Moira, her eyes still wide with concern, dashed off and headed to the garden. When she disappeared, Paris returned his attention to Alec.
“May I respond to this conversation since I am the subject?” he asked.
When Alec nodded reluctantly, he proceeded.
“To be perfectly truthful, Alec, there is no ‘situation’,” he said as he made his way towards the table. “But even if there was, it is between me and your mother. You are not involved, nor are any of your siblings or any of my children. Is that clear?”
Alec knew the man was correct but he didn’t like being chastised. “Anything that involves my mother is my business.”
Paris held up a finger. “To a certain extent,” he said. “Her safety, her health and welfare, are all your concern. But when it comes to her private feelings and her private life, you have no say in it. Did you have any say in her relationship with your father?”
“Nay.”
“Then you have no say in any relationship she might have with anyone else, whether or not it is me,” he said. “Let us establish the rules now. I will not tolerate any interference from you or anyone – not my sons, not William, not Jordan. What happens between Jemma and me is no one’s business but our own. If we want to talk, we shall talk, and if we decide we cannot stand the sight of each other, that is up to us.”
Alec’s jaw was flexing again. Behind him, Hector and Adonis looked at each other, knowing they were being included in that statement. Their father was making his wishes clear.
“Papa,” Hector said quietly. “You cannot deny us our concern. You and Aunt Jemma have known each other for decades and neither one of you has shown any interest in the other.”
“Of course not,” Paris snapped softly. “Up until a few years ago, we were both happily married. Do you seriously think I would have shown any interest in a woman other than your mother? Or that Jemma would show interest in anyone other than Kieran? Don’t be stupid. But Kieran is gone now, as is Caladora, and if Jemma and I make the decision to keep company with one another, that is no one’s business but ours.”
Hector’s gaze lingered on his father a moment before turning to see how Adonis was dealing with this. But Adonis merely shrugged, unable to fight the logic, which caused Hector to ultimately lift his shoulders in resignation.
“We just want you to be happy, Papa,” Hector said. “But I will say no more about this. You are correct – it is your decision. Do what you will. It is not as if we can stop you.”
He turned away from the table, finished with the subject. His father was going to do what he wanted to do and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
But Alec wasn’t quite so finished. He came away from the table, planting himself in front of Paris.
“I would be a poor son, indeed, if I did not show concern for my mother’s choice of companions,” he said. “You cannot tell me it is your decision and your business and expect me to walk away. My mother is involved, Uncle Paris. I will always be concerned for her.”
“As well you should be,” Paris said. “But a good son knows his limits. You do not cross the line.”
“Who is crossing the line? I just want to know what your intentions are towards my mother.”
“Alec, enough.”
The words came from Jemma. Having been summoned by Moira, she had heard enough of the conversation. She entered the hall, looking between Paris and Alec with great concern. But as she drew close to the pair, her focus was mostly on Alec.
“’Tis not yer place tae interrogate the man,” she said to her son. “I appreciate yer concern, but leave this tae me. I’ve known Paris for more than fifty years and there’s nothing the man can sling at me that I canna take. If ye dunna think so, then I am ashamed of ye.”
Alec wasn’t backing down from his mother. “Then there is something going on here? Paris said there was no ‘situation’, but it seems to me that there is. May we know what is going on?”
Jemma frowned. “Ye may not,” she said. “’Tis a private matter and not something I intend tae discuss with everyone in this room. If I want tae discuss it with ye, I will, but right now… ye’re making this an embarrassing situation, Alec. I know ye mean well, sweetheart, but this doesna concern ye.”
Alec began to show some emotion. He sighed heavily and lowered his gaze, shifting on his big feet as he struggled against his natural protective instincts. In fact, he simply couldn’t hold back.
“But this does not seem right to me,” he said. “Uncle Paris is… well, he’s family. He and Papa were the best of friends and I’m just not sure about any of this. It seems oddly incestuous.”
“But it isna,” Jemma insisted quietly. “We’re not related. Kieran and Paris werena related, simply old friends. Alec… lad, I canna stress tae ye enough that it’s none of yer affair. Paris and I… we’ve only spoken, and briefly at that. We’ve made no decisions. We’ve done nothing secretive or shameful. But ye must understand that yer mother isna dead – I still have feelings and needs. If I want tae keep company with a man, that’s up to me.”
Alec quickly put up a hand. “I do not want to hear about your needs,” he said. “In fact, I do not want to continue discussing this. I have made my point but, clearly, it means nothing to you. Do whatever you wish, Mother, but I cannot say that I understand why you would cast a shadow over Papa’s memory like this.”
Jemma’s eyes narrowed. “What do ye mean?”
Alec couldn’t meet her eye; he kept his gaze averted. “You would push aside his memory by taking up with another man? That’s what we’re all thinking, though some won’t admit it. Are you trying to forget about Papa so quickly?”
Jemma might have been old, but she moved swiftly. In a flash, she was in front of her son, slapping him across the face with an open palm. The sound was sharp, reverberating off of the old stone walls.
“I will never hear that out of your mouth again, Alec Hage,” she snarled, her eyes flashing. “I loved yer father more deeply than ye could ever understand and keeping company with another man, if it is Paris or someone else, in no way diminishes that love. It is the only thing keeping me alive, so yer judgment is deeply offensive. I would never say such a thing tae ye, not ever.”
Alec deserved the slap; he knew that. He had crossed that line Paris had warned him of. But he was struggling with the concept of his mother with someone other than his father. In his confusion, he said something he shouldn’t have.
Immediately, he felt guilty.
“I am sorry,” he said, looking into her angry face. “Forgive me, Mama. I did not mean it.”
Jemma went from slapping him to kissing him, her firstborn son. “Did I hurt ye?
He smiled wryly. “You never could, no matter how hard you tried.”
“Then let me try again.”
“You will only embarrass yourself.”
As Jemma shook her head at her cheeky son and rubbed the spot she’d just slapped, Jordan stepped forward.
All of this was her fault and she knew it. She’d started something that seemed to be tearing the family apart, which was something she hadn’t anticipated. Cassiopeia had been in agreement and she assumed the rest of them would be, as well, but that wasn’t the case. The sons and daughters of Paris and Jemma all seemed to have different ideas about the relationship between Paris and Jemma, so Jordan sought to ease the situation before it grew out of control. She could hardly even look at William, knowing he would have an “I told you so” expression.
“I have a suggestion,” she said. “Since the children seem tae be concerned about courting, mayhap ye should go tae St. Helen’s in Coldstream. Ye can speak with the priest and seek his counsel on the situation. That might give everyone some peace.”
Paris thought it was a good idea and looked to Jemma to see what her reaction was. She looked at him, her cheeks flushing, feeling rather giddy and foolish about the entire thing, and now in the presence of witnesses. It was all happening very quickly, but not so much
that she was going to back away from it.
She was too intrigued by it to back away.
Strangely enough, it made her feel alive again.
Wanted.
“I’m agreeable if ye are,” she said.
Paris nodded. “I am,” he said. “It might be a good thing to seek an impartial opinion on a widow and a widower keeping company with one another. I am willing to seek the opinion of the priests if it will ease everyone’s mind.”
Jemma looked at Alec, nodding her head until he relented and nodded his as well. Jemma smiled at her protective boy.
“Then we’ll go,” she said.
“Alone,” Paris said before the entire family decided to join in. “This is not an activity for the masses. Jemma and I will go alone.”
“You most certainly will not,” William said. He’d kept his mouth shut during the discussion because he really wasn’t involved, but now he was making it his business. “I will be your chaperone. You two will not travel anywhere alone if you are intending to court.”
Paris rolled his eyes. “Christ, William, I do not need an attendant. I am a grown man.”
“And that is exactly why you need a chaperone. For the sake of the children, we will keep this proper.”
Jordan started to laugh, joined by Jemma. Paris was not amused but ended up grinning because they were laughing at his solid resistance to a suggestion of a chaperone. He’d never had one in his entire life, not even with Caladora, so the suggestion was both horrifying and strangely emasculating.
“This is the man who tried tae chaperone his daughter on her wedding night,” Jemma pointed out. “Do ye remember that? He spent hours at their door, banging on it and demanding tae be let in. He did everything but climb intae bed with Cassie and Eddie. I’m surprised they had any children at all.”
Everyone started laughing at that point, especially Edward. That had been quite an evening when Paris, drunk and devastated at losing his youngest daughter to marriage, made an absolute fool of himself when the happy couple had retired for the night. But the laughter, the memories, had done one thing – the tension in the hall had eased considerably. The suggestion of priestly counsel had eased the minds of the children. It was such a difficult situation with beloved parents involved.
But now, there was some hope that it might actually turn out favorably.
There was hope.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was a cold, crisp night.
After the confrontation with Alec and Hector and children on both sides of the issue, the feast later that night had been an interesting affair. Everyone was friendly, as usual, but there was a strange undercurrent of tension. They could all feel it although they pretended not to. It was the children, not Paris and Jemma, so to ease the strain, they sat with their respective children during the meal and not together. They didn’t even look at each other during the course of the feast. But Paris had a message for Jemma he gave to Jordan to relay.
Meet me in the garden when everyone has gone to bed.
Therefore, Jemma arrived just before midnight to find Paris sitting on the bench where she’d been embroidering earlier in the day. He was dressed against the cold weather, which was threatening a frost, and as Jemma emerged into the darkened garden, he stood up with something slung over his arm.
It was a blanket.
Jemma pointed to it.
“Since when did ye become so thoughtful?” she asked.
His teeth flashed in the darkness. “I’ve always been thoughtful,” he said. “Just not with you.”
She chuckled. “I would believe that,” she said. “It seems that times are changing, then.”
He stepped aside, indicating for her to sit on the stone bench beside him. “It would seem so,” he said, putting the blanket across her lap as she sat down. “But I am sorry this situation has become so… strange. I wanted to speak with you about it.”
“I am listening.”
“The lads are not happy,” he said. “Hector and Adonis voiced some concerns back at Northwood, but I thought they would be easily quelled. Now Alec and Nat are unhappy.”
Jemma let him fuss with the blanket, which she thought was rather sweet. She’d never known the man to fuss over anyone other than himself, though she refrained from telling him that. She didn’t want to break whatever spell had settled on him.
She rather liked his attentiveness.
“From the way that group is acting, one would have thought we had impetuously married,” she said. “We’ve had one bloody conversation. That is all. ’Tis not as if we’re making plans tae run off together.”
Paris sat down beside her. “We have had one conversation, indeed,” he muttered. “But we have also had a lifetime of knowing each other.”
“True. Of knowing each other, but nothing more than that,” she said. “Ye had Callie, I had Kieran. I will admit I never gave ye a passing thought, Paris. I hope that doesna offend ye.”
“It does not, because I never gave a passing thought to you, either.”
“But now ye do.”
“If you do, I do.”
She smiled faintly. “I suppose I do.”
“Good,” he said. “But even in years past, I saw you frequently, as frequently as I saw Kieran. It was not as if we were never around one another. Our children grew up together.”
“And we share grandchildren now. Apollo and Moira’s brood.”
Paris nodded faintly. “Very fine children,” he said. “I… I never told you this, but Moira settled Apollo down immensely. She has been a tremendous influence on him. He is very fortunate to have her.”
Jemma looked at him in the darkness. “She never thought he would look at her,” she admitted. “He’s tall and handsome, and she was much younger than he. When they were children, he used tae throw things at her.”
Paris grinned. “He threw horse dung at her, once, because she would not leave him alone,” he said. “That was right before he went to foster at Kenilworth. He got into a good deal of trouble for throwing dung at a young lady.”
Jemma remembered that particular moment in time, when Moira had run into the keep, hysterical because Apollo had gotten horse shite in her hair. “Kieran wouldna scold him,” she said. “He told Moira that she deserved it for being an annoyance. That was the time when she would follow him and Hector around.”
“I remember.”
“I ended up scolding him.”
“He said the master knights at Kenilworth never frightened him as much as you did.”
Jemma started laughing. “He deserved it,” she said. “And I think I scolded ye, too.”
“You did,” Paris said, shifting so that he was perhaps just a little closer to her. “You told me that I was raising a pack of wild dogs and that they got their manners from me.”
“Ye were and they did.”
He was biting back the laughter at this point. “I notice you did not scold Callie.”
“Of course not. She was perfect.”
He sobered quickly. “Aye,” he said after a moment. “She was that. Jemma, I… forgive me, I did not mean to be so forward, Lady Hage. May I call you Jemma?”
“Ye may.”
He eyed her in the dim light, seeing her face, remembering what he’d said to William. She is pretty, still. He thought it quite strange that his heart seemed to flutter when he looked at her, just a little, but if he thought hard enough, he seemed to remember it doing the same thing when first he met her. But he had been far too haughty to admit such a thing.
But now…
“Thank you,” he said softly. “I am afraid the situation tonight grew to great proportions, very quickly. All we did is have a simple conversation in the garden and, suddenly, we’re speaking of consulting priests to seek the church’s stance on a courting couple of our advance age. I did not mean to rush things along like that. I did not mean to make any assumptions.”
Jemma listened to him, considering his words carefully. “I think the only people m
aking assumptions were Alec and Hector and the rest of them,” she said. “I never thought ye were. But I think Jordan made the most assumptions of all.”
Paris chuckled in agreement. “It seems she told us both the same story,” he said. “You were fond of me long ago and I was fond of you long ago. Worse still, we both fell for it. It was… foolish. Romance is for the young.”
Jemma eyed him in the darkness. “I dunna believe that is true,” she said. “Romance is for anyone, at any age. I told ye that if I only wanted a companion, I would get a goat. If ye only have a mind tae be platonic, I dunna think I would be interested.”
He met her gaze. “Truly?”
“Truly.”
“Good. Because that was not what I had in mind.”
“What did ye have in mind?”
He shook his head. “I don’t really know,” he said. “But it has something to do with this.”
Reaching out, he found a hand that was clutching the blanket and he gripped it. Jemma looked at their hands, holding one another and resting on her lap, and it made her heart lurch as she’d not experienced in many years. She knew what the feeling was.
It was excitement.
After a moment, she chuckled.
“Ye’re holding my hand,” she said quietly.
“Brilliant observation.”
“I dunna know whether tae run away or slap ye.”
“Neither would be nice.”
She continued laughing softly, feeling giddy, as if she’d only just been reawakened into something new and thrilling. Paris’ touch had done that, something she never imagined would be true.
But it was.
“I canna believe we’re having this conversation,” she said. “Of all people – ye.”
He snorted because she was. “I am equally amazed,” he said. “I never thought the Banshee and I would be speaking of romance.”
“Ye’d better call me that name with a smile now.”
He grinned broadly. “Always,” he said with soft sincerity. “Truthfully, I’m not sure I ever really meant it as a curse. Well, mayhap a little. Mayhap a lot. But in any case, are you comfortable seeking a priest tomorrow? I do not want to rush you into something you do not wish to do.”
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