Highland Captive (12 page)

Parlan
watched her as she stared at her father. She reminded him of a starving child
viewing a feast being devoured by others who offered not even the scraps. It
was a situation that escaped his understanding. Too often a parent was burdened
with an unloving child yet this man turned his back on one who adored him.
Parlan grimaced over the twinge of jealousy that assailed him.

He
watched Lachlan Mengue closely when Aimil approached the table, reluctantly
obeying his signal to join them. When she came into Lachlan’s view, there was
an instant brightening in the man’s blue eyes but it was quickly veiled. A man
did not try to bury his affection for his child unless there was a good reason.
Parlan was determined to discover that reason.

“Hello,
Father,” Aimil whispered as she sat down next to Parlan. “I am sorry for this
trouble.”

“So
ye should be. I am told that Leith heals weel?” He seemed blind to the color
that surged into her cheeks.

“Aye.”
She swallowed her hurt over his attitude. “He nears full health with admirable
speed. He is well cared for.”

After
those few words, Lachlan proceeded to ignore her. She struggled to eat, to act
as if it did not matter. A glimpse of a fleeting look of pity in Lagan’s brown
eyes told her that she was not fooling anybody, and her food was hard to
swallow. A few minutes later, she could stand it no longer and rose to leave,
wincing when everyone’s attention turned to her. Parlan eased the moment some
by nodding slightly and signaling Lagan to go with her. Without a glance at her
father, she hurried out of the hall.

“Ye
ask far too large a ransom,” Lachlan said as soon as the last bite of food had
been swallowed. “Ye dinnae hold the king, ye ken.”

“I
hold your heir and youngest daughter,” Parlan reminded him, his voice soft but
firm.

“I
have other sons. Two. I wouldnae be left without an heir. Rory Fergueson can
find himself another bride as weel.”

Parlan
ached to speak on that marriage but knew that the time was not right. He and
Lachlan dickered over the price, Parlan staying icily calm and Lachlan fighting
to keep his temper. Even though Parlan sympathized, he did not ease his stance.
He had to drag the business out for as long as possible.

“At
such a cost I can only buy one of my bairns back. I willnae have the coin for
the other for months.”

“Then
ye best choose which one ye mean to leave in my care.” Parlan intended to erect
another obstacle if the man chose to free Aimil.

“T’will
be my firstborn, my heir. He must take precedence. I will need some time to
gather the coin.”

“‘Tis
as weel. The boy is best off where he is for a while longer.”

“I
dinnae like leaving my daughter in your hands. She is a fair wee lass.”

“Your
daughter will suffer no hurt at my hands or my men’s. Do ye wish to see your
son?”

As
Parlan had hoped, Lachlan did not press the issue of Aimil. The man was in a
precarious position. No matter what Lachlan suspected he could not make
accusations. If he offended Parlan, he lost too much. Parlan could see that the
situation sorely annoyed the man, annoyed him to the point of fury.

“Didnae
ye have any gowns for the lass to wear?” Lachlan burst out as they left the
hall.

“Nay.
She was found in lad’s clothes. Aye, we thought her a lad, your son Shane, until
she was climbing down my walls and her cap was taken by the wind. We dressed
her in the best we had. Feel welcome to send clothes for her of your own
choosing.”

“All
she owns now is her trousseau,” grumbled Lachlan. “I cannae send that. ‘Tis
held for her marriage.”

When
they entered Leith’s chambers, Parlan was not surprised to find Aimil there. He
had guessed that she would seek out one who loved her to ease the sting of her
father’s apparent indifference. The warmth with which Lachlan greeted his son was
salt in Aimil’s wound that even Parlan felt. He was sorely tempted to strike
the older man. All that stayed his hand was the sure feeling that Lachlan did
not feel as he acted, that some deep reason drove him to act as he did.

Aimil
tried to lose herself in the shadows of the room. Slowly, she edged toward the
door. That her actions were not unseen was attested to by Lagan being only a
step away no matter how many steps she took toward the door. So too did she
sense Parlan watching her. Neither mattered to her. All she was interested in
was getting away from her father’s coldness.

“Ye
will be coming home soon, son,” remarked Lachlan, his gaze assuring him that
the youth was regaining his health.

“The
ransom is too high,” Leith protested, wondering if Parlan’s plan had failed or,
worse, if he had been a fool to listen to Parlan and to trust him.

“Aye,
but I have talked him down a bit.” Lachlan moved to look out the window. “I am
also paying only part of it.”

“Which
part?” Leith whispered, yet dreading the answer for he suspected it would hurt
Aimil.

“Yours.”

For
a moment Aimil did not believe what she had heard. “Am I not to be ransomed?”

“Not
now. The cost is too high.” Lachlan kept his back to her.

“When?”
she asked in a small voice, not afraid to stay with Parlan but deeply hurt by
her father’s actions.

“I
dinnae ken.”

Knowing
she was going to cry, she bolted from the room. Blinded to the startled looks
that came her way, she raced through the keep and headed for the stables. She
collapsed on the hay near Elfking and wept.

Her
father had ignored her for years, but this was worse. To leave her in the hands
of her captors was a blatant indication of how little she mattered to him. He
could not know how she was treated. Even if he did, he was not so blind that he
did not see the threat to her chastity, to the honor of the Mengue name. It was
plain to see that he cared nothing for her, not even that she carried his name.

“Ye
are a hard bastard,” Lagan growled before the door had even shut behind Aimil.

“Enough,
Lagan. Follow the girl. Be sure she is all right.” Parlan stared at Lachlan
after Lagan had left. “He is right, for all that.”

“I
havenae the funds to ransom both of them. The heir is more important than the
youngest daughter.” Lachlan eyed the Black Parlan with little friendliness. “Ye
wouldnae take my word that the money will come and let me take both away now.”

“There
is no doubt in my mind that your word is good, but I want the coin in my hand
before I release either of them.”

“Aye,
so I thought. I will bring the money for the lad in a fortnight. I cannae say
yet when I will buy back the girl.” He paused at the door. “I trust her in your
care. She must not come to harm.”

“I
have said that the girl willnae be hurt whilst she is in my care.”

“Curse
his eyes,” Leith hissed after his father had left.

“All
is not as it seems,” Parlan said. “The man does care for the girl.”

Leith
stared at Parlan as if he had lost all his senses. “How can ye think that after
what he has just done? The choice to be made was not the heir over the maid but
the maid first for she is most at risk.”

“I
saw his face when she first came into his sight. Something else holds him back
from revealing his love. There is a reason for the way he acts. I intend to
find out what it is. I ken it isnae a simple one. Rest, Leith,” he said as he
too left the room.

Parlan
found Lagan and Malcolm lurking outside the stables. “Where has the lass fled
to?”

“She
is inside with that beast of hers,” replied Malcolm. “We werenae sure whether
to leave her be.”

“I
will see to her. See if our guests have any needs. They intend to leave come
the dawn. Also, see that I am left alone with her.”

Aimil
knew he was there even before he sat down and took her into his arms. It did
not seem strange to seek comfort in the arms of the Black Parlan who was her
captor and should have been her enemy. He was a strong solid haven, one that
she needed.

Parlan
lay back on the straw with her held firmly in his arms. It puzzled him that he
should feel such a strong need to ease her pain. Even stranger was that her
pain seemed to be his. He was sharing it whether he wanted to or not.

“Ye
are fair close to drowning me, lassie,” he grumbled, hoping that he could tease
her out of her grief.

“I
dinnae cry verra much.” She sniffed loudly as she fought to control her tears. “‘Tis
a weak thing to do.”

“Och,
weel, ye have a good reason for them. There isnae any faulting ye for this. Are
ye afraid to stay here?” he murmured.

“Nay.
Not now, that is. That could change if ye start roaring and stomping about,”
she said, and smiled against his chest.

Rolling
so that she was beneath him, he feigned a glare when he saw her impish, if
trembling, grin. She was the first woman to indulge in teasing with him, and it
delighted him. He was not sure why but many assumed his nature to be as dark as
his visage.

“Roaring
and stomping, is it, wench?” he growled, and nuzzled her neck in a way that
made her giggle.

Suddenly,
she grew serious. “Ye would think that he would fret over the honor of his
name. He doesnae seem to worry about what ye might do, which ye have already
done, but he doesnae ken that ye have. But he doesnae seem to care that ye
might do what ye have already done.”

It
was difficult but Parlan managed to keep from laughing. “Am I to understand
that great jumble of words?” He did laugh when she frowned, rethought her words
and then laughed. “He does care, lass. He had me give my word that I wouldnae
hurt ye.”

For
a moment she looked at him frowning slightly as she thought over his words then
she shook her head. “That was verra sneaky of ye, Parlan MacGuin.”

“Aye,
it was.” He grinned when she laughed at his air of immense satisfaction. “Have
I hurt you, little one?”

“Nay,
not in body though I ought to be sick with shame for becoming your whore.”

“Ye
are not my whore. Ye are my lover. Dinnae frown, ‘tisnae the same at all.” He
unlaced her jerkin then began on her shirt.

“I
dinnae understand how ye can think that but it matters not. If I must lay
beneath a man, I would far rather it was ye than Rory.”

He
pushed open her shirt, finding the tips of her full, high breasts already taut
and calling for his touch. “Ye will never lie beneath Rory Fergueson.”

“I
must. I am to be his wife. Oh,” she sighed with pleasure when his mouth latched
hungrily onto a breast. “We cannae do this here.”

“Ye
are always saying we cannae and I must show ye that we can.” He lifted his head
to stare at her. “Ye willnae be wed to Rory.”

“How
can ye stop it?”

“I
can and I will. Now, hush, and let me show ye what else we can do though ye
will say we cannae.”

Chapter Seven

“I
cannae believe it,” gasped Giorsal, her gaze fixed with disbelieving accusation
upon her father. “How could ye do it?”

“The
ransom is high, lass. I cannae pay it all. Not now. ‘Tis necessary to make a
choice. My heir takes precedence.”

“But
to leave her in that man’s hands for so long. Ye ken what could happen, if not
by force then by seduction.”

“Aye,
I ken,” Lachlan growled, the long day and trying decisions taking their toll on
his patience. “I ken that he will bed her. She is a comely wee lass that many a
man has ached for. Mayhaps he will even fill her belly with his bairn. I wonder
how fair Rory will like that? There is naught I can do about it, Giorsal.
Naught. So leave it be, for sweet Mary’s sake. Leave me be. ‘Tis done and
cannae be changed. Aye,” he muttered, his gaze looking distant and unfocused, “it
cannae be changed but mayhaps what was to be will be.”

Giorsal
left confused and angry. Her father’s claim that his heir was more important in
this instance did not ring true. She sought out her husband to complain even
though she knew he could do little to change matters. Just as she found him,
her attention was suddenly diverted for the Black Parlan himself strode into
their camp.

She
could only stare in awe at the tall, dark man flanked by four men who would
have been equally impressive on their own but were overshadowed by the Black
Parlan. Magnificent was a word that sprang quickly to mind. So did large and
overpowering and Giorsal felt afraid for her little sister. Such a man could
crush the small Aimil with no effort at all. When his obsidian gaze settled
upon her, she shivered but not only with fear for Aimil. Even she, so newly
awakened to the delights of the marriage bed, felt the man’s sensual draw. Giorsal
doubted that, even if her strong-willed, young sister wanted to, Aimil could
resist that pull for very long.

Recognizing
Iain MacVern from one meeting at court a few years ago, Parlan greeted him with
reserved cordiality. He noticed the look that came from the well-rounded blond
woman’s eyes but did not respond with his usual calculated flirtation. With
Aimil in his bed, he found that he had little interest in other women. He was
doubly glad for that when she was introduced as Aimil’s sister Giorsal.