Highland Conqueror (20 page)

“Aye, if we are careful. We could encircle them, too. They are in a clearing with trees all about them. Howbeit, I believe they have two of your kinsmen from Scarglas with them. I couldnae get close enough to see which ones.”

“Giving them safe escort, aye?”

“Aye. So, ye cannae attack them.”

“Tempting as that may be, I think it might displease my wife,” Sigimor drawled, causing both Liam and Nanty to grin. “Are they readying themselves to leave?”

“Nay,” replied Nanty. “They seem to be resting and talking.”

Sigimor could see that everyone awaited orders from him as to what they should do next, but he was suddenly unsure. It would appear that Jolene had made her choice, duty and love for Reynard and Drumwich over staying with him. Was it fair or right for him to interfere in that? Worse, if he did try to interfere, was he simply opening himself up to a greater and more wounding humiliation than he had suffered at Barbara’s soft hands? Not many of his kinsmen knew about that embarrassment, the few he had had to tell keeping it quiet, but there would be over a score of them to witness this one.

Pride told him to say Jolene had made her choice and then go home and forget her. All the rest of him told him there was little chance he would ever forget her. Since he understood her dilemma, he knew he would not even be able to turn his pain into a cleansing fury. Then, suddenly, he knew that, if he turned back now, he would forever wonder if he had cast aside a chance, turned aside from the opportunity to change her mind and bring her back to Dubheidland. Although the threat of a well-witnessed rejection loomed, he knew he could not live with that doubt.

Taking a deep breath to strengthen his resolve, he began to give orders to his men. With Nanty’s help, he sent his men in different directions that would stealthily bring them up close to the meeting place in a neat circle. He gave them strict orders not to attack, not to harm anyone unless pressed to save their own lives. Sigimor had no wish to try and retrieve his wife over the corpses of her kinsmen. Soon he was left with only Liam, the two of them riding forward to the spot where Sigimor felt confident they would close that circle of Camerons tightly around Jolene and her allies.

“She may have been planning to return,” said Liam.

“Nay, she wouldnae have been so sly and secretive if she didnae intend to return to England with these men,” replied Sigimor. “If all she planned to do was hand Reynard into their care, she would have told me about them, would have e’en asked if they could come to Dubheidland.”

“Ye dinnae seem verra angry about this any more.”

“Oh, I am angry, but I ken ’tis both useless and unfair. I closed my eyes to this, didnae think on what would happen—what must happen—once Harold was dealt with. Plans should have been made, discussed, and settled. Aye, she should have spoken to me, but, by my silence, I may have led her to believe I didnae want to hear it. And she was right to think so. I didnae. As ye say, ’tis a fair hard choice for the lass to make.”

“Aye. Tis hard enough for any lass to leave her family if ’tis a close one. Jolene has to leave her country, too. Leave it for a place that hasnae been too welcoming.”

“And leave the wee lad she has raised since his birth. Reynard is as a son to her in many ways. She has attempted to keep the lad from seeing her as his mother, but has it worked? Has she convinced her own heart of it? He is but a wee bairn who has just lost his father. Can he let her leave him as weel? Can she resist any pleas he might make? Nay, this isnae a simple matter of choosing the child or the husband. And, I am nay sure I want her to come with me if ’tis naught but a sense of duty, of honoring vows made.”

“Oh, I suspicion it would be more than that if she walked away from that bairn.”

“Mayhap, but would it be enough to keep her from regretting it later? Enough to keep the pain of leaving the boy from festering until it becomes a hard anger or resentment against me?”

“Ah, there is that to consider. Weel, ye shall just have to tell her that ye love her.”

“Why should I be telling her that?”

“Why shouldnae ye? Tis the truth.”

“I have ne’er said so.” Sigimor was not sure why he was so inclined to deny it, except that he found it a little unsettling that Liam could recognize a feeling inside him that he himself had only just acknowledged. He also wondered how such a nearly pretty man could so skillfully produce such a rude and scornful sound. “She is my wife. Naught else matters.”

“It does if ye want to hold her fast at your side and have her pleased to be there.”

“She
was
pleased to be there. I kept her and the lad safe, saw to her earthly needs, and bedded her until her eyes crossed.”

“Weel, what more can a lass ask for? Her eyes crossed, eh? Tis an odd image that should be alarming yet is strangely intriguing. Then again, are ye sure ye are doing it right? Mayhap—”

“Mayhap ye best cease emptying that bucket of mockery o’er my head. Leastwise, if ye plan on reaching your next saint’s day. Of course I was doing it right. I may nay have wooed and rutted my way through half the lasses in the land as ye have, but I am nay without some skill. The lass burns hot for me.”

“Aye, ye will get no argument on that. Twas easy to see. Howbeit, ye cannae tie a lass to your side with only that, Cousin. Any lass with wit—and we both ken that Jolene has more than her share—kens that a mon’s passion can be a fleeting thing, with no depth or true feeling to it. Ye need to let her ken that she has a place in your heart, in your life, nay just in your bed.”

Sigimor knew Liam was right, but he still felt a need to defend himself. “She has
said naught.”

“She was a highborn Sassenach virgin who took ye, a Scot, to husband,” Liam said. “That says a great deal. And, ye arenae the one who must give up something. Jolene must give up Reynard and her home, her land of birth. There needs to be more than the delight of the bedchamber to make her do that. Ye need to woo her.”

“Weel, ’tis a wee bit late for that,” Sigimor whispered as they drew near the clearing where Jolene met with the Englishmen.

“Tis ne’er too late. She is still within reach. Give the lass a few sweet words.”

“In front of two score men or more?”

“They would carry more weight if spoken so openly, witnessed by so many.”

There was a lot of truth to that, but Sigimor knew he would be hard pressed to take that good advice. He was not a mon skilled in sweet words or speaking openly about what he felt. Jolene should understand that. Sigimor felt the knot in his chest tighten as he and Liam took their places in the circle of Camerons now formed around Jolene and the Englishmen. He had one last chance to keep his wife, but only if he could woo her with soft, sweet words of love—a skill he had never obtained.

He looked at Jolene and all thought of wooing fled his mind. She was in the arms of another man, a tall, handsome man. The man had black hair which meant he could be a cousin, but Harold had also been a cousin and that blood tie had not stopped the man from lusting after her. It had not proven any true obstacle to marriage, either. Sigimor felt jealousy rear up and blind him to all but the need to tear her out of that man’s arms.

“Soft words, Cousin,” murmured Liam as he watched Sigimor dismount.

“I willnae yell at her.”

Liam sighed. “Ye said we werenae supposed to kill any of the Sassenachs.”

“I willnae kill him. I will just break his arms.”

“We have company, Jolene.”

Jolene pulled away from Roger’s tense body and looked around. Her eyes widened as she saw how completely they had been encircled by Camerons. They were all scowling at her, even young Fergus. Just as she realized they could not know that Roger was her cousin, that the embrace they saw was totally innocent, she saw Sigimor. Despite the fierce scowl upon his face, she felt her heart skip in her chest, signaling her pleasure at the mere sight of him.

“Is that man your husband?” asked Roger as he watched Sigimor dismount and start toward them.

“Aye, that is Sir Sigimor Cameron, laird of Dubheidland.”

“He looks like an enraged bull.”

Watching the way Sigimor approached them, Jolene had to agree with her cousin. Sigimor’s head was lowered slightly, his broad shoulders were hunched up, and he was stamping toward them with his hands clenched into fists. A quick look at the Camerons and the two MacFingals revealed that they were obviously anticipating a fight. She quickly moved to stand facing Sigimor, her body planted squarely between him and Roger.

“Move aside, wife,” Sigimor said as he stopped in front of her.

“Nay, you cannot hit Roger. He is my cousin.”

“I begin to think your cousins are too friendly by half.”

Jolene realized Sigimor was jealous and almost gasped. She quickly hid her surprise, and delight, knowing he would not appreciate her acknowledging it. It did, however, give her hope that she had made the right decision.

“Roger was comforting me, nothing more. He is a wedded man.” She ignored Sigimor’s raised brow that indicated he did not see that as reason enough to trust the man. “Harold knew Roger and his men were chasing him,” she began.

“Something ye neglected to tell me. Could ye nay have taken a wee rest in your greed for me during the night to mention that ye had more kinsmen slinking about the countryside?”

“Sigimor!” Jolene could feel the heat of a blush all over her face. She glared at the MacFingals who hooted with laughter, but it had no effect upon them, so she turned her glare on Sigimor. “There is no need to be so…to be so
rude
!”

“Rude? Seems to me rude is loving a mon until he cannae move, then creeping away from his bed ere the sun rises to meet with a score of men in the woods.”

“If you do not cease speaking of such things, I will have Roger hit you.”

“Go ahead then. I was of a mind to break his arms when I first saw him holding ye, but I could find a wee bit of pleasure in just pounding him into the mud. I am still of a mood to bruise someone.”

Jolene gaped at her husband, then looked at her cousin. “Are you not going to say anything?”

Roger shrugged. “While I understand what you did, Jolene, I fear I also understand him. If my Emma had done the like to me, I would not be in a very good humor, either.”

“Men! You are all alike. You—” Jolene gasped in shock when Reynard suddenly appeared and kicked Sigimor in the shin. “Reynard! Why did you do that?”

“Because he is a mean man!” Reynard said, struggling slightly in Roger’s grasp and glaring tearfully at Sigimor, who idly rubbed his abused shin. “He is going to steal you from me. I want to kick his arse!”

Sigimor studied the child, taking careful note of the tears and the fury. He then looked at Jolene. There was such a look of pain and sorrow in her eyes, he had to fight the urge to comfort her. Either he had misjudged the situation, and her, or she had changed her mind about what she had to do somewhen between leaving his bed and meeting with her cousin. He felt a little guilty about how good that possibility made him feel when he looked back at Reynard. The boy was little more than a bairn, yet he was being asked to accept so much loss and change. A quick look at the expression upon Roger’s face, however, told Sigimor that the child would be well comforted.

“I think the three of us need to talk,” Sigimor said, then turned to his men. “Best ye be at ease,” he told them, “as this may take a wee while. No fighting with the Sassenachs.” He caught the way the two MacFingals eyed Nanty and Liam, and added, “Or with those two fools.” He crouched down in front of Reynard. “Now, my lad, ye have a chance to say a goodly Godspeed to your friends ere ye part. I think ye ought to be making the best of it.”

“Nanty, too?” Reynard asked in a trembling voice.

“Aye, my wee mon, Nanty, too.”

“I want to keep my friends.”

“Ye will. Ye can ne’er lose good friends, laddie. Aye, they may nay be close at hand, but ye cannae lose them. If ye e’er have the need of them, they will be there for ye. Now, go and say your fare-thee-weels.” He stood up as the boy ran to Nanty and looked at Jolene. “Come, we will talk.” He started toward the far corner of the clearing.

“He is so arrogant,” Jolene muttered.

Glancing around as he took Jolene by the arm and followed Sigimor, Roger said, “From what you have told me of his life, he has had to be. It could not have been easy to find himself laird of this lot at a young age, most of them no more than boys. A man cannot keep a tight rein on this lot by being gentle and sweet or by sitting them down for a pleasant talk.” He nodded to where Nanty and Liam were exchanging taunts with the MacFingals. “There is a wild spirit in these Camerons. Good men all, I am certain, but not quite tamed, I think.”

Her cousin was a perceptive man, Jolene decided. “Nay, not quite tamed, but, aye, all very good men.” She frowned at Sigimor who stood watching them, his arms crossed over his chest. “Of course, a few of them might be improved by a few hard knocks offside the head.” She ignored Roger’s soft laughter as she faced Sigimor, crossing her arms over her chest, and giving him a frown to equal his.

“Start with what ye learned from the late and unlamented Harold,” Sigimor ordered.

“He knew Roger was hard on his heels and suspected his crimes were no longer secret,” Jolene replied. “Whilst he held me, one of his men arrived to say Roger wanted to meet with him, where, and when.”

“Meet with him?” Sigimor looked at Roger. “Ye had doubts about his guilt?”

“Nay,” replied Roger, “but he was my blood kin. I felt it only right that he hear the accusations against him and be allowed to respond to them.”

“His response would have been to try and kill ye and all your men.”

Roger nodded. “I have ne’er trusted him and was prepared for treachery. Once I dealt with him, I intended to find you for Old Thomas told me who Jolene and Reynard had fled with.”

“Ye had no fear of all the grand allies Harold claimed as his?”

“Nay, for I have grander ones. Harold ne’er considered me more than a minor baron, my holding small, and my wife but the daughter of a knight. He ne’er looked further and that was his folly. My wife’s line winds all the way to the king and she is much loved by near all of them. My mother’s line is nearly as rich in blood and power. I quickly gained the right to be guardian to Reynard from the king himself. I requested it the moment one of Peter’s servants arrived to tell me what was happening at Drumwich, but hours after Peter’s death. I arrived at Drumwich but a day after Harold left to hunt you down.”

“So close. Of course, if we had waited, me and my men would have been rotting on the gallows when ye rode in.” Sigimor saw Jolene pale and nodded, silently pleased at her reaction to that image. “Harold didnae ken ye were named guardian, did he?”

“Nay, ’tis why I wished to parley. I felt he should know he had already lost all chance of holding Drumwich, that there was no gain to be had in hurting Jolene or Reynard. Then I was to take him to the king for judging.”

“Will it cause trouble when your king hears that Harold met with justice here?”

Roger shook his head. “Nay. Though few doubted his guilt, there was no blood on his sword, so to speak. He would have been judged, but it would have been a complicated matter. Harold’s allies may not have been equal to mine, but they are powerful enough that the king would have had to tread a very delicate path. He will be relieved to be excused from that dance. Few will argue with your right to kill the man. He threatened you and yours and he took your wife. As Reynard’s guardian, I am the only one who can say why Reynard was here and, e’en as I set out, I began to spread the tale that it was of no consequence. Nay, this trouble has ended here.”

Sigimor nodded, then looked at Jolene. “Ye didnae come here just to give the lad into his arms, did ye. Ye didnae ken that he was named guardian, either. So, ye crept away from your lawful husband like a cowardly thief. Ye didnae think I might like to ken that I was about to lose my wife?”

Jolene inwardly grimaced. The cowardly remark stung, but she accepted it as her due, for she had been just that. She had not wanted to face him squarely and tell him her plans. She had feared he could make her stay when duty forced her to leave and equally afraid that he would not even try to make her stay. A part of her had hoped he would chase her down as he had, but she had not thought it would change what she had to do. Instead, she had changed her mind, had realized she could not leave him. It was not something she wished to discuss now, however, in front of so many men.

“I intended to send you word when I reached Drumwich,” she said.

“Och, how kind of ye.” He grunted with satisfaction when she winced. “Just what did ye plan to do about me, about our marriage? Our weel consummated, priestly blessed marriage?”

“Well, since I am the daughter of an English earl and you are a Scottish lord, and we had gained permission from none of my kinsmen, or my king—”

“Ye would have our marriage annulled. Aye, I have heard how that would work many times. Did ye ne’er consider that, e’en now, ye might be carrying my bairn? That
an annulment would mark that child a bastard?”

Not until Sigimor had mentioned it, but Jolene was not about to confess to that. “I would have waited to be sure there was no child ere I acted on it.” She wondered why he looked so ill-pleased by her words.

Sigimor wanted to shake her until her bones rattled, even though he knew he could never bring himself to cause her any harm. Every word she spoke struck him like a knotted whip on bare flesh. He was not quite sure what he wanted her to say, but it was not this calm recitation of her plans to cast him aside. She had not even given him any true indication that she had changed her mind. He and Jolene needed to have a serious talk, perhaps even a rousing argument or two to clear the air between them. However, he glanced around at all the men in the clearing, his and Roger’s, and knew this was not the place for such a talk. The problem was, he needed to know what she had decided. He rubbed his chin as he tried to think of a way to ask if she intended to stay with him without exposing his own confused and intense emotions.

“Jolene was but saying her farewells when you arrived,” Roger said, ignoring the sharp nudge of Jolene’s elbow in his side. “The king will not be pleased that an English heiress was lost to a Scottish lord, but I will swear it was approved by her brother as I believe it would have been. After all, you have saved the lives of his sister and his only child, his heir. I will hold her lands in trust save for one small keep in Scotland left to her by a maternal aunt. That you can openly claim.” He smiled briefly at the surprise Sigimor was unable to hide. “Ere the king can devise a way to confiscate her fortune, I will send her goods and dowry to you by the same route I myself came here—passed safely from one of your friends or kinsmen to another. Or, if you prefer, I could send it to her Scottish keep and you may send men there to collect it.”

Although Sigimor had suspected that Jolene was well dowered, he had not anticipated gaining any of it. This was a great boon he would be a fool to ignore. He also saw that a discussion with Roger concerning her dowry was a good way to avoid a discussion with her. She was returning to Dubheidland with him. That was enough for now.

“I think we need to talk ere ye leave,” he said to Roger and waved Liam to his side. “If we can find aught to write with, this lad is an excellent scribe with a neat and readable hand.” When Roger nodded, Sigimor looked at Jolene. “We will talk when we return to Dubheidland unless ye wish us to air all our thoughts before this lot.” When she shook her head, he nodded and went to join Liam and Roger.

Jolene watched the three men gather something to write with then sit together on some large stones at the opposite side of the clearing. She briefly brooded over how her dowry had so firmly caught her husband’s attention, then soundly scolded herself for such foolishness. Sigimor’s surpise had been heartfelt. He may not have married her out of love, but he certainly had not married her for gain. She also knew he would make good use of the riches she brought him. With so many kinsmen to provide for, there was a lot of good he could do. Jolene was also sure that each child they might be blessed with would be carefully provided for. One could not ask for a fairer use of her dowry. Harold and many another man would have just enriched themselves.

She turned her thoughts to what Sigimor might wish to talk about once they returned to Dubheidland. There would probably be a lecture to endure. Considering his tendency to refer to their passionate, private moments, she hoped the lecture would be
private. It was appalling enough that Roger probably thought her some rabid succubus by now, as did most of his men, and anyone else within listening distance when Sigimor had first spoken to her and Roger. Jolene simply could not think of what he might wish to talk about, and did not want to. It would be easy to find herself hoping for, or even foolishly expecting, some words of affection. It would then break her heart if none were forthcoming and she would only have herself to blame.

A heavy sigh escaped her as she watched Fergus and Reynard walk toward her. Fergus still looked angry with her, an expression that made him look even more like Sigimor. Reynard looked lost and hurt which stirred to life her own grief. When he ran to her, she caught him up in her arms and held him close for a moment. When he rode away with Roger, she would see him rarely, if at all, and it made her heart clench with the pain of the loss.

It was such a difficult choice, yet she knew she had made the right one. Roger and Emma would give Reynard all the love and direction he needed. They also had the power to keep him and his heritage safe until he was of an age to take the reins. Although it galled her to admit it, Reynard and Drumwich needed a man to care for them and the only one she wanted could never rule over an English earldom, nor would he wish to.