“Now Jamie, he has the devil’s own temper and can be a wee bit intolerable at times. If the lass he weds has little spunk, he will dominate her completely. But if she has a will to match his…I’ll wager she’ll win more battles than she’ll lose.”
Sheena’s curiosity was piqued, despite herself. “And why is that?”
“Because of love, m’dear. Why else would Jamie take a wife? He’s no one to tell him to, now his father’s gone. He’s in no need of an alliance through marriage, for he has many strong alliances as it is. Riches couldna tempt him, for he has enough wealth. So why would he commit himself to one woman, when he has any woman he wants just for the asking? Love, m’dear, is the only reason Jamie would marry.”
Lydia began filling her plate then, and Sheena turned away, grateful to have the disturbing conversation ended. Love? There was no love in handfasting, and no honor, either. And handfasting was all Sir Jamie offered her. How easy for him, when he could back down before the final commitment. How convenient. But he would not use her that way; she would leave first. It was time she devoted herself to doing just that.
Her only hope was Colen. She looked up and saw him at the opposite end of the table, looking downright sullen. She was undoubtedly the reason. If only she could make use of his resentment to help her get away. But his resentment might just work against her, as well. Who did that leave? Black Gawain was gone. Lydia seemed entirely on Jamie’s side. That left only William Jameson. He was not answerable to Jamie, and he seemed taken with Sheena.
She leaned forward to look at him carefully and was surprised to find him almost unrecognizable. Anger made his face paler, his red hair seem brighter, his soft brown eyes hard, damning. Worse was his tone of voice. An argument was in progress, and getting out of hand.
“You were to marry my sister, Jamie,” William was saying bitterly. “When you took her in, when you flaunted her as your mistress, I didn’t interfere, for she swore to me you promised to wed her!”
Incensed though William was, Jamie was calm. “Libby lied. It was understood from the start that there would be no marriage. She knew it well, and still she decided to stay here.”
“You used her, Jamie, like all the other women you’ve used and cast aside!”
“My women are never unwilling.” Jamie’s voice was rising now. “Your sister came to me of her own choice and left the same way—only richer, with a fat purse of gold to take her where she wanted to go.”
“And where is that?” William demanded.
Jamie laughed. “So you canna find her? Is that what this is all about?”
“She could be dead for all I know.”
“Nay, Will, you’ll find she’s living royally somewhere where she wants to be. You see, she knew I would provide generously for her. ’Twas all she wanted from me, a way to escape you.”
“That is a lie!”
“Is it?” Jamie countered. “I wonder what riles you most, Will, that she came to me, or that she didna return to you?”
“Bastard!”
Jamie rose abruptly, and William Jameson paled, realizing he had gone too far. There was an awful silence as Jamie looked down at him. Sheena couldn’t see his furious expression, but she saw the hardness of his back, the clenched fists.
His voice held an icy edge. “I’ll be excusing myself ’afore I take your insults to heart and forget you’re a guest in my home. But you’ll be gone from here by morning, Jameson, and you won’t find a welcome here again.”
Jamie walked away stiffly, and Sheena sighed with relief. She turned to Lydia.
“And what was that all about?” She whispered because William Jameson was still sitting only a chair away from her.
“He’s a bitter man, hinny, Will is. His parents died long ago, and he raised his sister himself from a wee bairn. But he devoted himself too much to her, and his love smothered her. ’Tis no wonder he doesna ken her desire to be away from him, but the truth of it is, she is a spoiled and fickle lass and never returned his affection. I came to know her while she was here, and I didna like her one bit. She thought nothing of ridiculing her brother to us, painting a picture of a man pathetically worshiping his own sister. The man is lucky to be rid of her, but I’m afraid he’ll never see it that way.”
“Will Sir William leave then?”
Lydia laughed softly and leaned closer to whisper. “He’s a bit of a coward, hinny. He’ll be leaving any moment now.”
Sheena wondered if that was so, but as she turned, she saw him standing up, calling his men together. A minute later, they all stalked furiously from the hall.
Sheena panicked. There, walking angrily away, was her last chance. She quickly made her excuses to Lydia and crossed the hall, apparently on her way to the south tower. But as soon as she passed under the arched entrance at the end of the hall, shedashed to the left instead of up the stairs. Then she was out in the courtyard and running toward William Jameson.
He was by the stable with four retainers, waiting impatiently for their horses. Sheena failed to consider the foolhardiness in approaching a stranger. She saw Jameson only as a means to her freedom.
“A word, Sir William, if you will,” she called out.
“What is it?” he snapped. Then he turned and saw her. He was quite startled. “Well, well, Sir Jamie’s new whore, is it?”
Sheena flinched. “Nay, but ’tis what he would make me. I beg your help, Sir William. I must leave here.”
