“Aye, verra certain. Even if my father hadnae spoken of it so often, I had the heat of Parlan’s love words against my skin to tell me. A man doesnae speak to a woman as he did to me whilst we pleasured each other unless he intends more than a night’s pleasure.”
Aimil sternly told herself not to listen but her mind drew pictures of Janet and Parlan together, locked in an intimate embrace. It cut her badly, fueling her jealousy to a fever pitch. The only thing that kept her from flying at the woman was a loathing of letting Janet know how jealous she was. She suspected that jealousy was what Janet wanted to provoke in her although, for what reasons beyond self-satisfaction, Aimil was not sure.Probably to make me appear a shrew to Parlan, Aimil thought crossly,or even to turn him from my bed whereupon she will so graciously offer him hers. Aimil felt strongly inclined to hit the woman.
“Any woman is a fool to believe what a man says when he is but trying to part her thighs.”
“T’was more than that,” Janet hissed.
“Was it?” Aimil looked at the woman coldly. “Then why is it that I am wed to the Black Parlan and not ye?”
Deciding that retreat was her wisest option, Aimil started out of the stable, but Janet grabbed her by the arm. The woman yanked her back then slapped her across the face. Aimil decided that that was not something she would silently endure or walk away from. Moving swiftly, she got a good grip upon Janet, dragged the cursing woman toward the muck pile and tossed her in. Ignoring Janet’s screams and curses, Aimil then strode out of the stable and headed straight for her chambers. She did not want to be around when Janet’s state became more widely known which she was certain it would be as soon as Janet pulled herself from the mire.
Parlan gaped along with everyone else in the hall when a muck-covered Janet staggered in. An overpowering stench of the stables preceded the clearly enraged woman as she approached the table. Even before the woman spoke, Parlan began to suspect that Aimil was involved. He had sensed that Janet was testing Aimil’s patience but he had hoped that Aimil would prove to have more control, would understand the importance of keeping things amiable.
“God’s teeth, lass,” grumbled Lord Dunmore, “why are ye in such a state?”
“She did this to me, that Lowland slut.”
“’Ware, lass.” Lord Dunmore cast a wary glance at Parlan. “’Tis Lord MacGuin’s wife ye speak of.”
“I dinnae care who she wed. She had no right to do this to me.”
Parlan held his temper as she ranted on. He hoped that Lord Dunmore would calm her down and get her to leave quickly as he was so evidently trying to do. Then something Janet said drew his full attention.
“Ye hit my wife?” He spoke softly but coldly as he slowly rose to his feet in the suddenly quiet hall.
Paling slightly, Janet strove to defend her actions. “She insulted me.”
“She is with child. Ye dinnae strike a woman with child. She could have fallen or been hurt in other ways. And if she did insult ye, ’tis but fair payment for all the ones ye have flung at her head since we arrived.” He bowed slightly to Lord Dunmore. “If ye will excuse me, m’lord, I must see how my wife fares.” He strode out of the hall.
Lord Dunmore glared at his daughter. “Ye fool lass. If ye werenae so covered in muck, I would slap you.”
“For hitting some Lowland slut?”
“For hitting the Black Parlan’s woman. ’Tis clear that he prizes the lass. Aye, and I prize the alliance too much to risk it for your folly. Ye will stay to your chambers until he leaves and best ye pray that he doesnae decide to pay this back with far more than one cold smile.”
Aimil sighed when Parlan entered their chambers. She knew it was him by the sound of his footsteps but she did not move from where she lay on her back on the bed. Neither did she open her eyes even when he grasped her gently by the chin. She was feeling very weary of conflict and did not wish to face the anger he must surely feel.
“So, she did strike you.” Parlan lightly touched her bruised cheek with his fingertips.
Surprised, she finally looked at him. “’Tis bruising?”
“Aye, as always. So too did Janet let slip that she had struck you. How do ye feel?”
“It barely stings. I am certain that the bruise looks worse than it is.”
“Nay, I didnae mean your cheek though ’tis glad I am that ye suffer little from it.” He gently placed his hand over her abdomen. “Ye didnae stumble or grow too upset, did ye?”
Realizing that his concern was for the child, she felt a bit hurt. “Nay, ’tis fine. Your heir rests secure.”
“Good, for any trouble with the bairn now could surely harm ye.”
“It wouldnae do the bairn much good either.”
“Nay, and t’would sore grieve me if aught happened to him, but ’tis ye I feared for. Ye should have just turned away from her.” He sat down beside her on the bed.
“I did but she pulled me back. Have I caused a great deal of trouble?” She was not sorry for what she had done to Janet, felt the woman deserved that and more, but did not wish to be the cause of difficulties between Parlan and his closest allies.
“Nothing worth fashing yourself over.” He kissed her then sprawled at her side.
