They were halfway to Dubhglenn, moving slowly for a change as they tried to pace their mounts, when Leith moved next to Parlan, and struggled to find the words to ease the increasing worry he could see in the man’s face. “Aimil is weel guarded.”
“Aye.” Lachlan moved up on Parlan’s other side. “The man cannae get to her within the walls of Dubhglenn.”
“Nay, not if she stays there.” Parlan could not find the words to explain the fear that had begun to grip him and continued to grow.
“Weel, where would the fool lass go? She must be verra large with child by now.”
“Aye, Father, verra large.” Leith smiled faintly. “I saw her but days ago, and she needs a hand to but rise from her seat.”
“Verra true.” Parlan too fleetingly smiled, but his grim mood returned quickly. “Another lass would be kept still by such a thing. They wouldnae even think on going far when the bairn weighs upon them so heavily. I cannae be certain Aimil would act so.”
“Nay, and I cannae tell ye she would either.” Lachlan grimaced. “She has never been as other lasses. A bairn coming wouldnae change that.”
“Nay, it wouldnae. She has been growing restless of late and it now has me worried. I cannae say what it is but I feel that something has gone wrong. That feeling gnaws at me now and grows stronger each moment that passes.”
“Weel, then, we best gain some speed.” Even as Lachlan spoke, he gently urged his mount to a swifter pace.
Doing the same, Parlan muttered, “If she isnae setting quietly in the keep, I shall beat the wench, I swear it.”
“I will hold her steady so that ye can,” Lachlan offered.
“I think we shall find her in childbed. She is past due and that may be all that eats at you.”
“I hope ye prove right, Leith. Though I have my own worries about the birthing, I would far prefer that than to find her outside Dubhglenn and mayhaps within Rory’s foul reach.”
Aimil took a deep breath and smiled at a frowning Artair. They had paused for a moment so that she could enjoy the feeling of being outside of walls for the first time in many days. It was far more wonderful to be in the glorious weather than to acknowledge it while standing behind thick stone walls. Artair, however, was proving a less than enjoyable companion for he made no secret of his continuing disapproval of the ride.
“Come, Artair, can ye not enjoy such a fine day? They are a pleasure that is too rare.”
“I would enjoy it more if I kenned that ye were safe back in Dubhglenn with your feet back on the ground.”
“I am nearly as safe as that on Elfking’s back.” She patted her mount’s strong neck. “He would never harm me in any way.”
“True. Ye have spoiled that beast to your hand. Still, ’tis not that which truly troubles me.” He frowned darkly as he looked around. “I have a bad feeling about our being out here. Parlan wouldnae like it.”
That was true but Aimil had no intention of admitting it. “We are taking it most carefully. In truth, we go along as if we ride old weary nags instead of the fine, swift mounts we have. What harm in that? If Parlan decides he must rage about it, I shall take all the blame. After all, I did talk ye into it against your better judgment.”
“Aye, ye did and I dinnae ken why I let ye do it.” He shook his head.
“’Tis because ye are sweet.”
“Am I or am I but stupid? Aimil, ’tis undoubtedly mad to let a woman so far gone with child go for a ride. But ye forget that Rory Fergueson has yet to be found and brought to justice?”
“I am not about to forget such a thing. Surely he wouldnae come so close to Dubhglenn and Parlan’s sword?”
“Who can say? The man isnae right in his mind. T’would seem foolhardy indeed to come so close to a place where so many ache to kill him but it was foolhardy for him to take ye and do as he did. He couldnae have hidden ye there and carried on so for verra long. Then too, a man who suffers madness can be verra clever.”
“Ah, but Geordie, Rory’s man, is clever. He wouldnae let Rory come near here.”
“T’would be fine if that is how it goes but”—Artair shrugged—“in such cases, who can tell? Geordie may seem to lead Rory at times but that doesnae mean that Rory isnae the master still.”
Aimil shivered and could not stop herself from looking all around her. She told herself her fear was nonsense. Pure nonsense. Rory had always been very careful about keeping himself safe and coming so close to Dubhglenn was not.
Despite that reassurance, she felt a chill ripple up her spine. She could not stop herself from thinking about how totally helpless she was in her present state nor about how any threat to her was also a threat to her child. Her hand instinctively went to her abdomen as she thought on that. No matter how sternly she told herself not to let her fears rule nor to let Artair’s dour words upset her, she felt as if Rory did indeed lurk nearby, as if he watched her. The fear she could not dismiss annoyed her, and she glared at Artair.
Artair eyed her warily. They were slowly working toward being friends, but he could not yet claim to know her well. He wondered if Parlan really knew her or ever would. Never had he met a woman who seemed to so delight in acting contrary. He had hoped to evoke a little common sense in her by voicing his honest concerns but she seemed to be annoyed.
“Ye were trying to frighten me, werenae ye, Artair MacGuin?” She scowled when a fleeting look of guilt crossed his face, confirming her suspicions.
