Jolene pulled away from Roger's tense body and looked around. Her eyes widened as she saw how completely they had been encircled by Camerons. They were all scowling at her, even young Fergus. Just as she realized they could not know that Roger was her cousin, that the embrace they saw was totally innocent, she saw Sigimor. Despite the fierce scowl upon his face, she felt her heart skip in her chest, signaling her pleasure at the mere sight of him.
"Is that man your husband?” asked Roger as he watched Sigimor dismount and start toward them.
"Aye, that is Sir Sigimor Cameron, laird of Dubheidland."
"He looks like an enraged bull."
Watching the way Sigimor approached them, Jolene had to agree with her cousin. Sigimor's head was lowered slightly, his broad shoulders were hunched up, and he was stamping toward them with his hands clenched into fists. A quick look at the Camerons and the two MacFingals revealed that they were obviously anticipating a fight. She quickly moved to stand facing Sigimor, her body planted squarely between him and Roger.
"Move aside, wife,” Sigimor said as he stopped in front of her.
"Nay, you cannot hit Roger. He is my cousin."
"I begin to think your cousins are too friendly by half."
Jolene realized Sigimor was jealous and almost gasped. She quickly hid her surprise, and delight, knowing he would not appreciate her acknowledging it. It did, however, give her hope that she had made the right decision.
"Roger was comforting me, nothing more. He is a wedded man.” She ignored Sigimor's raised brow that indicated he did not see that as reason enough to trust the man. “Harold knew Roger and his men were chasing him,” she began.
"Something ye neglected to tell me. Could ye nay have taken a wee rest in your greed for me during the night to mention that ye had more kinsmen slinking about the countryside?"
"Sigimor!” Jolene could feel the heat of a blush all over her face. She glared at the MacFingals who hooted with laughter, but it had no effect upon them, so she turned her glare on Sigimor. “There is no need to be so ... to be sorude!"
"Rude? Seems to me rude is loving a mon until he cannae move, then creeping away from his bed ere the sun rises to meet with a score of men in the woods."
"If you do not cease speaking of such things, I will have Roger hit you."
"Go ahead then. I was of a mind to break his arms when I first saw him holding ye, but I could find a wee bit of pleasure in just pounding him into the mud. I am still of a mood to bruise someone."
Jolene gaped at her husband, then looked at her cousin. “Are you not going to say anything?"
Roger shrugged. “While I understand what you did, Jolene, I fear I also understand him. If my Emma had done the like to me, I would not be in a very good humor, either."
"Men! You are all alike. You—” Jolene gasped in shock when Reynard suddenly appeared and kicked Sigimor in the shin. “Reynard! Why did you do that?"
"Because he is a mean man!” Reynard said, struggling slightly in Roger's grasp and glaring tearfully at Sigimor, who idly rubbed his abused shin. “He is going to steal you from me. I want to kick his arse!"
Sigimor studied the child, taking careful note of the tears and the fury. He then looked at Jolene. There was such a look of pain and sorrow in her eyes, he had to fight the urge to comfort her. Either he had misjudged the situation, and her, or she had changed her mind about what she had to do somewhen between leaving his bed and meeting with her cousin. He felt a little guilty about how good that possibility made him feel when he looked back at Reynard. The boy was little more than a bairn, yet he was being asked to accept so much loss and change. A quick look at the expression upon Roger's face, however, told Sigimor that the child would be well comforted.
"I think the three of us need to talk,” Sigimor said, then turned to his men. “Best ye be at ease,” he told them, “as this may take a wee while. No fighting with the Sassenachs.” He caught the way the two MacFingals eyed Nanty and Liam, and added, “Or with those two fools.” He crouched down in front of Reynard. “Now, my lad, ye have a chance to say a goodly Godspeed to your friends ere ye part. I think ye ought to be making the best of it."
"Nanty, too?” Reynard asked in a trembling voice.
"Aye, my wee mon, Nanty, too."
"I want to keep my friends."
"Ye will. Ye can ne'er lose good friends, laddie. Aye, they may nay be close at hand, but ye cannae lose them. If ye e'er have the need of them, they will be there for ye. Now, go and say your fare-thee-weels.” He stood up as the boy ran to Nanty and looked at Jolene. “Come, we will talk.” He started toward the far corner of the clearing.
"He is so arrogant,” Jolene muttered.
Glancing around as he took Jolene by the arm and followed Sigimor, Roger said, “From what you have told me of his life, he has had to be. It could not have been easy to find himself laird of this lot at a young age, most of them no more than boys. A man cannot keep a tight rein on this lot by being gentle and sweet or by sitting them down for a pleasant talk.” He nodded to where Nanty and Liam were exchanging taunts with the MacFingals. “There is a wild spirit in these Camerons. Good men all, I am certain, but not quite tamed, I think."
Her cousin was a perceptive man, Jolene decided. “Nay, not quite tamed, but, aye, all very good men.” She frowned at Sigimor who stood watching them, his arms crossed over his chest. “Of course, a few of them might be improved by a few hard knocks offside the head.” She ignored Roger's soft laughter as she faced Sigimor, crossing her arms over her chest, and giving him a frown to equal his.
"Start with what ye learned from the late and unlamented Harold,” Sigimor ordered.
"He knew Roger was hard on his heels and suspected his crimes were no longer secret,” Jolene replied. “Whilst he held me, one of his men arrived to say Roger wanted to meet with him, where, and when."
