"Nay, not toyou, but to your reasoning,” she replied.
"And what is wrong with my reasoning? Harold seeks to tie ye into marriage, to use ye to tighten his grasp on Drumwich, and pull wee Reynard into his web. If ye are wedded to me, he cannae do that, now can he?"
"Nay, but he cannot do it if he cannot get hold of me, either."
"He already has once."
Jolene inwardly cursed. It was difficult to argue with such cold, hard logic, especially when all of her arguments were based upon emotions. In her experience, meager though it was, emotional arguments were either scorned or ignored by men. Anything based upon one's feelings, no matter how sound or reasonable, was considered unworthy of consideration. She did not think Sigimor would be quite so harsh in his judgment, but she doubted her words would sway him. Nevertheless, she would try. It might help if he at least understood why she saidnay.
"Then we shall have to be very careful not to let that happen again."
"Lass—"
She pressed her fingers over his lips to silence him, then hastily removed them. It astonished her that such a hard man could have such soft, warm lips. It astonished her even more that that warmth seemed to have seeped into her body through that brief touch. Jolene quickly shook off her bemusement and forced herself to concentrate on this very important discussion.
"Did you not wonder why I am still a maid at three and twenty?"
"Ye said your betrothed died when ye were sixteen. And, Englishmen are fools. Everyone kens it."
A blush heated her cheeks at that gruff flattery, but she said, “That may be. Howbeit, I am not wed because I did not wish to be married for my dowry, for my bloodlines, or for reasons of alliances and politics. I certainly do not wish to be married simply to annoy Harold."
"Ah. Ye have your head full of fanciful thoughts of love, romance, and all that those minstrels caterwaul about."
"There is no need to sound so scornful. Why should I not wish to have my husband see me as something more than a full purse, a deed to some land, or a treaty signed?"
"Oh, I see ye as more than that,” Sigimor murmured, looking her over.
The heat in his gaze as he surveyed her from head to toe and back up again made Jolene's toes curl in her boots. She had never experienced lust, but she was sure that was what was coursing through her veins right now. The man was able to stir that feeling inside her with an alarming ease. She prayed he did not know for she suspected he would take quick advantage of it.
"Lust is not a good reason to marry, either. Lust can be a fleeting thing, but marriage is forever."
"Lass, I owed a blood debt to your brother. I couldnae repay it, could I? So, I will do so by keeping ye and the laddie safe, by making Harold pay for his crimes, and by seeing that Peter's son keeps all that Peter left him."
"There is no need to give away the rest of your life to accomplish that."
Sigimor frowned at her. “Give away the rest of my life? I dinnae see it that way. I am two and thirty. Tis true I have no need for an heir, but I would like a bairn or two of my own. Need a wife for that since I want my children to be legitimate. Being that ye are unwed and dinnae have Peter as guardian now, I suspicion ye will be finding yourself married off once ye return to England."
The truth of that nearly made Jolene curse. A man would be named as Reynard's guardian and, without doubt, be given rule over her as well. Even Peter had begun to think that she should be married, that she had dragged her feet long enough, and had been considering arranging something. It would be the first thing a new guardian would do. What Sigimor was unaware of was that she was an heiress. There was a very good chance that the king himself would grab control of her and her dowry in order to marry her off to some court favorite or needy kinsman. It gave her chills just to think about it.
"Now, ye ken weel that I am nay after any of those things ye mentioned,” Sigimor continued. “Whate'er dowry ye may have willnae be handed o'er to me, will it, and there isnae any alliance to be made. Since your bloodlines are English ones, they willnae gain me verra much here, will they?"
"Oh. Nay, I suppose not."
"Now, I dinnae mean to fail in keeping ye and the lad safe or in sending Harold straight to hell, but Fate can be a capricious thing. The mon already captured ye once and, if he hadnae been such an arrogant fool, could have had ye half the way to England by now. Aye, and wedded, and bedded.” He nodded when she paled. “By wedding me ye can end that threat, or, at the verra least, weaken it. Twill also give me the right, by the laws of both of our countries, to chase the bastard straight into the halls of Drumwich if need be."
He watched her closely as she thought over all he had said. Sigimor hoped some of those less encouraging emotions he saw flash across her very expressive face were stirred by thoughts of Harold and not him. As he idly toyed with a thick curl of her hair that had slipped the bounds of her braid, he thought about what other arguments he could use if she still hesitated. He would talk all night if he had to. This woman was his match. The moment he had thought her lost to Harold, he had lost all doubt of that. Since he was sure he would sound like a fool if he told her he wanted to marry her because she feltright, he would have to convince her that it was a logical, practical thing to do. If all else failed, he could always seduce her, he mused, and smiled faintly in pleasure at the thought.
Jolene wondered what amused the man. From where she stood, there was nothing to be amused about. He had weighed her down with arguments there was no disputing. Harold intended to marry her to help him complete his theft of Drumwich, so she should take that weapon away from him by marrying Sigimor. Practical, logical, and, she realized with some surprise, hurtful. He gave her not one word of love, affection, or passion. Since they had only known each other for a few days, it was foolish to think a proposal from Sigimor could be anything but practical, yet she wanted it to be. He was giving her calm reason when what she wanted, needed, was wild romance.
For a brief moment, she savored the image of Sigimor proclaiming his love for her, pleading with her in the most romantic way to make him the happiest of men by marrying him. Utter nonsense, she told herself, no matter how pleasant an image it was. Sigimor had not known her long enough to conceive some great passion for her. If he tried to claim such a thing, she would probably doubt his word. There was also the simple fact that Sigimor Cameron was not a man who possessed a sweet, flattering courtier's tongue. Nor could she see him pleading for anything. If she married him, she would have to accept the fact that he would never be the knight of her girlish dreams. He would not be giving her gifts of flowers, whispering tender words in her ear, or sitting by her feet singing her love songs. Recalling his singing, she decided that last was probably a blessing.
What was she thinking? She could not marry him. Being married because a man owed her and her brother a blood debt was nearly as bad as being married off by the king to please some court sycophant. Jolene decided she was letting his fine looks and the way he could make her feel steal away all her good sense.
"Nay,” she said softly. “To be married for such cold reasons—"
"Ye think I am cold?"
"Nay, but the reasons you give for this marriage are."
