“I was but trying to stir a wee bit of common sense in you.”
“Your idea of common sense.”
“It should be yours as weel. I wasnae feeding ye lies. I spoke of my honest worries I hold about all of this.”
She sighed, reined in her annoyance and nodded. “Fair enough. I rather wish ye hadnae though.”
“Weel, I didnae really mean to frighten ye badly. Do ye feel all right?” He warily eyed her bulging stomach.
“Ye didnae scare the bairn out of me if that is what ye fear.” She could not restrain a laugh when he flushed. “Artair, a bairn doesnae come out with such speed. Nay, especially not a first one. Even had ye scared me into labor, t’would be hours before Parlan’s heir arrived. Dinnae fash yourself over it so.”
“Weel, ye are a wee bit late.”
“Aye, mayhaps, but being late doesnae mean the bairn will come any faster when it does decide to leave me.”
“I think I would still feel more at ease if ye were back at Dubhglenn nearer to your bed and the women to help you.”
“I begin to think I would too. Try as I may, I cannae ignore your warnings about Rory. The taste of fear he left me with is still too strong. Your words have made me feel that eyes watch us from every bush and tree.”
He grimaced and reached out to squeeze her hand briefly. “I am sorry. That really wasnae my intent.”
“I ken it. Your intent has succeeded. We will return to Dubhglenn in a moment.”
“Why hesitate?”
“Because when I return to Dubhglenn, I ken weel that t’will be a long time before I can leave again. As ye say, the bairn is late. He will bring me to my bed verra soon, and I shall be tied to it for a while. Aye, and then to him and his hunger. For just a moment longer I wish to sit here, breathing the fine, crisp air and seeing no walls about me.” She smiled crookedly. “Ye can busy yourself looking to find all those eyes I now think are peering at us.”
“Aimil, I dinnae think he is that close.”
“Now, dinnae back down. ’Tis only wise to be cautious. I let myself forget that for a moment. That is something I cannae do. Nay, I cannae relax my guard until Rory Fergueson is dead.”
Rory glared at the pair in the clearing. “T’will be a long time before that happens, my pretty slut. Look at her, Geordie. Do ye see her?”
Hate poured through Rory’s veins with a heat as strong as any passion he had ever tasted. Aimil Mengue sat there proud and beautifully clothed as if she were some fine lady but he knew better. She was no better than a base whore.
His gaze fell to her bulging abdomen, and his hands clenched so tightly they hurt. As Kirstie had done, Aimil had allowed her body to take and to nurture the seed of another. Worse than Kirstie, however, Aimil had let one of the MacGuins he so loathed to possess her and to round her lithe shape with child.
With Kirstie, he had gained only the satisfaction of avenging her scorn with her death. In killing Aimil, he could accomplish so much more. He could avenge her scorning of him, repay them all for the ruin they had brought him, hurt Lachlan Mengue by depriving him of the clearest memory of Kirstie the man had ever had, and bring the great Black Parlan to his knees for, in one stroke, he could deprive the man of his wife and his heir.
From where he lay at Rory’s side, Geordie peered through the bracken. “Aye, I see her. Now can we leave this place?”
“When she is so close I need but reach out and take her? Dinnae be a fool.”
“I begin to think a fool is just what I am. ’Tisnae wise our being so nigh to Dubhglenn without even a horse to flee on. The land crawls with men aching to spit us on their swords. Aye, and now there will be more since ye killed that Dunmore wench.”
“She deserved to die. She was naught but a whore who never let a moment pass wherein she didnae complain or whine. I doubt there is any who will miss the ill-tempered slattern.”
“True, but even if every Dunmore alive hated the wench, she was kin and they will demand blood for blood.”
“Let them demand. They willnae catch me. None has in all these months. Do ye expect me to crawl away like some whipped cur? I have lost everything. I am hunted and haunted at every turning. Someone must pay for that.”
“Aye, but there isnae any need to set yourself in their hands. Look, ’tis Artair MacGuin himself who rides with the lass. Do ye think he will let ye take the lass without a fight? She is his laird’s, his brother’s, wife and she carries the heir to Dubhglenn. If he even catches scent of ye, he will seek ye out, howling for your blood.”
“Let him seek. Let him howl. He is naught but a drunken boy. I neednae fear him.”
“’Tis said he changes. Aye, for the better, growing stronger and more like the Black Parlan every day. He looks verra sober now.”
“Ye fret as badly as any old woman, Geordie. Look at the slut. She sets there with her belly swollen by that whoreson’s bastard, and smiles at his brother. T’wouldnae surprise me to learn that she services them both. Just like her mother. Kirstie turned from me to another, let that fool Lachlan fill her belly with his spawn over and over. Weel, she paid for her slighting of me. Now I shall make her daughter pay as weel, and t’will be a double victory for me. I will take the Black Parlan’s woman and his child in one stroke.”
