William laughed softly. “Then come along, gorgeous,” he said. “Let us see just how appreciative Jemma is.”
Paris preceded him out of the room. “She had better show her gratitude or I shall find someone who will.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Not ten minutes ago, you were telling me how old you were.”
Flashing William a familiar grin, Paris headed out into the waning autumn sunshine. “Old, mayhap,” he said. “But I am still more handsome than you.”
With a snort, William followed.
CHAPTER NINE
Jemma was back in her garden.
She was sewing honey bees again, but her mind was elsewhere. The children, finished with their meal in the great hall, had moved back out to the garden again and Jemma sat on her bench, watching them play as Moira and Cassiopeia sat on another bench near her. The younger women were talking softly, giggling, watching their children play, but Jemma was preoccupied.
She was wallowing in doubt and confusion.
Confusion because the moment she had entered the great hall with Alec, William had taken Paris away, so Jemma spent a nominal amount of time in the great hall with her children and grandchildren before heading back out to the garden to finish her task.
Now she sat, her head down as she concentrated on the little bees she was putting on Rhoslyn’s tunic. She had no idea why she felt disappointed, but she did. It was an odd sensation and she was angry at herself for it. Foolish old woman, she told herself. Maybe she had secretly hoped that Paris would throw himself at her feet and tell her everything Jordan had told her, and more.
But he hadn’t.
Nothing had happened.
With a sigh, one of discontent, Jemma was finishing with a row of little bees when she heard Cassiopeia speak up.
“Greetings, Papa,” she said. “God’s Bones… you look… wonderful!”
Jemma’s head shot up to see Paris standing in the doorway. She, too, was surprised at what she saw – he looked as he hadn’t looked in ages; clean-shaven, his hair cut, and in clean clothing. In fact, and quite shockingly, he looked very handsome, like that arrogant knight she’d known so long ago. The one who had manhandled her the first time she’d ever met him, a big brute with blond hair and piercing blue eyes.
Those eyes were looking at Cassiopeia now, crinkling as he smiled.
“Of course I do,” he said, but his expression told his daughter he was jesting with her. “Can you do something for me, sweetheart?”
Cassiopeia was on her feet. “Anything, Papa.”
“Would you and Moira bring your Aunt Jemma and me some wine?”
Cassiopeia nodded, not daring to look at Jemma as she took hold of Moira and pulled her along. As they fled their bench and headed inside, Paris straightened his tunic, brushed it off, and headed in Jemma’s direction.
Jemma was staring at him, feeling her cheeks flame as if she were a young woman with her first suitor. In fact, the surprising appearance of Paris had her rattled and she struggled not to show it.
“Lady Hage,” Paris greeted.
Jemma found herself tongue-tied for a moment. “Paris,” she said. “Ye… ye cut yer hair.”
He grinned. “You noticed?”
“Aye.”
The conversation died and Jemma quickly lowered her head, looking at her sewing and realizing that her hands were trembling, just a little.
Idiot!
“May I sit with you?” Paris asked.
Jemma nodded, scooting over so he could share her bench. She felt like such a fool, having never been so nervous in her entire life. She’d never even been this nervous with Kieran. But with Paris… this was uncharted territory. There were decades of being irritated by a man she was now trying to act differently with.
If she even could.
From the corners of her eyes, she could see that Paris was fidgeting with his hands, which led her to believe that, perhaps, he was nervous as well. That gave her a little more courage in a situation that was as strange as it was uncomfortable.
“How… how are things at Northwood?” she asked.
“Slow, thankfully,” he said. “Adonis has a new stallion.”
“Oh?”
“A very expensive beast. He plans to breed it to fine mares and make a fortune on the offspring.”
Jemma flipped the little garment in her hands over, struggling to focus on it. “Adonis is very savvy when it comes tae money,” she said. “If he says he’s going tae make a fortune, he probably will.”
“Aye, he will, and keep it all for himself,” he said. “Even when he was a child, he would hoard his pence. He had a hiding place and, as I recall, your son, Christian, found it and took the money. Do you remember that?”
That brought a smile from Jemma. “Christian thought he’d found a treasure,” she said. “In his defense, he dinna know it was Adonis’. Remember that he went tae town with Kieran and bought sweets with the money?”
Paris snorted softly. “He was very generous,” he said. “He shared the treats with all of the children. But when Adonis found out that they had been bought with his secret horde, I thought he was going to kill Christian.”
They both chuckled at the memory of two young children fighting over money. It was a moment of levity that alleviated some of the tension between them.
For the moment, anyway.
“Kieran gave Adonis his money back,” Jemma said. “I dunna think things were the same between Christian and Adonis after that. For the rest of Christian’s life, Adonis would hide everything from him – money, food, possessions – everything.”
“I remember,” Paris said, watching Jemma’s profile as she began stitching on the little tunic again. “But I also remember that when Christian left for the Holy Land, it upset Adonis a great deal. I think that in spite of everything, he always looked up to Christian. He was someone to be admired.”
Jemma nodded, pausing in her stitching to look at the children playing in the labyrinth. “I often wonder what would have become of my Christian had he lived,” she said softly. “Ye know we named him after Kieran’s younger brother who died in battle.”
Paris sobered. “I knew Kieran’s brother Christian very well,” he said. “He served at Northwood and I was at the battle where he lost his life. He was so different from Kieran – loud, lively, rash. He had a wicked streak of humor in him. Losing him hurt Kieran badly.”
For the first time since entering the garden, Jemma turned to look at him. Jordan had asked her to think back to the time before Kieran had entered her life to explore if she might have been able to feel something for Paris, and she was trying very hard. It was difficult not to feel something for a man she had so much shared history with.
“I always thought it was ironic that we lost our Christian when he was young, too,” she said softly. “I wondered if naming my lad after Kieran’s dead brother had cursed him. I look at my grandchildren and wonder what grandchildren I would have had from him. I wonder who he would have married and what his life would have been like.”
Paris nodded faintly. “That is natural.”
“Mayhap,” she said, setting her sewing to her lap. “But when I lost Kieran, the one thing that gave me comfort was knowing our Christian would be waiting for him in heaven. I thought the same thing about Callie, too. She would have her mother and father tae keep her company. Do ye ever think that?”
The smile was gone from Paris’ face at the mention of Caladora. Usually, he refused to discuss her at all, but at the moment, the discussion seemed natural with a woman who knew Caladora as well as he did. After a moment, he simply shook his head.
“I don’t know what I think,” he murmured. “But if it gives you comfort, then you should think of it. I am sure her father, Nathaniel, is glad to have his daughter back in his fold. He never liked that she married me, you know.”
Jemma’s eyes glimmered at him. “But Aunt Anne was fond of ye,” she said. “Even Callie’s brothers, Robbie and Ben
, were fond of ye. Uncle Nathaniel wouldna have liked anyone who took his Callie away. My da, on the other hand, couldna give me away fast enough.”
That comment brought back Paris’ smile. “Matthew Scott had his hands full with your brothers,” he said. “The four of you must have been quite a lot of work for your parents.”
Jemma nodded, conceding the point. “He had his revenge when Alec, Christian, and Kevin were born,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Those three would have made a saint lose his patience”
Paris laughed softly. “I had a few wild lads of my own,” he said. “It was chaotic when they were younger but I missed them greatly when they went away to foster. I feel that same sense of longing now with Hector’s boys, Atreus and Hermes, away to foster. Those two are so much like me.”
“Aye,” Jemma agreed fervently. “Arrogant and untamed and…”
She suddenly froze, realizing she had just insulted Paris when she’d been trying so hard not to. But it went against the natural order of things for her not to sling insults at him so she smiled apologetically while he gave her a rather wry expression.
“I mean they’re spirited and proud,” she said.
“You had it right the first time. They are arrogant and untamed.”
Jemma chuckled but she didn’t incriminate herself further, insulting the man and his grandsons. The conversation waned a little, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Jemma turned her head away from Paris, rolling her eyes with relief that she hadn’t offended the man as she resumed her sewing.
Over in the labyrinth, the children were having a marvelous time and their laughter caught Paris’ attention. They were being loud, like children usually were, and it was not at all conducive to the atmosphere he was trying to achieve with Jemma.
He was hoping for a more quiet and intimate setting for their first real conversation.
“Would… would you like to go for a walk with me?” he asked. “Mayhap there is someplace quieter where we could speak.”
Jemma shook her head. “I canna leave the children,” she said. “Cassie and Moira have run off and there is no one tae watch out for them.”
“I sent them for wine, remember?” Paris said. “When they return, you and I may go for a walk.”
“But I have sewing tae finish. What more did ye wish tae speak of?”
Sensing her reluctance, Paris stood up and stretched his legs out a little, eyeing the screaming children in the corner of the garden who were making this conversation a rather unsatisfying one.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Talk. About things.”
Jemma looked at him, her head cocked. “If ye have something tae say tae me, come out with it. I’ll not bite ye.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “I am not so sure about that,” he mumbled under his breath.
“What did ye say?”
“I said I am sure of that,” he said, louder. “But I thought you might have something to say to me and it is difficult to speak with children screaming in the background.”
Jemma stared at him, having no idea what he meant. “I have nothing tae say tae ye,” she said. “Nothing important, in any case. But it has been nice tae talk tae ye. Are ye returning tae Northwood soon?”
Paris put his hands on his hips. “Do you want me to return to Northwood?”
Jemma wasn’t clear on what he was driving at. “It is where ye live.”
“I know it is where I live. Are you telling me you have nothing to say to me?”
“Not that I can recall.”
“Nothing about fondness? About feelings?”
It occurred to Jemma what he meant. “Oh,” she said, turning back to the little garment in her hands. “That. Jordie told me.”
“Told you what?”
Jemma was careful with her words, but she found she couldn’t look at him. Her stomach was beginning to quiver again, her nerves making a swift return.
“Ye know,” she said. “About Kieran stealing me away and all. I dinna know ye felt that way. I thought for sure ye hated me.”
Paris scratched his head. “You didn’t know that I felt that way?” he repeated, confused. “But… aren’t you fond of me?”
Jemma looked at him, then. “Me? Fond of ye?” she said. “But I thought… Jordie said… Paris, I thought ye wanted us tae be… companions.”
He blinked. It began to occur to him that Jemma had no idea what he was talking about and it further occurred to him that he’d been made a fool of. He didn’t know why, but evidently, Jordan and William had been spinning some kind of half-truths while trying to draw him and Jemma together.
The awareness hit him hard.
Paris was greatly embarrassed and in that embarrassment, the pride that meant so much to him had taken a heavy blow. He couldn’t swallow it. Off-balance, he said the first thing that came to mind.
“Us?” he said. “Companions? Why on earth would I want that? You and I are like oil and water, Lady Hage. We have never mixed and we never will. If you thought otherwise, then I am sorry.”
Jemma’s cheeks flamed red; he could see it. “Jordie told me what happened, how ye walked intae the river,” she said. “I’m sorry for ye, Paris, I truly am, but if ye thought… if ye were told that I… just know that none of this was my idea.”
Paris’ embarrassment grew by leaps and bounds. “Then I am sorry to have troubled you,” he said. “You are happy in your widowhood and I shall leave you to it.”
He quickly turned away from her, turning blindly for the entry to the keep, but she stopped him.
“I wouldna say I’m happy,” she said. “I’ve learned tae accept it. Paris, do ye remember years ago at Northwood when I lost my first bairn?”
He was almost to the door but her softly-uttered words had him coming to a halt. That wasn’t a tone he usually heard from her and it brought him pause. He very much wanted to run away from her, ashamed as he was, but he held his ground.
Something made him stay.
“Aye,” he said after a moment. “Why?”
Jemma set the sewing aside. As the children screamed in the labyrinth and the sounds of their chaos filled the air, she stood up and walked over to him. He kept his back to her so she ended up speaking to the back of his head.
“William and Kieran were in London at the time,” she said softly. “I was at Northwood, with ye. When it was time for the child tae be born, it took days. Do ye remember? There was the midwife, Sylvie, but ye came in tae see me frequently. Do ye remember that?”
“I do.”
“Ye were a great healer,” she said. “I never told ye this, but more than anyone else at Northwood, ’twas ye who brought me comfort when ye came tae visit. Ye were calm and reassuring. Ye told Sylvie how tae help me. It was such a difficult time and ye were the most comfort I had. I should have told ye at the time, but I couldna seem tae. Ye gave me hope that everything would be all right.”
Paris sighed faintly. “But it wasn’t,” he said. “The baby was born dead. Since this seems to be a time of confessions, I never told you that I felt the child’s death was my fault. I should have known there was trouble when the birth took so long, but I was afraid that…”
He trailed off and she took another step, looking at his profile. “That what?” she asked.
He finally turned to look at her, a guarded expression on his face. “I was afraid to touch you,” he said hoarsely. “You were Kieran’s wife. I was afraid to touch you in such a manner so I left it to the midwife. I should never have done that and I am deeply sorry. I have been sorry for these many years but I was afraid to tell you that, afraid you would put the blame on me.”
It was a deeply poignant moment between them. Jemma had given birth to her first child when Kieran had been in London, a little girl who was born with the cord around her neck. It had easily been one of the worst times in Jemma’s life, something she’d not spoken of, or thought of, in decades. But seeing the pain and disappointment on Paris’ face brought it all back to her.
“It wasna yer fault,” she said softly. “The cord was wrapped around her neck. There was nothing ye could have done and even I knew that. Ye canna blame yerself for that, Paris. I never did and neither did Kieran. But it’s not the birth that I remember as much as what happened afterwards.”
Paris knew what she meant immediately. It was something he’d not thought of for a very long time.
“Did you ever tell Kieran?” he asked after a moment.
She shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “I never told him I tried tae hang myself. Had ye not found me when ye did, I would have succeeded. Do ye remember what ye told me when ye slapped my face and brought me back tae life?”
Paris inhaled, long and slow, before hanging his head. “I don’t know,” he murmured. “I had just cut you down from the rafters in the barn, a barn I happened to enter at the right time. Do you know I had no intention of going into that barn at that time but something told me to? I don’t even know what it was. I walked in just in time to see you jump from the ladder with a rope around your neck.”
Jemma took a step closer, feeling kinship with the man she’d never felt with him in all the time she’d known him. A family and marriage, for them both, had distanced that tragic bond they’d share, now something that was coming to the forefront.
There were no longer any barriers.
“I remember what ye said,” she said, a lump in her throat. “I’ll never forget it. Ye told me not tae leave ye. Ye swore tae me that ye’d never call me Banshee again if I would only awaken. Ye kept begging me not tae leave ye. Do ye remember now?”
Paris nodded slowly. “I think so. I did not want you to leave me because there would be no way I could explain my failure to Kieran.” He ran his fingers through his gray hair as he thought back to that horrific time, not unsimilar to what he’d just done to William. “I also said there was nothing in life so bad that death was the only answer, especially when people love you.”
Jemma nodded firmly. “That’s exactly what ye said,” she said. “Paris, I’ve never told anyone what happened. I havena even told Jordie. She doesna know I tried tae kill myself after Bridget died, so this is something only ye and I know and ye’ve kept that secret all these years. If anyone knows the pain ye feel, it’s me. I’ve been there. But I’ll tell ye what ye told me – there is nothing in life so bad that death is the only answer, especially when people love ye. And so many people love ye, Paris. Please… dunna do anything so foolish again.”
The Best Is Yet To Be Page 10
