Highland Captive. Hannah HowellЧитать онлайн книгу.
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.
“Mayhaps ’tis best if ye keep your mind on the king. T’would never do for ye to take a fancy to the Black Parlan. He has no use for some Lowland slut and will send ye off as soon as your cur of a father begs the ransom.”
Aimil moved so quickly that Jeanne had no chance to avoid retribution. Aimil might have ignored the slur upon herself but she would not allow an insult to her father to go un-reprimanded. Jeanne’s screeches were cut off by the water when Aimil pushed the girl’s head under.
Parlan stopped abruptly in his advance