“Aye, dearling, though many a day passed when I thought ye all but hated me.” He smiled at Hacon. “Sweet words came slowly to your mother, but ’twas worth the wait.” His gray eyes soft with affection, he added, “And she is right to say that ye must look to how Jennet acts, not what she says. Therein lies the truth.”
“Once ye are wed, I believe this dark mood of hers will fade,” Serilda added.
“Aye, Mother? Why should that be?”
Serilda rolled her eyes. “Ye have raised a dim-witted son, Lucais.”
“Mother.” Hacon assumed an excessively mournful expression. “Ye and Jennet will be kindred souls when she shakes free of her odd humor.”
“Ah, she calls you dim-witted too, does she?”
“She oft says I have been hit offside the head one too many times.” He smiled crookedly as his mother laughed. “Now, tell me why ye think my wedding the lass will do aught to lighten her somber air.”
“Because ’tis the lack of sanctioned marriage that troubles her. She was a wellborn virgin, not the sort of lass to welcome being made a mistress. Oh, aye, it may have been no great worry whilst ye were with the army. Nay, not even when ye stopped at her kinsmen’s. But here? Amongst your kin? I wouldnae be surprised if she feels the bite of shame.
Hacon cursed. “Aye, I gave little thought to that, but ye may be right. I had hoped to clear away a few troubles between us first, but mayhaps ’twould be best to make her my wife. That would be one trouble set aside right away, even if it is one I didnae ken was there.”
He stood and kissed his mother’s cheek. “I believe I will seek my bed. As soon as I have gathered courage to ask Jennet to wed with me, I will tell you.” He moved toward the door, paused, then looked back at his parents. “There is one thing ye should ken. ’Tis Jennet’s father.”
“Aye?” Serilda frowned when Hacon hesitated to reply. “Do ye think he will object to a marriage?”
“Nay. I but meant to warn you that he may weel appear at Duhheilrig. It could be in a year or as soon as a fortnight. His kinsmen by marriage have undoubtedly sent word that Jennet is alive and where she is. I say ‘warn’ because from all I have heard the mon is a rogue. A charming one, but a rogue nonetheless. Even Jennet, who loves the mon, freely calls him a thief, and he has an eye for the wenches. I but thought a warning would be wisest.”
Lucais smiled. “Aye, but have no fear. Our lineage isnae free of that sort. We will manage him easily.”
“Quite easily,” agreed Serilda. “Now off to your bed. We can talk more on the morrow.”
After quietly entering his quarters and silently securing the heavy wooden door behind him, Hacon looked toward the bed. He could see only the top of Jennet’s head above the bedcovers. Instinct told him she feigned sleep. No longer bothering to be silent, he moved to disrobe and wash up. Murdoc, he noted with relief, had been placed in the nursery, so he and Jennet were completely alone
He climbed into the high, boxy bed and pulled Jennet into his arms, sighing over the tension in her body. “Have I angered you in some way, dearling?”
“Nay.” She gave up all pretense at being asleep, knowing he had seen through her ploy. “Hacon,” she began carefully, “mayhaps it would be best if I returned to my aunt and my kinsmen.”
She gave a soft cry of surprise when he suddenly moved, pushing her onto her back and crouching over her. In the soft light of the candle by the bed she could see his expression as he scowled down at her. She had been right. He was not going to agree easily.
“What foolishness is this?”
“’Tisnae foolishness. Why is it that when a woman speaks of something a mon doesnae agree with, he quickly names it foolishness? I but think it best if I return home, to my kinsmen. Ye must see that.”
“Nay, I dinnae.” It annoyed him that her wish to leave should pain him so.
“Then ye are purposely closing your eyes. Ye have brought your leman into the verra heart of your faintly. ’Tisnotright. ’Tis . . .” She muttered a curse against his lips when he kissed her, halting her words.
Hacon almost smiled. His mother was right. Jennet was upset to be his lover now that they were at his home. On the morrow he would take her to where he meant to build his tower house. Once he told her about the small L-shaped castle he planned for their safety and comfort, he would speak of marriage. There was still a lot to be settled between them, but marriage would keep her firmly tied to him until they could do so.
“We must talk about this,” she said the moment the kiss ended, fighting to stop herself from being diverted by passion.
“Aye, but not now, not tonight.” He began to unlace her chemise. “On the morrow.”
“’Tis not wise to keep setting things aside until the morrow.” She made a weak attempt to halt the removal of her clothes.
“It willnae hurt this time.” He lowered his body onto hers and kissed the hollow in her throat. “It took us three full nights and days to travel here from your aunt’s. Three nights of holding you close yet not being able to love you. Weel, we are alone now and in a fine, soft bed. And I”—he cupped her breasts in his hands, slowly rubbing the tips to hardness with his thumbs—“dinnae feel like talking. There will be time enough for that on the morrow.”
She knew she ought to argue, that what she had to say was too important to be pushed aside like that. Then he replaced the caress of his thumbs with slow strokes of his tongue. Threading her fingers through his thick hair, she held him closer, silently urging him on in his seductive play. It really would not hurt, she decided, to wait until morning. In fact, she mused, it might be wise to grasp as much of the passion she so delighted in as she could before she had to leave him.
“On the morrow then,” she murmured as she relaxed and let the desire they shared work its spell.
His lovemaking was gentle and tender yet had that delicious edge that only a fierce hunger can give it. He paid sweet homage to her body, stroking and kissing every inch of her until Jennet clung to him with near desperation and urged him to unite their bodies. Her soft cry as he filled her was one of delight and relief. As he brought them both toward completion, Jennet met and equaled his increasing ferocity. Their cries blended as they found passion’s reward together. Jennet held him close when he collapsed in her arms. In her passion-drugged mind one question was repeated over and over again—did she have the strength to walk away from this man?
