Highland Conqueror, page 10
What she could see a need for was a little private talk with Sigimor. No kisses, no pressing that fine, strong body up against hers, and no licking her neck. Just talk. Jolene had come up with a plan she felt he ought to consider. It was one that would satisfy his need to marry her to keep her out of Harold’s clutches, yet insure that he was not tied for life to a woman he did not love.
Staring at the small stone church they stood in front of as she waited for Sigimor to finish speaking, she tried to strengthen her resolve. She just hoped she did not lose her courage in the end. It had taken a great deal of effort to decide to present him with her plan. A loud, somewhat hysterical voice in her head was crying out in shock and denial. If Sigimor did not hurry up and finish his talk with the priest, Jolene feared she would falter, that she would take what she wanted, never telling the man her plan to save them both from being trapped in a marriage neither of them had freely chosen.
Sigimor could almost feel Jolene’s impatience, but he kept his attention fixed firmly upon his cousin William. What good was it to have a priest in the family if the man could not do what he wanted, he thought crossly. When Liam had told him that the priest they were riding to meet with was a kinsman, Sigimor had been delighted. He had forseen getting Jolene married to him and thoroughly bedded before her clever little mind could think of any alternative to his plan. Instead, he was wasting precious time arguing with a cousin who was proving to be inordinately fond of following the rules.
“There are rules that must be followed, m’laird,” William said, then glanced at Jolene. “And she is English.”
The way William stared at Jolene as if he feared she would turn into some warty demon right before his eyes was beginning to irritate Sigimor. “I did notice that.”
“There are banns that must be called out, signed agreements from her kinsmen—”
“Her kinsmen are dead save for the fool chasing us with murder on his mind. Aye, and if he gets his filthy hands on her, he will drag her back to England and wed her. He will make her life a pure hell on earth for a while, then he will kill her. And, he will not be told he has to wait to marry her, either.”
“Corrupt priests,” snapped William. “England is ripe with them. Do not try to tell me this is all some noble gesture on your part, either. You lust after her. Well, you can just wait a few weeks.”
“Or, I can throttle a priest in the next minute or so.”
“Sigimor,” Liam said sharply as he stepped up beside him, then gave William a friendly smile. “Cousin, it may be true that Sigimor’s reasons are not all noble,” he said in Gaelic, “but that does not change the truth of what he has told you. This Harold intends to marry himself to the woman to tighten his grip upon all he has gained by murdering her brother. Once he has removed the child from his path, he will certainly be rid of her. If she already has a husband, however, it will put at least a short halt to his plots. That way, if he gains hold of her, we will have time to rescue her. Come, are not two innocent lives worth a little bending of the rules?”
“But, rules are set out for a reason—” began William, although doubt now clouded his expression.
“Aye, to keep some rogue from grabbing an heiress and marrying her against her will. Such is not the case here. Sigimor will not gain much of anything from this marriage for her dowry will surely be held fast in England. Handfast will not protect her. The marriage needs a priestly blessing. Now, if you feel you must obey the rules, call the banns three times, just wait only a few minutes between each one. We can also write up a marriage agreement and we have witnesses right here.”
William hesitated another moment, then nodded. “I will do it. I shall wait seven minutes between each calling. Liam, you can help me write up a marriage agreement,” he said even as he started toward the church.
“Sigimor,” Jolene said the moment the others left them, “I have come up with a plan. I have been thinking—”
“I was afraid of that,” Sigimor muttered.
She decided to ignore that remark. “I do not dispute any of the arguments you put forth yestereve. Howbeit, this marriage need not be so final. If ’tis left unconsummated—” She squeaked softly as he started to drag her toward the apple orchard just behind the church. “Where are we going?”
“To some place that is private so that I may say a few things I dinnae want the others to hear.”
That sounded ominous, Jolene thought, but did not offer any protest. If they were about to have an argument over something as private as consummating their marriage, she did not want them overheard, either. Hers was a very good plan, but, when they stopped just within the orchard and Sigimor yanked her into his arms, Jolene strongly suspected he was not going to agree with it. She wondered why she did not feel dismayed by that possibility.
“Did ye really think that I would agree to nay bedding my own wife?” he asked.
It was a little difficult to maintain any order to her thoughts when he held her so close to him, but Jolene persevered. “Marriage, once consummated, is forever. We have known each other for but a few days and most of that time was spent running from Harold. We may not suit each other at all, but once we, er, share a bed, there will be no turning back.” That was not exactly true, but she would rather face walking away from an unconsummated marriage than leaving a man she had been intimate with.
“Aye, I ken it. Why would ye think we wouldnae suit?”
“Tis possible. We really do not know each other well. As I said, we have only been together for a few days and most hours of those days were spent on horseback. A fortnight from now you may well regret this most heartily. Why not wait a while ere you make this a true and binding marriage?”
“This is why.”
The moment he lifted her off her feet, she wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself. She opened her mouth to tell him to put her down and he kissed her. It took but one stroke of his tongue in her mouth and she lost all urge to protest. By the time he ended the kiss, Jolene was clinging to him like the most tenacious ivy. Even as she tilted her head to allow him better access to her throat, she struggled to regain her senses.
“E’en if ye refuse to marry me, lass, I will have this.” He traced the shape of her small ear with his tongue and felt her tremble. “Aye, and I think ye ken it.”
She did and wondered why she did not feel shamed by that admission. The rules were most clear. A lady clung tightly to her virtue until she was married. She did not stand in orchards and cling tightly to big, strong Scotsmen. Yet, she could not deny the truth Sigimor spoke so bluntly. Married or not, she would share his bed. She did not have the strength of will to keep turning away from what he could make her feel. At least if they were married she would not be sinning, she thought as he gently detached her from him and set her back on her feet. There was still that possibility of fleeing back to England and having the marriage ended there, she reminded herself.
As she met his steady gaze, saw the desire darkening his eyes, she decided to stop worrying about it. Why not grasp a little delight for herself? Why not savor the pleasure she knew he could give her for as long as she could? If the passion he offered proved to be a shallow thing, if there proved to be nothing else to bind them together, she had a bolthole. At least she would have some very fine memories to cling to if she had to return to her old life.
“Very well,” she said.
The words had barely left her lips when he grasped her by the hand and towed her back to the church. A few sweet words or gentle assurances that all would be well might have been nice, Jolene muttered to herself as she struggled to keep pace with him. Sigimor did seem to be somewhat inept at wooing, except for his ability to kiss her senseless. She doubted it was solely due to the fact that they were running from Harold and that gave a man little time for a proper courtship.
Sigimor was just about to march into the church when the priest opened the door and beckoned them inside. Jolene was vaguely aware of the others standing behind them as they knelt before the priest. She felt a touch of sorrow over the fact that the only member of her family to witness her marriage was Reynard who was too young to understand the importance of the occasion. She also buried an attack of guilt as she said her vows, speaking the sacred words even as she held fast to the plan to end the marriage once Harold was defeated. Jolene tried to ease the fear that she was lying to God by telling herself she would only flee if she foresaw absolutely no hope of a good marriage.
Once the vows were spoken and the blessing given, Sigimor led her to a small table set against the wall. “Tis the marriage lines,” he said and pointed to the bottom of the document. “Put your mark here.”
Jolene nodded and began to read the paper.
“What are ye doing?” asked Sigimor.
“Reading this document,” she replied, a little surprised at how simple it was.
“Tis in Latin.” Sigimor frowned at her.
“I did notice that.”
Once over his shock that she was a learned woman, he felt a pinch of insult over how carefully she was reading the document. “There is nay reason to read it so carefully or do ye think I mean to trick ye in some way?”
“Nay, of course not, but Peter was always adamant that one should read a document most carefully before putting one’s seal to it. He said that, no matter how honest the man, no matter how much you trust him, it takes but one error in spelling or one awkward phrasing to alter the whole meaning of the agreement. He also said that, although you and the other man may ne’er take advantage of that error, there is no trusting what someone else may do with it.”
Her immediate assurance that she did not suspect him of any trick soothed Sigimor’s pride. He also had to agree with the lessons Peter had taught her. The way both Liam and William had murmured their agreement told him he was right to think Peter’s advice had been wise. She could not know how precise Liam always was in his writings. When she began to sign her name, he leaned over her shoulder to watch and his eyes widened.
“Jolene Ardelis Magdalen Isabeau deLacy Gerard Cameron? Wheesht, the name is bigger than ye are,” he muttered.
“Mother felt compelled to honor a vast array of her family,” Jolene replied. “Poor Peter was also so inflicted.” She briefly smiled at Reynard. “He made sure his wife did not succumb to the same impulse. Reynard is named after his two grandfathers and no more. So, he is Reynard Henry Gerard. A few of our kinsmen disapproved, feeling that such a short name was, well, almost common. Peter would always reply that few would find it common when Reynard reached an age to add Earl of Drumwich after his name, along with Baron of Kingsley, which he already holds claim to.”
Sigimor watched the little boy idly skipping around the men gathered in the church. “Tis a lot of weight the wee lad carries upon his shoulders.”
“Aye, and it will only grow heavier for his mother’s family holds several other titles and, unless someone breeds a son soon, they shall fall to him.”
“But Harold cannae claim them if the boy dies, can he?”
“Nay, for he holds no blood tie with the mother’s family. I am not sure he knows of all Reynard might claim. It could change his mind about his dark plans for the child. As guardian, he would have access to whatever wealth there is within those estates. Then again, he may know a little about how important Reynard is to his mother’s family for he was as careful to stop me from sending word to them as he was in keeping me from contacting any of my own kinsmen.”
“Reynard’s guardian will have to be verra carefully chosen.”
“Aye, but I fear I will have little say in the matter.”
“Weel, there is no use worrying o’er it now.”
She nodded and watched Sigimor take the priest aside for a moment. It was a little difficult to accept that she was married. No rings had been exchanged and there would be no celebration. In a few minutes they would all be back on their horses to ride until the sun set. She was not even sure her wedding night would be spent in a proper bed.
Then Sigimor’s brother and cousins encircled her, welcoming her to their family and helping themselves to some rather hearty kisses. Their good humor began to banish her confusion and that touch of sadness she had been unable to shake. Just as Liam took her into his arms and placed his lips against hers, she felt a strong arm curl around her waist. She yelped in surprise as she was yanked out of Liam’s embrace.
“Keep your lips off my wife,” Sigimor said as he took her by the hand and led her out of the church.
“I was but welcoming her to the family,” replied a grinning Liam. “Tis an old custom to kiss the bride.”
Sigimor made a very rude comment about what Liam could do with that custom. Jolene blushed even as she felt like laughing. Her new husband was obviously feeling possessive. It was no real indication of any deeper feelings, but, added to the desire he felt for her, it caused Jolene to feel a glimmer of hope for their future.
After helping her settle Reynard into his blanket sling, Sigimor set her on her horse, then took her hand in his and scowled at it. “A bride should have a ring.”
“It matters not,” she said. “With Harold nipping at our heels such things become of little importance.”
“Ye will have one as soon as we reach Dubheidland.”
He kissed the finger a ring should have been resting on, then strode away to his horse. Jolene inwardly shook her head. She never would have thought Sigimor would be troubled by such a thing, yet it was obvious that he was. And everyone thought women were difficult to understand, she mused as she nudged her mount into a pace to equal Sigimor’s. As they rode, Jolene hoped that she could think of enough complicated problems to fully occupy her mind. If she was very lucky, she would not spend every minute from now until they halted for the day fretting over her wedding night.
Jolene stared at her new husband and tried very hard not to swallow her tongue. They had stopped in a village when the sun had only just begun to set. Sigimor had been very efficient in getting them a room, a bath, and a meal, as well as in enlisting his brother Tait to care for Reynard for the night. They had bathed and eaten their meal, then she had undressed to her shift and climbed into bed. Now Sigimor stood beside the bed prepared to join her beneath the covers and he was completely naked.
She was not sure where to look. There was an awful lot of Sigimor to see. Having never seen a fully naked man before, she did feel curious, but that did little to soothe her nerves. This particular naked man was about to climb into bed with her and consummate their marriage. Jolene dearly wished she knew exactly how that was done. She had the feeling it concerned that rather large protrusion at his groin and she found that thought a little alarming.
He was beautiful though, she admitted as she looked him over while carefully avoiding his groin. All taut, smooth muscle and a well-proportioned body. There was very little hair upon his broad chest. A small feathering of dark red curls there, then a little line of hair starting at his navel and leading down to a thick nest of curls around that protrusion. She quickly looked at his long, well-shaped legs and noted the rather light covering of hair on them. Jolene forced her gaze back to his groin and blushed furiously. It had not seemed quite so intimidating when she had felt it pressed against her as they had embraced, but then they had been fully clothed. Surely men did not walk about with it like that all the time? She was certain she would have noticed it before if they did.
Sigimor sighed even as he felt himself harden even more beneath Jolene’s gaze. He had known she was a virgin and that he would have to move slowly and gently when he bedded her. It was apparant, however, that she was also a highly sheltered virgin. He had the sinking feeling he might even have to explain what was about to happen. That could require a great deal more patience and delicacy than he possessed. The prize was worth it, he told himself firmly as he slipped into bed beside her.
“What is this?” he asked as he began to unlace her shift.
“A shift,” she replied. “Something a woman wears beneath her gown. You claim some worldly experience. Did you ne’er take off—” She was unable to finish for he was pulling her shift over her head.
“A wife doesnae need to wear her shift to bed,” he said as he tossed it aside. “Wives come to their husband’s bed naked.”
“Then why do some women spend coin on night shifts trimmed with lace and ribbons?” she demanded.
“I have ne’er understood that. To let their mon ken they are interested, I suppose. Then, they both get naked.”
Jolene found it all rather astonishing. She was lying in bed, naked, with a very large, naked man and she was trying hard not to giggle. Sigimor was being outrageous and the gleam in his eyes told her he knew it. She refused to encourage him by laughing.
“Lass,” he said quietly, and brushed a kiss over her mouth, “I willnae hurt ye.” He grimaced slightly. “Weel, mayhap a wee bit, but ’tis as nature intended. I can do naught about that. Howbeit, ’tis only the first time. Do ye understand?”
“Not one word.” He looked so dismayed she had to smile. “I am sorry. I think, mayhap, I was kept very, very sheltered. Since I was ne’er close to being wed, no woman was sent to tell me what happens in the marriage bed. I think the best solution may be for you to just set about it. I will follow where you lead.”
“That sounds a fine plan.”
Sigimor wanted to just look at her, to study and savor the sight of her slim body. He wanted to taste that soft, pale skin from her lips to her toes and back up again. There were a lot of things he had dreamed of doing once he got her into his bed, but fulfilling those dreams would have to wait. This time he would have to bow to her innocence, would have to be as mindful of her modesty as he was of the need to stir her passion. He could only hope that he could stir her passion until it was hot enough to make the breaching of her maidenhead of little consequence.
