Highland Protector (14 page)

“Ye didnae heed my words of wisdom at all, did ye?” he said as he sat down and watched her from across his worktable.

“I did, but I couldnae leave Elen out there all alone,” Ilsabeth replied.

He sighed and rested his head against the back of his chair. “Nay, ye couldnae.”

Ilsabeth was so relieved that he understood that she drank down her cider and then went and sat on his lap. “I thought about sending ye a message and waiting for ye to come and help find her, but then I kenned that would take too long.”

“Colin Rose would have had her tucked up in his house by then.”

“Is that who that was? Ye ken the mon and what he is and yet he is still walking about?”

“No proof. And a laird for a father. And he willnae be walking about after tonight, at least not for a verra long time.”

“Did ye beat him?”

“So eager ye sound. Nay, I wanted to, but the soldiers decided to do it. They must have kenned I wouldnae help the mon for they began to beat him while I was still close enough to hear it.” He set his empty tankard down and pulled her into his arms. “I kept Reid from looking and just kept right on walking.”

“Do ye feel guilty about that?”

Simon thought about that for a moment. “Nay, not a bit.” He smiled when she laughed.

“I was so afraid for her, Simon,” she whispered.

“Aye, and ye were right to be. She needs to be watched verra closely. I have naught but admiration for young Reid for keeping her alive and safe for so long. She may be the bonniest wee thing I have e’er seen and as sweet as summer fruit, but she is also a great deal of trouble on two wee feet.”

“She certainly is.” Ilsabeth kissed his throat. “We must needs go and have our meal in but a few moments.”

“I was thinking we might have a little something else first.”

Wriggling on his lap, she could feel how hard he had grown. “I can tell but it will have to wait until later.” She sat up and kissed him before hopping off his lap. “I am certain Old Bega has had a stern talk with Elen but I believe I will add a few words myself. See you in a moment.”

Simon watched her leave and shook his head. He had gone from sitting by the fire with a dog and a cat to having a house full. He certainly was not lonely now.

Ilsabeth frowned at the door to Simon’s ledger room and wondered if she should go in. MacBean had brought Simon a message and she had not seen the man since. She wished he would share such things with her, but she was not going to try and make him do so, if only because she knew she would be hurt if he refused to do it. She had not even pressed for the tale about how his back had become so scarred and yet he had said he would tell her.

The problem was that, unless he began to share his life with her in more than the bedchamber, it was going to be very hard to win his love. She would be reduced to being no more than his bedmate and that thought twisted her heart. Her parents shared everything as did most of her other married kin. That was what she wanted with Simon but she knew that if she tried to force that sharing it would never be right. It had to be given willingly.

Her only thought was to spend as much time as she could with him when they were not making love. He would have to talk to her then. Once he became more comfortable talking to her, he would begin to share his news, good or bad. At least, she hoped so, she thought, and grimaced as she rapped on the door.

Stepping into the room after he called out permission to enter, she frowned. He was just sitting there with a tankard of ale in his hands. Ilsabeth had the distinct feeling he had just been staring at the walls. She placed the small plate of fruit on his table and smiled at him.

Simon could not stop himself from smiling back. There was something about the way Ilsabeth looked at him that made him happy. He needed that at the moment, too. The king had demanded his presence in the morning and Simon had nothing to report. That always left his liege displeased and a displeased king was not what Simon wanted to face early in the day.

The lack of news to give the king had made Simon all too aware of how little he was discovering concerning the true killer and the traitors. Instinct told him time was running out. He could only pray that did not mean it was running out for Ilsabeth. It was frustrating. All he needed was one hint, one misstep by the guilty ones, and he could unravel the whole twisted mess. Killing Ogilvie had been a mistake but the killer had covered his trail very well.

“If ye are verra busy, I shall leave then,” said Ilsabeth.

Simon grabbed her by the hand and pulled her into his lap. “I am never too busy to see you. I was but thinking. I feel I am missing something but cannae grasp what it is.”

She turned in his lap and kissed his forehead. “Dinnae think on it so hard then. ‘Tis as if thinking on something too hard and long only pushes what ye search for further away. It will come.”

“So I should just clear my head then, should I?”

“Aye. Ye can but try.”

“I ken just the way to do that, too.” He cleared away the things cluttering the top of his worktable, picked her up, and set her on top of it.

Ilsabeth squeaked in surprise when he began to push up her skirts, kissing his way up her legs. “Simon, dinnae say ye mean to do that here?”

“Aye. ‘Tis one of the thoughts that was turning about in my mind.”

Simon decided that they had been lovers long enough for him to be a bit more daring. He had not lied, either. As he had sat there staring at the walls and his worktable he had suddenly seen Ilsabeth there, her skirts up to her hips and his head between her thighs. It was not something he had indulged himself in very often. In truth, he could only recall one or two times. Most of the women he had bedded had been with a lot of men and he had not been inclined to get that intimate. Learning how to stroke a woman with his fingers had served him well enough. Yet, just thinking of feasting upon Ilsabeth had made him as hard as a rock.

Ilsabeth was torn between desire and embarrassment as Simon kissed her thighs and pushed her skirts up so high she was fully exposed to his eyes. It was foolish, for he had seen all of her in the bed they shared, yet that had never made her feel so brazenly displayed. Then she felt his warm lips touch the heated softness between her thighs and she tensed.

“Simon?” She blushed when she realized she had squeaked out his name like some timid mouse. “Hush, sweet Ilsabeth. Let me taste ye.” Before she could protest, he did just that. It took but a few strokes of his tongue and she no longer cared what he saw or did so long as the pleasure he gave her continued. She cried out his name as she felt her body tighten but he ignored her, bringing her to release with his mouth. While she was still reeling from the force of it, he pushed her legs up and thrust into her. Ilsabeth did not even have time to catch her breath before he was sending her spiraling up to the heights all over again but this time he joined her in that blissful fall into passion’s abyss.

Simon collapsed on top of Ilsabeth, still shaking from the strength of his release. He could feel her body trembling beneath him, hear the way she struggled to catch her breath, and nearly smiled, feeling very smug and pleased with himself. Ilsabeth was a very passionate woman and he reveled in her warmth, but mostly he liked the way he could drive her wild with desire.

When he was finally able to move, he helped her sit up. The way she blushed as she straightened her skirts amused him, but he struggled to hide it. He leaned forward and kissed her.

“Dinnae fret so, lass,” he said. “Ye are beautiful in your passion.”

Ilsabeth was not so certain she believed that. She could not see how any woman could be beautiful splayed out on top of a table with her skirts up to her waist. Honesty compelled her to admit that she had found a lot of pleasure in what he had done, however, and was determined to overcome the uncomfortable bouts of modesty. He also looked a little smug so she found it surprisingly easy to push aside her embarrassment.

“I just hadnae realized ye could do such things on a table,” she muttered.

“Ah, bonnie Ilsabeth, ye can do this in so many places and in so many ways. I shall enjoy showing ye.”

For a brief moment she wondered how he thought he could do that when she could not leave the house for fear of being grabbed by the king’s soldiers, but she shoved the thought out of her head. Simon was looking far less troubled than he had when she had first entered the room. She would not remind him that the future did not yet look secure enough for him to be making such plans. Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. The fact that he was thinking of things that would require her to be in his future was enough to please her for now.

“Do ye think we can try one of your many ways in a common old bed next time?” she asked.

Simon laughed, picked her up in his arms, and headed for their bedchamber.

“Morning.”

Ilsabeth smiled sleepily. Simon spoke the word against her neck and the warmth of his breath seeped into her skin. “ ‘Tis morning so soon?”

“Aye and ‘tis time for ye to assist me in greeting the new day in a proper manner.”

She slid her arms around his neck and welcomed his kiss. Simon looked so much younger and less serious in the morning. It gave her a glimpse of the man he could be, although she loved the man he was now, too. Ilsabeth just wanted Simon to learn how to enjoy life more.

Ilsabeth knew she should probably go and confess her sins, do her allotted penances, and then stay as far away from Simon Innes as possible. She also knew she would never do that. Nothing she did with Simon felt sinful and she suffered from no guilt whatsoever. Love was what kept her in Simon’s arms, in his bed, and she could not see any sin in that. She knew her family would not either.

“I dinnae think this is exactly proper,” she said, and gasped in delight as he kissed his way to her breasts.

“ ‘Tis the best way to ensure that a mon wakes up and goes to his work with a smile upon his face.”

Ilsabeth’s laughter was stopped by his kiss. She gave herself over to the passion he could so effortlessly stir inside her. Her last clear thought as he joined their bodies was a touch of astonishment that he did not yet see how utterly perfect they were together.

Dressed, his body pleasantly sated, and prepared to leave for the king’s court, Simon paused by the bed to stare down at a sleeping Ilsabeth. She was sprawled on her stomach, her tousled hair covering most of her face. It was a mistake to keep crawling into bed with her but he doubted he could stop even upon threat of dismemberment by her family. He needed her and that frightened him in so many ways he dared not count them. The most important was that she brought a joy into his life that had been missing for too long.

What did he know about keeping a woman like her, a gently raised laird’s daughter from a large and loving family? What did he have to offer her to make her want to stay with him once she was free of the danger she was in? He was a king’s man but that could change at any moment, the position lost in one misstep, one wrong word, or even his liege waking up in a sour mood. He did not even have a clan to call his own any longer. Even if he used his money to buy some small manor or the like, he knew nothing about how to make it profitable enough to keep her in the manner she was accustomed to. The honorable thing to do was to send her home as soon as it was safe to do so and that was going to tear him apart.

Shaking his head at his maudlin thoughts, he brushed a soft kiss over her shoulder and left the room. He had told her that the king had demanded his presence. Simon had the strong feeling that he was not being summoned so that he could be praised for all his hard work. There were too many rumors whirling around the court, ones that put his integrity into question, and the king was neither deaf nor blind. As he began the long walk to where the court was being held, Simon tried to think of answers to some of the many questions he was sure he would be asked.

By the time he was shown in to see the king, Simon believed he could soothe any suspicions or anger raised by all the rumors. One look at his king’s angry face told him that he might have allowed himself to be a little too confident about that. He wondered if he had missed hearing some of the rumors, ones far more damning than the ones he had heard. The anger stirring within him over being questioned about his integrity, his honesty, after so many years of faithful service and proving himself, was not easy to tamp down.

“I dinnae like what I have been hearing, Simon,” said the king.

“Rumors have always flown about the court like flies o’er a carcass, my liege,” Simon said, swallowing the insult given by the lack of an invitation to sit down.

“Not ones that have me wondering if the mon we all look to for justice has been corrupted.”

Simon struggled to hide the fury that swelled inside him. “I havenae heard those rumors yet, sire.”

“Nay? ‘Tis said that ye are verra close to the Murrays, a clan now tainted by their association with those traitors the Armstrongs of Aigballa. ‘Tis said that the woman who murdered Ian is running about the town freely yet ye dinnae seem to be able to find her. It reminded me of how ye have twice removed yourself from my court to run to the aid of a Murray accused of murder. What do ye believe I should think of all that? Is it nay enough to make any mon begin to question if ye are able to be fair in all of this, if ye can truly look beyond friendship to find the truth?”

“My liege, I did indeed help exonerate both James Drummond and Tormand Murray. There is no denying that. I can only swear to ye upon my honor that, if either mon had been proven guilty of the murders they were accused of, I would have led them to the scaffold myself.” Simon could tell by the narrow-eyed look the king was giving him that his words were being carefully weighed if not fully believed. It was also possible that the anger churning in his gut had seeped out into his voice. “I
will
find the one who murdered your cousin and who plots against ye. Ye have my word on that. Aye, nay matter who that might prove to be, he or she will be brought to ye to face justice.”