Highland Protector

by Hannah Howell

  Simon laughed and hugged her. “The truth is always the best and, aye, someone should have put an end to him a long time ago. Many lives would have been saved.” He kissed the top of her head and frowned. “ ‘Tis odd, but Henry has always had an unerring sense of who just might be thinking of doing exactly that.”

  “And so he killed them first.”

  “Aye. Morainn was right in saying he has a lot of blood on his hands. The mon kills on a whim, for the smallest of reasons. At times I would get the feeling that he sometimes killed because he enjoyed it. As with my poor dog.”

  She sat up and looked at him. “What dog?”

  “When I was home for Michaelmas at the age of ten, I found a ragged wee dog and took it in. I planned to take it back to where I was being fostered. Henry killed it and tossed its gutted body on top of me as I was sleeping. Henry was always cruel, e’en as a boy.”

  “Simon, that was far more than cruelty.” Just the thought of that poor young boy waking to find his dog’s bleeding corpse on top of him made her want to retch. “There is something verra wrong with that mon. I thank God ye got away from him and stayed away.”

  “As did all three of my brothers. They were fostered out just before my father died.”

  “Also a good thing. If ye and they hadnae gotten away, I suspect all of ye would have joined your father in the ground. Nay, Simon, I think ye have seen enough of the ills of the world, of the horrors one person can inflict on others, to ken that Henry is mad.”

  Simon grimaced. “I think he might be, that he was born twisted in some way. Yet, he doesnae rant or rave. He is cold and calm, has a sharp wit and is a verra good soldier if ye dinnae mind how many dead cover the field.”

  “Madmen dinnae have to dance about and froth at the mouth. They can be verra calm and cold. The madness is there, however. ‘Tis seen in how they treat people. Aye, and how they treat animals. Treat anyone they think is weaker than they are. Can ye stop him from trying to steal the throne?”

  “Aye. And ye are right. Henry is mad. He always has been. I always had the feeling that he killed our father simply because he believed it was his turn to be laird and so the old mon had to go. I should have gone and taken care of him, ended his brutal reign a long time ago.”

  Ilsabeth kissed him. “Dinnae try to weight yourself down with a guilt ye dinnae deserve. He was the laird by birth so ye couldnae change that. And ye were naught but a boy when ye left. Ye were nay skilled or strong enough to deal Henry the justice he deserved.”

  “But, I have been big and strong for a few years now,” he drawled.

  “Which may be why ye havenae been able to prove Henry has killed anyone since that day ye got big enough to beat him.” She felt him tense and nodded. “I think he has been watching ye. He may e’en be one of the reasons I was pulled into this. Ye can be certain that Mary told him how she slipped beneath that honor of yours, the one that should have kept ye from touching another mon’s wife.”

  “So he heard Walter had a bonnie wee neighbor and decided she was the way to get me distracted.” He cursed. “Put an innocent in danger and Simon will mount his great white steed and do all he can to save her.”

  “No need to sound so disgusted. I think that sounds verra nice and have been grateful for that knight.”

  “It isnae just ye who have been used, is it? I have been as weel.”

  “But he wasnae quite so clever this time, was he?”

  “Nay? Ye are running for your life, hiding here, and I am doing little more than running about in circles.”

  “Simon, the very reason he would toss a lass in danger into your path is the reason he has made a verra serious mistake. Aye, ye are running about trying to get the proof needed to have me declared innocent, but what is needed for that is also what is needed to prove Henry and the others are guilty. Now, Henry might be thinking to get ye out of his way ere that happens,” she muttered as she began to think it through, not liking the possibilities that were coming to mind.

  “Enough, Ilsabeth,” Simon said, and kissed her. “The moment I realized he was part of that I understood that I was in danger. For some reason Henry hates me more than he did any of our other siblings. I dinnae think that has changed. And, who kens better than I how dangerous the mon is. I will be watching my back verra closely.”

  “Mayhap ye should keep a few of your men at your side from now on,” she said.

  Simon laughed and stood up with her in his arms. “Now it appears it is I who must do a little soothing and petting. Ye are becoming unnecessarily concerned.”

  “I dinnae think anyone could be unnecessarily concerned about a mon like Henry,” she said as he walked out of the room and headed up the stairs to their bedchamber.

  “Nay, true enough.” He lightly tossed her onto the bed and then began to undress. “If he had used his wits and strength to do good things, he could have become a great mon, weel honored and weel liked.”

  Trying not to get too distracted by Simon’s fine strong body, Ilsabeth nodded. “He prefers to be feared.”

  The way Simon stared so intently at her as he tossed aside the last of his clothes and climbed into bed began to make Ilsabeth nervous. “What are ye looking at?” She rubbed her nose. “Do I have a smudge?”

  “Nay, and even if ye did ye would still be the most

  beautiful lass I have e’er seen. Ye have a way of seeing things that can be helpful in searching for the truth.” He grabbed her around the waist, rolled onto his back and set her on top of him. “Ye can see into the heart of a mon.”

  “I am nay sure I want to see into the heart of a mon like Henry.”

  “Nay, but ye can take the fact that he has a verra black heart and then see how someone like him might do things. ‘Tis a verra useful thing.”

  Before she could thank him for the compliment and suggest that he allow her to help search out the truth about Henry and his plots against the king, he kissed her. Ilsabeth knew she was being diverted, but decided not to complain. The moment he ended the kiss, she sat up straight and slowly removed her nightdress. Simon’s gray eyes went so dark they were nearly black and she could almost feel the heat of his desire when he looked at her.

  “Ye are so beautiful, wee Ilsabeth.” He stroked his hands up her stomach to cover her breasts. “So soft.” He sat up and licked the taut end of her breast.

  Ilsabeth lost all concern for the plots and evil of others. Such dark things did not exist when she was in Simon’s arms and he was warming her whole body with his passion. Before she lost all of her wits, however, she intended to pay Simon back for something, and pay it back in kind. She pushed him onto his back and, before he could grab her again, she began to kiss her way down his long, lean body.

  By the time she had kissed her way to his taut stomach, Simon had a good idea of what she was planning and stopped all attempts to regain control of their lovemaking. He silently prayed that he was right about Ilsabeth’s intentions. If she did not do what he was anticipating the disappointment could kill him, he thought wildly as she nipped the inside of his thighs.

  Her long, soft hair brushed across his groin in a silken caress. The hard tips of her breasts scraped over his legs in a way that made him ache. But it was when she touched her tongue to the base of his hard length and slowly dragged it all the way up to the tip that he shuddered from the force of the pleasure she gave him. He groaned and, to his dismay, she pulled away. Simon looked at her sitting between his legs, her long hair draping her lush curves in a vain attempt to preserve her modesty, and had to bite back a sharp command for her to continue.

  “Ye stopped,” he muttered, his heart pounding so hard in his chest he was surprised she did not hear it, and he frantically tried to think of a polite way to ask her to return to what she had been doing.

  “Ye groaned,” Ilsabeth said, but could tell by the look on his face that the sound he had made had not been one of discomfort.

  “Aye, because it felt that good. I can be silent if I must
.”

  Ilsabeth quickly swallowed the urge to laugh. Simon looked somewhat desperate even as he looked annoyed. “Any rules?”

  “No biting. At least, nay hard.”

  This time she did laugh. “Fair enough.”

  When she kissed the tip of his manhood and slowly circled the head with her tongue, Simon clapped a hand over his mouth. He did not want to make another sound that might have her stopping again. A moment later, he decided she had understood that he wanted her to love him with her mouth for she did not hesitate at all when she heard him groan out a curse. Simon grabbed all the control he could and held on tight, wanting to savor the pleasure she was giving him so freely for as long as he could. Freely and with surprising skill, he thought as he bowed up off the bed after she did something quick and clever with her tongue that sent a blinding rush of heat through him.

  Simon knew he was not going to last as long as he wanted to when she slowly took him into her mouth. His body began to tighten almost painfully with a need for release as she loved him. The sight of her between his legs was enough to bring him close to release.

  He finally grabbed her beneath the arms and pulled her up his body until she sat astride him. Not only was he pleased to find her wet and eager for him because he so badly needed her to be, but the realization that she had been aroused by what she had done to him nearly sent him over the edge. He thrust inside her, trembled at the way her damp heat clasped him tightly in welcome, and then lost himself in their blind rush to find their release, reaching it as one and clutching each tightly as it raged through them.

  With limbs still drained of strength from the force of his release, Simon shifted their bodies around until her slim back was tucked up to his front. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek against her hair. Ilsabeth had been an innocent but she was proving to be the best lover he had ever had. Simon suspected the feelings he had for her added to the pleasure she gave him, but he knew the way she so freely gave of herself was what added to it all.

  And just what did he feel for her? he wondered. He wanted her right where she was, in his arms and in his bed. The question was, for how long? Simon pulled his thoughts away from that path. This was not a good time to walk it. Not only was she not free to consider any future yet but his brother Henry was about to arrive in town. Matters between him and Ilsabeth could change a lot when she saw the sort of blood he sprang from.

  She was right when she said that Henry was a madman. Simon suspected his elder brother had been born mad. He did not think it right to blame others in a family for the crimes of their kinsman, and so he was a lot fairer in his dealings than others were. Many believed that madness ran in the blood, and sometimes it did, but Simon had seen proof that it did not have to. It was not until he faced the fact that his brother was mad that Simon realized his opinion on that was not as firm as he had thought it to be.

  Was there madness in his blood? He had not seen his younger brothers for years, not since they were bairns, but, in what little information he had gathered on them, he had not heard anything that indicated they suffered from any madness. Then again, Henry’s insanity was not clear to see right away.

  “Simon, ye are going all tense again,” murmured

  Ilsabeth, her husky voice thick with oncoming sleep.

  “Do ye think madness is in the blood?” he asked, and then cursed himself for the weakness that prompted such a question.

  Ilsabeth turned until she could wrap her arms around him and rest her cheek against his chest. She was so sleepy; she did not really wish to discuss madness, bloodlines, and such things that required sharp wits to talk about clearly. Yet, she understood Simon’s uneasiness. He may have seen the madness in Henry for a long time but he had only just openly accepted it.

  “Some is, some isnae,” she said. “Whatever madness has Henry in its grip isnae in ye, Simon. Henry doesnae care about justice or helping the innnocent. He cares only for Henry. He enjoys giving pain and ye dinnae.” She yawned and rubbed her cheek against him.

  Simon kissed the top of her head and began to lightly rub her back. “Sleep, Ilsabeth. I but suffered a moment of weakness. I can list the differences between me and my cursed brother all by myself.”

  “Ye do that.”

  A heartbeat later he felt her grow limp in his arms and nearly laughed. When Ilsabeth was tired she often went to sleep just like an exhausted child. He was not sure why he found that endearing, but he did.

  He did what she had told him to, listing the many differences between him and Henry. It helped a little but he knew the seed of doubt had rooted itself deep in his heart. Simon was just not sure if he could dig it out or how it might affect his life.

  When he looked down at the woman asleep in his arms his heart cramped in his chest. Something else he was going to have to do soon was decide what he wanted to do with Ilsabeth Murray Armstrong. Every instinct he prided himself on said that the end of this trouble was coming soon and he would not be able to avoid thinking about her and the future too much longer. Simon was not sure why even the thought of making a decision about her, about her place in his life, made him sweat but he thought it was probably not a good sign.

  Chapter 12

  “Evening, Master Hepbourn.”

  Simon could not completely subdue the smile he felt curving his mouth. It had been so easy to take the man. David had been ambling along through the shadowed alleys on his way back from a toss with a tavern maid and walked right into their arms. One little tap on the man’s head and it had been ridiculously simple to spirit him away to this secure room in Peter’s house.

  David was now staring at him and his companions with the dazed look of the newly conscious. He also clung to the arms of the chair they had put him in as if he feared someone was about to steal it out from beneath him. Simon idly wondered how long it would take David to realize just how much danger he was in. At the moment he just sat there, stiff and wide-eyed.

  Then, abruptly, his eyes cleared of the dull haze of astonishment. He leapt to his feet and tried to run. Simon was not sure where the fool thought he was going as there was only one small window high up on the rough stone wall and one door. One of Simon’s men stood guard at each. It might be a little cruel to just stand and watch as David darted from window to door and back again several times, but Simon suffered no guilt for enjoying the man’s panic. This was one of the men who did not care if an innocent woman was condemned and executed for a crime he knew she had not committed. Letting David taste a little of the helpless fear Ilsabeth had been living with was only just.

  “Have ye worn yourself out yet?” he asked David, and could swear the man’s chin quivered exactly like Elen’s did when she was about to let go an ear-splitting howl. “Sit down.”

  David hesitated only a moment before he stomped back to the chair and threw himself down into it. Despite the man’s childish display of anger, Simon knew David was terrified. It was there to see in his stare, which remained too widely open and showed far too much of the white of his eyes. His skin had grown very pale and Simon could see the beads of nervous sweat forming on the man’s brow.

  “Why are ye detaining me?” David demanded. “This is unacceptable. Ye may be a king’s mon, Sir Simon, but that doesnae give ye the right to snatch people right off the streets.”

  “Actually, it does.”

  David ignored him. “Just who do ye think ye are?”

  “The mon who just might be able to save ye from your own folly. At this moment ye are doomed to die a traitor’s death right alongside your vain cousin. Ye do ken what they do to traitors, dinnae ye?”

  When David just stared at him, Simon continued, “First they chain ye in the deepest, darkest prison they can find and then they begin to torture ye. Ye might ken a few things they need to learn about the others or they might just feel ye need it for thinking ye had a right to kill a king. A wee bit of stretching on the rack and, when ye can hear your own joints on your legs and arms pop from the strain,
they will quickly find another way to cause ye as much pain as they can. The king’s torturers are verra skilled at their job. They have whips, chains, knives, hot pincers. And they can wield them all with precision. They like to have a go at the softer, more tender parts of the body. The eyes, the nose, the balls.”

  Simon stepped back from David. The man had gone a little green. He decided he had described enough of the horrors the man would face, although David had revealed little stomach for the thought of his own pain. He had thought to turn the man craven with such talk but it would do him no good if David ended up too terrified to even talk. He could still take David to the court and hand him over to the sheriff. Simon had the feeling that, if he indulged in his planned talk on the various tortures David would have to endure, he would be handing the sheriff no more than a babbling idiot.

  “I dinnae ken why ye would taunt me with such horrors,” David said. “I have done ye no wrong.” “Enough, David. We both ken what ye have allowed your cousin to lead ye into.” Simon stepped back close to the chair David cowered in, placed a hand on each arm of the chair, and leaned forward to stare right into David’s pale eyes. “He will lead ye no more. Dinnae think he will come to save ye, dear cousin to him that ye may be. That mon will toss ye aside as swiftly as he can, no doubt parading about the court denouncing ye as he has already denounced me and mine. The moment he is certain that all see ye as the foul traitor he claims, he will leave ye to suffer. Hell’s fire, he will be sure there is no mercy for ye by the time he has finished telling his lies.”

  “Walter is an honorable mon who cares weel for those he calls friend and kin,” David protested, and glared at Simon when he snorted with laughter, a laughter echoed by the others in the room.

  “Listen to me, ye miserable wee worm,” snapped Simon, his humor vanishing to be replaced with a cold fury. “I heard ye that day ye met Walter in the wood. Ilsabeth heard ye and Walter the day she had to flee for her life, heard ye and the honorable Walter speak openly of treason and murder.”