“It matters not. As ye say, I got what I wanted.”
“If ye are thinking to slip free with Aimil and save me coin, I wouldnae hope too strongly for success.”
“I wouldnae. He keeps a subtle but close and effective guard.”
“Ye arenae thinking on killing him, are ye?”
“Why should I be?” Leith briefly feared that his father had guessed what was between Aimil and Parlan which could lead to more trouble than any of them needed at the moment.
“I dinnae ken. Ye may have a reason or twa or think ye do. Dinnae try it.”
“’Tis not without some skill I am.”
“Och, I ken it. Ye are a fine swordsmon. Unless luck rides with ye, however, I dinnae think ye would win in a fight with him.”
“Thank ye for your confidence in me.”
“Dinnae get stiff on me. ’Tis a wise man who kens his opponent’s skill, whether it be equal, more or less.”
“And ye feel that Parlan’s skill is greater than mine.”
“Aye, ’tis. I think, or so rumor tells me, ’tis the best in the kingdom. He also has nine years on ye, more strength and more practice. Ye think hard on the worth of your grievance before ye take up sword against him. It should be nothing less than something ye are willing to die for.”
“Fair enough.” Leith finally recognized that his father was not belittling his skill merely recognizing the greatness of Parlan’s.
“Weel, I think ye are mad to stay, but Aimil will most like be pleased.”
When Aimil heard that Leith was remaining at Dubhglenn, she was ecstatic. As soon as her father had left, she raced to Leith’s chambers. He laughed and scolded as she smothered him with grateful kisses. She felt there would come a time when she had need of someone who was not a MacGuin. Even though he was voluntarily staying in the midst of the enemy camp, so to speak, she had no fears for his safety.
“Ye are still a prisoner in a way.”
“I ken it. They will watch me closely and never arm me for I may, nay, must try to take ye from here when the chance for it comes.”
“Aye. Parlan will think on what he would do if he were ye and act accordingly.”
“Have ye never wondered why we have seen naught of the man ye are to wed?”
“Nay, not much. Did our father give any reason for Rory’s absence?”
“Nary a one. They have told him of each move, but he fails to journey here. It would seem your betrothed is loath to face the Black Parlan.”
“Parlan hates him. He would like to see him dead. I am certain of it. Rory mayhaps kens that and he has always been fond of his own skin.”
“Ye feel sure Parlan hates Rory, verra sure?”
“Aye. ’Tis there to hear in the way he speaks the man’s name. I dinnae ken why though. Do ye?”
Leith shook his head. He hated to lie to Aimil but he did not want to reveal to her just how black Rory was. At the moment she only objected to the marriage intended for her. He did not wish to give her reason to be terrified. So too he still hoped to stop the wedding, and there was no sense in frightening her over a thing that was not to be. Neither could he tell her that to stop the marriage was one reason he lingered at Dubhglenn. Meeting her smile, he silently hoped Parlan could prevent it as he had stated he would.
Leith’s ransom had been easier for Lachlan to get than Parlan had hoped. He now feared that the time he needed to end the marriage plans for Aimil was not to be given to him. Rory continued to be careful and a careful man took time to catch. Frowning over that problem, Parlan let Lagan into his chambers.
“Artair’s back.”
“Where?”
“In his chambers readying himself to dine.”
“Hoping to slip past me and avoid my anger.”
