"Boastful fool,” she said, but he just laughed.
She sighed and looked around the now empty room. Upon her arrival, she would never have thought she would be so reluctant to leave in only two days, but she was. Jolene knew some of that was because she could not be sure she would ever see any of these people ever again. If she told anyone she knew in England about Scarglas and its people, they would think she was insane for wanting to stay, yet she had felt safe here. And welcomed, despite the old laird's constant grumbling about her being English. She was especially going to miss Fiona, the first true friend she had ever had. They were like souls and had known it instantly, a rare thing that she was loathe to give up.
Then she thought of Sigimor's boastful promise to give her as manybairnsas she wanted and nearly wept. Although she had only just acknowledged that craving, it had already settled itself deep into her heart. Yet, she was still not certain she could stay with him and so she dared not dream of such things as little redheaded babies. Even as common sense told her to put aside such thoughts for now, however, the craving remained. So did the sorrow over the chance that she would have to walk away from such dreams.
Afraid she was thinking herself into a deep melancholy, Jolene got up and went to pack her things. This was all Harold's fault, she told herself, grasping for a cleansing, righteous anger to banish her heartache. If not for his greed, she would still be at Drumwich, still have Peter, and be preparing herself for some acceptable marriage. She would not have met Sigimor or Fiona. She would certainly not be grieving over the loss of redheaded babies she had not even conceived yet. By the time she reached her bedchamber, she was pleasantly enraged, her sorrow forgotten, and her mind filled with thoughts of all the ways Harold could be forced to pay for his crimes.
"Ye best keep that one,” said Ewan as he moved to stand beside Sigimor in the torchlit bailey.
Sigimor took his gaze from his wife and Fiona saying their farewells in the damp predawn, and frowned at Ewan. “Why wouldnae I?"
"Matters arenae fully settled, are they? E'en when ye put an end to the threat Harold presents, the future of that wee lad is still in question. Because of the promise your wife made to her dying brother, that means her future is uncertain, too."
"Her future is with me. She is my wife."
"She is also guardian to that bairn, although no law would recognize her as such. Howbeit, that is what her brother made her when he set the life and welfare of his heir into her wee hands. Dinnae close your eyes to that hard truth."
"She and I will face what needs doing when the time comes,” Sigimor said and ignored Ewan's soft curse. “Our two lasses became close verra quickly, aye?"
"Aye,” Ewan replied, accepting the change in subject. “Fiona says they are like souls or some such thing, and saw that in each other almost immediately. She also says that, although your wife doesnae see it, she was verra much alone for most of her life. Fiona then told me that Jolene found this pack of fools a bit overwhelming, so ye had best be prepared for her to feel the same when she first sets foot in Dubheidland. She and the lad were kept apart from others, or so Fiona believes. Her brother was obviously verra blood proud, keeping the lines between the laird and all others verra clearly drawn."
Sigimor nodded. “Jolene said as much earlier today. Tis a wonder that she isnae tainted by that, isnae haughty at all.” He shrugged. “Mayhap that is why she was alone. She was set in a place she didnae really fit in."
"Could be. Weel, she fits now, eh? And Fiona wanted me to tell ye that, if ye dinnae keep this one, she will do ye an injury. Of course, I told her that, if ye lost this lass, she wouldnae have to trouble herself, that ye would be bloodied enough already."
A little troubled by his cousin's insight, Sigimor just grunted. He did not want to think of what would happen once Harold was dealt with. He had a plan and he would concentrate on that for now. Jolene was his mate and shewouldlove him. It was not until he heard Ewan chuckle that he realized he had spoken that last thought aloud.
"A good plan, Cousin,” said Ewan, “and I wish ye luck with it.” He looked at Fiona and smiled faintly. “If ye do get her to say she loves ye, try to get her to sayalways. Your sister's mon agrees with me. Tis something ye dinnae ken ye want ‘til ye hear it. Aye, get her to sayalways."
Sigimor opened his mouth to ask why, then quickly closed it. The word had already settled into his mind and heart. Hewouldhear Jolene say she loved him and hewouldhear her promise himalways.
"Heed me, Jolene,” said Fiona, holding both of Jolene's hands in hers, “think verra, verra hard ere ye make your choices. Aye, that wee lad is verra important, but so is what ye have with Sigimor."
"I am not surewhatI have with Sigimor,” Jolene said.
"And ye may nay be sure when the time comes to choose, either. Sigimor is like my Ewan and my brother Connor. My brother Diarmot, too, in many ways. They fought love hard, though they couldnae let go of the women who stirred such unwanted feelings within them. Aye, and sweet words arenae their way, either. Ye have to look at what theydo, how they act."
"But, how can I trust my own judgment? I could very easily see only what I want to see, not what is truly there."
Fiona smiled in complete understanding. “Itisdifficult, but nay impossible. And, if a mon like Sigimor gives ye his heart, ‘tis yours forever. When such men love a lass, they love her hard and ne'er waver. They mate, and ‘tis truly for life. Few highborn lasses such as we are so blessed in their marriages."
"Oh, Fiona, how I would like such a marriage, but—"
"Nay, dinnae think on why he said he was marrying ye. The beginning isnae important. They are usually lying to themselves about the why of it all anyway. Now, when the time comes to make your choice, ask yourself some questions. Is the passion fierce and shared?” Fiona nodded when Jolene blushed. “I thought it was. I could see it in Sigimor's eyes when he looked at ye."
"Tis just lust."
"Sigimor isnae so verra different from my Ewan. He fed the need when it grew strong, but nay more than that. He would buy himself a tussle now and then. He had no lemans and didnae woo the better born lasses. He slept alone. Save for what was a young lad's idiocy with that Lady Barbara, he has ne'er done elsewise. Yet, he cannae seem to keep his hands off ye. Dinnae excuse that as just lust.
"Now, it looks as if Sigimor is ready to leave, so I had best spit out the rest of the questions ye must ask yourself. Does he do all he can to see to your comfort? Does he seem possessive and suffer from jealousy? Does he talk with ye? Does he bristle at the verra hint of an insult to ye? Does he explain himself if ye ask him to? Does he listen to ye? Does he ken your moods and ask ye the why of them? Is he at ease in your company and does he laugh with ye? And, does he hold ye in his arms throughout the night?"
"These things are important?” Jolene asked even as she committed the questions to memory.
"Verra important. I wish I could tell ye more, but promise me that ye will ask yourself these questions ere ye make your choice between the lad and the mon, and that ye will think verra hard on the answers."
"I swear."
Fiona hugged her, then looked at Sigimor as he stepped up beside Jolene and draped his arm about her shoulders. “Ready to slip away?"
