Page 34 of Highland Fire

“Word spread swiftly that ye had returned to the village.” She strode over to him, her hands on her full hips. “Mary wouldnae tell me where ye were, so I decided to look around meself.”

“So, ye found me. Glad to see that ye are still hale and hearty. So am I. Fareweel.”

“How can ye speak to me so dismissively? After all we have been to each other? And who is this slut?”

“This woman is my wife.” Tavig spoke through gritted teeth, only a distaste for striking a woman keeping him from slapping Jeanne for insulting Moira.

“Your wife!” Jeanne clenched her fists, taking a step closer, a wild look of pure fury in her hazel eyes. “Oh, aye, when I asked after ye, that fool Mary said something about ye being taken, but I ne’er thought she referred to a wife. How could ye marry someone else after all that has passed between us? Tell me this is a cruel jest, that ye havenae scorned my love and insulted me so gravely.”

“I dinnae ken what ye are ranting about, woman.” Tavig stood up to face Jeanne as Moira scurried behind the vat to get dressed. “Aye, we were lovers, but no more. Ye have no right or cause to stand here acting the injured, cast-aside maiden. Ye were weel trained in the act of loving ere I even bedded down with ye, and I gave ye no promises. I took what ye offered—no more.”

“Ye bastard!” Jeanne swung at Tavig, but he caught her by the wrist, stopping her blow.

“I think ye had best leave, Jeanne. If ye thought to catch me as a husband, ye have lost that game. Cease wasting your time here. I am wed now, and we will play no more games. Find yourself another mon.”

Moira winced as Jeanne colorfully cursed Tavig. She was finding the confrontation between Tavig and his old lover as painful as it was embarrassing. Although she was not so stupid as to think him as virginal as herself, she detested seeing one of the many women he had bedded. Especially when that woman was lovely and curvaceous, she mused with a sigh as she finished dressing. She stood up, nervously finger-combing her hair and watching Tavig push a still-cursing Jeanne out of the cow shed. Jeanne’s fury made Moira uneasy. She was not sure what the woman could do to them, but it was unsettling to have so much fury and hatred aimed at her.

Jeanne pulled free of Tavig’s grip of her arm, pausing in the low doorway of the shed. “Aye, I will leave. Enjoy your child bride while ye can. I dinnae take such insults lightly, Tomas. I will see that ye dinnae rest in her bone-thin arms for too long.”

Tavig cursed, watching Jeanne flounce away and wondering how seriously he ought to take her threats. He turned to look at Moira, cursing again when he saw that she was dressed. There would be no returning to the sweet passion Jeanne had so rudely ended, at least not for a while. He had hoped that Jeanne would possess the pride and dignity to stay away once she heard that he was married or saw him with Moira. It had been a foolish hope, one certainly not based on what he knew about the woman. Tavig just wished he knew what emotions had Moira looking so solemn.

“Sorry about that, loving,” he said as he walked over to her. “I had meant to warn ye about her.” He took her hand, tugging her closer and brushing a kiss over her mouth. “Ye need not worry o’er her.”

“Nay? She was verra angry. She hates both of us. Ye could see it in her face. She wants revenge.”

“She has naught to get revenge for. I promised her nothing except for a fine time atween the sheets.” He sighed when she winced slightly. “Sorry, lass.”

“Ye dinnae have to keep apologizing, Tavig. Ye have done nothing wrong. I dinnae think we should completely ignore her threats, though. We are in no position to be so carefree.”

“What can she do, Moira? She doesnae ken who I am. And no one will heed her rantings. They all ken that she has no call to claim that she has been misused or betrayed. God’s bones, she has bedded nearly every mon in the village, and they all ken that she wasnae faithful to me when I wasnae here. Sometimes not even when I was here. She will gain no allies.”

“Mayhap I am just being a coward, but although your words make sense, I still feel uneasy.”

“We will be gone come the morning.” He draped his arm around her shoulders and started out of the shed. “In truth, if anyone has a right to vengeance, ’tis me. She destroyed what promised to be a verra pleasing afternoon.” He laughed softly when she blushed.

“Ye must not let that whore Jeanne trouble ye,” said Mary as she sat down across the rough table from Moira.

Moira gave a start, looking around for Tavig as she accepted the ale Mary served her. The evening meal was done, the children were asleep in the loft, and, to her dismay, she found herself completely alone with the amiable Mary. Tavig sat at the far end of the room helping Robert sharpen his sword and mend his light armor, deep in conversation over what battles, feuds, and raids had occurred since they had last talked. Neither man could hear her or Mary, but Moira still eyed the older woman warily.

“She was sent off so I havenae thought too much about her,” Moira said, not surpised when Mary laughed.

“Oh, aye, ye have. I wager ye have thought of nothing else since she found ye and the laddie in the cow shed. Jeanne wouldnae heed me when I told her he wouldnae want to see her. She isnae worth fretting on, child. She is one of those women a mon makes use of ere he decides to settle down.”

“And one some men use even after they have—er—settled,” Moira said in a quiet voice, needing to voice her fears but not wanting Tavig to hear them.

“True. Sadly true. Not our Tomas, though. He isnae like that.”

“How can ye be so certain of that?”

“I feel it here.” Mary pointed to her chest. “If I was a lass deciding on which sweet-tongued mon to trust with my heart, I would trust that black-haired bonnie lad. He has heart, courage, and honor.” She smiled faintly when Moira blushed. “I ken he holds a secret or two from us. He will tell us what they are when he can.”

“Why do ye think he has secrets?”

“Moira, my sweet bairn, I was born poor, raised poor, and wed a poor man. I ken a laird when I see one. That lad o’er there is no poor bastard son. He has led men. He has lived fine. He is a laird. Now for some reason he is wandering about pretending to be some vagabond. Kenning the mon he is, my mon Robert and I believe he is hiding. Men with power and wealth often have enemies, men trying to take those things away.” She reached across the table to pat Moira’s clenched hand. “Dinnae look so afraid, child. We will let him hide here for as long as he is of a mind to do so.”

For one brief moment Moira contemplated adamantly denying what Mary said, then decided there was no threat to fear. Mary and Robert clearly liked Tavig and would quietly play his game until he was ready to give it up. Inwardly grimacing, she then worried if Mary had guessed that she and Tavig were not truly husband and wife.

“I am sure he will appreciate that,” she murmured. “Now ye can see why Jeanne’s threats make me so uneasy.”