“What the Devil did ye do that for?” he growled over the badly-stifled laughter of the men at the table.
“Oh, I do beg your pardon,” Aimil said primly. “I thought it was her finger.”
Catarine gasped in horror, her wide eyes fixed upon Parlan awaiting a show of his legendary temper. Parlan sat torn between amusement and anger. The realization that Aimil was showing definite signs of jealousy pushed amusement to the fore by increasing his good humor in one sudden leap. He burst out laughing, freeing his men’s laughter. Catarine sat silent, detesting Aimil Mengue.
A few moments later Aimil decided she had had enough of both wine and company. She quietly excused herself and headed to bed. When she hesitated outside Of Parlan’s chambers and glanced toward Leith’s, she knew Lagan was near. She hesitantly took one step toward Leith’s chambers, and Lagan matched it.
“I wouldnae if I were ye,” he drawled.
“Weel, I have no wish to find myself with three in a bed.”
“Ye willnae. He has no desire for the woman.”
“He did once. I may not catch all that is said but I am nae blind,” she groused.
“Aye, once. He is sore regretting that now. Catarine is after a husband, and she isnae one for a man to wed. She is a whore.” He opened the door to Parlan’s chambers and gently pushed her inside. “Get in where ye belong, lassie. I am of no mind to hunt ye down later and ’tis certain that I will be made to if ye arenae in that bed.”
She did not argue any further. Stripping off her clothes, she washed and then brushed out her hair. Crawling into the huge bed she had shared with Parlan for all these weeks, she wished she felt as sure as Lagan that she belonged there. All she could do was wait for Parlan and pray that he arrived alone.
Parlan found it difficult to extract himself from Catarine with any amount of politeness. Even when he excused himself to retire for the night, she stayed close to him. Exasperated, he stopped before his chamber door to scowl at her.
“Ye were shown your chambers, Catarine. Mine are quite full at the moment.”
“How can ye speak to me so after all we shared?” Catarine cried, and flung her arms around his neck.
Aimil tensed for his answer, her body leaning toward the door.
“We shared an hour or two of hearty lust, something ye have shared with many. There wasnae any more than that.”
“Mayhaps, but ye cannae even share that with that child ye cater to now.”
Giving into an indisputably childish impulse, Aimil stuck her tongue out at the door.
“Let me show ye, remind ye, of how a woman can please ye.”
From the sounds coming through the door, Aimil decided it was best that she could not see what was going on. She held a pillow over her head so that she could not hear it either. Stoutly, she told herself that it was not worth crying about.
“I have tried to be polite but ye can push a man too far, Catarine,” Parlan growled as he pushed her away. “There is naught ye can do to turn me away from what waits in my bed. Find yourself some other man to feast upon.”
After she had flounced away, Parlan entered his chambers. “Why have ye got that over your head?”
“So I cannae hear ye and Catarine Dunmore slobbering over each other,” Aimil snapped.
He grinned as he strode to the bed and peeked under the pillow. “I will wash off the slobber, shall I?”
“Humph. Can ye wash away the paw marks as weel?” She knew she sounded like a jealous shrew but could not help it.
A soft laugh escaped him as he stripped off his clothes, the signs of her jealousy putting him into a very good humor. “’Tis the pinch mark that has me sore worried.”
“Being such a large man, I am surprised ye felt it.” She cursed softly when he only laughed again.
After a moment of sulking, she tossed aside the pillow and sat up. He stood naked before the wash bowl, drying himself after his brief scrubbing. He really was a remarkably fine-looking man, and Aimil could understand what drove Catarine. What troubled her, what truly worried her, was what had driven Parlan to Catarine.
“Parlan?” she asked tentatively as he extinguished the candles save the one by their bed.
“Aye, lass?” He slid beneath the covers and pulled her into his arms.
Glad for the dim light for she was already blushing fiercely, Aimil asked, “When she said that dinner was a verra suitable time for talking about, weel, that, did she mean what I think she meant? Did she really, weel, with her mouth?”
