Ilsabeth stared up at the ceiling even though it was too shadowed to see anything. Simon almost idly kissed and caressed her and the spark of desire began to heat her blood again. She should be blindly happy. The man she loved was in her arms.
One little thing dimmed that happiness, however. Simon had not spoken one word about how he felt about her. If he had said anything while they had made love, she had been too blinded by her own passion to hear it, but instinct told her he had not said anything more than passionate words about how she tasted or how soft her skin was. She needed so much more than that.
Patience, she warned herself. She may have known he would be the man for her from nearly the moment she set eyes on him, but not everyone made such an important decision so quickly. Men were also notoriously slow to see where their hearts lay.
Neither was she truly free to follow her heart. It could even be cruel to try and make him love her when she might soon be dead. Ilsabeth had seen enough of the world’s injustices to know that just because she was innocent did not mean she would escape punishment.
She also admitted that she was the one who needed this closeness now, whether words of love were spoken by him or not. Hiding, fearing the possibility that she could be dragged off to some deep, dark dungeon at any moment, and afraid for her family, she needed someone to hold on to. For now she would allow that to be enough. She would push her love for him to one side and make no demands. The very last thing she wished to do was send him running again.
Chapter 8
“Where is that child?” demanded Old Bega as she stomped into the hall where Reid and Ilsabeth worked on his numbers. “I cannae find the bairn anywhere. She was with me in the kitchen and then she was gone.”
Ilsabeth felt a tickle of worry cut through her high spirits. She had woken up in Simon’s arms for the third morning in a row and was finally certain that he was no longer running from her. He had not even crept from the bed like some thief in the night but lingered to make love to her again. She was not fool enough to mistake his passion or sweet words for love, but she was hopeful that she would soon know both. Ilsabeth could not believe that a man could make love to a woman as he did her and hold her throughout the night without feeling more for her than simply passion.
“Mayhap she is but playing hide-and-go-seek with ye,” said Ilsabeth. “Elen does love that game.”
“I dinnae think so. We had a wee talk about how she must let us all ken if ‘tis time to play that game and she has been verra good at doing so. And she isnae verra good at hiding, is she, yet me and MacBean cannae find her. And Bonegnasher cannae find her either.”
That tickle of worry flared up into a chilling fear. The dog was an excellent hunter. It should have had no trouble at all finding a tiny girl who often gave her hiding place away by giggling. The fact that the dog found nothing was alarming.
“Come along, Reid,” said Ilsabeth as she stood up, doing her best to hide her sudden fear from the boy. “We need to find your sister.”
An hour later, Ilsabeth had to agree with Old Bega. The child was not in the house. Ilsabeth was now fighting the urge to run outside yelling Elen’s name. She set Bonegnasher to tracking the child again and the dog ended up at the kitchen door, scratching on the wood and whining. Once outside, the animal went straight to the garden gate, which was wide open, and waited for her to tell him to come back or continue on the hunt. Since she could not loose the dog in the town without someone at its side, she called it back.
“She has gone awandering,” said Reid, his eyes wide with fear for his sister. “I have told her again and again that she shouldnae do that and she will be good for a wee while but then she does it again. She could get hurt. I dinnae think she understands that.”
“Aye, she could, and the verra young take time to see that there is a lot of danger out there, but we will find her,” said Ilsabeth as she hurried back into the house to change into her nun’s attire. “Bega, MacBean,” she said as she entered the kitchen, “Elen has gotten out through the garden gate. We shall all need to search for her.”
“Nay, ye must stay here,” said MacBean. “Ye cannae risk being seen again.”
“'Tis nay a risk–”
“It is and dinnae try to tell me it isnae. Ye were seen when ye went out in that nun’s gown. That means the soldiers will be looking about for a blue-eyed nun. Aye, them and anyone else who has heard the tale. We dinnae exactly have a lot of nuns about this place, ye ken. We will take the dog–”
“Ye cannae do that. Ye cannae let anyone make a connection atween Elen and Simon. He hasnae said that plain, but he hasnae let anyone ken that the children are here, either. Weel, except for Donald, who willnae dare speak of it, and Tormand, who can be trusted. I am thinking Simon fears I may have been seen when I first came here. Now that ye tell me that ye dinnae see many nuns, I can see that that is a possibility.”
MacBean cursed. “Another reason ye cannae start running about the town dressed as a nun again.”
That and the fact that she had more or less promised Simon that she would not do so, but MacBean did not need to know that. “Then I shall dress as naught but a poor maid with my hair covered as many of the wedded lasses cover theirs. Verra few people pay any heed to a poor maid.”
Ignoring MacBean’s stuttered protests, Ilsabeth hurried to her room, Old Bega at her heels. Together they got her dressed quickly, her hair braided and hidden beneath a kerchief. It was a thin disguise but, if anyone was looking for her at the moment, they were looking for a blue-eyed nun, not a servant. The disguise would work long enough for her to find Elen.
Simon was going to be angry, she thought as she headed back down the stairs. For a brief moment she considered sending him a message and waiting for him to come and help find Elen. She quickly shook that thought aside. There was no time. Elen had been missing for too long already.
Both she and Old Bega ignored MacBean’s continued complaints. He finally gave up the fight when Ilsabeth sent him and Bega off in two different directions while she and Reid went in a third one. There was a very pretty little girl wandering the streets of the town and they all knew how many dangers such a child could face.
It was growing dark by the time she and Reid saw Elen. Ilsabeth’s heart lodged in her throat as she watched the man Elen spoke to stroke the little girl’s bright hair. It could be an innocent touch but Ilsabeth’s heart and mind were both clamoringdanger.There was something about the way the man acted with Elen that was just wrong. Elen was not smiling at the man, either, and she smiled at everyone.
Before she could think of a quiet way to extract Elen from the man, Reid started to run toward them. The hard, angry look upon his young face told Ilsabeth that he might well know exactly what sort of danger his sister was in. Ilsabeth cursed and hurried after him before he could start a confrontation that would draw a lot of attention, but feared she would be too late.
“Dinnae touch her,” yelled Reid as he grabbed Elen by the arm and yanked her back, away from the man.
“Here now, laddie, what are ye doing?” said the man, his plump face twisting into a scowl. “I was just helping the wee lass. She is lost, aye?”
“She doesnae need your sort of help.” Reid kicked the man in the shins, causing the man to howl in pain and anger. “I ken what ye are. Ye werenae going to help her at all. Ye just wanted to–”
“Reid,” Ilsabeth snapped as she reached the boy, and then she gasped as the man backhanded Reid across the face. “Dinnae touch that boy!”
