Simon nuzzled Ilsabeth’s neck as he struggled to regain his breath after a greedy bout of love-making. Ilsabeth was still sprawled beneath him, her own breathing still fast and uneven. Her passion was a gift. He just wished he had more time to enjoy it, but he needed to leave the warmth of their bed.
“Good morn, sweet,” he said, kissed her lightly, and then sat on the edge of the bed to stretch. “I wish I could linger here with ye for a few hours, mayhap e’en all day, but I must meet with Tormand in the wood north of town soon.” He gave in to the urge to kiss her again before finally getting up.
“I pray he has more news, useful news,” she said as she sat up, tucking the linen sheet around her. “I do like to hear that none of my family has yet fallen into the hands of the king’s soldiers, but that isnae truly helpful.”
She smiled when all she got in reply was a grunt as Simon slipped into the small room attached to his bedchamber where he could relieve himself and wash in some privacy. Even though he showed no qualms about striding around the bedchamber naked, he clearly preferred some moments of privacy. Ilsabeth admitted that she appreciated that small room as well.
“The message Tormand sent me implied that he had discovered something of importance,” said Simon, answering the question she had asked before he had left the room as he stepped back into the bedchamber and began to get dressed. “He also said that Morainn had seen something.”
“Tormand would have said if she had given him a name or the like, aye?”
“Aye, but in her visions she doesnae often see things like names. What she does see, however, can ofttimes show me a verra clear path to follow to what I need.”
“I hope that is true this time.” Ilsabeth grimaced when she realized she had not kept all of her growing frustration out of her voice.
Simon sat on the edge of the bed and caressed her cheek. He could understand her frustration; he shared it. He was not the one accused of crimes that could lead to a very unpleasant execution, however. Nor was his beloved family forced to hide in the hills. Each day had to be a torture of waiting for her.
“Dinnae lose hope, Ilsabeth.”
“Nay, I willnae. I but grow so verra weary of it all.” She placed her hands on his newly shaven cheeks and stared at him, idly wondering how she had ever thought that his eyes were cold. “I woke uneasy, Simon. I dinnae have dreams or visions as Morainn does, but ye ken that many of my kin have gifts. Some have nay more than a verra strong instinct, some have much, much more. I am nay sure what I have but something troubles me about today, something concerning ye. Be verra careful today. That is all I ask. Watch your back.”
“I always do, love,” he said, and kissed her before he stood up and left, warmed by her concern.
Ilsabeth stared at the door for a long time after it closed behind Simon. She wished she could recall her dream more clearly but she trusted how it had left her feeling. That uneasiness and touch of fear the dream had left behind were warnings. She could only wait and pray that Simon heeded them.
Simon reached the meeting place Tormand had indicated early but did not mind. He sat on a log and enjoyed the warmth of the sun, something he rarely had the time to do. There was a peace within him that he had not experienced for longer than he cared to recall, a peace that Ilsabeth had given him.
He wished he could ease her growing frustration but finding the truth took time. She worried about her family while he worried about her. All the frustration he suffered was born of his intense need to see that Ilsabeth was safe and that could not happen until the true killer of poor Ogilvie was found and the real traitors caught. He was certain now that Hepbourn was one of them but proof of that was elusive. No matter how deep his conviction was that the man was guilty, he refused to send the man to a certain death without proof. Vague overheard conversations were not enough and, even though Ilsabeth had heard condemning words from the man’s own mouth, he could not use her as a witness.
“Am I late or were ye early?”
Simon shook free of his thoughts and smiled at Tormand. “I was a wee bit early. I was just enjoying a rare sight of the sun. So tell me, what has our Morainn seen then?”
“My Morainn,” Tormand said as he sat down on the log next to Simon. “Eager, are ye?”
“This game grows verra tiresome. I find I lack the patience I usually have.”
“Because ye worry over Ilsabeth?”
The way Tormand looked at Simon told him that the man suspected something was going on between Simon and his cousin. Simon had no intention of admitting to anything, however. If Ilsabeth wanted any of her family to know they had become lovers, she would tell them herself.
“She needs to be free of this burden, as does her family,” he finally said, and scowled when Tormand just grinned. “What was it that ye thought I needed to hear about?”
“Morainn is certain that ye hunt the right men–Hepbourn and his cousin. She cannae see how to trap them though. She said that could be because it needs to be done with no warning, that ye can and will do it without any help. Vanity and cowardice. That is what her vision revealed as their weaknesses. I believe I can easily guess which goes with whom.”
“As can I. We had already guessed most of that but ‘tis good to have it all confirmed in one of her visions. And, I now ken where David is and that he is definitely part of Hepbourn’s plans. Ilsabeth told me so but I needed to hear it for myself as I cannae use her word for it, can I? I heard enough to tell me that they plot all this together although David is already showing signs of unease about the plans being made. I but wait to grab him for I think it may help if I let that unease brew for a wee while.”
“How did that piece of good fortune happen?”
“Quite by accident. I stumbled across him and Hepbourn meeting in the woods.”
“Lucky. Morainn did say something else was shown to her. She said that one of your own is the head of the snake.”
“One of my men? Nay, I cannae believe that. I would trust them with my life and dinnae question their loyalty to our liege. Morainn must have mistaken what she saw.”
“I dinnae think so.” Tormand sighed. “She didnae mean one of your men. She meant one of your blood. She says it is one who already has a lot of blood on his hands. Morainn also said that included yours, but that makes no sense for ye are still here. So, mayhap she has misread what she has seen.”
“Nay, she hasnae. I nearly wasnae here,” Simon whispered, shock stealing the strength from his voice. Morainn’s vision only confirmed what he had overheard David and Hepbourn say, that Henry was involved in the plot to kill the king.
“What do ye mean, ye nearly were not here?”
Unable to sit still as he revealed what he saw as his idiocy and his humiliation, Simon stood up and began to pace in front of the still-sitting Tormand. “I ken that I once told ye that the last time I went home was to see my father buried, but that wasnae the truth. I was drawn back to Lochancorrie one more time. Ten years ago to be precise. By a woman.”
“Ah. And this woman is the reason ye havenae been back or even spoken of your kin since then?”
“Aye. Her name was Mary. She was my brother Henry’s third wife. Henry brought her to the court with him once, when he was allowed to still show his face there. I was there as weel, with my foster father, and acting as his squire. Part of my training. It wasnae easy, but I did my best to stay out of Henry’s sight and reach. Mary found me instead.”
“This tale doesnae end weel, does it?” muttered Tormand.
“Nay, not weel at all. Mary was beautiful and she stirred my blood until I was crazed with lust for her. Jesu, I was but a green lad of eighteen with verra little experience of women and she was a weel-practiced seductress of five and twenty. She also filled my ears with tearful stories of how cruel Henry was to her, how desperately she needed to get away from him. She was certain that he would kill her one day. At least in that she spoke the truth. I got word that she drowned about five years ago. The mon who gave me
the news hinted that few of the people at Lochancorrie believed it was an accident. He also implied that no one truly cared if she was murdered or nay. They were just pleased that she was gone.”
“So she seduced ye and it wasnae out of love. Why? Revenge on Henry?”
“Nay. She and Henry were much alike, in truth. She wanted a son. She had already given Henry two daughters and he wasnae verra pleased by that. I fear they, too, may be dead for Henry’s daughters dinnae live long, either. I only ken of one who lived to marry, although in truth she was still little more than a child when she was sold off to an old mon.
“I discovered later that Mary chose me to breed her because she wished to be certain that the child looked like Henry. That was Henry’s plan as weel, although I was stunned that he would e’er accept that he was unable to breed a son.
“Weel, Henry discovered we were lovers and beat me near to death. My back is badly scarred from the whip he used and he peeled most of the skin off my back with it. My foster father didnae hold much hope that I would survive until weeks later. He said he had ne’er seen anyone so torn up. He ne’er got over his astonishment that I had had the strength to crawl back to our rooms.”
“What did ye do after ye healed?”
“Fool that I was, I went back to Lochancorrie. I feared for Mary’s life, didnae I. I had some grand plans about rescuing her from my brute of a brother. Henry’s wives didnae live long although no one could e’er prove that he killed them.” Simon scowled as he recalled all the painful truths he had uncovered on that last visit to his birthplace.
“Ye dinnae need to continue, Simon.”
“Aye, I do.” If only to learn how to tell the tale when I finally answer Ilsabeth’s question about what happened to cause the scars, he mused. “Instinct made me cautious. I at least retained enough sense to ken that I couldnae blindly rush to the fair maiden’s rescue, that I needed to plan. So, I watched and I listened. Disguised, I e’en got inside the keep a few times. That is how I discovered that Henry had sent her to seduce me. I willnae trouble ye with all the things she said save to say that she didnae do it for love or e’en fear of Henry. Henry’s outrage over finding his wife in my bed was false although he admitted that he enjoyed beating me. Called me a self-righteous little bastard.”
“Do ye think he is expecting ye to come after him?”
Simon stared at Tormand for a minute and then cursed. “I cannae say. I didnae want to believe it when I heard Hepbourn say his name. Couldnae believe that Henry would risk all our forefathers built, all he has claimed and lived off for years. It just makes no sense. But it seems that he has.”
“Some men cannae resist the lure of power.”
“There is naught in our history or bloodlines that should have given him the insane idea that he has a right to the throne. Not one cursed thing.”
“All he needs is a thirst for power, Simon. Ones who get that thirst will justify all of their actions until they believe they are right in what they think and do. Mayhap ye should step away from this. I suspicion ye have no care for your brother, but all the rest? Aye, I think ye care that he risks Lochancorrie and its people. Yet, there is no ignoring that he is blood and, if ye get the proof ye need to reveal him as a traitor, he will be facing a verra hard death.”
“That willnae trouble me all that much. The mon has killed and is long overdue for a hanging. As Morainn saw, the mon has a lot of blood on his hands. Aye, it willnae be an easy death he faces, but he chose his path. I doubt many of the others at Lochancorrie were asked their opinion and yet they will all lose.”
“Aye and that is why I think ye may be too close to all of this.”
“I have a small hope that I might yet save Lochancorrie. If I am the one who brings the traitors to justice, I may weel be able to ask a boon.”
“And that boon will be the lands, aye?”
Simon nodded and leaned against a tree facing Tormand. “'Tis all I might be able to save. E’en if I step back, Henry will be found out for the traitor he is. At least if I stay and try to bring him to justice I have a chance of keeping others in the clan from suffering for his idiocy. And did ye forget that your kinsmen sent Ilsabeth to me to protect? That they are looking to me to prove her innocence?”
Tormand cursed. “For a moment, aye, I did. So ye must see this out until the end.” He stood up and briefly clasped Simon’s arm. “Take care, friend. I dinnae want to see ye place more scars upon your soul. And tell my cousin that her family remains safe and free.” He started to walk away. “I am at your service if ye need me.” He stopped and looked back at Simon. “What are the names of your other brothers?”
“Malcolm, Kenneth, and Ruari. Why?”
“No particular reason. Ye arenae the only one who suffers from the bite of curiosity. And, mayhap it will help ye do what ye must if ye think on how ye will be trying to save Lochancorrie for them as weel.”
He watched Tormand disappear into the wood and sighed, thumping the back of his head against the tree a few times. The thought that his brother was a traitor, that he planned to kill their liege lord, was more than Simon could bear. There was so much anger churning inside him, he felt ill. There was only one path he could take and that was to bring the traitors to justice no matter who they were. And he had lied to Tormand. It would trouble him to send Henry to a traitor’s death despite all the ill will that lay between them. Henry might be a brutal monster in a man’s skin, but he was still blood, still clan, still his brother.
Simon stood in the great hall where the king was holding his court and watched Hepbourn. The man was still busy slandering the Armstrongs and spreading the subtle rumors that had made the king question Simon. The man was relentless in his pursuit to destroy the Armstrongs all the while saving his own hide. For the first time in a long time, Simon wanted to beat the truth out of someone.
This is what his brother wanted? To rule over these adulterers, gossipers, and sycophants? Simon had seen what the king had to deal with every day, the weight of some of the decisions the man had to make, the idiocy and the arrogance he had to suffer through, and he could not see Henry wanting any part of that. Henry was obviously thinking of only the power and wealth he would gain.
The thought of Henry sitting on the throne of Scotland was a chilling one. Simon knew his brother would use his new power to make a lot of blood flow. Anyone who disagreed with his plans, or just looked at him wrong, would be killed and there would be little anyone could do to stop it. In truth, Simon was certain that, if by some miracle Henry won the prize he sought, there would be war and the ground would soon be soaked in blood.
This was a bad place to come and try to calm his tumultuous emotions, Simon decided. He was so filled with anger that the people around him made his head pound and his fists clench with the need to hit someone. As if in answer to his need, Hepbourn walked over to him.
“The search still nay going weel?” Hepbourn asked. “ ‘Tisnae such a big town. I cannae see how one small lass can hide in it so weel.”
“Unless, of course, she was ne’er here to begin with,” drawled Simon.
“If she plots to kill the king she will have to come here at some time, will she not? She cannae kill the mon without drawing close to him. Mayhap ye would serve our liege better if ye ceased trying to find the traitors and guarded the king. Then they will have to come to ye, aye? And then ye will finally have them.”
Simon’s hand tightened so much on the tankard of ale he held that he was surprised it did not buckle. Hepbourn was growing bold. No longer satisfied with questioning Simon’s skills behind his back, Hepbourn was doing it right to his face. Taunting him. The man was beginning to feel dangerously confident. Simon tried hard to restrain his urge to beat the man for this was just what he needed. A man who was too confident of victory made mistakes.
“And what if they come with an army, Hepbourn? Nay, ‘tis best to stop the threat before it draws too near to the king. I will find my answers. I am a patient mon. I ken how to
wait and watch.”
Realizing he was too angry to be cautious about what he said, Simon nodded to Hepbourn and walked away. He needed to get out, to get away from all the empty words and false smiles of court life. Simon strode through the crowd, sullenly pleased by the way they hurriedly moved out of his path, and went outside. Just as he had done when he had first heard Henry’s name connected to treasonous plots, he walked until his legs ached. Only then did he turn around and head home. This time, however, the hard walk had not eased him or cleared his mind.
He was still too angry to think clearly. Somehow he had to shake free of the fury gripping him so tightly. Simon knew he could all too easily make a mistake if he did not get his emotions under control.
The house was quiet when he entered, the children already abed. He suspected Ilsabeth was in bed, too. His body was eager to join her there but he fought the temptation. He feared his anger was still so great and so uncontrollable that he could hurt her. There would be some relief to be found in the sweetness of her passion but he knew he would be rough in the finding of it.
As he entered his ledger room, he thought on how Henry had managed to ruin the one good thing Simon had found. With a soft growl, Simon picked up the oddly patterned rock Reid had gifted him with yesterday and hurled it at the fireplace. It hit the mirror hanging over the mantel and loudly smashed it. The abrupt act of violence brought him little ease.
“Sir?” asked MacBean as he opened the door to look in shock at the broken mirror.
Highland Protector Page 13
