As Parlan was about to give into the tempting pull of sleep, Aimil began to thrash about. He quickly got a firm grip on her to still her flailing arms. From her movements he guessed that she was reliving her near drowning in her dreams. As he held her, he called to her, trying to pull her from her nightmare. He decided that he did not like to see her so afraid, even in her dreams.
Aimil fought the pull of the waters. She desperately needed air but dared not breathe knowing that the cold, dark waters would fill her if she did. Something held her firmly and she fought its grip, but nothing she did seemed to break it. Then breaking through the choking terror she felt was a deep, soothing voice. She saw Parlan and reached for him, certain he would save her. Slowly, she felt herself pulled from the depths. With a gasping cry, she opened her eyes and met Parlan’s gaze.
For a moment she felt swamped with confusion. She was not wet and neither was he. Although her throat was sore and her chest hurt, she felt no need to spew out any water. Then she realized that she was warm, dry, and in Parlan’s bed. An instant later she recalled all that had happened, the nearly tragic end to her attempt to leave the man who now held her.
“T’was but a dream.”
“Aye, lass.” He eased his hold on her.
“I thought I was drowning.”
“Ye nearly did.”
“Aye, I remember that now. Wheesht, I dinnae fell verra weel.”
“Nay, I suspicion ye dinnae but t’will pass quick enough.”
She sensed a sternness in him and eyed him warily. What surprise she felt over his presence faded quickly as she faintly recalled him crouched over her while her body violently rejected all the water she had swallowed. It occurred to her that he must have been the one to pull her from the water. Although he did not look very receptive to gratitude, she knew she ought to thank him. He had obviously saved her life and probably at no small risk to his own, something that made her feel uncomfortably guilty.
“I owe ye my life.”
“Aye, ye do.”
“Weel, I thank ye for it.”
“If it means aught to ye, mayhaps ye shouldnae risk it so carelessly.”
There was anger in his voice, and her initial reaction of chagrin quickly changed to annoyance. She decided that he had no right to get cross with her. If not for him, she would not even be at Dubhglenn. If not for him, she would still be a maid and not concerned with people thinking her a whore. He was the one with all the grand plans that did not seem to be working so that it began to look as if he could not be trusted. And if his plans were working, he was not telling her and Leith about it which was nearly as bad.
“’Tis all your fault.”
“My fault?” Taken aback, he was torn between amusement over her belligerence and an urge to shake her.
“Aye, right from the beginning. Weel, mayhaps not exactly right from the start for t’was Artair who made the raid and caught us, but ye didnae send us home. Then ye speak of all these plans that seem clever yet naught happens save that my father still pays.”
“Dinnae ye trust me?”
“Aye, I trust ye and Leith does too, but, as he said, there comes a time when ye must ask yourself if ’tis wise to set still and be trusting, if ye have been wrong and act upon what ye see and not what ye feel. We both feel that ye can be trusted, but we see naught happening save that my father still struggles to collect the ransom and I,” she said, sighing, “and I still share your bed. We both ken that the bargain made for Elfking has long since been fulfilled.”
He smoothed away the lines caused by her frown with his fingers. “And ye are no longer happy to share my bed?”
“Aye, but therein is some of the trouble. Cannae ye see that? As Leith said, my being here is accepted as part of my being a hostage, but when I make no attempt to escape, especially when the chance arises, then I become naught but a whore in all eyes.” She looked at him closely, hoping he would understand for she had never wanted to deliver any insult. “I couldnae do that to my family.”
“Nay, ye couldnae. Weel, ye have now soothed all that worry for ye have tried to escape, something all can attest to. Aye, and ye nearly killed yourself in the doing of it.” For a moment he thought about speaking of marriage now but decided he would stay to his original plan. “So, now ye can stay right where ye are and I mean to see that ye do.”
She thought that sounded arrogant but was feeling too weary to take him to task about it. With an inner sigh, she also admitted to herself that, if he wanted her to stay in his bed, she really had no objections. It was where she really wanted to be. While he gave her only passion when she ached for so much more, there was still more joy than sorrow to be found in the arrangement. Neither did he ever leave her feeling no better than a whore. She was not quite certain of what he felt for her and continuously feared that his feelings would change, that he would eventually discard her. However, she was sure that she was more than a mere bedmate with whom he sated whatever lust he felt. As long as he allowed her to, she would stay and try for more, try to win his love.
“Go to sleep, loving,” he ordered gently. “Ye need your rest. Get a lot and on the morrow ye will feel better.”
“I hope so,” she murmured, and yawned widely. “I can still taste the water of the loch. Aye, still feel as if it fills me.”
“T’will fade.”
Suddenly recalling that he had been gone for a while and realizing that he was making no move to make love to her, she forced her heavy eyelids to open to peer at him. “Isnae there anything ye want? Ye have been gone a wee while.”
“Aye, I have.” He smiled faintly and lightly kissed her. “And, aye, there is something I want but it can wait until ye are rested.”
“If ye are sure,” she said even as she closed her eyes again and started to let sleep conquer her. “Seems verra tolerant of ye when ye are such a greedy rogue.”
