“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 honorbound 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.
