“And yet where is my perfect man? At Lochancorrie worrying that he will catch his brother’s madness.”
“That will pass, dear, and ‘tis no small worry. We have had a few in our family and I am sure your father can tell ye a tale or two of some in his. Not all madness comes down through the blood. In truth, I am nay sure all that many do. But, nay matter how sensible a person, the mere thought of being inflicted by madness can terrify him. It is a frightening thing to see and I heard that Henry Innes’s was terrifying.”
“Aye, it was that. Such viciousness and all done just because he wanted to do it, enjoyed it. Some how that type of brutality when there isnae really anger there, that calm, cold butchery, is more terrifying than rants and rages. And, he made Simon so enraged that I fear Simon saw that as a bad sign instead of a sign that he had never resolved things from his past, and I dinnae ken how one talks a mon out of such thoughts.” She scowled. “Especially when said mon is staying verra far away.”
Elspeth nodded and stood up, then leaned down and kissed Ilsabeth on the cheek. “I am going to tell your father....”
“Oh, nay, Maman.”
“Oh, aye, daughter. So if ye hear a lot of yelling, cries of I will kill the rutting bastard and the like, just ignore them. I will get him settled and then we can talk about this like sensible people.”
Several hours later, Ilsabeth sat in the great hall with just her parents and watched her father pace the room muttering dire threats against Simon Innes. He did not look very settled or sensible to her. Her mother, however, just sat in a chair near the fire and did her mending.
“I think it is a little late to be lopping off that part of the mon, my heart,” murmured Elspeth when Cormac Armstrong muttered a particularly bloodthirsty threat against Simon. “And, just think, if she and the fool do get married as I think they ought and really want to, she will miss it.”
The look of horror on her father’s face at the thought of her enjoying that part of Simon made Ilsabeth giggle. She hastily swallowed the sound when he glared at her. No, her father was not feeling very sensible and settled at all.
“They will be married,” he said firmly. “I willnae have any grandchild of mine marked as a bastard.”
“ ‘Tis still early days yet,” said Elspeth.
“How early?” he asked, and stared at Ilsabeth’s stomach.
“Two months.” Ilsabeth suddenly recalled exactly where she was two months ago.
Elspeth sat up straight and frowned at her daughter. “What is that strange look on your face? Ye look absolutely horrified.”
Ilsabeth refused to believe that her child had been conceived in a prison cell so she frantically counted back several times. Each time the answer came out the same. Her baby had been conceived in the dungeons at the king’s keep.
“Oh, bollocks.” This time Ilsabeth was certain she heard her father choke on a laugh but when she looked at him, his expression was one of the utmost seriousness.
“Something wrong?” he asked. “Might it be exactly where ye were when the child was conceived?”
She had the sinking feeling her father knew. “It might be.”
“Such as in the king’s dungeons?”
Ilsabeth was not sure why her father was sounding angrier but she nodded. “It appears so.” There was a red flush spreading over his face and she hastily said, “I was verra afraid. I was all alone there and I didnae ken whether I would be tried as a traitor or–” The rest of her words were smothered by her father’s broad chest.
“He didnae take advantage of that, did he?”
“Nay. Simon is an honorable mon. I just think that he is a wee bit confused.”
Cormac stepped back and stared at his daughter. “Sir Simon Innes, the king’s hound? Confused?”
Ilsabeth took a deep breath and told her father about Simon’s life, from his childhood through to the betrayal by Mary and right up to finding out Henry had tried to kill his three younger brothers when they were just bairns. “Ye see? Henry tainted every part of their lives. Every part. And o’er it all is that taint of madness. I just hope I am right and that is what made him suddenly walk away. Then again, if it is that he fears the madness is the sort that could touch him or any child he bears, he may ne’er shake free of that fear.”
“The mon butchered the child’s dog?” Cormac shook his head. “Someone should have killed Henry the moment he slid out of his mother’s womb.”
“True,” Ilsabeth said. “He has ruined so many lives and there was so much blood on his hands. Simon cannae see that he could ne’er be like that. He is too honorable. He has an ugly stray cat who sits on his lap and eats roasted chicken.” She smiled at her mother when Elspeth laughed. “And he thinks it is cute when Elen bellows his name.”
“We have a month or two before we risk bad weather for travel. I will give him that time to come to his senses.” He smiled when Ilsabeth hugged him, kissed his cheek and skipped out of the room, and then he looked at his wife. “I was right.”
“Aye, ye were and I will allow ye to gloat about it for a wee while and then we must think of a way to knock some sense into the lad.”
“He is missing her right now. Let that work its magic.”
Chapter 19
“I believe all is looking weel here now,” said Ruari as he moved to stand beside Simon on the parapets.
Simon rolled his eyes, knowing that Ruari was yet again urging him to go after Ilsabeth. “We will survive a hard winter, aye.”
“Still concerned about going mad?”
“Nay, the more time passes between seeing the true insanity of Henry and being with my brothers, the more that fear eases. We have no taint. I can see that now. Neither did our father. Nay, Father was just an arse.” He grinned when Ruari laughed. “Nay, I dinnae think I have madness lurking in my blood. The rage is gone,” he murmured.
“What rage?”
“The nearly uncontrollable rage I would go into when Henry did something. I realized recently that I felt it when I was young, too, but was too small to do anything about it.”
“It was the injustice of so much of what Henry did. Ye have that need for justice that made ye such a good king’s mon. It was probably there at an early age and all ye kept seeing was Henry doing his worse and never being called to account for it.”
“Aye, that is what I am deciding. I also recalled that I ne’er even put a bruise on Ilsabeth when I was in one of those rages. E’en tried to get her to leave because I feared I would be too rough.”
“So? Are ye going after her?”
“I hurt her and I have left her alone for two long months. I dinnae think she will welcome me with open arms.”
“Nay, I suspect ye will have to work for her forgiveness. She is worth it.”
“Why are ye so certain of that? Ye only met her once and had a short talk with her.”
“We asked her to tell us about you. Every word she said revealed how she felt about you, brother. Every little word. And anyone who listened to her kenned that he had better not question your honor or honesty or near anything else about you or she would tear your tongue out. That is what I urge ye to go after.” He suddenly grinned and winked. “And she is a verra bonnie wee lass.”
“So, ye think she loves me?”
Ruari rolled his eyes. “Please, God, dinnae let me be such an idiot when I find the right woman. Aye, idiot, I think she loves ye. Nay, not think, she does love ye. No doubt about it.”
“Weel, then, I had best go and try to get her to forgive me for my idiocy.” Simon started down the steps from the parapet.
Hurrying after him, Ruari said, “Bastard. Ye had already decided to go.”
“Aye, when I was abed last night and realized I was beginning to allow Bonegnasher and Cat to sleep on my bed because I didnae like to be alone in it anymore.” He ignored Ruari’s laughter and went to pack what he needed for a journey to Aigballa.
Simon tried smiling sweetly at Morainn and it did not work. The woman
scowled at him. He had spent a fortnight doing all he could to reach Ilsabeth but she was ignoring him. She sent back his letters, his gifts, and tossed his flowers over the walls. Still in the vase. He was sure that that time she had been aiming at his head.
“Ye made the wrong choice and after I had warned ye,” said Morainn.
“I was just finished with fighting my brother and taking him before the king to be tried as a traitor,” Simon said. “All I could see was his madness and I had to protect her from that. Aye, a part of me still believed that ye cannae get madness like ye do the ague and it doesnae have to run in the blood. But then I would see Henry calmly speaking of how he tied up my three younger brothers, put them in a leaky boat, and pushed them out into the loch. Or how he killed his wife and near every girl bairn his wives gave him. ‘Tis a madness so big, so cold and terrifying, that, aye, I was frightened.”
Morainn took him by the hand and drew him into the little cottage she and Tormand used when visiting with the Armstrongs. “Come and have some of my mead. Ye are being very boldly ignored in your attempts at wooing, I hear.”
He sat down at the table and dragged his hands through his hair. “Thoroughly ignored and I have run out of ideas on how to get her to notice me.”
“Oh, she is noticing ye. Ne’er doubt that.”
“She isnae noticing me in the way I want her to. I just need to talk to her. I tried writing out what I wanted to say but she willnae read the letters. I havenae e’en seen the children,” he added quietly, a little hurt that the children also ignored him. “But, they have at least kept the wee gifts I bought them.”
“They will come round, too. Right now I suspect they are following Ilsabeth’s lead.”
“Weel, I am running out of patience.”
“So, what? Ye will tuck tail and run home?” said Tormand as he walked over to the table and kissed the top of Morainn’s head.
“Nay. I will kidnap her and make her listen to me.” He frowned when Morainn started to giggle so hard, Tormand had to steady her in her chair. “It wasnae that funny.”
“Nay, but ‘tis exactly what ye must do.” Morainn grinned at him. “Give her one more week to come round, then whisk her off to some place secluded. Aye, that will work.”
“So, here he is. The bastard that seduced my daughter.”
Simon slowly stood up to look at Cormac Armstrong. For a man his age he was still fit and strong enough for Simon to wonder if he could win in a fight. Then he saw the glint in the man’s eyes. He, too, was laughing. Simon idly wondered when the man who had struck fear into people’s hearts as the king’s hound had begun to become a source of amusement to everyone.
“I didnae really seduce her,” he started to say, and then grimaced. The manner in which a man took another man’s daughter’s virginity was not something to discuss, especially with that father.
“Aye, best ye stop right there.” He smiled at Morainn when she served him some mead. “Thank ye, love. Whenever ye realize what a mistake ye made in wedding this rogue, ye just let me ken it. I have a bevy of sons who need good wives.”
“That make a fine mead?” she asked.
“That would be a good thing to add to the clan.” He looked back at Simon, who was just finishing a fortifying drink of Morainn’s mead. “Ye are doing a verra good job of wooing her.”
“Ye wouldnae be able to tell that by the way she receives my gifts and letters.”
“Ye ignored her for two months.”
“I had a keep stripped of all that was valuable, three brothers whom I hadnae seen since they were bairns, and a terror of becoming a madmon. I was a wee bit busy.”
“Getting irritable, too. The true sign of a mon bent on wooing a difficult woman.”
“I just ne’er thought she would be this difficult. I thought that, at the verra least, she would wish to yell at me. The only true show of temper she has revealed was when she threw the flowers at me, still in the pitcher.”
Cormac chuckled. “Aye, that was a good toss and ye jumped right quick. I think she was even madder that ye managed to get out of the way in time.”
Simon looked at the grinning Cormac, Tormand, and Morainn and slowly shook his head. “And to think I spent weeks tortured about the insanity in my family.”
“Wheesht, wait until ye spend some time with the women in the clan.”
“Ahem. I am nay sure if I should feel insulted or nay,” said Morainn.
“Ye are the exception, sweet Morainn,” said Cormac.
“Because of my mead.”
“Nay, that but adds to the wonder of your presence.”
“Oh, husband, that was groveling if I have ever heard any and I have.” Elspeth looked at Simon and smiled in a way that reminded him all too strongly of her daughter. “I have been trying to sneak o’er here for days just to meet ye.” She smiled even more at his elegant bow and the kiss on her hand. “Verra nice. Courtly manners. Are ye still involved with the court?”
“Only when directly asked because Gowan cannae figure out whatever the puzzle is,” Simon replied, and then he took a deep breath. “There is one thing I have been trying to get your daughter to hear or read. ‘Tis something I feel must be told before we can deal with all else between us. I have a daughter.”
“He didnae kill her?” said Tormand, and then hastily explained Henry’s tendency to kill off his daughters, leaving both women pale and Cormac scowling at him. “Apologies.”
“Nay,” said Elspeth. “None needed.”
Morainn murmured an agreement. “Ye just spoke the truth.” She looked at Simon. “When we were quite angry at Ilsabeth and ye because we, er, guessed that ye did a wee bit more than protecting her, and were wondering why ye werenae here to ask for her hand, she defended ye in the only way she kenned how. She told us some things about ye.
The child is Mary’s?”
Simon blushed and wondered why Elspeth nodded approvingly over that. “Aye.” He took a deep breath and told them all about Marion, including the horrible things Henry had done to her, then sighed when both women cried and both men glared at him. “It is important that Ilsabeth kens what the child has suffered. She is a sweet child although there are times she can make a face so fierce I can think of naught but wee Elen.” He was glad when both women laughed and nodded. “Yet, she has to be different in some ways from a child who grew up, say, here. I just havenae really seen it yet. Annie loves her and mayhap that helped.”
Elspeth hugged him and patted his back. “It did. Oh, aye, it did, for it let her see the good.” She stepped back. “This has gone on long enough anyway. A fortnight of throwing all ye offer in your face is quite enough. The child needs ye back home, I am certain, and we begin to get too close to the weather making travel dangerous.” Elspeth tapped her fingers on her chin. “I think that, if she doesnae soften in a week’s time, ye will have to kidnap her.” She looked around when everyone laughed and then grinned. “Already thought of that, I see.” She rubbed her hands together. “Then since we have all had the same idea, let us plot out just how to do it.”
Ilsabeth yawned and stretched out in the sun just a little more, careful not to fall off the bench she was sprawled out on. Simon had sent her another letter and she was still holding it, debating with herself on whether she should read this one or not. He had been unwavering in his attempts to woo her for three long weeks. She was tired of her own temper, tired of the way she kept recalling how he hurt her and then getting mad at him because he had. It was as if she was caught on some millstone grinding away at the same old anger over and over and yet never turning it into anything that could be blown away on the wind. She was beginning to bore herself.
Then, abruptly, the sun faded. Ilsabeth opened her eyes and stared up into three pairs of gray eyes. Who had let Simon’s brothers in? Even more important, was Simon lurking somewhere in amongst them. She struggled to sit up, scowling at the three men who just stood there with their arms across their chests.
“What are ye doin
g here?” she asked as she finally sat up and brushed her skirts down. “Did Simon send ye?”
“A better question is what are ye still doing here?” asked Ruari. “Why are ye nay riding back to Lochancorrie with Simon?”
“Simon and I are discussing things.”
“Nay, ye arenae. By the looks of it ye arenae even reading his letters.”
“I was thinking about reading this one.”
“How many have ye not read?”
“About fourteen,” she muttered, and glared at them when all three shook their heads in disgust. “Ye werenae there when he set me aside so dinnae ye go judging me and my anger.”
It pleased her to see them all take a step back, but Ruari said, “I would think ye would want to ken what he had to say. Mayhap an explanation about why he did what he did, why he regrets it, why he wants to speak to ye.”
Ilsabeth sighed and waved the letter in front of her face. They were right and that was probably why she wished she could hit them. She did not wish to lose Simon but she was certainly doing her best to send him far, far away. It was hard to understand why except that what he had done when he had turned from her had hurt so badly, she did not wish to risk feeling that hurt again. And that, she mused, was utter cowardice.
One glance told her Simon’s brothers were not going to leave until she read the letter. Sighing, she sat down and opened the letter. The first line was not very soothing. He had a daughter? She read on, cried a little, and then smiled, but if he thought this tale of the little girl would make her run to him with open arms, he needed to sit down and think that out again.
“Weel? What did he say?” demanded Kenneth.
“The letter was to me, nay you. But, if ye must ken, it was all about Marion.”
“A sweet lass who has seen too much for her tender years,” murmured Malcolm.
And a lass in danger of being severely spoiled by four men hoping to make up for the dark things she had seen and suffered, Ilsabeth thought. Annie, she thought, was an angel. Marion had been lucky to have the woman to shelter with during her life at Lochancorrie.
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