Chapter Ten #2
“Aye, his past. Jeanne will always be one of those lasses who clutters a mon’s past. Ye are a lass who sets the path for a mon’s future.
Sad to say, few men meet the lass they will wed in as innocent a state as she is.
They do their best to shed that innocence, and so women like us have to try to forgive them for tussling about with lasses like Jeanne. That is all they do, though—tussle.”
“I ken it and I ken that there is naught to forgive. He didnae ken me then and he isnae tussling with her now. ’Tis foolish, but I just cannae help thinking of how much more she has for him to tussle with.” She smiled when Mary laughed.
“Aye, she is a fulsome lass. Most of the lads in town have helped themselves to her freely offered bounty.”
“Do ye not think it a wee bit unfair that men condemn her for doing just what they do?”
“Verra unfair, but ’tis the way of it. There are men who can forgive a lass for a past lover.
What makes Jeanne different is that she has a whore’s soul.
’Tis the heart and mind that make a whore, child, not lying with a mon.
’Tis the rot inside of Jeanne that marks her as a whore.
Ye cannae lose your mon to one like her.
And, nay, he willnae be a-creeping off to her bed, either.
If ye didnae warm his blanket weel, he wouldnae have asked ye to share it with him.
I willnae believe ye if ye try to say he doesnae have a muckle lot of desire for ye.
I have seen it glistening in those black eyes of his each time he looks your way. ”
“Truly?” Moira often thought she saw it, too, but then feared she saw only what she wished to, not what was really there.
“Aye, truly. If a mon cares for ye, a good mon like yours, then the fullness of your curves is of no concern.”
If a mon cares for ye, Mary had said, and the words pounded in Moira’s head.
Mary could not know that Tavig had never spoken of caring, of love, or of any feelings deeper than lust. He still mentioned destiny on occasion, but she could not put her faith in that.
She also did not want him to stay with her because some voice inside of him told him he should.
Moira sadly admitted to herself that she had absolutely no idea how Tavig really felt about her.
“Weel, it doesnae look as if I comforted ye much,” Mary said, shaking her head.
“I ken your fears weel. I had them when I was a lass and first gave my heart to Robert. If ye will pardon my meddling, I mean to give ye a wee bit of advice. Dinnae plague your mon with your fears, dinnae let your fears make ye accuse him when ye have no proof that he has done any wrong, and dinnae let them blind ye to the truth. Watch him. Heed his words and actions. I will wager that ye will soon see ye have no cause to fear the lasses he once kenned or the ones who try to catch his eye.”
“I shall try to remember that.”
Mary quickly changed the subject to fashions and gossip.
The woman was eager to hear any news Moira had.
It was late before she and Tavig retired to the curtained alcove where they would sleep.
Mary and Robert went to sleep in the loft with their children, allowing her and Tavig some privacy.
Moira hastily stripped to her chemise and climbed into the narrow bed.
“Ye have been verra quiet this evening,” Tavig said as he crawled in beside her, gently tugging her into his arms.
“I was afraid I would be caught out in a lie,” she murmured, settling a little closer as he smoothed his hands over her back. “’Tis hard to lie to Mary.”
“Aye, but I dinnae think that is all that troubles you. Ye havenae said much since Jeanne screamed her poison at us. Lass, ye dinnae think I would try to slip away to her bed, do ye?”
Moira found it a little annoying that everyone seemed to read her fears so easily. “And what makes ye think I would fret myself o’er where ye bed down?” She ached to slap that smile off his face.
Tavig kissed her. “Ye have naught to be jealous of, dearling.”
“I am not jealous,” she protested, but he just kissed her again.
“And ye dinnae need to fear that I cannae be faithful. Why should I reach for another when I hold such a sweet fire in my arms?”
“Because another has a wee bit more to reach for?” She cringed, unable to believe she had spoken the thought aloud.
“Sweet Moira, ye can be a foolish lass.”
“How kind.”
He laughed, hugging her tightly for a moment, “Aye, ye are as slender as a reed. Ye will probably never have the fulsome shape a woman like Jeanne has. I will be honest, loving. E’en as I ached to hold ye, I often asked myself why, as ye werenae the sort of lass I usually reached for.
I didnae ask myself that too often, howbeit, and after we made love, I kenned I would ne’er ask it again.
” He slowly moved his hand down her side.
“Ye have all the curves I need, dearling. Aye, and all the fire any mon could want.”
Moira was touched by his words. He made no flowery speeches or covered her with pretty flatteries.
He gave her no vows or promises. The lack of such things made it easier to believe him.
Tavig spoke only of their shared passion, and that was also something she believed in.
He might not feel it as fiercely or as deeply as she did, but he did feel it.
“I am sorry,” she murmured, her voice growing husky as he caressed her. “I fear I have no knowledge of such things. Jeanne had the comely face and shape all the troubadours warble about.” She shrugged. “I saw that and—”
“Felt that I, too, would soon start to warble about her.”
“Ye did once.”
“Nay, I ne’er felt more for her than a base need to rut.
Why do ye think I stay here, with Robert and Mary, have always done so when I pass through the town?
If Jeanne meant more to me than a quick, easy tumble in the heather, surely I would have bedded down with her.
I ne’er have, lass. Aye, I have felt my heart quicken o’er a lass or two in my life, but ’twas a swiftly passing thing, for I was too young to judge what was love and what was lust. Jeanne wasnae but a lusting and, in truth, if she hadnae fairly thrown herself at my feet, I probably would have let her be. ”
“Why?” she asked, returning his gently hungry kiss. “I dinnae press for some pretty words or the like. I am just curious.”
“’Tis difficult to explain. I cannae be certain if ’tis something every mon can sense or if my thrice-cursed gift leads me in such matters.
I looked at her and I kenned she would cause me more trouble than she was worth.
But I proved as susceptible as any mon to a skilled hand and freely offered favors.
She was near and she was easy.” He gave her a somewhat guilty smile. “’Tisnae something I am proud of.”
“Weel, ye ne’er tried to claim yourself a saint.”
Jeanne was no longer a threat. Moira realized her pangs of jealousy and her fears were eased by the dismissive way he spoke of the woman.
Jeanne had boldly offered Tavig what any virile young man wants, and he took it.
Moira did not really like to think of him and Jeanne bedded down together, but the woman no longer made her jealous.
“Nay,” Tavig explained, “I am no saint. If I was, I wouldnae have tried so hard to seduce you.”
“I suppose I ought to be thoroughly ashamed that ye didnae have to work too hard to draw me into your bed.”
“But ye arenae ashamed.”
“Not much, leastwise. It pinches a bit from time to time, but ’tis a weak pinch.”
“Good, for ye have naught to be ashamed of.”
“Ye are the only one who would think so. I am sharing a bed with a mon who isnae my husband.” She quickly put her hand over his mouth when he started to speak. “Dinnae start that mad talk about being destined to wed me.”
Tavig tugged her hand away. “’Tisnae mad talk. I thought ye believed in my sight. I—”
She frowned when he tensed and stared at the wall behind her. “Tavig?” She cried out in surprise when he suddenly leapt from the bed, pulling her along with him. “What is it? What is wrong?”
“Get dressed,” he ordered as he yanked on his clothes. “We must flee.”
Even as she obeyed him, she asked, “Have ye seen something?”
“Nay, curse it. I just ken that we have to leave—now. Hurry, lass.”
“I am dressing as fast as I can,” she muttered as she yanked on her boots. “Should we warn Robert and Mary?”
“Nay, they are in no danger. Curse it to the ground, why doesnae it give me enough time?”
Moira gasped as he drew his sword and faced the front door.
She barely had time to blink before several men burst in through the door.
Tavig shoved her toward the back door, but that, too, was flung open and blocked by armed men.
Moira stayed close to Tavig as he tried to watch both doors and shield her with his body.
When Jeanne pushed through the men crowding the front doorway, Moira felt a chill wriggle up her spine.
She should have paid more attention to the woman’s threats instead of allowing herself to be distracted by her own fears and jealousies.