Shaking her head, Giorsal continued, “When I first realized ye had fallen in love with the man, I was sore worried for ye. There were some verra dark things said about him, and he looked dark and fierce enough for them to be true. I soon realized that he had been sorely slandered by rumor, but I still worried over ye for he is, weel, as Iain says, ‘such a great lad.’” She smiled faintly when Aimil laughed. “It took awhile before I saw that ye arenae troubled or afeard, that ye can manage what seems to be a great deal of man.”
“Aye, manage him, but can I hold him? Can I keep his hungers sated so that he doesnae answer the lure of others?”
“Has he been unfaithful to ye?” Finished with Aimil’s hair, Giorsal sat down to face her sister.
“I think not. Nay, I ken he hasnae been. He didnae even tumble Catarine though she did all in her power to draw him to her bed. He did travel to the Dunmore keep, but even in that short while he was out of my sight, I dinnae feel he turned elsewhere.”
“Then why do ye fash yourself over it? He has been faithful when he wasnae bound by any oath or vow to be.”
“Aye, but the passion between us is still hot and new. What happens when that wanes as it will do, if only in some ways? ’Tis love that keeps one person trying to stay faithful to another. He hasnae given me any words to make me even think he loves me.
“Ah, Giorsal, I love him so much that, at times, it frightens me. I daren’t even think of him with another. I fear it would tear me to pieces if he began to seek his pleasures elsewhere, if he decided that my being his lover, his friend, and the mother of his bairns was not enough to satisfy all his needs. Worse, I fear I would tear us apart in my pain.”
Taking Aimil’s hand in hers, Giorsal sought words to soothe her sister’s worries. “Aye, he could turn to other women, but then what he already feels for ye could turn to love. Look again at what happened in my marriage. Iain loved me but I didnae love him at all. For five long years he was patient, quietly loved me, and has gained what he sought. I now love him back and dearly so. I am loath to admit it, but I was not even a good friend and lover to him though he tried to be to me.
“Could not the same happen with ye and Parlan? Ye already have a firm place for yourself here, already are so important to him though I do understand why it isnae quite enough. He trusts ye, likes ye, and soon ye will share a child. Build upon that, child. Give him all your love, and the chances are verra good that ye can draw the same from him. Ye have already gained a lot.”
Staring at their joined hands, Aimil thought upon all Giorsal had said. There was a great deal of sense to it. While it might be easier for a good, kind man like Iain MacVern to make Giorsal love him than for her to make a man like Parlan love her, that did not mean that it was impossible. She certainly had a greater chance of doing so than any other woman in his life had ever had.
“Aye, I see the sense of what ye say. I must cease using time and strength to bemoan what I dinnae have and use it to try and gain what I want. Aye, to gain what I need.”
After briefly hugging Aimil, Giorsal stood and tugged Aimil to her feet. “And be patient, dinnae lose heart.”
“I will try verra hard not to, but ’tis a thing far easier to speak of than to do.”
“True enough, but I think ye can do most anything ye set your mind to. Come, now, there is a wedding to attend.”
Parlan scowled toward the door of the hall. “Where is the lass?”
Doing a poor job of hiding a smile, Lagan shook his head. “Takes a lass time to ready herself for her wedding.”
“Weel, if she isnae here soon, I will go and fetch her down. The priest grows impatient,” Parlan added a little pompously.
“Och, aye. ’Tis why he sets there sipping his mead and quietly talking to Lachlan. A sure sign of displeasure.”
After glaring at Leith, Malcolm, and Artair who snickered, Parlan frowned at Lagan. “I will concede that I grow a wee bit restless.”
“Quite. Just a wee bit.”
“Ye can sore try a man’s good humor, Lagan Dunmore.” He swore softly when Lagan just laughed.
Parlan was about to complain that it should not take any woman so long to don a gown when Aimil finally entered the hall. He caught his breath at the sight of her. Her gown was loose and flowing, not only to keep anything from aggravating her nearly-healed wounds but because he and Old Meg were firm believers that no tight clothing should restrict the growth of his child in Aimil’s womb. The rich blue of her gown made her eyes seem even bluer. What truly caught his admiration was her long, bright hair, its thick length glistening and festooned with blue and gold ribbons. He had never seen her look lovelier.
“Ah, Parlan, ye rogue, ye are gaining a fair, wee lass.”
“Aye, Lagan, that I am.” Parlan immediately strode toward Aimil.
Aimil was a little taken aback by her first sight of Parlan. She had never seen him dressed in such finery, in clothes worthy of an appearance at the king’s court. The black and silver seemed to heighten the imposing cast of his dark looks. She felt in awe of him and decided it was not a feeling she was particularly fond of. It certainly shook what little confidence she had.
How could she expect to hold such a man? She was but a small Lowland lass with a short temper and a sharp tongue. At the moment, Parlan looked every inch the fierce Highland laird, a man to make women far prettier than her pursue him. He looked a man no woman could hold for long. Inwardly, she sighed as he took her by the hand and raised her fingers to his lips.
“Ye are lovely beyond words, Aimil Mengue.” He was puzzled by the hint of sadness in her eyes. “Can ye nae add to it with a wee smile?”
She tried but suspected that it was a poor, weak one that finally shaped her mouth. “I am a wee bit nervous, ’tis all, Parlan.”
He did not really believe that was all of it but did not press her. It was neither the time nor the place. So too was there an urgency within him to get the vows said and done, to claim her and the child she carried as his. There would be plenty of time later to sort out her various moods and understand what lay behind them he decided. With a smile he hoped would soothe her, he tugged her toward the priest who was now ready to perform the marriage service.
As he knelt before the priest holding her faintly trembling hand in his, Parlan searched his heart one last time for any doubts or regrets about the step he was about to take. It did not really surprise him to find none for he had expected that, having found none since the moment he had decided to take her as his wife. There was a concern or two, even a few things that could be termed fears, but he pushed them aside. He did not really understand them but knew that they made no difference to what he did now. Instinct told him that they would be somewhat eased once Aimil was legally his.
