“Of course ye do. He is doing his best to destroy your entire family whilst seeking to enrich his own.”
She stood up and began to pace the room. It was difficult to do so, but she finally stopped before a heavy tapestry that depicted the Garden of Eden complete with a particularly horrific-looking snake. That was Walter, she thought. The man had promised her a home and a family, things she had craved, and yet he had delivered only destruction. She tensed when she felt Simon step up behind her.
The fact that he could not abide Ilsabeth’s sorrow, that he had actually stepped up to try and soothe her, told Simon that he no longer thought her guilty of anything more than choosing the wrong man while attempting to find herself a good husband and have her own family. “We will find the truth,” he said, and inwardly grimaced, wishing he had a more gifted tongue.
Ilsabeth turned to face him and found herself nearly in his arms. It was tempting to hurl herself against his chest, using his strength to calm her fears and ease her grief. Tentatively, she placed a hand on his arm, needing to touch him, and felt his muscles tense beneath her palm.
“I am afraid,” she said, and even she could hear the truth of that in her voice.
“I willnae tell ye not to be,” he said, and gave in to the temptation to touch her hair by brushing back a thick lock that had slipped forward over her slim shoulder. “There is reason to be afraid and the fear will make ye take care. But ye were right when ye said Walter was a vain mon. He is verra vain and that can be a weakness. He also believes himself safe. Another weakness. Dinnae think that we willnae solve this puzzle, for we will. ‘Tis just that sometimes it takes more work and time than one would like.”
She rested her forehead against his chest, idly wondering if he realized he was still toying with her hair. “There is only one thing that truly puzzles me about all this. I would have ne’er thought Walter was brave enough or clever enough to plot against the king. The mon can barely plan weel for a journey to the next village. He expects it to just be done. He says he is going and then waits for the horse, and all else that is needed, to be brought to him. So how could such a mon plot out a way to bring down a king?” She felt Simon tense against her, his fingers tightening in her hair, and she leaned back a little to look up at his face. “What is it? Have ye thought of something?”
“Nay, ye have. There is someone behind Walter.”
“Someone who is the true chess player in this game?”
“Exactly.”
“Weel, he did speak of his compatriots but he also spoke of the new king and didnae imply it would be him. Oh, and how he needed to complete his plans and make sure they would be acceptable to his compatriots. That must have been his vanity speaking because I truly dinnae believe the mon can plan anything.”
Simon had suspected that Walter might not be the leader, but Ilsabeth’s insight into how the man behaved made him certain of it. That meant that Walter was also a follower and, from what Simon had seen of the man, he would be one who would be easy to break. The only problem was that, by appearing at court, Walter had made it difficult to just grab him and take him somewhere to be thoroughly questioned.
His mind still busy trying to figure out how he might yet accomplish capturing Walter, Simon looked down into Ilsabeth’s upturned face. He suddenly realized that she was almost in his arms. Everything within him ached to pull her close and he tried to fight the temptation. Then she smiled at him.
Ilsabeth had a quick look at how Simon’s eyes darkened nearly to black and then his mouth was on hers. She was not sure what had prompted the sudden kiss but she was determined not to do anything to make him stop. His mouth was soft and warm as it moved over hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself and allowed the heat and desire stirred to life by his kiss to sweep over her. When he nudged at her lips with his tongue, she readily parted them. The kiss deepened and Ilsabeth shivered with delight. He tasted so good. With each stroke of his tongue within her mouth she pressed even closer to his hard body. And then, so abruptly she nearly fell, she was released and pushed away from him.
“Nay,” said Simon, shaking his head to clear away the haze of passion. “Nay.”
Before she could say a word, he fled the room. Ilsabeth placed her hand on her bosom, not surprised to find that she was panting softly and her heart was racing. Walter’s kisses had never made her feel this way.
Frowning at the door for a moment, she then looked around. Simon had fled his little dark room.
She smiled. Her brief fear that she had kissed so badly or tasted so vile he had been repulsed melted away. Simon had run away from her as if she were a demon about to tempt him into selling his soul. He did not hate kissing her; he liked it far too much.
Straightening herself, she smoothed down her skirts and headed out of the room. A man did not run away like that unless he liked the kiss so much, he feared it. Ilsabeth was determined to make sure that Simon kissed her again. And again. Until his fear of it faded.
Simon watched Ilsabeth leave his ledger room and then slipped back inside. He could still taste her on his mouth, still feel her lithe soft body pressed against his. His body was as hard as a rock and aching in protest of his pushing Ilsabeth away. Never had a kiss affected him so.
Ilsabeth was a dangerous woman, he thought as he filled a goblet with wine. A hearty drink did little to ease the taste of her from his tongue but it did help to ease the desire knotting his body. He was going to have to be more careful, he thought. If nothing else, Ilsabeth had been put under his protection by her own family and all of her family was looking to him to save her. It would be dishonorable, and a breach of that trust, to seduce her. Simon just prayed that she did not try to seduce him. He did not think he had the strength of will to resist that.
Chapter 5
Ilsabeth tried to keep her gaze fixed upon her sewing, fighting the urge to look at Simon as they sat together in his hall. It was late, the children were asleep, and she could not help but wonder if Simon would take advantage of their solitude to kiss her again. She had quickly recovered from her sense of insult over how hastily he had fled from her yestereve, but that did not mean she would accept him ignoring her as he was attempting to do. She was still sure that a man only fled a woman’s kiss because he was afraid of where it would lead, to far more than a playful romp in the bed. It was also a comfort to know that at least a few of the overwhelming emotions he stirred within her were shared.
Daring a glance at him from beneath her lashes, she caught him staring into the fire with his still unnamed cat sprawled in his lap. Ilsabeth decided that he did not name the cat because he was pretending that he did not want it. It was similar to how he acted with her. She could understand some of Simon’s reluctance to go beyond one stolen kiss for she was still accused of murder and treason. Even if he now believed in her innocence, he was a king’s man and could not entangle himself with such a woman. If nothing else, it could cause others to question his honesty and she knew Simon would suffer greatly if that happened.
There was a wild spirit within her that was pressing her to try and seduce the man, but Ilsabeth fought to ignore it. What did she know of seduction? Ilsabeth believed that seduction was wrong, too, unless it was a game played out between two lovers. Seduction was one person using guile to make another do something she did not truly wish to do, no matter what her body begged for. She could never do that to Simon.
For all Simon’s refusal to openly declare her innocent until he had more proof than her word, she still wanted Simon in ways she had never wanted Walter. Walter had never made her heart pound so hard she could hear the echo of its beats in her ears. Nor had he ever made her want to tear off his clothes so that she could admire his body, touch his skin, taste it. Sir Simon Innes was the man meant to be hers, the man every part of her cried out for, but she would win him honestly or not at all. Seduction only served to stir a man’s desire and, from what she knew of men, that was no great feat. She wanted to stir Simon’s heart.
Ilsabeth inwardly grimaced. That could prove a task far beyond her ability. She had not reached the age of one and twenty unwed because she was too particular in her taste. There had been few men interested in her as a woman, a wife, and the possible mother of their children. The only man who had really courted her and asked her to marry him was Walter and he had done so just to use her to hide his crimes and destroy her whole family. She now understood that what she had seen as an honorable resistance to despoiling his bride before they were wed was actually Walter’s utter distaste for her. Perhaps she should not be so confident of the reasons she thought Simon had run away from the kiss they had shared.
“Sir, there is a rogue at the door to the kitchens,” announced MacBean.
Startled by the man’s silent entry, but very glad to have her increasingly morbid thoughts disrupted, Ilsabeth smiled at MacBean. As always he looked as if he had just swallowed something bitter. “A rogue?” She glanced at Simon. “Ye ken many rogues, sir?”
“Aside from ones who neglect to knock at a door before they enter a room?” drawled Simon, scowling at MacBean, who ignored him. “Nay. Who is this rogue, MacBean?”
