“God,
a promise to a dear friend now dead. They are the hardest to change. Does Aimil
favor Rory?” Parlan asked.
“Nay,
she says she doesnae even like him. T’was why I meant to speak to my father.
The way things stand between Aimil and my father, however, it could make him
push all the harder for the marriage.” Leith spoke with weariness weighting his
voice for he did not have the strength to wrestle with such problems.
“Why?
What did the girl do to turn Lachlan against her?”
“She
grew up. Aye, ye may weel look puzzled but there isnae any other explanation.
She was his favorite. He took the pair of us everywhere. Then, one night she
wore a new gown that revealed her budding woman’s figure and he has turned a
cold side to her ever since. None of us kens why, and my father offers no
answers.”
“There
must be a way,” Parlan growled as he started toward the door.
“Weel,
I will be verra glad to hear of it if ye find it.”
“If
there isnae another way, I will wed the cursed wench myself,” he snapped, and
left abruptly, leaving Leith staring after him in stunned surprise.
Lagan
entered Parlan’s chambers after a terse “Enter” had answered his knock. He shut
the door and looked at the bed with raised brows for Aimil still slept there.
It was rare that a woman was in Parlan’s bed come the morning. Parlan would
take his fill of the woman and then sleep alone. It was a habit Lagan could not
recall the man breaking before without having had too much drink. Lagan leaned
against the bed post and eyed Parlan who was shaving.
“Shouldnae
ye at least give the poor lass a pillow for her head?”
Drying
off his face, Parlan strode to the side of the bed. “I have put her head on a
pillow three times, but she moves off it.”
“Strange
she didnae wake when ye did so.”
“I
think the bed could collapse about her and she would sleep through it. I even
put her shirt on after I awoke and she never even blinked.”
“Sure
she still lives?” Lagan teased.
Parlan
grinned. “Aye, though I did wonder at first. Never seen a person sleep so
sound. Only able to rouse her once during the night”—he ignored Lagan’s
mockingly sympathetic noise—“and she was certainly with me in body but, after
she fell asleep again so quickly and so deeply, I began to think she never
really woke up. I will be curious to see if she remembers the incident.”
“Ye
dinnae think something ails her, do ye?”
“I
never thought on that. I will ask her brother,” Parlan said even as he strode
from the room.
While
he was gone, Lagan studied the girl. She was flat on her back with her legs and
arms flung out. Her long fingers were lightly curled toward her upturned palms
in a soft childlike gesture. Nearly obscured by her mass of hair which seemed
to fill each empty space on the bed, her face was turned sideways. Lagan had
reached the decision that she really was quite lovely when Parlan returned.
“When
he could stop laughing, Leith said she does this when she has overworked
herself.”
“Ah.
Weel, she certainly had a busy day yesterday. I have never seen a woman sleep
in such a position.”
“Nay?”
Parlan frowned in thought. “I have never noticed.”
“Ye
need to sleep with them to notice how they sleep,” Lagan drawled. “Once ye are
done ye send them on their way.”
Not
really sure why he had not done the same with Aimil, Parlan made no comment. “Weel?
What is odd about the way she sleeps?”
“Aside
from the fact that she looks as if she was dealt a sound blow to the jaw? Women
tend to sleep on their sides, curled up a wee bit.”
Shrugging,
Parlan began to dress, murmuring, “She is betrothed.”
“I
am little surprised by that news. Are ye saying there will be an enraged fiancé
coming to face you?”
“Nay,
I doubt this man will come to face me though I would sore like it if he did.
She is to wed Rory Fergueson at summer’s end.”
Lagan
whistled softly, aware of Parlan’s hatred for the man. “Pity. He will break the
spirit of the lass.”
“That
bastard will break more than that. He will kill her in the end. I cannae let
that happen. Aye”—he held up a hand when Lagan began to speak—“I ken the
problems. Her brother and I chewed them over verra weel last night.”
“I
would have thought all that lad would wish to say to ye is how and when he is
going to kill ye.”
“Aye,
but he is a practical lad and nae hotheaded. He also cares for his sister and
doesnae want this marriage. For that goal, we have formed an alliance. I have
given much thought on how to make the ransoming take a long time. I shall ask
for coin, only coin and a lot of it.”
“There
is a fair shortage of that. Aye, it could take a long time, a verra long time
for it to be gathered. During which time?”
“I
cannae be sure. T’will give the lad time to speak with his father and Rory
Fergueson time to expose himself for the beast that he is.”
“Depending
on how strongly he wants the girl or the marriage he could come after ye.”
“God’s
teeth, I hope he does, but the man is a low coward. He scampers into a hole at
the first scent of danger. He kens that I willnae risk outlawry by killing him
without just cause.” He looked down at the sleeping Aimil. “I cannae knowingly
hand him a lass, not when I ken what he does to them.”
“I
feel the same, Parlan, but ye arenae her laird and ye cannae hold her forever.
She is a Mengue.”
“I
have no real quarrel with the Mengues. Weel, not until now.” He flashed a grin
at Lagan who laughed and shook his head. “I could mend that and keep her from
Rory Fergueson at the same time,” he continued slowly. “I could wed the lass.”
“Dinnae
tell me ye love the lass?”
“Nay,
but, at least thus far, I like her and there hasnae been a woman I could say
that about for more years than I care to ponder. She is of good family and nae
hard to look upon. She was a virgin. I will have Old Meg take note of it before
I decide to take that route. I will have none question it.”
“It
seems a drastic step to take.”
“I
must wed someday and I have met no other I even wanted to consider. I am eight
and twenty, and many another my age has been wed a few years with a family
started. In truth, the decision may already be made for I may have already
begun my family.”
“Jesu,”
Lagan whispered, shocked, for Parlan had always been as careful as a man could
be in preventing such a thing. “I am not sure that was verra wise,” he ventured
after a moment.
“I
wasnae concerned with wisdom. Nay, I didnae have a thought in my head save to
go the full length. ‘Tis another reason the idea of wedding her came into my
head. For months now I have found little pleasure with the ladies and wenches.”
“But
ye found it here?”
“Aye.
Tenfold. I will wait though to see if it wanes.”
“It
could be that she was untouched. Being the first can make a man feel verra
possessive.”
“I
ken that. ‘Tis another reason I will wait to see. I am not so old I must rush
to wed and I willnae tie myself to a lass who neither interests me nor
pleasures me. I will suffer no empty marriage. Have ye seen Artair?” he asked,
abruptly changing the subject.
“Aye,
I saw his back as he rode out of the gates with three men for escort.”
“Do
ye ken where he hies to?”
“Aberdeen.
I think he means to hole up there until he feels your temper has cooled.”
“‘Tis
best. Curse it, I have failed with that lad.”
“Nay,
he has failed by his own doing. He is but twenty. He may yet get set upon a
straighter course. Many a youth has seemed lost only to turn to the better as
age sharpens their wits. The lady stirs.”
Aimil’s
eyes opened suddenly giving both men a start. She was not awake yet, however.
The heaviness of her exhaustion still clouded her mind and weighted her limbs.
She looked about in sleepy confusion.
“What
are ye doing in my chambers?” she demanded in a voice husky with sleep.
“These
are my chambers,” Parlan corrected with a soft laugh.
Rubbing
the sleep from her eyes in a childlike gesture, she looked around again. “Oh.
What am I doing in your chambers?”
“Ah,
how quickly they forget,” Parlan mourned, casting a laughing glance at a
grinning Lagan.
Bright
color flooded her cheeks as memories of the night rushed into her mind. “‘Tis
easy to forget the little things in life.”
Lagan
clamped a hand over his mouth but it did not stifle all of his laughter, and
Parlan sighed. “Ye wound me sorely, mistress.”
“I
doubt much can pierce that thick hide,” she grumbled, then grimaced over the
small discomfort her introduction to passion had left her with. “T’would it be
possible for me to have a bath?”
Parlan
astutely guessed the cause of her grimace. “Aye, I will have Old Meg see to it
and to restoking the fire in here.”
“There
is no need of a fire here. I will be in Leith’s chambers.”
“If
ye are, I will drag ye, tub and all, right back here. These are your chambers
now.” He started out the door.
“Ye
ask a high price for my horse.”
“‘Tis
a fine steed.” He saw her open her mouth to speak. “I wouldnae if I were ye. I
havenae broken my fast yet and ye must ken how short a man’s temper can be when
his belly is empty.”
“She
has a quick and sharp tongue,” observed Lagan as he followed Parlan to the hall
where they would find some hearty fare. “That is a lass who will do little
stroking of a man’s vanity.”
“Aye.
I wouldnae like to feel the lash of that tongue when it is unleashed by anger
or hate.”
“Ye
dinnae think she feels either now? She has a verra good reason to feel both.”
“True
but she doesnae. I offered her a choice in all this. She cannae blame me for
the choice she took.”
“To
give herself to save her horse.” Lagan shook his head. “‘Tis an odd thing for a
woman to do.”
“Grown
men have wept like bairns over their steeds. We never find that a puzzle. She
raised that brute by hand. There isnae any denying the bond between them. And I
ken there is none who claims her heart so there was little to hold her back in
that way, no man she feared to hurt or to lose. Howbeit, I do have a strong
feeling that there was far more behind her decision. In truth, I cannae help
but wonder how much this betrothal prompted her choice.”
As
Aimil watched her bath being prepared, she thought about her betrothal to Rory
Fergueson and the duty she owed him. She wondered where her guilt was as well
as her shame. Being a fallen woman was not affecting her very much. She knew
the reason for that was her betrothal. Although the chance that it might be
ended because of what she had done was slim, it was something to be considered.
Then too, she had honestly enjoyed herself and she knew she never would with
Rory.
“Weel?
Are ye going to use it or stare at it?”
Grinning,
Aimil got into the bath. Old Meg reminded her of Annie at home. Both, rail thin
and sharp of tongue, were past their prime, although it was difficult to guess
how far past. She wondered if such women were common features of keeps.
“Ah,
so ye were a virgin,” muttered Old Meg as she and two young maids took the
linen from the bed.
Concentrating
on washing her legs and cursing her blushes, Aimil snapped, “What matter if I
was?”
“Ye
never can tell. Nay, ye never can tell, lassie. Ye remember to do as I told ye,”
Old Meg growled at the maids.
The
younger, less comely of the two maids looked at Aimil. “Did ye really do this
to keep a horse?”
“Some
men have killed for less,” Aimil replied, determined to cling to that story
even if people did think her mad. “I simply lie back, closed my eyes, and
thought on king and country.”
She
had to choke down a giggle over the astounded looks upon the maids’ faces. Old
Meg eyed her narrowly, and Aimil suspected that there was as little chance of
fooling the woman as there was Annie. Suddenly, the buxom, pretty maid flounced
to the edge of the tub, her hands on her well-rounded hips and her eyes
glinting with maliciousness. Aimil wondered idly how many times Parlan had used
the maid.
“Are
ye expecting us to believe that ye lay with the Black Parlan and thought on the
king?” she sneered.
“There
are one or twa of us that can keep more than one thought in her head at a time.”
Aimil smiled sweetly at the woman.
“Let
us get out o’ here, Jeanne,” urged the other maid when Jeanne swelled with
fury.
Old
Meg cackled merrily and made no attempt to interfere. She had been Parlan’s
nurse and was interested in the girl. Only the finest would do for the man she
still called her lad. He could not be happy with any weak-willed girl.