Free Highland Conqueror by Hannah Howell

planned.”
    “M’lord—”
    “We will wait here. Jesu, Martin, we hold the woman. E’en if those fools stumble our way before the rest of the men arrive, we have her as our shield. Now, fetch me my wineskin.”
    Jolene breathed a silent sigh of relief. Martin was silenced, his reasonable concerns ignored. She was heartily thankful for Harold’s arrogance for it would keep her settled in one spot making it easier for the Camerons to track her down. Now all she had to worry about was Harold’s other men and Harold himself. She prayed Sigimor and the others would find her before either of those became too great a threat to her.
     
    “She has been gone too long,” Sigimor muttered, glaring at the woods Jolene had walked into.
    “Women take longer,” Liam said as he offered Sigimor a drink from his waterskin.
    “Nay this long.” Sigimor took a deep drink of water, handed the waterskin back to Liam, and idly scratched his chin as he continued to scowl at the trees.
    “She might be, weel, ill. She did look a wee bit pale. And, verra tired.” Liam eyed Sigimor closely.
    “Why are ye looking at me like that?”
    “Ye spent the night with her in a room with but one bed. Did ye—”
    “Nay! I shared the bed with her beneath the blankets and me above. Nay more.”
    He tried not to think about how much more he had wanted and still wanted. Sharing a bed with her had been a torment he was not eager to repeat. At least, he thought, not until she let him beneath the covers with her. And they were both naked. He would touch that beautiful skin, feast upon those perfect breasts—. Sigimor quickly pushed those images from his mind. It had not been wise to give into the temptation to kiss her again. Not only had it made him so aroused sleep had been a long time in coming, but all day he had been tasting her on his mouth. His only consolation was that he was almost certain she shared his passion.
    That thought made him frown and increased his concern for her. Jolene was a well-born virgin and, if the innocence of her kisses was anything to judge by, unaccustomed to desire. Could she have fled from that, feared it so much that she would try to get away from him? A heartbeat later, he shook aside that thought. Jolene might be innocent, but she was no weak-spirited, easily frightened maid. If she did feel the desire that flared between them as strongly as he did, she would fight it or accept it, not run away from it. Nor would she leave Reynard behind or risk putting either of them into Harold’s grasp. Something was wrong. Sigimor was certain of it.
    “Why didnae ye bed her?” asked Liam. “Ye want her.”
    Sigimor turned his scowl on his cousin. “She is an English lady and a virgin. I may nay be the wondrous, chivalrous courtier ye are—”
    “Why did that sound like such an insult?” Liam murmured, smiling faintly.
    “But,” Sigimor continued, ignoring him, “I do ken that ’tisnae verra gentlemonly to seduce a lass like her. In truth, seducing a lass has ne’er been something I much liked. A bit devious, I am thinking. Unkind, too.”
    “Mayhap. There are certainly enough lasses about willing to bed a mon just for the pleasure of it or for a wee bit of coin to keep most men satisfied. Then again, some lasses just like to play the game.”
    “Jolene wouldnae like such a game.”
    “Nay, she wouldnae. She is a lass one marries.”
    “Right now she is a lass who is missing. I am going to look for her.”
    “Ye could embarrass her if ye stumble upon her at an ill-chosen moment.”
    “She will recover. I cannae stand here fearing to offend her modesty when she could be lost, ill, or worse.”
    Sigimor was pleased when Liam gave him no further argument. He ordered his cousins David and Marcus to stay with Reynard and the horses. With Tait and Liam, Sigimor started into the woods to look for Jolene. It would indeed be embarrassing if they caught her still tending to her personal needs, but he was willing to risk