“Aye,
verra firmly. He hasnae hurt ye, has he?”
“Nay,
he hasnae. He wanted Elfking and gave me a choice. If I came to his bed, he
wouldnae take my horse. I have shocked you.”
“A
bit.” She shook her head. “To do thus for a horse. ‘Tis not a thing I can
understand, but I am little surprised that ye did it.”
“Weel,
I think the rogue tricked me, but it matters little. I will shock ye more by
saying I enjoy being in his bed, that I didnae put myself there for Elfking
alone. I tried but I could-nae feel guilty or ashamed. All I could think on was
that I am to be wed to Rory Fergueson.”
“So
why not take pleasure while ye can, where ye can.”
“Aye.
I grasped it with both hands. Of course, Parlan says I willnae wed Rory though
he doesnae say why he is so against it or how he could stop the marriage.”
“If
he does, ye must tell me. ‘Tis sore eager I would be to hear it. He is such a
big man,” she added, frowning.
“Oh,
aye, he is,” Aimil agreed meaningfully, then giggled when Giorsal gasped and
blushed.
“Wretched,
wretched girl. I didnae mean that.” She frowned. “I cannae fault ye for what ye
do but tread warily, Aimil. The Black Parlan looks to be a man to make a lass
lose her head. Ye cannae have any more than ye have right now and to long for
more will bring ye naught but pain.”
“I
ken that weel, Giorsal. Dinnae fash yourself.” Aimil wished she could put more
confidence into her words.
“Ye
said ye think he tricked you. How so?”
“He
has been wooing Elfking, winning the stallion’s favor. He doesnae even try to
hide it, the rogue.”
“But
he said he wouldnae take your horse. I cannae believe he is a man who would
break his word. That is one thing he has never been accused of.”
“He
isnae. He said he wouldnae steal my horse. He never promised not to try and
coax Elfking into his stables. Sneaky man. I suspicioned what was afoot fairly
quickly, but I kenned it for sure this morn. I feared Papa didnae care about my
honor when he said my ransom must wait, but Parlan said the man had cared. He
said Papa had made him swear not to hurt me which Parlan did so Papa’s
suspicions were lulled. A sneaky man is Parlan MacGuin and fair proud of it he
is too.”
Wiping
tears of laughter from her eyes, Giorsal said, “He doesnae sound the
bloodthirsty beast he is rumored to be.”
“Och,
he isnae.” She told Giorsal the tale of her near escape. “He does have a sore
hot temper though ‘tis mostly roar and stomp.”
For
the remainder of their walk, Giorsal prompted Aimil to talk of Parlan. Aimil
left her sister, thinking that she had eased all of Giorsal’s qualms but, in
truth, she had increased them. When leaving for their camp, Giorsal found
herself alone with Parlan for a brief moment. She glared up at the large man
clearly startling him with her ferocity.
“Dinnae
ye hurt Aimil,” she hissed.
“As
I told your father—“ he began.
“I
ken what ye told Papa, ye sneaky man. Dinnae play that game with me. I am
little concerned with her virtue or her body. ‘Tis her heart that I speak of,
and if ye leave a bruise there, ‘tis fair sorry ye will be, Parlan MacGuin.”
“What
was that all about?” Lagan asked as the Mengue party left.
“The
lady’s motherly instincts have been roused by the plight of her wee sister. She
has warned me nae to hurt Aimil.”
“Och,
ye would never hurt a woman.”
“She
wasnae meaning in body but in heart. She fears I may win the lass’s love with
my charming manner.”
Lagan
chuckled as they headed back into the hall, but then he grew serious. “And what
if ye did?”
“Did
what?” Parlan asked absently, his mind on bed and Aimil’s lithe body.
“Win
her love. Ye have had many a lass’s heart tossed at your feet. Aimil Mengue
might do the same.”
“Nay,
Aimil will never toss her heart at my feet for me to kick about as I please.
She would place it in my hands and expect fair treatment.”
“And
what if she does just that?”
“If
I marry her, t’would be a verra good thing, would it not? A marriage goes
smoother if the lass gives her heart with her vows.”
“Still
thinking on marrying her, are ye?”
“Aye.
As I have said, I am of an age to wed, to get on with the business of a family,
and she still looks the best choice.” He grinned at Lagan as he started toward
his chambers. “That would do to soothe Giorsal MacVern’s ruffled feathers.”
Giorsal
was still fretting over the state of Aimil’s heart when Iain entered their tent
and prepared for bed. She briefly contemplated the possibility that Parlan
meant to wed Aimil but decided that that was the last thing that would happen.
Parlan MacGuin did not look like a man who would choose marriage over the
freedom of a bachelor.
As
Iain undressed, he watched his wife pace the tent until his curiosity became
too strong to contain. “What has ye in such a state, loving?”
“They
are lovers, Iain.”
“Aye,
ye had already guessed that. I thought ye had decided not to let it wear upon
your mind.”
“Aye,
I had but that was before I had discovered how she feels about the man. If she
doesnae love him now, she is verra close to it.”
“Ah.”
Iain removed his shirt to wash up.
“Ah?
Ah? Is that all ye have to say about it?” she exclaimed even as she fetched him
a cloth to dry off with.
“Sweeting,
ye cannae do anything about it. There is no directing the heart. It will go
where it pleases.”
Giorsal
lay down, burying her face in her arms. “She will be sore hurt and she will
still have to wed Rory Fergueson.”
“Aye.”
He lay down on his side and rubbed his hand soothingly over her back. “Still,
the lass will have kenned the sweetness of love and carry some verra fine
memories. I think if ye set the problem before her she wouldnae alter the
direction she has chosen to walk. She is a practical lass and she willnae let
herself forget she is tied to Rory. ‘Tis possible she is trying for all she can
get before she must wed.”
“‘Tis
what she said.” Giorsal turned her head to look at her husband. “She also said
that Parlan says she willnae wed Rory Fergueson.”
“Oh?
Does he say how he hopes to stop the wedding or why?”
“Nay,
he willnae give her reasons for wanting it stopped nor say how he will stop it.
He just says she willnae wed Rory, that he willnae let it happen.”
“Weel,
for all the trouble he has caused us, I respect the man. I think that if anyone
can stop it, he can and I think too that if he willnae say why, he has a verra
good reason for that as weel.”
Parlan
felt the reason he kept silent about his dislike for Rory Fergueson was
justified later that night when Aimil woke from a nightmare, trembling with
fear. Reluctantly she told him what had caused her terror, and Fergueson had
played a major role in her dreams. To tell her all he knew of the man her
father had promised her to would only add to the fear she already had of
Fergueson. If she knew the truth about Fergueson, she would probably never
sleep peacefully again.
“I
wonder if it started with that chill I felt?” she mused as she clung to
Parlan’s solid warmth.
“What
chill, little one?” He fought down a rising passion for he knew it was a time
to soothe not to seduce.
“At
the meal’s end, I felt a chill seep through me, go straight to the bone. Such
strange thoughts entered my head.”
Holding
her tighter he asked, “What thoughts, Aimil? Come, talking of them could ease
your fears.”
“I
kept thinking that some foreboding shadow had briefly blocked my sun. So too
did I think that something evil had reached out to touch me with its cruel, icy
fingers.” She shivered and pressed her face against his chest. “I cannae shake
the feeling that something bad awaits me, that out there is something or
someone who seeks to hurt me. I saw my mother in my dreams.”
“Aye?”
He tried to shake the feeling that she was suffering some premonition and had
not merely had a bad dream.
Aimil
nodded. “She was all bloody, Parlan, and she was pointing at Rory. I cannae
think why I should dream such a thing.”
“There
isnae any explaining a night’s terror, lass. Ye are safe here. Think only on
that. I willnae let harm come to ye and I mean to keep ye out of Rory
Fergueson’s hands. Remember that. He willnae get ye. I mean to stop that
marriage.”
She
peeked up at his face. “Why are ye so set against this marriage? I am naught to
ye.” She found that it hurt to admit to it.
“Weel”—he
kissed her forehead—“I wouldnae say naught. Dinnae ask me to explain, lass.
Just trust me. Trust me.”
Snuggling
up to him, she sighed sleepily and closed her eyes. “I do that, Parlan. Aye, I
trust ye.”
He
smiled down at her and wondered why her words should make him burst with pride
and happiness.
“Ye
cannae mean it?”
“Aye,
I do. I am staying here.”
Lachlan
scowled at his eldest son’s determined face. This was something he had not
foreseen. Leith had always been close to Aimil. It was evident that that
feeling still existed, was now driving him to remain in the enemy’s camp.
Lachlan could see no reason for it, however.
“The
lass will come to no harm. I have the Black Parlan’s word on it.”
“So
have I but stay I will. She may have need of someone who isnae a MacGuin at
some time, and I mean to be here if she does.”
“‘Tis
good of ye to think on her needs, but the Black Parlan may have an objection or
twa.”
“He
wouldnae send a sick lad out into nature’s cruelty.” Leith lay back in his bed,
looking suitably frail.
“Ye
do that verra weel,” Lachlan drawled, pulling a grin from Leith, “but I
wouldnae hope on it fooling the Black Parlan.”
The
Mengue heir’s performance did not fool Parlan for a moment, but he let Leith
think that it had. He understood Leith’s motives and had no objections to the
youth’s staying. That Leith might still wish to kill him did not trouble him at
all. Leith would not stoop to murder but demand a fair fight, face to face with
witnesses. Parlan even suspected that Leith was not so hot upon avenging his
sister’s honor as he had been, although he made no attempt to guess the youth’s
reasons for his change of heart.
Leith
was relieved that he could stay. He suspected that to hurt Parlan MacGuin would
be to hurt Aimil. If nothing else, she was far too happy for a woman who was
supposedly being used and plunged into shame, even for one who had chosen such
a course. So too did he sense something in her looks and actions when Parlan
was around. He dared not guess at Parlan’s feelings except that the man did not
treat Aimil as if she were naught but a convenience for the relief of his
lusts. The whole matter needed a great deal more observation which was one of
the main reasons he wished to stay at Dubhglenn.
“Weel,
ye got your way. Ye are staying. I dinnae believe ye really fooled him though,”
Lachlan said after Parlan had left them alone again.
“It
matters not. As ye say, I got what I wanted.”
“If
ye are thinking to slip free with Aimil and save me coin, I wouldnae hope too
strongly for success.”
“I
wouldnae. He keeps a subtle but close and effective guard.”
“Ye
arenae thinking on killing him, are ye?”
“Why
should I be?” Leith briefly feared that his father had guessed what was between
Aimil and Parlan which could lead to more trouble than any of them needed at
the moment.
“I
dinnae ken. Ye may have a reason or twa or think ye do. Dinnae try it.”
“‘Tis
not without some skill I am.”
“Och,
I ken it. Ye are a fine swordsmon. Unless luck rides with ye, however, I dinnae
think ye would win in a fight with him.”
“Thank
ye for your confidence in me.”
“Dinnae
get stiff on me. ‘Tis a wise man who kens his opponent’s skill, whether it be
equal, more or less.”
“And
ye feel that Parlan’s skill is greater than mine.”
“Aye,
‘tis. I think, or so rumor tells me, ‘tis the best in the kingdom. He also has
nine years on ye, more strength and more practice. Ye think hard on the worth
of your grievance before ye take up sword against him. It should be nothing
less than something ye are willing to die for.”
“Fair
enough.” Leith finally recognized that his father was not belittling his skill
merely recognizing the greatness of Parlan’s.
“Weel,
I think ye are mad to stay, but Aimil will most like be pleased.”
When
Aimil heard that Leith was remaining at Dubhglenn, she was ecstatic. As soon as
her father had left, she raced to Leith’s chambers. He laughed and scolded as
she smothered him with grateful kisses. She felt there would come a time when
she had need of someone who was not a MacGuin. Even though he was voluntarily
staying in the midst of the enemy camp, so to speak, she had no fears for his
safety.