Chapter 17 #3
Tormand made a mocking noise deep in his throat. “Ye keep telling yourself that. Mayhap it will work. Just remember that changes cannae always be fixed.”
“Oh, Simon, I am so sorry for ye, for what ye are having to deal with with that brother of yours.” Ilsabeth walked over and hugged him.
Simon stepped back again, gently but firmly pulling her arms away from his body.
If she kept touching him, he would never be able to let her go.
He fought to ignore the hurt that flared in her beautiful eyes.
It was better to hurt her now than to condemn her to a life where there might still lurk madness and despair.
Ilsabeth thought her heart would shatter. There was no welcome light in Simon’s eyes.
He had pushed her out of his arms as if he could not bear to have her touch him. That caused her so much pain she nearly cried out from the sharpness of it.
He was leaving her. She could see it in his eyes. The gray was as cold and penetrating as it had been the first day she had met him. What Ilsabeth did not understand was why he was doing it.
“Simon?” She reached out to him and he stepped back.
“ ‘Tis time for ye to go home, Ilsabeth,” he said. “Your family will be anxious to see that ye are unharmed by your ordeal. They will soon be returning to their home and that is where ye should be.”
“If that is what ye truly wish,” she whispered, determined not to cry in front of him even though her eyes felt full of tears. “It is what must be.”
Ilsabeth watched him walk away and knew he was taking her heart with him. She did not understand. The last time he had visited her in her prison his words had been tender, his touch even more so. Now it was like hugging a stone. She looked at Tormand, who just shrugged.
“A mon can be a fool sometimes,” Tormand said.
“He can change so in but one night?”
“If he has come to a decision, aye.”
She thought about it for a moment and then sighed. “It has to do with Henry’s madness, doesnae it?”
“I think so. Give him time. Seeing it so clearly has overset him. Ye didnae see it but Henry lost what little grip he had on sanity right there in front of the crown. It wasnae a pretty sight. He also boasted of all he had done whilst still out on the battlefield.”
“Time, is it? We shall see.”
Now she was growing angry. Simon had questioned the belief that such sicknesses of the mind crop up within families. Obviously when it appeared in his own, he lost all of his former doubts of such beliefs and suffered fears for himself and his children
The thought of children caused her to place her hand on her belly.
It was too soon to know but considering how often she and Simon had made love, it was a possibility that she already carried his child.
She searched her heart for a fear of the insanity that had taken Henry and felt none.
Her family was not free of that problem yet it did not run rampant in the bloodlines.
Henry was twisted in some way from the day he was born; she was certain of it.
She had also seen none of it in Simon or his brothers.
She just wondered how long it would take Simon to see it, too.
“Are ye going to be all right?”
She managed a smile for her cousin. “Aye. I willnae say that I willnae hold out a hope that he will come to his senses, but aye, I shall be fine. It has been a terrible time for him.”
“Where Simon?” demanded Elen.
“Simon has gone home, love,” Ilsabeth said, and gently brushed some of the thick curls off Elen’s face as the child began to scowl.
“He left us,” said Reid.
“Now, ye dinnae ken that for certain,” Ilsabeth began to protest.
“I do ken it. He didnae e’en want to smash his mouth on yours.”
“Smash his mouth on yours?” muttered Tormand. “I would have thought Simon had more finesse than that.”
Ilsabeth elbowed her cousin in the stomach and he grunted before he laughed. “Reid, Simon is a grown mon and he can do as he pleases. We may nay agree with what he is doing, but ‘tis his right to do it.”
“Then why do ye look so sad?” “Weel, I didnae say I had to like what he was doing.”
Reid stood up very straight. “If he has hurt your feelings then I will go and punch him in the nose.” “Thank ye, Reid, but, nay, dinnae do that. Ye must understand that adults can decide that they cannae be together even if they have been, er, smashing mouths.” She tried to elbow Tormand in the stomach again when he snickered but he nimbly eluded it.
“Does that mean he cannae be with us, either?”
“I fear so, although if he e’er asks for ye to visit I willnae say nay.”
“Where Simon?”
“Simon had to leave, love,” she said again, and had the feeling she was going to have to repeat herself on that matter more times than she wanted to deal with.
“Simon stay.”
“Oh, dear.” Ilsabeth could see that look of stubbornness forming on Elen’s angelic face and prepared for what could become a glorious fit of rage. “Simon cannae stay, dear.”
“Where Simon?” Elen bellowed, her small hands clenched in front of her. “Want Simon now.”
“Elen, we cannae always have what we want,” Ilsabeth said, and thought to herself that that was sadly true even for adults who ought to have better control over their lives.
“Si... mon!!!”
Simon halted on the steps out of the dungeon as that childish bellow resounded off the walls of the cool, damp stone. He closed his eyes and fought the urge to go back to the child. It was best for Elen if he did not waver. She would get over needing to see him.
“Si... mon!!”
He hesitated another moment and then bolted up the stairs, the sound of Elen bellowing his name following him every step of the way.
Selfish bastard that he was, he had not even considered the children’s feelings.
It was too late to back down now. Repeating the words that it was better for them all if he left, he slammed the door to the dungeons behind him, cutting off that bellow.
He knew though, that he would be hearing the angry pain in it for a long time.