"Where did you find that?” she asked, knowing her suspicions tainted her voice for Old Nancy grinned.
"Jealous, are ye? Good.” Old Nancy ignored Jolene's muttered denial. “This belonged to the laird's sister. After she gave birth, she returned to being as slim as she e'er was, but there were a few subtle changes in her body. They were just enough to make this gown and a few others nay fit her as weel as they once did. She left them here for she felt there might be some use made of them and they would do if she had naught else to wear during one of her visits."
"Tis beautiful,” Jolene said, marveling at the softness of the wool beneath her fingers.
"And ye will look verra beautiful in it. Ye will be a pure treat for our laird's eyes and set the rest of the fools back a step or twa as weel."
"Mayhap I should have my meal here. That would allow Sigimor's kinsmen more time to become accustomed to the idea that Sigimor is married now,andto an Englishwoman.” Jolene looked around the sparsely furnished bedchamber and nearly grimaced, for the only real touch of softness in the room was the sheepskin rug on the floor before the large fireplace.
"Aye, it needs a woman's touch,” Old Nancy said as she tugged Jolene off the bed. “Most of Dubheidland does."
"The furniture is very finely made.” Jolene reached out to smooth her hand over one of the thick, finely carved bedposts. “Odd that the mothers did not make much of a mark."
"Ye will find their touches in the solar, the kitchens, and the herb hut. The rest of the keep they left to the lads. Oh, and a wee bit in Ilsa's bedchamber. Tis now used for her and her husband when they come to visit, or if some lady comes here. Few have. This has been a mon's place for a long time. E'en most of the lasses and women who work here, dinnae sleep here. Mayhap a few will now that there is a lady of the keep. Come, let us get these clothes on ye. The laird slipped in to dress ere ye woke and he will be waiting for ye."
Jolene was pleased with the diversion. She had begun to feel intensely guilty as Old Nancy had spoken of what she might accomplish as the lady of Dubheidland. Even though she knew it could mean an abrupt end of her time with Sigimor, she suddenly wanted this trial to end. She wanted Harold dead and buried. She wanted to know who would be chosen as Reynard's guardian. She wanted her choices set before her so that she could make them and be done with it. There was heartbreak ahead of her no matter what path she chose and she wanted that blow struck so that she could cease fearing it.
"Now, m'lady, no need to look so worried, aye?” said Old Nancy as she efficiently braided Jolene's hair, pinned it up, and attached a pale green veil to her head to modestly cover Jolene's hair. “Ye look verra fine. Ignore the scowls and grumbles ye might hear this eve. They are all good lads, but they dinnae like surprises. And, they all worry about Sigimor though he would probably beat them all soundly if he kenned it."
Although she knew the woman was only trying to put her at ease, her last statement only darkened Jolene's mood. As Old Nancy escorted her back to the great hall, Jolene realized she was about to meet a horde of Sigimor's kinsmen who would certainly hate her soon if she chose Reynard over their laird. At the very least, Sigimor would be somewhat humiliated when his new wife left him to return to England. She would not only be heartbroken, but would have to accept that there was a veritable army of Camerons cursing her name. Undoubtedly, the MacFingals would join in the chorus. Just thinking about the fury she could stir up made her want to go back to bed.
Then she saw Sigimor waiting for her at the entrance to the great hall. He wore a plaid, a rich blend of red and black, a white shirt, and soft deer-hide boots. Jolene barely stopped herself from sighing in appreciation like a moonstruck girl. He looked so big, so strong, and just a little uncivilized. If she had to leave him in the end, she knew this would be how she would see him in her memories for the rest of her life. Jolene suddenly doubted she would ever be able to remember him without feeling the pain of loss.
Sigimor looked at her and she nearly preened beneath the appreciation he revealed in his smile. That strengthened her waning courage and she stepped up to him, slipping her hand into his. It faltered again when he looked at her head and scowled. A little nervously, she touched the light veil shielding her hair.
"What is that on your head?” he asked. “Why are ye hiding your hair?"
"A wedded lass is supposed to cover her hair,” said Old Nancy.
"Nay this one.” Sigimor quickly removed the veil and thrust it into Old Nancy's hands. “I dinnae like it.” He was not sure he much liked the way Jolene's hair was all coiled up on her head, either, preferring the long braid she had worn before, but decided to leave that argument until later. “Ye can explain it all to me later,” he said to Old Nancy when she began to sputter in outrage. “If ‘tis some custom a wife is expected to follow, mayhap Jolene can do so if we have to go to court or the like. She doesnae have to do it here. Nay amongst family. This is Fergus the Last,” he introduced his youngest brother who lurked at his side. “The bairn of the family.” He winked at Jolene when Fergus glared at him. “He has asked to sit next to ye."
"I would be honored,” Jolene said, smiling at the beardless boy who was nearly a head taller than she was.
As she walked with them to the head table, Jolene calmly answered Fergus's questions about Reynard. He was especially fascinated by the fact that such a small boy was both an earl and a baron. As she talked she studied the men in the great hall. It appeared that their shock had faded, but wariness had set in. The one that interested her the most, however, was Somerled, Sigimor's twin. He stood up as she approached and was all that was polite as she was seated on Sigimor's left, but she sensed that he did not approve of her, of her place as Sigimor's wife.
The friendly smiles and greetings from Liam, Tait, David and Marcus calmed her only slightly. She could not count on them to gain her the approval most of Sigimor's family now withheld. When she thought of how they would feel if she left Sigimor, her mood quickly grew dark again.
She struggled to eat the food Sigimor piled upon her plate and ignore the watchful gazes fixed upon her. Talk of all that had happened while Sigimor was gone swirled around her as she studied the great hall. It was well furnished, the chairs, benches, and tables all of the sturdiest oak. There were quite a few chairs, she realized, far more than she had seen in even the finest English hall. The better plates, eating utensils, and tankards were not just at the head table, either. Some weaponry decorated one wall, most of it of the finest quality, and a large, rich tapestry depicting some battle hung over the massive fireplace at the far end of the hall. Jolene began to think that the Camerons of Dubheidland might not be considered wealthy by English standards, but they were far from poor.
Just as Somerled fixed his gaze on her and Jolene tensed, preparing herself for a confrontation, there was a commotion just outside the doors to the great hall. For one brief moment, Jolene was pleasantly relieved. Then a beautiful, voluptuous blonde was nearly carried in by two men. One quick glance at the look on Sigimor's face, an odd expression of dismay and fury, told Jolene that the woman was Lady Barbara MacLean. Suddenly, dealing with the cautious mistrust of an army of Camerons did not seem so unpleasant.
Her grip on her eating knife tightened as Sigimor moved to greet his uninvited guests, after hastily telling Somerled who the woman was and confirming Jolene's suspicions. The way Lady Barbara draped herself all over Sigimor as he helped her to a seat by the fire had Jolene clenching her teeth. When the woman kept hold of Sigimor's hands even after she was seated, Jolene slowly rose from her seat and walked toward them, barely aware of Fergus at her side.
"What ails her?” Jolene asked, both infuriated and dismayed by the woman's beauty.
"She says she and her traveling companions were set upon by thieves,” Sigimor replied, studying his wife's furious expression with keen interest. “In the melee, she hurt her ankle. Or her leg. She isnae being too clear."
The woman uttered an ear-piercing screech when Jolene flipped up her skirts, exposing her legs. Jolene looked for an injury, but saw little more than a few faint bruises on her right leg. Although she knew she was no expert, there was something about the bruises that roused her suspicions. They just did not look like the sort of injuries one would get from a fall or an attack upon one's person. A quick glance at the two men with her revealed only slightly disarrayed clothing and a few facial bruises. Jolene looked at Lady Barbara and knew, deep in her heart, some game was being played.
"What are ye doing, lass?” Sigimor asked calmly, idly wondering if he ought to relieve Jolene of her dagger.
"I was judging the extent of her wounds,” Jolene replied and noticed that Barbara was very slow to cover her legs again. “If a bone had come through the skin, we would have to cut that piece off ere it rotted her whole leg.” Her eyes narrowed as Barbara grabbed hold of Sigimor's hands again. “Might still need to cut off a piece or two."
"Ye can use my knife,” said Fergus. “Tis bigger."
Sigimor hastily swallowed the urge to laugh. Ignoring their scowls, he ordered Jolene and Fergus to go help Old Nancy prepare some rooms for their guests. Although he was pleased by the jealousy his wife had revealed, he was a little uneasy as well. Barbara was trouble, always had been. He did not need any more trouble now, especially not in his marriage. Once Jolene was gone, he looked at Barbara and wondered how long he needed to be hospitable in order not to offend any of her powerful allies and family.
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