"How long do you think we must endure her company to avoid giving insult to anyone?"
"A few days, nay more. As ye said, her injuries are minor, mere bruises. If I discover that she has lost her powerful allies, has been cast out by them, she will be sent off immediately. Tis odd, but, in a small way, some good may come out of this.” Sigimor smiled at her exaggerated look of disbelief. “True. It made me realize that we need to keep ourselves better informed about who is allied with whom, who is feuding with whom, who is in favor, and who is not. All the things I have ignored until now, considered useless rumor and of no concern of mine."
Jolene nodded. “It can be good to know as much as possible about such things."
"Aye. Somerled and Liam agree. I fear it will mean sending one of the lads to court."
"Liam,” Jolene said and smiled faintly. “He would be perfect if he is inclined to accept the chore. He is educated, can be most charming, and he is very handsome. If your court is like ours, his pretty face will be most welcome."
"By the women,” he grumbled, but her suggestion had a great deal of merit.
"Despite all of the grumbling and complaining about him, Liam has a lot of male friends. Men do like him. And, do not discount the women as a source of valuable information. Tis true that some seem interested only in fashion and other womanly topics, but, not all. E'en the ones who seem to chatter and gossip about nothing can reveal the most interesting things."
Sigimor smiled at her. “Then Liam it is, if he is agreeable. And one other for those times Liam might wish a rest from it all.” He tugged on her hands until she tumbled into his arms. “Now that everything is settled—"
"You are ready to go to bed,” she finished for him.
"Actually, I was thinking of the rug before the fire at Scarglas, the one which is verra similar to this one."
"Sigimor,” she whispered in shock, knowing he was thinking of what they had done on that rug, but her shock quickly changed into an eager willingness as he kissed her.
Jolene idly rubbed her cheek against Sigimor's chest, sleepily enjoying the last vestiges of the passion they had shared on the rug before the fire. She was not quite sure how they had gotten into bed, but was too happy and comfortable to puzzle over it for long. Sigimor made a soft rumbling noise that was not quite a snore and she smiled. The poor man had worn himself out. After all they had been through the past few days, she was a little surprised she was still awake. A few things still troubled her, however, refusing to let her mind rest.
Lady Barbara MacLean was one trouble that refused to be banished from her mind too quickly. Although Jolene did not doubt that the woman would like to snare Sigimor, Jolene felt there was more. Several people had told her that the woman had known Sigimor was married to an Englishwoman, that her well-played shock was just that—well played. The maids had been especially scornful. From what she had overheard the woman say to Sigimor while she clung to him like a limpet, Barbara also knew that the marriage could be easily annulled. The question was, how did she know? It was the lack of any clear, precise answer to that question that worried Jolene.
She decided she would have to discuss it with Sigimor and nearly smiled when she felt herself begin to relax. For a minute she feared she was being too weak, was too readily tossing all her troubles into his lap. Jolene quickly dismissed that fear. Although it was never spoken aloud, she knew Sigimor and the others were all aware of the fact that she would have released them even if they had declined to help her. They had a score to settle with Harold themselves. It was also not weak to want to share one's doubts or enlist help in finding answers. It was always better to have two people work on a problem. Finally, feeling sleep grab hold of her, Jolene promised herself she would speak with Sigimor in the morning about these troubling questions as soon as possible. She also promised herself that, powerful allies or not, if Lady Barbara MacLean did not keep her dainty white hands off Sigimor, she was going to hurt the woman.
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Chapter Sixteen
Jolene neatly folded the shirt she had mended for young Fergus and looked around the great hall. It was nearly empty, only three young women from the village moving around cleaning the room. The men had finished their noon meal and rushed out to hunt for Harold, just as they had done after breaking their fast early in the morning. She ought to be pleased that Harold was nowhere to be found but, instead, it made her uneasy. After he had come so far, why would he give up now? There was the possibility that all the trouble he had suffered at Scarglas had made him give up, that he had headed back to Drumwich hoping to salvage what he could of his grand plans, but she could not make herself believe it. Everything inside her told her that he was out there, plotting, waiting for his chance. She shivered.
"Are ye cold, Jolene?” asked Fergus.
A little startled since she had not heard his approach, Jolene smiled at the youth. He was going to be as big and handsome as his brothers Sigimor and Somerled. He was also the only one, aside from the Camerons who had ridden with her from Drumwich, who had fully accepted her. She told herself it was early yet, that she had not even spent two full days in their company. And both days the men had spent little time at Dubheidland, for the hunt for Harold had begun immediately.
"Nay, I am not cold. I just had a dark thought, ‘tis all,” she said.
"About that whining lady upstairs?"
"Ah, nay, about Harold. I am troubled by the fact that he seems to have disappeared."
"They will find him and they will make him bleed."
Boys, she decided, were particularly bloodthirsty creatures. Jolene suspected Fergus said that to make her feel better, so she smiled as she handed him his newly mended shirt. He thanked her and ran off. Just like the rest of them, she thought, then scolded herself. They were gone because they were hunting down her enemy. It was ridiculous to feel as if she had been deserted. After so many days of being always in the company of others, she was just finding it difficult to be so alone.
The uncertainty of her own future made it even more difficult. If she knew she was going to stay at Dubheidland, was going to remain Sigimor's wife, she could start making a place for herself. There was certainly a lot she could do, such as planning some ways to ease the stark look of the place, the almost overwhelming feel of Dubheidland being solely a man's domain. Yet, she knew it might be unkind to add her own little touches to Dubheidland if she was going to leave and never return. Sigimor would certainly not want to see things that reminded him of her after she left him.
She turned her thoughts to Barbara and frowned. The talk she had intended to have with Sigimor had not happened yet. The times she had been with him they had talked of the hunt for Harold or made love and gone to sleep. Yet, the question of how the woman had known so much still troubled Jolene. Since she could not speak with Sigimor, then she ought to speak to Barbara herself. There was a small chance that the woman would provide the answers Jolene needed.
One other question that needed answering was why the woman was still at Dubheidland. Sigimor avoided the woman as did most of his family. About the only company the woman enjoyed was that of the two men who had arrived with her and the occasional ill-tempered assistance of Old Nancy, who made no secret of her distaste for the woman. Barbara was comfortable and courteously given all she asked for, except Sigimor, but nothing else. Jolene began to wonder if the woman had decided to linger for that alone, yet, why would she unless she had no other choices.
Setting aside the mending, the one chore she had felt she could do without guilt, Jolene stood up and started out the great hall only to meet a scowling Old Nancy in the doorway. “Is something wrong?"
"Aside from having to wait hand and foot on that blond bitch?” Old Nancy asked.
"Aye, aside from that.” Jolene was pleased to see some of the woman's anger begin to fade. “Lady Barbaraisa nuisance, but I fear we have little choice but to endure her. At least for a little while longer."
