“I shall return on the morrow, and by then, Minerva should have arrived.” Simone nodded at his explanation, but her mouth was set in a grim line. He knew she did not relish being left alone in a keep full of strangers. Nick dropped to one knee before her and took her chin in his hand.
“Simone, I have no wish to be away so soon after we have arrived, but it cannot be helped. ’Tis my duty as Obny’s liege, and I will not shirk it. My mother and Lady Haith will be here to keep you company and help you find your way—you shan’t be lonely.”
She frowned and jerked her chin from his grasp. “Good heavens, Nicholas. I am no child, in a temper at the prospect of one evening without anyone to entertain me—Papa left me alone enough for me to be accustomed to it by now. I am sad because I will miss you, you buffoon.”
Nick felt as though he’d been kicked in the stomach at Simone’s admission, but she gave him no opportunity to relish her tender remark.
“But if that is how you think of me—a brainless, spoiled ninny”—she stood—“then I shan’t miss you after all. In fact, I’m glad you’re going. Good day.”
Nick watched her struggle against tears and once again felt the pinch of his conscience. She’d had a trying morning and he’d just made it worse. Would he never learn a woman’s mind?
He rose to his feet and took Simone’s hand, drawing her to him when she would have pulled away. “I did not mean to imply that you were spoiled, and you certainly aren’t a ninny,” he said solemnly. “I apologize. I was merely concerned that you would be uncomfortable alone at Hartmoore after only one night.”
Simone’s petulant frown turned remorseful, and she unexpectedly threw her arms about his neck. “Oh, Nicholas, I know.” She had released him before he’d had time to return the embrace. “I do not intend to cause you worry over my acclimation to your home. Lady Genevieve and Lady Haith and I will get on splendidly. I feel that I love Hartmoore already and will be quite content here.”
Her words touched Nick. He wondered, though, if she would feel the same should she learn of the woman whom Nick had always assumed would be in Simone’s place. His thoughts went briefly to the small leather chest so recently disposed of by Randall, and he was glad the reminders of the woman who’d wounded him were no more. Better his wife learn of Evelyn much later, when Nick’s hurt had subsided and Evelyn at last meant no more to him than a stranger.
“Good,” he said finally. “The time grows near when I must depart. Would you see me off?”
Simone accompanied Nick to the bailey where a score of soldiers waited with their mounts. Tristan was there, Majesty’s reins in hand, as were Lady Haith and Genevieve. Many of the noble guests milled about the departing group, ladies in festive costume conversing and laughing in the bright sunlight. She snugged closer to Nick’s side.
Had Nick slept with any of them? All of them? The thought chilled Simone, and she quickly shut it from her mind as she neared Nick’s family.
“Simone, darling,” Genevieve called, bouncing the child, Isabella, in her arms. “Good day.”
“Good day, my lady,” Simone replied, and nodded to those gathered.
Nick removed his arm from Simone’s grasp and stepped to his mount, checking his horse’s trappings.
At her side, Haith touched Simone’s elbow, drawing her attention. The redhead lowered her voice. “How fare thee, Lady Simone?”
Simone knew the question was more than a polite inquiry. “Things could be worse, I suppose,” she murmured.
Haith’s eyebrows rose. “Yea, mayhap Didier could have set the great hall afire.”
Simone sighed, nodded. She glanced at Genevieve, satisfied that the dowager baroness was occupied with handing a giggling Isabella up to her father. Simone leaned toward Haith.
“This Minerva Nicholas has mentioned—who is she? And when will she come?”
“She is my great-aunt, a powerful healer,” Haith replied. “I expect her in a day—two, mayhap. She was attending my sister’s childbed and should be en route to Hartmoore this day. She is elderly and needs travel slowly.”
Simone frowned, the information doing more to worry her than allay any fears. Heaven only knew what havoc Didier could wreak in a pair of days. “Do you truly believe she can help us?” Simone asked, hearing the desperation in her voice.
“If anyone can, ’twill be Minerva.” Haith squeezed Simone’s arm and gave her a kind smile. “We shall do what we can in the meantime.”
Simone was unconvinced that the two women could do anything to curb the boy’s prankishness—even if one of themwasa witch. But then Nicholas turned toward her and held out a palm. Simone immediately moved to him, happy in a catty way that the ladies in the bailey watched them still.
“But overnight,” Nicholas reminded her. The bright sunlight gilded his jaw, and Simone had the urge to kiss him there.
But she only nodded. “Safe journey, my lord.”
Nick’s family moved away, and Simone felt a slight tug on her hand. She stepped closer to Nick, giddy with anticipation that he would kiss her.
He embraced her briefly, laying his cheek against the crown of her head. Then he released her and stepped away, dropping her hand. Simone tried to squelch her disappointment.
“Lady Haith,” Nick said to the redhead, who was just now releasing her own husband from a passionate kiss. “I do hope you and Lady Simone will become…better acquaintedduring our short absence.” He glanced at Simone, and his meaning was not lost on her.
“Not to worry, Nick,” Haith answered. “We shall—”
