Highland Conqueror (8 page)

“Nay,” she gasped, then sternly told herself that she must put a stop to this. “You have proven your point. You may cease now.”

“May I now.”

He kissed the hollow just behind her ear and felt her tremble in his arms. She was so beautifully responsive. His whole body ached to continue this seduction, but he fought for control of his desire. Taking her virginity up against a tree with his men only a few yards away would not be wise. It would give him great pleasure, but he suspected the aftermath could be bitter. Jolene could easily see it as no more than him exerting his power over her to get what he wanted. Sigimor straightened up and slowly lowered her until her feet were back on the ground. He kept his arms around her even as she slumped back against the tree. There was a flush upon her cheeks, she was almost panting, and her eyes had darkened to a tumultuous gray. Those vivid signs of her passion made it even harder for him to rein in his own.

“There, now, lass. There is a fine reason to marry that isnae cold at all, aye?”

“Quite.” She moved to pull free of his hold, but he did not release her. Jolene decided it would be too undignified to struggle, so she would relent, and heard an inner voice scornfully accuse her of lying to herself. “Howbeit, I believe I have already mentioned that lust can be a fleeting thing and thus ’tis a poor thing to marry for.”

“Ye may be an innocent—”

“May be?” she muttered, feeling a hint of outrage.

Sigimor ignored her and continued, “but I am not.”

“I have noticed that, although men demand boundless chastity in the women they choose to marry, they feel it quite acceptable to rut themselves blind until the wedding. And, sometimes after it as well. There is a word for that. I believe it is hypocrisy. Men—”

“Aye, aye, but we can have this argument later. Mayhap some night when we are warming our toes before the fire in my bedchamber.”

The thought of being in Sigimor’s bedchamber made Jolene feel quite warm. She shocked herself when she realized she was trying to envision him naked as they sat before this fire. She was certain Sigimor had bewitched her. It was the only explanation for how, in only a few days, she could change from a woman who rarely thought about men, to one who was trying to picture this particular man naked. Sipping wine. Perhaps holding her on his manly lap and kissing her ear. Jolene gave herself a sharp mental slap in hope of putting some scrap of wit back into her befuddled brain. This was a poor time to indulge in such scandalous thoughts.

Then again, she mused, perhaps it was exactly the right time. This man stirred feelings within her that were as intriguing as they were disturbing. She had endured a kiss
or two before this, but they had only made her want to hit the man giving her the kiss. Sigimor’s kisses made her want to push him down onto the heather and jump on him, even if she was not quite sure what to do with him once she got him flat on his back. If she married him, she could discover the answer to that puzzle. She could freely explore this lust he brought to life in her and it would even have the blessing of the church.

It was a mad idea, but she could not easily dismiss it. That annoying little voice in her head kept saying why not? She could not deny that she was fiercely attracted to the man and she had never been attracted to any other. He was a good man, even though he was quite rough around the edges. He was also handsome, young, and strong. Jolene doubted the king or whatever man was named her guardian would present her with such a fine specimen. She certainly did not want to find herself trapped in a marriage with Harold.

“Ye are nay heeding me, lass,” Sigimor said, amused at how completely she had become lost in her thoughts.

“Oh.” She blushed. “I beg your pardon. I believe you were about to entertain me with tales of your lecherous youth.” When he scowled at her, she smiled. “Do go on.”

“I think ye may be confusing me with that rogue Liam,” Sigimor grumbled. “Howbeit, I have had enough experience to ken that what stirs to life between us is as rare as it is fierce. Neither am I fool enough to think it will always be so fierce. Ach, ’twould probably kill us in a few short years if it was. If ye think that I will then be sniffing about some other woman’s skirts, ye had best think again. I will be saying vows afore a mon of God, e’en God Himself, and ye will be my wife. I dinnae take such things lightly. Nay, nor do I have a great need to be having any lass who smiles at me. Ne’er have really.”

“You are saying you would be faithful?” She hid her surprise when he looked insulted by the question.

“Aye, ’tis what I just said, isnae it? If ye dinnae kick me out of your bed, I see no reason to go looking for another to crawl into. I ken that many men betray their wives and wives betray their husbands, but it has ne’er made much sense to me unless the marriage has gone as cold as a loch in February. My uncle was ne’er faithful, nay to any of his wives, and has bred himself an army of bastards, but he was ne’er happy. Few of these adulteries are matters of some great, blinding passion or undying love. Vanity, pride, e’en some game played, but most men babble on about a mon’s needs. And I say, if the wife allows ye into her bed and it isnae a cold one, then your needs are taken care of, arenae they. Skipping about from bed to bed only causes trouble at home, which should be a refuge from trouble, and breeds bastards who often have a verra hard row to hoe.”

Jolene blinked. This had to be the most unromantic vow of fidelty any woman had ever been given. There was also a hint of scorn in his voice when he spoke of great, blinding passion and undying love. Did the man possess none of the softer feelings?

Then she thought of all she had learned of the man from the others. He had become the laird at barely twenty years of age, but the loss of his father and becoming a father of sorts to all of his younger siblings had been only a small part of the burden set upon his shoulders. A fever had cut down many of the adults in the clan leaving him the laird over a large number of widows and orphans as well, many of them little more than babes. Sigimor had taken in many of the orphans and had never hesitated to help the widows in any way he could. She thought of how he was with Reynard and knew he had done far
more for the children than give them food and shelter, had given them more than duty and a sense of responsibility. There was a heart in this rough man, and probably a very big one indeed, but he would undoubtedly grow as prickly as a hedgehog if she suggested such a thing. Jolene also wondered how good her chances were of finding a place for herself in that heart.

It would be a big chance to take, she mused, to try to turn a marriage made for such practical reasons into a true bonding. There were immediate benefits, however. It
would
thwart Harold’s plans, and mean that she did not have to worry about being used by the king or some appointed guardian for their own gain. There would also be this lusting to thoroughly explore. And, if it all proved to be some horrible mistake, once Harold was defeated, she could return to England and seek an annulment. She was not sure if Sigimor had considered that possibility, and, for reasons she did not wish to explore too closely, she did not intend to mention it to him.

Sigimor gently took her chin in his hand and rubbed his thumb over her tempting mouth. “I am of good blood, my purse and lands rich enough so that ye will ne’er suffer want, I will do my best to see that no one and nothing ere causes ye harm, and I take my vows verra seriously.” He gently kissed her. “So, will ye wed with me, Lady Jolene?” He kissed her again, a kiss that strongly hinted at his need for her. “Do ye nay wish to see where this will lead us?”

“Aye,” she replied in a husky voice she barely recognized as her own.

“Aye to this, or aye, ye
will
marry me?” he asked as he teased her lips with light, chaste kisses.

“Aye. I
will
marry you.”

He pulled her into his arms and gave her a kiss that seemed to melt her very bones. She was still reeling from it when he set her away from him, grabbed her by the hand, and started back to their camp. Jolene wondered how the man could go from hot to cold with such ease. There had been passion behind that kiss. She was certain of it. It irritated her that he could regain control so easily while she remained dazed and heated.

“We will be hunting down a priest on the morrow,” Sigimor announced the moment they rejoined the other men.

Jolene had barely mumbled a few distracted thank yous for the congratulations the men offered when Sigimor dragged her toward the place where someone had laid out their bedding. “What are you doing?” She quickly looked for Reynard and found him fast asleep on his rough bed in the midst of all the other blankets laid out for Sigimor’s kinsmen.

“Ye need your rest. I dinnae want ye to be too weary on the morrow.”

Realizing why he wanted her well rested, she blushed furiously, but he was already walking back to his men. She removed her boots then huddled beneath a blanket as she stripped to her shift. Glancing at her plain, modest shift as she tried to get as comfortable as she could when only a blanket separated her from the hard ground, Jolene found herself wishing she had brought something more delicate, then cursed. The man turned her wits into warm gruel. Closing her eyes, she decided that it might be wise to think a little harder on what she had just agreed to.

“There is a priest but a half day’s ride from here,” Liam said as Sigimor sat down by the fire.

“Good,” said Sigimor as he reached for the wineskin that was being passed around.

“Eager, are ye?”

Sigimor did not bother to reply as he took a long drink, his gaze fixed upon the slim woman he would soon call his wife. In less than a day he would have the right to crawl beneath that blanket with her. Eager was a mild word for what he felt.

Warily eyeing the short, round priest Sigimor was talking to, Jolene moved closer to Sigimor’s side. Rousted out of bed when dawn was only a meager promise, they had ridden hard to this tiny village. As a result, she had had no chance to speak to Sigimor, although she had done a great deal of thinking. If she did not know better, she would think that Sigimor had done his best to make sure there would be no further discussion concerning the marriage. They would talk about it now, she decided, and tugged on his sleeve only to have him grasp her hand and keep talking to the priest—in Gaelic, a language she did not understand.

Odd, she thought suddenly. Why would they speak in Gaelic now when the priest had greeted them in what Jolene considered the Scot’s own peculiar, and very attractive, form of English? Was Sigimor trying to hide something from her? She quickly cast aside that twinge of suspicion. Not only was it a poor way to think of a man who was doing his best to keep her and her nephew safe, but she could not think of any sound reason for him to be so secretive. He had asked her to marry him, she had said she would, and he was arranging that marriage with this priest. No need for secrets there that she could see.

What she could see a need for was a little private talk with Sigimor. No kisses, no pressing that fine, strong body up against hers, and no licking her neck. Just talk. Jolene had come up with a plan she felt he ought to consider. It was one that would satisfy his need to marry her to keep her out of Harold’s clutches, yet insure that he was not tied for life to a woman he did not love.

Staring at the small stone church they stood in front of as she waited for Sigimor to finish speaking, she tried to strengthen her resolve. She just hoped she did not lose her courage in the end. It had taken a great deal of effort to decide to present him with her plan. A loud, somewhat hysterical voice in her head was crying out in shock and denial. If Sigimor did not hurry up and finish his talk with the priest, Jolene feared she would falter, that she would take what she wanted, never telling the man her plan to save them both from being trapped in a marriage neither of them had freely chosen.

Sigimor could almost feel Jolene’s impatience, but he kept his attention fixed firmly upon his cousin William. What good was it to have a priest in the family if the man could not do what he wanted, he thought crossly. When Liam had told him that the priest they were riding to meet with was a kinsman, Sigimor had been delighted. He had forseen getting Jolene married to him and thoroughly bedded before her clever little mind could think of any alternative to his plan. Instead, he was wasting precious time arguing with a cousin who was proving to be inordinately fond of following the rules.

“There are rules that must be followed, m’laird,” William said, then glanced at Jolene. “And she is English.”

The way William stared at Jolene as if he feared she would turn into some warty demon right before his eyes was beginning to irritate Sigimor. “I did notice that.”

“There are banns that must be called out, signed agreements from her kinsmen—”

“Her kinsmen are dead save for the fool chasing us with murder on his mind. Aye, and if he gets his filthy hands on her, he will drag her back to England and wed her. He will make her life a pure hell on earth for a while, then he will kill her. And, he will
not
be told he has to wait to marry her, either.”

“Corrupt priests,” snapped William. “England is ripe with them. Do not try to tell me this is all some noble gesture on your part, either. You lust after her. Well, you can just wait a few weeks.”

“Or, I can throttle a priest in the next minute or so.”

“Sigimor,” Liam said sharply as he stepped up beside him, then gave William a friendly smile. “Cousin, it may be true that Sigimor’s reasons are not all noble,” he said in Gaelic, “but that does not change the truth of what he has told you. This Harold intends to marry himself to the woman to tighten his grip upon all he has gained by murdering her brother. Once he has removed the child from his path, he will certainly be rid of her. If she already has a husband, however, it will put at least a short halt to his plots. That way, if he gains hold of her, we will have time to rescue her. Come, are not two innocent lives worth a little bending of the rules?”

“But, rules are set out for a reason—” began William, although doubt now clouded his expression.

“Aye, to keep some rogue from grabbing an heiress and marrying her against her will. Such is not the case here. Sigimor will not gain much of anything from this marriage for her dowry will surely be held fast in England. Handfast will not protect her. The marriage needs a priestly blessing. Now, if you feel you must obey the rules, call the banns three times, just wait only a few minutes between each one. We can also write up a marriage agreement and we have witnesses right here.”

William hesitated another moment, then nodded. “I will do it. I shall wait seven minutes between each calling. Liam, you can help me write up a marriage agreement,” he said even as he started toward the church.

“Sigimor,” Jolene said the moment the others left them, “I have come up with a plan. I have been thinking—”

“I was afraid of that,” Sigimor muttered.

She decided to ignore that remark. “I do not dispute any of the arguments you put forth yestereve. Howbeit, this marriage need not be so final. If ’tis left unconsummated—” She squeaked softly as he started to drag her toward the apple orchard just behind the church. “Where are we going?”

“To some place that is private so that I may say a few things I dinnae want the others to hear.”

That sounded ominous, Jolene thought, but did not offer any protest. If they were about to have an argument over something as private as consummating their marriage, she did not want them overheard, either. Hers was a very good plan, but, when they stopped just within the orchard and Sigimor yanked her into his arms, Jolene strongly suspected he was not going to agree with it. She wondered why she did not feel dismayed by that possibility.

“Did ye really think that I would agree to nay bedding my own wife?” he asked.

It was a little difficult to maintain any order to her thoughts when he held her so close to him, but Jolene persevered. “Marriage, once consummated, is forever. We have known each other for but a few days and most of that time was spent running from Harold. We may not suit each other at all, but once we, er, share a bed, there will be no turning back.” That was not exactly true, but she would rather face walking away from an unconsummated marriage than leaving a man she had been intimate with.

“Aye, I ken it. Why would ye think we wouldnae suit?”

“Tis possible. We really do not know each other well. As I said, we have only been together for a few days and most hours of those days were spent on horseback. A fortnight from now you may well regret this most heartily. Why not wait a while ere you make this a true and binding marriage?”

“This is why.”

The moment he lifted her off her feet, she wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself. She opened her mouth to tell him to put her down and he kissed her. It took but one stroke of his tongue in her mouth and she lost all urge to protest. By the time he ended the kiss, Jolene was clinging to him like the most tenacious ivy. Even as she tilted her head to allow him better access to her throat, she struggled to regain her senses.

“E’en if ye refuse to marry me, lass, I will have this.” He traced the shape of her small ear with his tongue and felt her tremble. “Aye, and I think ye ken it.”

She did and wondered why she did not feel shamed by that admission. The rules were most clear. A lady clung tightly to her virtue until she was married. She did not stand in orchards and cling tightly to big, strong Scotsmen. Yet, she could not deny the truth Sigimor spoke so bluntly. Married or not, she would share his bed. She did not have the strength of will to keep turning away from what he could make her feel. At least if they were married she would not be sinning, she thought as he gently detached her from him and set her back on her feet. There was still that possibility of fleeing back to England and having the marriage ended there, she reminded herself.

As she met his steady gaze, saw the desire darkening his eyes, she decided to stop worrying about it. Why not grasp a little delight for herself? Why not savor the pleasure she knew he could give her for as long as she could? If the passion he offered proved to be a shallow thing, if there proved to be nothing else to bind them together, she had a bolthole. At least she would have some very fine memories to cling to if she had to return to her old life.

“Very well,” she said.

The words had barely left her lips when he grasped her by the hand and towed her back to the church. A few sweet words or gentle assurances that all would be well might have been nice, Jolene muttered to herself as she struggled to keep pace with him. Sigimor did seem to be somewhat inept at wooing, except for his ability to kiss her senseless. She doubted it was solely due to the fact that they were running from Harold and that gave a man little time for a proper courtship.

Sigimor was just about to march into the church when the priest opened the door and beckoned them inside. Jolene was vaguely aware of the others standing behind them as they knelt before the priest. She felt a touch of sorrow over the fact that the only member of her family to witness her marriage was Reynard who was too young to understand the importance of the occasion. She also buried an attack of guilt as she said her vows, speaking the sacred words even as she held fast to the plan to end the marriage once Harold was defeated. Jolene tried to ease the fear that she was lying to God by telling herself she would only flee if she foresaw absolutely no hope of a good marriage.

Once the vows were spoken and the blessing given, Sigimor led her to a small table set against the wall. “Tis the marriage lines,” he said and pointed to the bottom of the document. “Put your mark here.”

Jolene nodded and began to read the paper.

“What are ye doing?” asked Sigimor.

“Reading this document,” she replied, a little surprised at how simple it was.

“Tis in Latin.” Sigimor frowned at her.

“I did notice that.”

Once over his shock that she was a learned woman, he felt a pinch of insult over how carefully she was reading the document. “There is nay reason to read it so carefully or do ye think I mean to trick ye in some way?”

“Nay, of course not, but Peter was always adamant that one should read a document most carefully before putting one’s seal to it. He said that, no matter how honest the man, no matter how much you trust him, it takes but one error in spelling or one awkward phrasing to alter the whole meaning of the agreement. He also said that, although you and the other man may ne’er take advantage of that error, there is no trusting what someone else may do with it.”

Her immediate assurance that she did not suspect him of any trick soothed Sigimor’s pride. He also had to agree with the lessons Peter had taught her. The way both Liam and William had murmured their agreement told him he was right to think Peter’s advice had been wise. She could not know how precise Liam always was in his writings. When she began to sign her name, he leaned over her shoulder to watch and his eyes widened.

“Jolene Ardelis Magdalen Isabeau deLacy Gerard Cameron? Wheesht, the name is bigger than ye are,” he muttered.

“Mother felt compelled to honor a vast array of her family,” Jolene replied. “Poor Peter was also so inflicted.” She briefly smiled at Reynard. “He made sure his wife did not succumb to the same impulse. Reynard is named after his two grandfathers and no more. So, he is Reynard Henry Gerard. A few of our kinsmen disapproved, feeling that such a short name was, well, almost common. Peter would always reply that few would find it common when Reynard reached an age to add Earl of Drumwich after his name, along with Baron of Kingsley, which he already holds claim to.”

Sigimor watched the little boy idly skipping around the men gathered in the church. “Tis a lot of weight the wee lad carries upon his shoulders.”

“Aye, and it will only grow heavier for his mother’s family holds several other titles and, unless someone breeds a son soon, they shall fall to him.”

“But Harold cannae claim them if the boy dies, can he?”

“Nay, for he holds no blood tie with the mother’s family. I am not sure he knows of all Reynard might claim. It could change his mind about his dark plans for the child. As guardian, he would have access to whatever wealth there is within those estates. Then again, he may know a little about how important Reynard is to his mother’s family for he was as careful to stop me from sending word to them as he was in keeping me from contacting any of my own kinsmen.”

“Reynard’s guardian will have to be verra carefully chosen.”

“Aye, but I fear I will have little say in the matter.”

“Weel, there is no use worrying o’er it now.”

She nodded and watched Sigimor take the priest aside for a moment. It was a little difficult to accept that she was married. No rings had been exchanged and there would be no celebration. In a few minutes they would all be back on their horses to ride until the sun set. She was not even sure her wedding night would be spent in a proper bed.

Then Sigimor’s brother and cousins encircled her, welcoming her to their family
and helping themselves to some rather hearty kisses. Their good humor began to banish her confusion and that touch of sadness she had been unable to shake. Just as Liam took her into his arms and placed his lips against hers, she felt a strong arm curl around her waist. She yelped in surprise as she was yanked out of Liam’s embrace.

“Keep your lips off my wife,” Sigimor said as he took her by the hand and led her out of the church.

“I was but welcoming her to the family,” replied a grinning Liam. “Tis an old custom to kiss the bride.”

Sigimor made a very rude comment about what Liam could do with that custom. Jolene blushed even as she felt like laughing. Her new husband was obviously feeling possessive. It was no real indication of any deeper feelings, but, added to the desire he felt for her, it caused Jolene to feel a glimmer of hope for their future.