Not ceasing her languid caress, Aimil looked at him curiously as he propped himself up on his elbows to look at her. “And what so amuses ye?” She decided she must have grown more confident of him for she felt only curiosity about his laughter.
“I had intended a seduction but I think that was more of a ravishment.”
“Weel, I have no objection to being ravished now and again.” She smiled faintly and kissed his nose.
“Ye shouldnae make your poor husband suffer so many long weeks without a wee taste of you.”
“I didnae make ye suffer, t’was your son, but I thank ye for suffering.”
Slightly easing from their embrace, he gently brushed a few stray wisps of hair from her face. “Why thank me?”
“Other men would have turned elsewhere when their needs were so long denied.”
“Now, that wouldnae have been quite fair, seeing as ye too were being denied of something ye favor, too. Oof!” He caught the small fist that had punched him in the side and kissed it. “Besides, lass, why should I seek out something common when I kenned that waiting awhile would give me the best?”
“The best?” She whispered the words, his seriousness making her nervous.
“Aye, the verra best. I think I have told ye that before. Do ye doubt me?”
“Weel, what begins as the best could become common after a while. The fire wanes, and the newness of it all fades.”
“True, and I ken that that will happen to us in some ways but it cannae stop it being the best. Time and familiarity cannae change that. ’Tisnae a thing I like to keep reminding ye of but I have had enough women to ken a thing or twa about this. I was no innocent as ye are.”
“Mayhaps I should taste me another man or twa so I can judge with such surety.”
“Weel, best ye choose a man ye care naught about, for he will be dead before the sweetness of ye has left his tongue.”
She nearly gaped at him. Though he spoke quietly and without any apparent ire, the very coolness of his voice and the look in his eyes told her he was completely serious. Her testy remark had been an empty threat, but Parlan’s was chillingly real. She sought a way to ease the sudden tension between them, not only troubled by it but disliking it.
“Ye mean I cannae leave a trail of broken hearts behind me?”
Fighting to quiet the sudden fierce jealousy that seized him, and not doing too well, he tried to smile but could tell by the look upon her face that it probably resembled a baring of teeth. “Not unless ye wish to leave a trail of bodies behind ye as weel.”
“Ye are proving to be a verra possessive husband.” Even though she found that pleasing, she was unsettled by the ferocity of it.
He traced the delicate lines of her face with his fingers and brushed a kiss over her lips. “Aye, I am. I kenned that when I was so eager to have the priest deliver our vows. I wanted ye marked as mine, only mine. I dinnae plan to let any man change that.”
“Och, weel, plans are made for changing.”
Before Aimil could accept that she had heard another voice, Parlan leapt to his feet. One hand hastily, if very loosely, tied his breeches as the other hand grabbed his sword. She did not think she had ever seen anyone move so fast.
Without thinking, she sprang to her feet and darted behind Parlan. She stared at Rory in disbelief and horror. Not only the realization that he was not dead shocked her but his face. A gruesome sight, the whole left side was little more than one great scar. Ragged and filthy, there was nothing left of the Rory Fergueson she had once known. Not even his eyes were the same. His gaze burned with the strength of his madness.
She did not understand why he had not struck them down as they had been oblivious to all around them. Rory had never wanted to face Parlan on equal terms before yet, by announcing himself, he had insured that he would. In the grip of his madness and hate, he suddenly seemed to want to do battle. She was not sure that that boded well for Parlan and her, even though Parlan looked ready and eager to fight.
Parlan felt like screaming out his rage. He had been caught off-guard. Telling himself that he could not know that a man declared dead would suddenly appear to threaten him and Aimil again did not lessen his fury. The first advantage, that of surprise, had gone to Rory. Parlan was determined that he would give the man no other.
He then almost laughed. One purpose for returning to the spot near the Banshee’s Well was to try to erase the bad memory Aimil had of the place. Instead, that memory seemed intent upon reliving itself. This time, however, Parlan was determined not to let Rory get his hands on Aimil.
“Get out of here, Aimil.”
She turned to obey even as she thought that she could not leave Parlan alone with Rory. For a moment she considered riding for help, and wished she had brought Elfking. It was then that she realized that she was staring at empty space where the horses should have been.
“The horses are gone.” She wondered why she should feel so disappointed and afraid when she had never intended to flee anyway.
“Aye, ye were so busy ye didnae notice that the beasts, er, wandered away.”
The soft giggle that escaped Rory chilled Aimil. Pressed against his back, she felt Parlan shiver. In the flat small sound, one could clearly hear Rory’s madness. She knew that Parlan also heard it and tasted the fear such madness could inspire.
