“Aye, if we are together. But at the moment we are scattered about in these trees. We also have wounded men, ponies, and horses. I should prefer to be too cautious than not cautious enough. If these beasts have suffered the bite of hunger as sharply as many of the people in this land, they could be verra dangerous indeed.”
As Malcolm and Hacon moved to help secure man and animal against any possible attack, Jennet picked up a sleeping Murdoc from Ranald’s blankets. She sat down close to the fire, rocking back and forth until the disturbed child fell asleep again. The sounds of the wolf pack seemed to encircle her. She prayed Hacon would hurry in drawing their camp into a tighter circle. Perhaps in the midst of so many closely quartered men and horses she would feel safer. Wolves terrified her and she saw no reason to hide the fact. She noticed few of the men tried either.
“There are a lot of them,” she murmured when Hacon and the others returned to sit around the fire.
“Aye, it sounds like a big pack.” He put his arm around her. “We will be safe now.” Idly he smoothed his hand over Murdoc’s soft curls. “They willnae cross the fire. Our biggest worry will be keeping the horses from growing too frightened. We may weel lose one or two of them.”
Dugald nodded. “If they break free and run, the wolves will have them.”
Feeling Jennet shudder, Hacon kissed her cheek. “Even a starving wolf would hesitate to enter this circle of men and fire. Lie down.” He patted his lap. “Rest your head here.” When she did so, he spread a blanket over her.
Settling Murdoc comfortably against her side, she asked, “Are ye not planning to get some rest?”
“Mayhaps later. I wish to keep watch for a wee bit.”
“Ye dinnae think they will just draw near then flee?”
“Nay. I think we will have the pleasure of their company for most of the night.”
“Then ’twill be a verra long night.”
No one disagreed, and she closed her eyes. It would not be easy to sleep with the cries of wolves breaking the night’s silence. They frightened her more even than enemy soldiers, a fact which puzzled her a little. Shrugging away that confusion, she tried to close her ears.
When Hacon began to idly rub her back, she felt herself grow calmer. The soft murmur of deep male voices also proved soothing. She was surrounded by strong, well-armed men who had survived many a bloody battle, she reminded herself. And, she thought with an inner smile as she felt the touch of sleep, no mere pack of wolves would keep her from her wedding.
Chapter 20
A soft cry of fear escaped Jennet and she reached for Hacon, only to find herself alone in her bed. It took her a moment to assure herself that howling wolves were not encircling her bed at Dubheilrig, that she had escaped that chilling encounter unscathed two long months ago. The circle of fire and the armed men had kept the wolves at bay, and the animals had finally slinked away just before dawn.
She stared up at the ceiling of her chambers and worked to calm herself. Briefly she cursed Lady Serilda for insisting that she and Hacon sleep apart until they were properly wed, but immediately she felt guilty. It was only a temporary hardship, and if it made Lady Serilda happy, it should be borne without complaint. Jennet grimaced. She did wish she could have had some warning of Lady Serilda’s sudden insistence upon propriety. Then she and Hacon would have taken better advantage of the last week of their journey back to Dubheilrig. Instead, because of possible dangers and the belief that they would be together once they got home, they had made love only once. She sorely regretted that now.
“Still abed?”
Startled by the soft voice, Jennet sat up and smiled at Lady Serilda. “Aye, I needed to calm myself. I had a nightmare about those wolves. I hope that isnae some omen.”
Lady Serilda laughed as she directed the maid to set a tray of food on the table next to Jennet’s bed. “Nay, I dinnae believe so. Thank ye, Christine,” she murmured as the maid left and she shut the door behind her. “Now, Jennet, eat your breakfast and then we shall prepare you for your wedding. Hacon is already awake and dressed.”
Jennet paused in biting into a thick slice of bread. “Have I overslept?”
“Not at all.” Lady Serilda sat on the edge of the bed. “My son is verra eager. Just as I had hoped he would be.”
“Is that why ye kept us apart?” Jennet asked, and began to grin.
“But of course. A wedding night should be special. It cannae be verra special if ye but climb out of a shared bed, say a few vows, and climb back into that same bed. I should have thought of it before. It did the boy good. He has placed his great energies elsewhere.”
“Into the building of his tower house.”
“Aye, when this cursed winter weather allowed it.” She smiled at Jennet. “Did ye begin to think he was avoiding you?”
“At times—aye. I told myself I was just spoiled. By traveling with him as I have been, I have become too accustomed to him always being at my side.”
“And I have kept you verra busy as weel.”
“’Twas good for me. I have ne’er had to plan such a large celebration before.” She thought about all that would be expected of her as the wife of a baron and felt a shiver of uncertainty.
Lady Serilda smiled gently and patted Jennet’s hand. “Ye will do my son proud, child. Now, finish your food and then we shall prepare you for this wedding.”
Jennet stared at herself in Serilda’s mirror, her mouth slightly agape. She knew the reflection was hers, but she found the image a strange one. Her gown was a soft shade of green. From beneath its armless drape showed the tight, long-sleeved undertunic of a slightly darker shade of green. Ribbons of both shades decorated her hair, which hung long and loose. Her clothes were of the finest linen and wool, the ribbons of silk. She had never worn such rich, beautiful clothes. Even her shoes were of soft leather, elaborately embroidered. It could not be her she was looking at in the mirror, and yet it was.
