"Following ye?"
"He will be soon."
Sigimor eased Jolene's grip on him and looked at her. “Can ye run a wee bit farther?"
"Aye,” she replied. “Just point the way."
"We can discuss this further when we put some distance between us and Harold."
As they ran toward the clearing where the others waited, Jolene suspected Sigimor'sdiscussionwould consist of a lot of awkward questions concerning Harold. That would probably come after the lecture, she mused, which might give her enough time to think of what to say, something she hoped would not tell the full truth yet not truly be a lie.
Then she caught sight of Liam and groaned. She was now certain he was the reason she had been given the opportunity to flee. There was a chance he had heard many of the things Harold had said and he would not hesitate to tell Sigimor every word. When they finally stopped running, she hoped she still retained enough wit todiscussthings with Sigimor. She was not sure what the man would do if he found out all of Harold's plans, but Jolene suspected it could mean trouble for her, something she already had a bounty of.
Sigimor used only a few curt words to get everyone moving the moment they reached the others. He secured Reynard snugly against his own chest and Jolene made no protest. He was the better rider and the weight of such a small child would not hinder him at all, as it occasionally did her. She inwardly groaned when she mounted her horse, but made no complaint. She fully agreed with Sigimor's plan to use what little was left of daylight to put as many miles as they could between them and Harold, and as swiftly as they could. There would be time later to pamper her bruises and recover from her ordeal.
The murky gray of late twilight finally stopped them. Jolene fought the urge to collapse as she dismounted. She took Reynard from Sigimor and saw to the little boy's needs. When he fell asleep within moments after he had finished his meal, she envied him. Not only was he able to achieve the deep, restful sleep of the innocent, but he had enjoyed the comfort of being pressed against Sigimor for the duration of their hard ride, the man's big, strong body undoubtedly protecting Reynard from the worst of it.
Jolene wished she could have been pressed so close to Sigimor's chest. It was such a lovely chest, she thought as she started toward some trees and thick bushes at the far edge of their camp hoping to take a private moment or two to see to her own needs. Broad, strong, and smooth. She sighed as she thought of how nice it would be to rest her cheek against that warm skin, to smooth her hands over that chest, especially if he wrapped those long, muscular arms around her to hold her close and—. She frowned as she realized there were soft footsteps echoing hers from behind. Jolene turned and directed her frown at Sigimor who was close on her heels.
"I am slipping away for a moment of privacy,” she said, but Sigimor did not move.
"Aye, I ken it,” he replied. “I am escorting ye."
"How can I be private if you are with me?"
"Ye can be private on one side of the tree, or bush, whilst I stand on the other side."
"But, well, you will be able to hear me,” she nearly whispered, her voice weakened by shock.
"I believe I can bear it."
His eyes were bright with laughter and Jolene's shock quickly changed to annoyance. She might as well toss what few scraps of modesty she had left to the four winds. Jolene actually ached to yell at him, to vigorously argue this infringement upon her privacy, but she did neither. Not only did she feel sure he would not be moved in this, but her personal needs were becoming almost painfully demanding. She muttered a curse and marched off toward a big tree with a thick tangle of bushes at its roots.
The moment she squatted behind the tree, Jolene knew this was not going to work. The urge was still there, sharp and demanding, but nothing was happening. She was simply far too aware of how close Sigimor was, of how a man she was deeply attracted to was near enough to hear her let water. Although her embarrassment lingered, anger over her own foolishness and the awkward situation he had put her in pushed it to the side for a moment.
"You are going to have to make some noise,” she snapped. “Sing."
"Sing? Och, nay, lass, ye truly dinnae wish me to do that."
She could hear the laughter in his deep voice and she gritted her teeth. “Do it or we could be here all night and I will probably do some permanent injury to my innards."
"Why dinnae ye sing?"
"Sigimor! Will you just do it, please?!"
"Dinnae say I ne'er warned ye."
He started to sing and Jolene was so stunned, she had finished her business before she even realized she had started. Using a small square of linen, she tidied herself, then used a little water from the waterskin she had brought to wash her hands. She then hastily straightened her clothing, raced around the tree, and put her hand over his mouth. The way his lovely eyes gleamed with humor even in the dim light told her she did not have to fear insulting him. Then she felt the tip of his tongue stroke her palm. Heat flared up her arm, and she yanked her hand away.
"I did warn ye, lass,” he drawled, studying the slight flush upon her cheeks and wondering if it was caused by anger, embarrassment, or, as he hoped, a sudden flash of desire.
Jolene forced herself to concentrate on that noise he had made, one that seemed to have startled every living creature in the wood into silence, and not on what that odd little caress had made her feel. “I do not understand how a man with such a fine speaking voice could sound like that. You have no sense of tone or tune, do you."
"None at all,” he said cheerfully as he grasped her by the hand and led her back to camp.
As she let him tug her along with him, Jolene stared at their joined hands and wondered if Sigimor was some sort of sorcerer. It was a strange thought, but no stranger than the way he made her feel all warm and shivery inside simply by clasping her hand. She did not believe she had ever felt that way before, but she could not, at the moment, recall any other man touching her hand.
Sigimor stopped, drawing her attention. They had reached the camp. Jolene saw that the other men were frowning at Sigimor. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him point at her, causing all four men to look accusingly at her.
