Her
impulsive start of hope was quelled briefly by the strange glint in his eyes. “What
sort of bargain?”
Leaning
forward, he murmured, “Ye or your horse.”
Aimil
frowned in confusion, wondering why the other men at the table were suddenly so
quiet. “I dinnae understand.”
A
slow smile touched his face as he traced the gentle curve of her face with one
long finger. “Nay, ye truly dinnae. ‘Tis astounding. I want your horse. I also
want ye.” He smiled a little more when she blushed. “I willnae steal your horse
if ye come to my bed.”
The
outraged refusal she knew she should make immediately did not come forth. “I
must speak to Leith.”
He
sat back with a nod and signaled Malcolm to take her to her brother. “I will
have my answer this night, Aimil.”
She
paused in the doorway to look back at him with all the icy hauteur of a duchess
despite her tangled hair and odd attire. “Sir, I dinnae recall giving ye leave
to address me so familiarly.” She turned sharply on her heel and left before he
could reply.
When
Parlan had stopped chuckling, Lagan ventured, “So ye ask her to choose one
stallion or another.”
Parlan
frowned, wondering why being termed a stallion should bother him. “Aye, in a
manner of speaking.”
“Why
dinnae ye just seduce her? For such a stud as ye, t’would be easy or so says
your reputation with the ladies.”
“I
dinnae think she would be an easy one to seduce and I havenae the patience to
wait long for her.”
Lagan’s
brows rose sharply in a gesture of surprise. “If ye are that hungry for a wench...”
“I
am not that hungry for a wench. Leastwise, I shouldnae be after Catarine wrung
me dry but twa days past.” He grinned when Lagan laughed. “Nay, I am hungry for
Aimil Siubhan O’Connell Mengue and I mean to have her.”
“Even
if she doesnae come to your bed this night?”
“Aye.
I will simply find another way.”
“I
think ye also mean to try for the stallion as weel.”
“Aye.
I said I wouldnae steal it. I didnae say I wouldnae try to win the beast over.”
“Parlan,
ye are surely destined for hell.”
“Aye.
Nay doubt, but I mean to have a taste of heaven first.”
“He
said what?”
Aimil
looked at her brother, thinking how much a warm, dry bed and food had restored
him. He was as weak as a baby and the fever still lurked in his blood, but she
no longer feared he would die. She did think, however, that he was close to
bursting a blood vessel in reaction to the bargain Parlan had offered her.
Leith seemed ready to start spouting all sorts of male nonsense about honor and
duty to name. It was going to be very difficult to tell him her decision.
“If
I come to his bed, he willnae steal Elfking from me. ‘Tis his ransom for my
horse.”
Leith
noticed the way she could not meet his eyes, busying herself with disrobing to
her shift and performing her ablutions. “Ye mean to meet his price.” She began
to brush her hair. “Answer me, Aimil.”
“Aye,
I mean to meet his price.”
“Ye
would sell yourself to him for the sake of a horse?”
“I
would sell myself for Elfking. He isnae just a horse to me. Please, try to
understand.” She wondered if he would guess that it was not for Elfking alone
that she had decided to accept Parlan’s deal.
He
sighed, regretting his harsh words. “I do understand. I ken weel what Elfking
means to ye but what of honor?”
“Honor.”
She set down the brush and turned to look at her brother. “Honor says I should
cling to my chastity, save it for my husband who will be Rory Fergueson, a man
I dinnae even like. Elfking is but a horse yet he is worth ten of Rory. Where
is the honor in losing the best while clinging to something for the worst?”
“If
t’was for my sake, t’would be understood but not to save a horse.”
“Those
who ken me weel ken that there is a difference between ye in my heart. To save
ye, I would give up Elfking. To save something Rory Fergueson will tear from me
in but a blinking and with nary a thought to me, I willnae do. I cannae. I
dinnae want to.”
He
closed his eyes for he knew there was no argument to sway her. Having made it
clear he did not want murder on his hands, Parlan MacGuin had searched and
found the only other weakness Aimil really had. When Leith opened his eyes,
Aimil had donned her shirt and stood by his bed, looking at him anxiously,
tears streaking her pale face.
“Will
ye turn from me, Leith?”
Lifting
the bedcovers slightly, he patted the space beside him. She hastily filled it,
huddling next to him and resting her cheek upon his chest. When his arm, heavy
with weakness, curled around her shoulders, she closed her eyes with relief.
Although she had no intention of turning from her decision, she had feared what
it would cost her in her relationship with her brother.
“Brat,
I think ye could whore yourself bowlegged and I would still love ye.” He smiled
weakly when she gave a watery giggle. “God, if only I wasnae so weak,” he
cursed. “I have been a poor protector for ye.”
“Nay.
Odds have been against us from the start. Ye cannae fight a whole clan. Even if
you were in full health, ye wouldnae be able to help me, Leith. If ye tried to
put a stop to things, they would simply lock ye out of the way.”
“Aye,
I fear what ye say is true. Are ye afraid, sweeting? He is a man about whom
many a dark tale is told.”
“‘Tis
odd but nay.” She told him of the incident concerning Alex. “Ye see? The
fearsome Black Parlan doesnae hold with the abuse of women. I cannae say the
same for Rory Fergueson.” She noticed that Leith could not either but was not
really surprised. “What is the worst that can happen to me?”
“Why,
ye will be dishonored and,” Leith paused, blinked and continued slowly, “possibly
unweddable.”
“That
isnae a verra great loss to my mind.” She decided to be honest. “I hope for
that, pray for it. Aye, I act partly with that firmly in mind. Ye never can
tell. I may even enjoy myself. ‘Tis said he is a great lover.”
“‘Tis
hard to ken if they mean his skill or the size of his staff,” Leith muttered. “I
heard some ladies, if ye can term them such, their morals being loose, speaking
about the Black Parlan last time I was at court.” He frowned as he recalled
that conversation.
“What
did they say about him?” she pressed when he had been quiet long enough to try
her curiosity.
“That
he is verra weel built. The wenches put it a wee bit less delicately. Called
him quite the stallion.”
“Oh.”
Aimil frowned. “Do ye mean that he could hurt me? I mean hurt me simply by
doing what is natural?”
“Nay,
lass. If what ye said is true, that he doesnae hold with the abuse of women,
then he will be careful with ye for he will ken that ye are untouched. A
woman’s body can shape itself to fit most any man. ‘Tis not the size of the
horse that matters but the ride it gives.”
“I
think, nay, I truly feel that it willnae be so bad. In truth”—she took a deep
breath to brace herself for her confession—“my body has already taken notice of
his good looks and fine form. To be plain, I desire him greatly. Would it be so
verra bad if I took the pleasure with him that I ken weel Rory Fergueson
willnae give me? Is it wrong to do something to please myself before I must
sacrifice so much to please others?”
“Nay,”
he replied. “Ye deserve some pleasure and I fear ye have the right of it when
ye say Rory will give ye none. I only wish it could be done without shaming ye.
The rules are set firm, and the Black Parlan kens weel that he forces ye to
shame yourself by making this bargain. For that, I will kill the man when I get
the chance.”
Aimil
shivered. She hated the coldness in her brother’s voice. Nevertheless, she
offered no argument. Parlan MacGuin would have dishonored her whether she had
been given a choice or not. She did not see it as dishonor but others would.
Because of that, Leith would feel he was honor bound to make the man pay
dearly. That she chose to go to Parlan made no difference.
Malcolm
entered at that instant after a soft rap upon the door. “The laird wants his
answer now, lass.”
She
sat up slowly. “Does he now? Weel, mayhaps he can wait a bit more. Could give
the big ox some much needed humility.”
“It
isnae wise to make the laird wait,” Malcolm said as he barely restrained a
grin, “nor to try his patience.”
“He
sore tries mine,” she grumbled, rising to don her hose. “I dinnae ken what he
needs me for. Surely a lusty wench with more flesh upon her bones would serve
him better. I think the fool’s great size doesnae extend to his brain.” The
last thing she wished to reveal was how Parlan’s desire for her thrilled her
even as it puzzled her.
Looking
at Leith, Malcolm received only a crooked grin. The girl plainly did not see
how appealing she was to a man. Malcolm wondered if her total lack of vanity
was part of her draw for Parlan. The laird had certainly known his fair share
of vain women.
Answering
Leith’s signal, Malcolm edged closer to the bed while Aimil continued to ready
herself.
“Can
ye nae talk the man out of this? She is a maid of good birth and doesnae
deserve the shame he will bring her.” While Leith sympathized with Aimil’s
reasons, he could not resist trying to stop her, even if obtusely.
“I
tried but ‘tisnae any use. The laird has the heat on him. Aye, I have ne’er
seen it so strong. He will have her before she leaves here. This bargain is
only to make the having come sooner for he feels she wouldnae be verra easy to
seduce though ‘tis a skill he has refined weel.”
“Nay,
she would laugh at sweet words and warm looks. She sees them as foolishness and
falseness.”
“So
they ofttimes are. He willnae hurt her. Even though he sometimes doesnae like
the woman, he treats her gently. He doesnae hold with treating the lasses rough.
Ye ken as weel as I do that many another man would have tossed her down and had
at her before now, hostage for ransom or not. ‘Tis seen as a right, a right won
by capture.”
“Aye,
‘tis true, but I will still kill Parlan for the shame he deals her.”
“Ye
can try. Aye, he kens ye will when ye get all your strength back. It matters
not. As I said, he has the heat upon him.”
Deciding
she had dawdled enough, Aimil moved to take her leave of her brother. Malcolm
went to wait by the door, allowing the siblings a moment of privacy. She bent
to kiss Leith on the cheek, glad to feel that, although still a touch warm, he
had already lost most of the searing heat of fever.
“Dinnae
fash yourself,” she murmured. “If it is too big, I will lop a bit off.” She
smiled with relief when he chuckled softly.
“I
willnae worry. My mind is set upon making him pay for this. ‘Tis all I can do
for now. I am not one to fret over that which cannae be changed.” He patted her
hand. “Have no hesitation about coming to me to talk if ye feel the need to. Ye
ken that there is little ye cannae talk of with me.”
Leith
watched her go with Malcolm and sighed. He had meant what he had said. To lie
there seething would be an exercise in futility, and he was not a man to
indulge in that. He would save his anger for when he was well and free. Then he
would put his anger into action. Although he was sure he would be awake all
night wondering how Aimil fared in the hands of their captor, if she would find
the pleasure she sought or only abuse and shame, his body ruled, forcing him
into the healing folds of a deep sleep.
It
was not easy for Aimil to quell her nervousness when Malcolm left her alone
with Parlan. She may have chosen to come to him, but what she now faced was
new, unknown, therefore frightening. As she sought to restore her calm, she
studied his quarters. Heavy drapes kept out the chill, and a large fire aided
while also controlling the damp that too often plagued a keep. The furnishings
were simple but strongly hewn. Rich carpets kept the cold from one’s feet. The
focal point of the room was the massive oak bed, high and enclosed with rich
velvet hangings, drawn back at the moment. It was somewhat barbaric in
appearance.
Quickly
she turned her gaze to the man who leaned against a bed post with an indolence
she knew was false. He wore a heavy robe and, she suspected, little else. The
lingering wetness of his long hair told her he had recently bathed. She did not
know whether to be flattered by his efforts on her behalf or piqued that he was
so confident that she would come to him.
“I
had begun to wonder if ye had decided to gift me with your horse.”
“When
pigs crow the coming day.”
He
grinned. “Have ye made a close study of all that is impossible?”
Shrugging,
she eyed him intently. “I dinnae suppose ye may have changed your mind.”
“Nay.
I was determined to have ye as soon as I kenned ye werenae a child too young
for the having.”