her peculiarity fascinated me. In those first few weeks I endeavored to dismiss my infatuation as an inconsequential curiosity. But try as I might, thoughts of Miss Eyre continually entered my brain unbidden.

It became a habit of mine to send for her nearly every evening. There was little diversion in my country neighborhood that time of year. When I was alone I tended to brood over hated recollections of the past. She was a welcome distraction. Sometimes she would read or play for me. I discovered quickly that she was no singer, but she could play tolerably well. More often we would sit together before the fire.

She would listen quietly as I spoke of my experiences and observations. I was fascinated by her reserve, it took quite a bit of effort to draw her out. I beheld in her countenance the workings of an intelligent mind, endowed with curiosity, and a store of wisdom beyond her years. She turned over every point, every detail of my discourse in silence, then would respond with something concise, sometimes even teasing, but never revealing. Her eyes ever betraying the presence of deeper thoughts left unspoken, emotions that were never shared. How I longed to be the beneficiary of those secrets. She vexed me to no end. Eight years at Lowood? What a dreary existence that must have been. Its effects were evident, governing her conduct and stifling her vivacity. She was all obedience and self censure.

The only subject that could pierce her reserve was travel. She had a restless spirit. She longed to see the places I could describe from memory with her own eyes. Would that she were mine. I would give her everything she desired. I would carry her across the globe, over oceans to her heart's content. Until she had placed her foot on every continent and seen all the wonders of the earth.

The light of my candle betrayed my presence. She turned to me suddenly, a flash of fear in her eye. And rightly so, there was a presence that haunted Thornfield Hall that I could not banish. There was nothing for it but to continue to do all in my power to conceal it. I entered the room, closing the door behind me.

"I have found it all out, it is as I thought," I said as I approached her. I set the candle down on the washstand.

"How, sir?" She asked.

I was silent a moment. In the tumult of the fire and my haste to secure the house I could not recall the account she gave. I tried to affect calm.

"I forget whether you said you saw anything when you opened your chamber door."

"No sir, only the candlestick on the ground."

Thank heaven she had seen no more.

"But you heard an odd laugh? You have heard that laugh before, I should think, or something like it?"

She explained that she often heard that laugh, she believed it belonged to one of the more eccentric servants. I seized on her assumption, brushing aside her concerns. I made it clear that I expected her not to speak of this to anyone. I would explain all in the morning. The servants would be up in a few hours, there was no point disturbing them now.

"Goodnight then, sir." She said as she stood to go.

She slipped the cloak off her shoulders. My heart seized in my chest with the sudden realization she would leave me. Despite all that had occurred, after she had saved my life, she could walk away as if it were nothing.

"What! Are you quitting me already, and in that way?"

"You said I might go, sir."

"But not without taking leave. Not without a word or two of acknowledgment and good-will. Not, in short, in that brief, dry fashion. Why, you have saved my life! Snatched me from a horrible and excruciating death! And you walk past me as if we were mutual strangers! At least shake hands." I held my hand out to her. I longed to touch her, even if it were only the briefest handshake.

Hesitantly she placed her hand in mine. Her delicate fingers were like ice, they looked so small in comparison with mine. I covered them with my other hand, warming them.

"You have saved my life. I have a pleasure in owing you so immense a debt. I cannot say more. Nothing else that has being would have been tolerable to me in the character of creditor for such an obligation. But you...it is different... I feel your benefits no burden, Jane." I was overcome with gratitude, with longing. She was so near, within my very grasp.

"Goodnight again, sir. There is no debt, benefit, burden, obligation, in the case."

It was impossible for me to remain silent. "I knew you would do me good in some way, at some time. I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you. Their expression and smile did not... did not strike delight to my very inmost heart so for nothing." I brought her fingers to my lips, kissing her knuckles. "I have heard of good genii, there are grains of truth in the wildest fable. My cherished preserver, goodnight."

I watched her eyes, hoping to see some hint of feeling from her, as the firelight played across her face. She blushed, then her gaze fell to the floor.

"I'm glad I happened to be awake." She attempted a step back.

"What! You will go?"

"I am cold, sir," she was trembling.

"Cold? Yes... and standing in a pool. Go, then Jane. Go." I said without conviction.

Once again, she attempted to pull her hand from mine, but I did not release it. How could I? When every fiber of my being longed to embrace her. I brought my hand up to stroke her cheek.

"Don't go. My guardian angel," I said softly. "Your presence is such a comfort to me."

To my astonishment, she did not pull away, she closed her eyes as she took in a steadying breath. Then -dear God- she turned her face into my palm. By some miracle she actually welcomed my touch. Emboldened by her response, I slid my fingers into her hair and brought my lips to hers. Oh, so soft, sweet, and inviting. She was everything I desired, the very key to my reformation. Her pristine spirit was the restorative for my blackened soul. She alone brought the hope of happiness back into my existence.

I wrapped my arms about her, pulling her diminutive frame against me. Her lips parted with a gasp, and I took the opportunity to slip my tongue into her mouth. She started as our tongues met, a strange sensation for the uninitiated. But she did not demure, she opened to me as I deepened the kiss. I paused a moment, allowing her time to analyze the experience and waited for her response. Her tongue traced my lower lip experimentally, then slid into my mouth. I groaned. My little novice was a quick learner.

A cold sensation seeping across my chest brought me back to reality. I stepped back touching the front of my shirt. It was damp. But how was this? Without thought I touched her nightdress. It was wet. I sighed with frustration. No wonder she was cold, she had been waiting for me through the dark of a March night in a soaked nightdress. Indeed, she was shivering still.

"I'm sorry sir, I spilt half my pitcher in my haste as I returned from my room to... "

She fell silent as my palm cupped her breast. It was full and firm. I could feel her pert little nipple, hardened from the cold, through the clinging fabric. I slid my thumb over it, circling it as I brought my mouth to hers once again. She moaned and pressed closer to me as I gently rolled her nipple between thumb and forefinger.

That moan, the feel of her body, her mouth, it was too much. I was hard instantly at the sound. It reverberated deep into my soul, stoking the embers of my smoldering desire into rampant flames. I wanted to ravish her. To press her down onto the floor and cover her body. To take my pleasure, as I would have done with any number of mistresses. But no, she was unlike any of those mercenary women. She was not feigning interest to flatter. Or throwing herself at me in an attempt to gain my patronage. She was innocent. Her response was genuine. The realization humbled me.

I resolved to moderate myself. She deserved all the care and tenderness of which I was capable. I must seduce her, entice her to submit to my will. Already I realized that it was not only her body I desired, but her soul. I wanted her love. I would have both. I would have her totally for my own. I would begin tonight. Now. Here in this moment.

I slid my hands down her body to grip her arse. I kneaded her soft flesh, lifting her onto her toes as I pulled her to me. I ground my hardness against her belly. It was wonderful to hold her in my arms, to feel her body pressed to mine. My fantasies were hollow in comparison with reality.

"You have experienced so few pleasures in this life. I intend to repay my obligation for the service you've preformed saving mine."

I nipped and licked along her jaw, down her neck to find a tender spot beneath her ear. I grazed my teeth across her skin, breathing in her intoxicating scent. Her hands gripped my shoulders, and she tilted her head, allowing me greater liberty to explore. I wanted to worship her body, to give her more pleasure than she had yet conceived possible. I slipped my hand between us to caress her sex. I pressed firmly, rubbing my fingers over her mound. She gripped me tighter, and her breath caught in surprise at the sensation.

"Jane, let me show you one of life's greatest pleasures."

She made a quiet mewling sound and her hips ground against me.

"Yes, my fairy." I kissed her mouth. "I want to make you moan and quiver with the power of my touch." I took her face in my hands, I made her look into my eyes. "Tell me you want me."

"Yes," she gasped.

I lifted her in my arms. Taking a few steps across the room, I knelt and laid her on the carpet before the fire. I tore at my shirt pulling it over my head before returning to her. I ran my hand over the length of her body. She was so delicate, almost ethereal, conjuring thoughts of woodland sprites and fairies. That I was actually touching her seemed to me as unimaginable as really chancing upon one of those mystical creatures.

The fire warmed, she was no longer shivering. She nuzzled her face against my neck, breathing deeply. She shifted slightly, looking up at me questioningly. Her eyes ever expressing more than she would speak. There were a multitude of emotions on her face. She was fearful, but I saw curiosity there, courage, and dare I say, a measure of desire.

I kissed her mouth, her neck and chest. Her collar bone was peaking from beneath the laced edge of her nightdress. I kissed and licked its curve as my fingers fumbled with the ties at the front of the garment. The damned things would not loose. I took her breast into my mouth, biting gently at her nipple through the fabric. I needed to feel her bare skin. To taste it. I pulled roughly at the gown, not giving a damn if I tore it. Her hands covered mine, stilling them. Then she proceeded to deftly unfasten the ties herself. When they were free, I peeled away the damp clinging linen, exposing her.

My breath caught as I gazed upon those perfect ivory orbs in the firelight, peaked with taught dusky rose nipples. I took each mound in either hand covering first one peak with my mouth, then the other. I laved my tongue over them, suckling and nipping at each in turn. I worshiped her breasts, her chest and throat with my mouth as she arched and whimpered, entreating me for more.

I placed my hand upon her knee, gently sliding up under the hem of her nightdress. My thumb stroked slowly over her inner thigh while I continued to kiss her breasts. Her skin was butter soft, her flesh warm and supple. When my fingers traced over the curls at her center, I felt her start and her knees pressed together. I kissed her mouth.

"Let me touch you. I promise I'll be gentle."

I slid my finger over her cleft to find her bud. I teased it with a feather's touch, causing a jolt of pleasure to ripple through her.

"Ohhh" she sighed softly.

"Oh? You like that Jane" I whispered knowingly with a little chuckle.

I increased the pressure. She moaned and her body began to relax. I teased further down until I found her opening. I dipped my finger into her burgeoning wetness, spreading it up her slit. I rubbed it over her bud, moving faster now. She moaned more fervently and arched her hips.

"That's it, my fairy." I smiled between kisses.

I teased her until she was a sopping mess, dripping with desire. She was more than ready now. I gently slid my finger into her. I kissed her moaning mouth, thrusting my tongue into her as I pulsed my finger into her luscious little cunt. She was the very picture of passion. It was a marvel to watch her reserve melt away in response to my touch. Urging her further I introduced a second finger, gently stretching her, filling her. I brought my thumb over her bud, rubbing little circles over it to draw as much pleasure from her as I could.

I brought my hand, fingers slick with her wetness to her lips. Pressing them into her mouth. She sucked, and I kissed her, sharing the taste of her desire on her lips, but it wasn't enough. I moved down her body and slid her nightdress up to reveal her fully to me. I caught a glimpse of her pink lips, covered with a thatch of hazel curls. Her inner folds were glistening with her wetness. Her swollen bud was just peaking from beneath its protective layer of delicate skin.

I hardly had time to admire the scene before she was shifting defensively away from me.

"Mr. Rochester!" she protested in disbelief.

I chuckled. Was she shocked by my depravity? If she only knew what lewd scenes had played through my mind every evening as I sat with her in the drawing room.

"Jane," I whispered soothingly. I turned my head planting kisses on her thigh and stroking her creamy skin. "Jane, I want to kiss you here."

I stroked her thighs gently, until she surrendered, allowing me to spread her legs. I brought my mouth to her at last, laving my tongue up over that sensitive little bud as I feasted on her. Her breath hitched and she began to utter soft little sounds in time with each flick of my tongue.

"That's it, my fairy, my angel."

I buried my face between her thighs, doubling my efforts. Her scent, her taste, the sounds she made were all I could perceive. These sensations predominated over every thought, driving me on, building feverishly. I sank my fingers into her velvet heat, curving them upwards to tease her from within as my tongue tormented her from without. Bringing her closer and closer to oblivion.

I flicked and circled her pleasure bud, suckling gently but insistently. Her cries grew louder, and she thrust her pelvis against my mouth. Her nectar saturated my face. Then she was pleading.

"Please sir..." her breath came out in sobs, "I can't." She gasped.

She was close. She had no words to describe what she felt. Her whole body was rigid, attempting desperately to retain some measure of control.

"It's alright Jane. Let go, let the pleasure consume you!" I demanded.

I continued to assault her with my lascivious tongue. Her hands gripped my hair painfully by the roots. She was writhing against my face, arching her hips up to me. I felt her sex tightening around my fingers, her whole body tensed, and her thighs began to quiver.

"Yes... come for me."

It was mesmerizing to watch her fall over the cliff's edge. It was glorious, she had succumbed to me at last. She moaned as her body rippled with pleasure. Her eyes tightly shut, her face and chest flushed with color. She was breathless. A contented smile spread across her lips as she opened her eyes and gazed upon me. She was so beautiful, her breasts bared, her limbs languid. Her hair, which had fallen loose from its ribbon, was spread untidily about her shoulders. She was like a goddess.

Impatient for more, I loosed the fastenings of my breeches and took my cock in my hand. I saw her eyes widen as her gaze fell upon me. I stroked myself slowly, giving her time to examine. I wondered briefly if she understood my intention.

"Do you know how a man makes love to a woman?" I asked.

"Yes…" she responded, then a rueful smile crossed her lips.

I prodded her to continue her thought.

"It's only... I had thought it was solely pleasurable for the man. It seems I was mistaken."

I circled her sensitized opening with the pad of my thumb, watching her squirm with delight.

"Indeed," I said sardonically, "and still more to come."

She was so luscious. I don't believe I had ever desired anything greater in my life. I positioned myself above her, resting my cock over her belly. The tip stopped a few inches beneath her navel. She looked down at my member, then back to me, a dubious expression shaded her countenance. As if she were doubting the physical possibility of our joining. I renewed my vow to restrain myself. It would not do to cause her additional pain taking her too quickly like some inexperienced simpleton.

I began by rubbing my cock up and down her slit. Spreading her ample wetness upon me. I teased her bud with the head before finding her opening. I pressed in, gently parting her. I felt her body give. Her sex was sensuously tight, crowning the head of my cock. I heard her whimper as I pushed further. I kissed her mouth, trying as best as I could to reassure her. Her hands gripped my shoulders and she hid her face against my neck.

"Are you ready Jane?" I asked.

She nodded and I sank into her, burying my throbbing cock deep within her. I was enveloped in her heavenly warm tight wetness. I forced myself to take a few slow calming breaths. She was so decadently tight. It was all I could do to resist the urge to abandon caution and rut her like a mad animal. I held myself perfectly still, waiting for her. She had cried out, her body was rigid with discomfort. I knew it would pass, if only I could please her. I kissed her face and combed my fingers through the hair at her temple, whispering praises to her, attempting to palliate as best I could. I moved cautiously, drawing out almost completely before sliding deep into her again once, twice, then a third time. Gradually I felt her body ease. I turned her face to mine, locking eyes with her, questioning.

"Are you alright?"

She stared at me, words failing her.

"Tell me what you need my angel and I promise I will do it," I implored.

She simply said, "More."

What my feelings were I can not possibly describe. She wanted more? Then by God, I would give it. I thrust into her, withdrawing only to thrust back into her even harder. I pressed my face into her hair, repeating her name against her throat. Listening to her moan with pleasure while I fucked her. Her hands gripped my shoulders, clutching me to her. The sounds she made thrilled me, ushering me to madness. The world be damned, there were only the two of us now, and she was everything. I felt her tightening on my cock and I willed that her climax was near. I wanted to feel her pleasure from deep within. I reached my hand between us to rub her clit. I would make her come once more before I allowed myself the indulgence of my own release.

"Again Jane," I demanded. "Come for me again. Come for me now."

"Oh God!" she cried, as her body spasmed around me.

She released her grip and her arms fell above her head. I drove against the paroxysms that gripped her sex, forcing my cock deep into her until I felt my pleasure begin to peak. I withdrew, and a succession of quick strokes of the hand had me spilling my seed onto her thigh. I collapsed onto my side pulling her firmly against my chest, panting with spent effort.

Never had a woman meant so much. How had this novice, with her plain dress and quiet manner, bewitched me so completely? Her breathing was slow and deep. I stroked my hand down her arm and felt it break out in goose flesh. The fire had burned down to embers. It was becoming impossible to ignore the cold. I sat up surveying the room. The windows were tinted with the blue light that precedes dawn. The house would wake soon. Jane must have perceived it as well, she sat up. She had pulled her nightdress properly back into place and was securing the ties at the front. I stood and retrieved my shirt. I donned it and tucked it into my britches before fastening them. I helped Jane to her feet, pulling her into my arms for an embrace. She was stiff and reluctantly avoided my gaze. I wanted no hesitation or regret between us. Keeping my tone light, I tried to coax her to me.

"I have never had so much pleasure in paying a debt."

She said nothing in response. I placed a finger under her chin and turned her face to mine. She was trying hopelessly to control her features. She looked desperate, nearly panicked. She wanted dearly to save face. To press her further would be cruel. I was at a loss as to how I could console her.

"I think I hear Mrs. Fairfax move sir," she said urgently.

I could hear nothing. There was not yet any movement in the house, nevertheless I relented. I released my grip, mildly angered by her coldness.

"Well, leave me."

She slipped from my grasp and was gone without another sound.

What had I done, and how could I remediate it? I began my calculations immediately. I must have her. If I offered her marriage would she accept? Perhaps she would, only for the fact that we had lain together. She may have felt some sense of obligation in consequence of that act. I believed she had no interest in my wealth, but I could not discount that as an inducement. I shook my head in disgust, I did not want obligation. I wanted her mind, her spirit and her regard. I wanted her to come to me not with subservience, but as my equal. Above all I wanted her love.

My goal firmly set in my mind; I formed my plans. I would make her realize how perfectly she suited me, how happy she would be as my wife, and most importantly how wretched she would be without me.