"I will kill the bitch,” he whispered in a voice hoarse with fury. “Slowly."
"Ah.” Martin nodded. “The lusting has finally burned away, I see."
Sitting up straight again, Harold finished his ale and signaled the maid for more. “Nay, ‘tis still there.” He fell silent until the woman filled his tankard, collected her coin, and left again. “I must make some plans. That bitch has ruined everything. I held it all and would have kept it save for her. God's bones, she has set me in the shadow of the gallows, but I will at least thwart her in that. Aye, and use her hard ere I cut her throat."
"These Englishmen may not be after us. There are other reasons for their presence and the tales told may be wrong."
"You know they are not and you know as well as I do that they are after me. If not me, then Jolene and the boy. E'en that will only gain me a short respite for she will quickly send them after me. Now what?” he grumbled when there was a disturbance at the door which quickly drew everyone's attention.
Harold's eyes widened when a woman strode over to the fire he and Martin sat near. She yanked off her cloak and threw it to the slender young man close behind her. She was the first pleasing thing he had seen in this country. A little taller than most women, she was voluptuous in a way that made a man immediately hard with lust. Her hair was a pale blond, her features were perfection, and her eyes were a clear, startling blue. Judging by the richness of her deep blue gown and the jewels she wore, he suspected that she was no common wench. He was suddenly very glad he had indulged himself with a bath and a change of clothes while his men sought out the horses they needed.
"We can probably get a room here, then get a fresh start in the morning,” said the young man. “Twill be good to return home.” He hung the woman's cloak on a hook near the fireplace.
"We will make one more stop, Donald,” she said as she held her hands before the fire to warm them.
Donald cursed and glared at her. “Will ye nay give up this foolish quest? The mon isnae rich, ye ken."
"Richer than I am."
"Iam richer than ye are now."
"We will ride to Dubheidland, and that is final. I need a husband, Donald. Verra soon I shall need a roof o'er my head. And, ifIdo then so shall you."
"Nay, I shall go to my sister. She will let me stay with her for as long as I wish.” Donald shook his head. “Ye can just cease looking so hopeful, Barbara. After ye bedded her husband, my sister will only savor the thought of ye begging in the streets. I cannae see Sigimor Cameron welcoming ye with open arms, either, not after the way ye treated him. From all I have heard of the mon, he isnae one to forget a betrayal. Aye, and ye didnae have much luck catching his eye the few times ye have seen him o'er the past ten years."
"Remind me again of why I am suffering your company."
"Because e'enyeken that ‘tis verra unwise for a woman to travel about unchaperoned."
"We are going to Dubheidland. As soon as I am warm again and have eaten, we will travel there. We should make it there ere the sun sets and so willnae have to spend coin in this wretched place."
"Sigimor Cameron will close the gates on us."
"Nay, he wouldnae do that.” Barbara smiled and brushed some dust from her skirts. “He will recall some of the ties I have and to whom and willnae wish to risk offending any of them."
"Ye dinnae think he will ken that ye have broken near all those ties? The mon isnae a hermit, Barbara."
"Hewilllet us in. I just have to think of some way to make him allow us to stay for longer than a night."
"Mayhap I may be of service, m'lady,” Harold said, causing the couple to look at him in shock.
"But, ye are an Englishmon,” Barbara said. “How can ye help me? And why should ye e'en want to?"
"Because I, too, seek something at Dubheidland."
"What?"
"Sir Sigimor Cameron's wife."
"He is married?” Donald shook his head. “Weel, that puts a sure end to all of your plans, that does."
Barbara ignored her cousin, recognizing a cunning in this Englishman that matched her own. “Are ye sure we speak of the same mon? That Sigimor Cameron, laird of Dubheidland, is married?"
"For now.” Harold sipped his ale, giving her time to think over his words, before standing to introduce himself and Martin. After she introduced herself and her cousin, he said, “Shall we talk, m'lady?"
Harold smiled when, after another brief moment of thought, she nodded. Her cousin obeyed her command to get them each a seat, then joined Harold and Martin at their table. He knew he could make use of this woman, that she was one who was willing to do anything and sacrifice anyone to get what she wanted. For the first time since he had learned that Jolene had married the lord of Dubheidland, Harold felt some of his rage ease. Even beating that priest near to death had not accomplished that. Through this woman, Harold knew he would gain some measure of revenge against Jolene for all she had lost him.
Jolene's eyes widened as she looked at the gown Old Nancy held out to her. It was a beautiful deep green. She knew it would look good on her and even looked like it would fit her well. Then she frowned as she began to wonder where Sigimor had gotten it and for whom.
