Chapter 9
“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.”
The king sighed and rubbed at his temple, briefly revealing the strain he was under. “Why is that woman roaming freely about the town and dressed as a nun, for sweet Mary’s sake.”
“She isnae.” At least not at the moment, Simon thought, and hastily sent up a prayer that that remained true.
“One mon saw a nun with blue eyes. His insistence that the nun was Ilsabeth Armstrong has caused many to think they have seen her round every corner and down every shadowy alley. I dinnae believe she is roaming about the town but I have my men watching for her.”
“A nun was seen entering town with two children and ‘tis said that ye have collected up two children in town. Ye were heard to claim them as your own.”
Simon silently cursed. Someone had seen her arrive.
His only solace was that the king’s question made it clear the one who had seen Ilsabeth had not seen her come to his home nor looked closely at the children.
Whoever had spread that tale was clearly trying to tie him to Ilsabeth and cause him too much trouble to continue his search for the real traitors.
“The mon I was confronting at that time was trying to take the small girl child away with him. Her brother and some maid were trying to stop him. I but claimed the child and her brother to keep him from doing so. He wasnae taking the little lass away as a kindness, sire.
“If those two children are the same two who came to town with the nun, they havenae said so. The maid also fled without claiming them. I ken who fathered them and tossed them out, and he is from this town, but I will ask them about a nun. My housekeeper, Old Bega, has taken them under her wing so they now reside with me.”
“Simon, ye have been unrelenting in finding justice and seeking the truth from the first day I met ye. Dinnae allow these rumors to continue and put a stain on a glorious past. Get the one who killed Ian and find me the traitors. And do so in a way that allows no one any leave to question the justice of it.”
Simon left the king’s chamber in a fury.
He tried to smother it, to hide it from the ones he walked past, but it had settled into his heart and mind with a strength that was hard to shake free of.
The best he could do was hide it and he could almost feel his face harden into a mask of empty courtesy.
He wanted to hit something. When Hepbourn stepped into his path causing him to have to stop, Simon had to clasp his hands behind his back to keep himself from satisfying the strong urge to do violence by beating Hepbourn until the man was no longer so pretty and never would be again.
The way Hepbourn took a quick step back told Simon that not all of his anger had been hidden away.
“Do ye wish to speak to me, Hepbourn?” he asked the man.
“I just thought that ye might wish to ken what is being said about ye,” replied Hepbourn.
“I have heard the rumors. What do they matter to me? There are always rumors winging their way through the court. Few of them ever prove to be true.”
“Nay? There must be some good reason for them to start and to keep being repeated.”
And that reason is that ye will not let them die, thought Simon. In truth, he suspected the source of many of them was Hepbourn or one of his lackeys. “Then I am to believe that ye ease your grief over the betrayal of your betrothed in the arms of Alice Mure, Janet Cumyn, and Margaret Skene?”
He got a twinge of pleasure when he saw how uneasy Hepbourn became. Since Janet and Alice had two hulking great husbands, Simon suspected that Hepbourn feared he would be made to pay dearly for his stolen pleasures.
“As ye say, there are always rumors about. Have ye found that blue-eyed nun yet?”
“Nay. We are looking for her. Since this town has verra few nuns wandering about its streets and none of my men have found her, I begin to question whether she even exists. Or she was but passing through here on some business. Mayhap e’en on a pilgrimage.
The verra religious are quite fond of pilgrimages. ”
“Ah, ‘tis possible.”
“Quite possible. Now, if ye will be so kind as to excuse me, I have work to do.”
Simon left the court and started walking. By the time his anger had eased enough for him to see clearly, he was deep into the wood at the edge of town. The way he was breathing so heavily made him aware that he had run the last mile or so.