Highland Conqueror, page 17
“I suppose not, though it did not trouble me so much before. I think, ’tis just that it has been a peaceful two days and he is so happy right now.”
“Aye, most like. Now, why did ye look so sad when Fiona took her bairn and I came to sit with ye?”
Caught up in her thoughts of all poor Reynard was being forced to bear because of Harold, Jolene spoke the full truth without thinking. “Ahearn felt so nice in my arms. I am three and twenty, childless when most women my age have already borne a few children.” She blushed as she began to realize what she was confessing. “It was nothing important.”
Sigimor stood up, leaned over and lightly kissed her. “Tis important if ’tis making ye feel sad. Ye were just feeling a natural, womanly craving for your own bairn.” He winked at her as he started out of the room. “Dinnae worry. Ye will be holding your own bairn soon. Aye, I will give ye as many as ye want.”
“Boastful fool,” she said, but he just laughed.
She sighed and looked around the now empty room. Upon her arrival, she would never have thought she would be so reluctant to leave in only two days, but she was. Jolene knew some of that was because she could not be sure she would ever see any of these people ever again. If she told anyone she knew in England about Scarglas and its people, they would think she was insane for wanting to stay, yet she had felt safe here. And welcomed, despite the old laird’s constant grumbling about her being English. She was especially going to miss Fiona, the first true friend she had ever had. They were like souls and had known it instantly, a rare thing that she was loathe to give up.
Then she thought of Sigimor’s boastful promise to give her as many bairns as she wanted and nearly wept. Although she had only just acknowledged that craving, it had already settled itself deep into her heart. Yet, she was still not certain she could stay with him and so she dared not dream of such things as little redheaded babies. Even as common sense told her to put aside such thoughts for now, however, the craving remained. So did the sorrow over the chance that she would have to walk away from such dreams.
Afraid she was thinking herself into a deep melancholy, Jolene got up and went to pack her things. This was all Harold’s fault, she told herself, grasping for a cleansing, righteous anger to banish her heartache. If not for his greed, she would still be at Drumwich, still have Peter, and be preparing herself for some acceptable marriage. She would not have met Sigimor or Fiona. She would certainly not be grieving over the loss of redheaded babies she had not even conceived yet. By the time she reached her bedchamber, she was pleasantly enraged, her sorrow forgotten, and her mind filled with thoughts of all the ways Harold could be forced to pay for his crimes.
“Ye best keep that one,” said Ewan as he moved to stand beside Sigimor in the torchlit bailey.
Sigimor took his gaze from his wife and Fiona saying their farewells in the damp predawn, and frowned at Ewan. “Why wouldnae I?”
“Matters arenae fully settled, are they? E’en when ye put an end to the threat Harold presents, the future of that wee lad is still in question. Because of the promise your wife made to her dying brother, that means her future is uncertain, too.”
“Her future is with me. She is my wife.”
“She is also guardian to that bairn, although no law would recognize her as such. Howbeit, that is what her brother made her when he set the life and welfare of his heir into her wee hands. Dinnae close your eyes to that hard truth.”
“She and I will face what needs doing when the time comes,” Sigimor said and ignored Ewan’s soft curse. “Our two lasses became close verra quickly, aye?”
“Aye,” Ewan replied, accepting the change in subject. “Fiona says they are like souls or some such thing, and saw that in each other almost immediately. She also says that, although your wife doesnae see it, she was verra much alone for most of her life. Fiona then told me that Jolene found this pack of fools a bit overwhelming, so ye had best be prepared for her to feel the same when she first sets foot in Dubheidland. She and the lad were kept apart from others, or so Fiona believes. Her brother was obviously verra blood proud, keeping the lines between the laird and all others verra clearly drawn.”
Sigimor nodded. “Jolene said as much earlier today. Tis a wonder that she isnae tainted by that, isnae haughty at all.” He shrugged. “Mayhap that is why she was alone. She was set in a place she didnae really fit in.”
“Could be. Weel, she fits now, eh? And Fiona wanted me to tell ye that, if ye dinnae keep this one, she will do ye an injury. Of course, I told her that, if ye lost this lass, she wouldnae have to trouble herself, that ye would be bloodied enough already.”
A little troubled by his cousin’s insight, Sigimor just grunted. He did not want to think of what would happen once Harold was dealt with. He had a plan and he would concentrate on that for now. Jolene was his mate and she would love him. It was not until he heard Ewan chuckle that he realized he had spoken that last thought aloud.
“A good plan, Cousin,” said Ewan, “and I wish ye luck with it.” He looked at Fiona and smiled faintly. “If ye do get her to say she loves ye, try to get her to say always. Your sister’s mon agrees with me. Tis something ye dinnae ken ye want ’til ye hear it. Aye, get her to say always.”
Sigimor opened his mouth to ask why, then quickly closed it. The word had already settled into his mind and heart. He would hear Jolene say she loved him and he would hear her promise him always.
“Heed me, Jolene,” said Fiona, holding both of Jolene’s hands in hers, “think verra, verra hard ere ye make your choices. Aye, that wee lad is verra important, but so is what ye have with Sigimor.”
“I am not sure what I have with Sigimor,” Jolene said.
“And ye may nay be sure when the time comes to choose, either. Sigimor is like my Ewan and my brother Connor. My brother Diarmot, too, in many ways. They fought love hard, though they couldnae let go of the women who stirred such unwanted feelings within them. Aye, and sweet words arenae their way, either. Ye have to look at what they do, how they act.”
“But, how can I trust my own judgment? I could very easily see only what I want to see, not what is truly there.”
Fiona smiled in complete understanding. “It is difficult, but nay impossible. And, if a mon like Sigimor gives ye his heart, ’tis yours forever. When such men love a lass, they love her hard and ne’er waver. They mate, and ’tis truly for life. Few highborn lasses such as we are so blessed in their marriages.”
“Oh, Fiona, how I would like such a marriage, but—”
“Nay, dinnae think on why he said he was marrying ye. The beginning isnae important. They are usually lying to themselves about the why of it all anyway. Now, when the time comes to make your choice, ask yourself some questions. Is the passion fierce and shared?” Fiona nodded when Jolene blushed. “I thought it was. I could see it in Sigimor’s eyes when he looked at ye.”
“Tis just lust.”
“Sigimor isnae so verra different from my Ewan. He fed the need when it grew strong, but nay more than that. He would buy himself a tussle now and then. He had no lemans and didnae woo the better born lasses. He slept alone. Save for what was a young lad’s idiocy with that Lady Barbara, he has ne’er done elsewise. Yet, he cannae seem to keep his hands off ye. Dinnae excuse that as just lust.
“Now, it looks as if Sigimor is ready to leave, so I had best spit out the rest of the questions ye must ask yourself. Does he do all he can to see to your comfort? Does he seem possessive and suffer from jealousy? Does he talk with ye? Does he bristle at the verra hint of an insult to ye? Does he explain himself if ye ask him to? Does he listen to ye? Does he ken your moods and ask ye the why of them? Is he at ease in your company and does he laugh with ye? And, does he hold ye in his arms throughout the night?”
“These things are important?” Jolene asked even as she committed the questions to memory.
“Verra important. I wish I could tell ye more, but promise me that ye will ask yourself these questions ere ye make your choice between the lad and the mon, and that ye will think verra hard on the answers.”
“I swear.”
Fiona hugged her, then looked at Sigimor as he stepped up beside Jolene and draped his arm about her shoulders. “Ready to slip away?”
“Aye,” replied Sigimor. “Fingal says the lads have Harold and his men weel occupied.”
“It seems unfair to put them at risk,” murmured Jolene. “Tis my trouble, not theirs.”
“They arenae at risk,” said Ewan as he stood behind Fiona and wrapped his arms around her. “They but taunt and tease, turning that Sassenach about until he is dizzy. Aye, and they will do so until the dawn. Ye ought to have a fine lead on the fool by then.”
“Aye,” agreed Sigimor, “and then he will have to find himself some new horses.”
The fact that the men heartily enjoyed that circumstance caused Jolene to roll her eyes in disgust. She saw Fiona do the same, revealing yet again, how in harmony they were. Then Ewan surprised her by moving away from Fiona and giving her a brief, but not very brotherly, kiss. The moment he stepped back, Jolene found herself hurried over to her horse and tossed up into her saddle by a fiercely scowling Sigimor. Ewan and Fiona stood arm in arm, grinning widely at what Jolene could only see as Sigimor’s jealous reaction to that farewell kiss from Ewan. And, Jolene thought, she would not be at all surprised if Fiona and Ewan had planned it just to see how their cousin would react.
As they started to ride out of Scarglas, Jolene looked back and saw Fiona hold up one finger. Jolene could only smile as she waved, then quickly turned her full attention to keeping up with the Camerons. She supposed she did now have the answer to one of the ten questions Fiona had insisted she ask herself. That had been one of the easy ones for Sigimor had revealed such possessiveness before. However, Jolene suddenly realized that the answers to the ten questions would draw her a very adequate picture of what her husband felt for her. She had promised Fiona she would consider all ten questions simply because the woman was a friend, but Jolene knew that she would do so for her own sake now.
The stealth used to leave Scarglas reminded Jolene very strongly of the threat to her life and Reynard’s, however, so she put such puzzles aside. Sigimor had set Reynard with Liam just in case something went terribly wrong and they had to ride hard to shake Harold off their trail. Another strong sign of the uncertainty that surrounded them, and would continue to do so as long as Harold lived.
“Stay close, lass,” Sigimor said as he slowed a little to ride by her side. “The sun willnae rise for a few hours yet and ye dinnae want to lose us in the dark.”
“Nay, I will be sure to stay close,” she assured him. “If I think I am falling behind, I will tie my reins to your horse’s tail.”
“And if ye do lose sight of us?”
“I will stop and not move another step,” she replied, reciting the lesson he had repeated to her over and over again since she had fallen into Harold’s hands that one time. “Mayhap sing a little.”
“Ah, and ye do have some sense of tune and tone, do ye?”
“Some.” She grinned at him. “More than you, leastwise.”
“A toad has more than me.” He winked at her when she laughed, pleased to see her sadness easing away. “Ye liked Fiona, aye?”
“Oh, aye. Have you ever met someone and just known that you were a perfect match?”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say that he had indeed and that it was her, but it was the wrong place and the wrong time. “Aye. Ye mean someone ye ken is a friend from the moment ye meet him?”
Jolene nodded. “Exactly. The sort of person who makes ye realize that most of the people you know and refer to as friends are really not much more than pleasant acquaintances. That is what I felt with Fiona, a true bonding. I realized that I had never truly had a friend before.” She grimaced. “That sounds rather pitiful. After all, I did have Peter.”
“Peter was your brother and the earl. Aye, I dinnae doubt ye were close, but ’tisnae the same. My brother Somerled is my twin, my womb brother, and I dinnae think any two siblings can be closer than that. I also have a verra big family and we are close. Yet, I ken what ye mean by that occasional one ye meet whom ye immediately feel a bond with.”
“And you have met someone like that?”
“Twice. Liam, though he is a cousin, and Nanty. Actually, I must include Ewan as weel. I felt it, but with the breach between the families and the way he got his hands on Fiona, I had to be wary. It did mean, however, that, e’en though he had taken Fiona hostage and had married her without e’en meeting her kin, I didnae just kill him.”
“Very good of you, m’lord. I suspect Fiona was pleased.”
“Aye, although her brother Connor was a wee bit disappointed that I didnae at least bruise the fool a wee bit.”
“Oh, dear. He did not do so, did he?”
“Nay, for Fiona had already written to him about the mon, that she had chosen him.”
“Ah, and, of course, the possibility that Fiona would hurt you if you hurt Ewan had no part in your restraint.”
Sigimor laughed. “Och, aye, she would have, too. Nay doubt about it.” He saw her glance behind them, narrowing her eyes as she tried to peer through the pre-dawn gloom. “Nay, lass, he isnae following. S’truth, I suspect we will be safe at Dubheidland ere he can e’en take up the hunt again. If naught else, he and his men will be on foot until they leave MacFingal lands.”
Jolene smiled faintly and shook her head. “It feels as if he has been holding a knife to my throat for months instead of but days. He has proven far better at this than I would ever have thought him to be.”
“At first he just wanted to catch ye both because of all his grand plans. Now, I think he has grown desperate, needs ye and the lad to protect himself. He must ken that, as each day passes, there grows a greater chance that your kinsmen have discovered his game and might already be hunting him.”
“Oh, I do hope so.”
“Heed me, wife, if Harold discovers he is being sought by your kinsmen, your life may be in even greater danger.”
“How can I be in greater danger? The man wants to kill me.”
“But nay right away, aye? He has been thinking of using ye to tighten his grip on Drumwich. Howbeit, if he kens that your kinsmen have learned of his crimes and seek to make him pay, marrying ye willnae save him. Then, lass, his thoughts will turn to revenge. I have nay doubt at all that he will blame ye for all of his failures.”
“Reynard, too?” she asked in a near whisper, fear for her nephew stealing the strength from her voice.
“From all he has done and all ye have told me about the mon, I believe I ken weel the sort of devil we deal with, and, nay, not Reynard as weel. Once Harold thinks he has lost this game, he willnae e’en think of the boy unless he comes up with some plan to buy his life with that of the boy’s. Nay, he will want ye. Ye are the one who eluded him, the one who took the boy and fled Drumwich, and the one who has kept him running o’er this country until he lost whate’er chance he might have had of gaining all he covets. I suspicion ye will be seen as the cause of every ache, every bruise, every moment of discomfort, every coin spent, and every humiliation and indignity.”
If she did not know better, Jolene would think Sigimor had known Harold for years, so accurate was his judgment. Harold would indeed blame her for everything that had gone wrong since he had murdered Peter. He would want to make her pay dearly, to suffer for his own mistakes. It was a chilling thought and even the knowledge that Harold’s attention would be pulled away from Reynard did not ease that chill much.
She quickly shook aside the fear that seized her. It was a poor time to falter. One way or another, the end of their trial drew near. Jolene knew that she and the Camerons had done, and were doing, all they could to keep her and Reynard safe. She also had boundless faith in Sigimor. If he could not defeat Harold, she doubted anyone else she might have chosen could, either. She would fix her thoughts only upon the battle to come and not fret over all the possible outcomes.
“You are right,” she said. “He will want to make me pay. Harold was always best at blaming others for whate’er went wrong. But, we are almost to Dubheidland and then it will be his turn to look over his shoulder.”
“Aye, wife, it will be. Tis why I am eager to get ye there.” He reached out and patted her leg. “Tis why we will be riding from now until we reach the gates,” he said, then quickly moved away to rejoin his brother Tait.
Jolene sighed and tried not to think of how her backside was going to feel at the end of this ride.
Chapter Fourteen
“Jesu! She is English!”
Jolene glared at the man Somerled who looked so much like her husband. She had just spent almost two days in the saddle for Sigimor had pushed them hard. She was tired, dirty, sore, and hungry. The appalled look the man wore, one reflected in the faces of all the other Camerons gathered around, was more than she could bear.
“Aye, I am English. A Sassenach. In fact, I am the sister of an English Marcher lord. What of it?” she snapped and angrily shoved a stray lock of hair off her face.
Although he was tempted to laugh, Sigimor forced himself to be serious. It was hard. His kinsmen now looked more startled than appalled, as if a mouse had suddenly grown fangs and leapt at Somerled’s throat. Jolene did look a little inclined to kill someone.
“Ah, now, Jolene,” he began in as soothing a voice as he could muster.
“What?!” She briefly glanced at him, before returning her glare to Somerled. “I am very, very tired of seeing this reaction every time I meet someone on this side of the border. You would think I was a plague carrier. What about all one hears of Scottish hospitality, hmm? This is just rude, that is what this is.”
“Ah, here is Old Nancy,” Sigimor said, gently pushing his furious wife toward the plump, graying woman who stepped up beside Jolene. “She will see ye to your chambers where ye can have a hot bath and put on some clean clothes. We can finish the introductions later, after ye have had a wee rest, mayhap? Aye, a wee sleep ere we dine is just what ye need.”
