“Verra wise.”
“Are ye going to yell at Ilsabeth again?” “Ah, ye heard me yell at her that time, did ye?” “Ye were verra loud.”
Simon hoped the child had not heard much more than that. “She shouldnae be leaving the safety of the house. The lass doesnae seem to ken how easily she can be recognized or remembered nay matter what guise she dons.”
“Aye, ‘tis her eyes. I dinnae think I have e’er seen such a blue. Ilsabeth doesnae ken that there is anything special about her eyes, ye ken. But, she had to help find Elen. Ye can see why we couldnae leave her out on her own.”
“I understand but that doesnae mean I like it. If Ilsabeth is caught it willnae go weel for her. She has to remain out of sight until I can find the real killer and the real traitors.”
Simon seriously considered locking Ilsabeth in the cellars, perhaps even chaining her to a wall down there. He did understand that she had had no real choice this time. Elen was too small to be walking around the town on her own. It was not just filth like Colin Rose that the child could be in danger from. Understanding did little to ease his fear for Ilsabeth, however.
He found her waiting for him in his ledger room after he had handed the children over to Old Bega. Simon watched her, rather enjoying the faint signs of nervousness she revealed as he poured them each a tankard of cider. She had come too close to being captured tonight. The thought of just how close she had come still chilled his blood.
“Ye didnae heed my words of wisdom at all, did ye?” he said as he sat down and watched her from across his worktable.
“I did, but I couldnae leave Elen out there all alone,” Ilsabeth replied.
He sighed and rested his head against the back of his chair. “Nay, ye couldnae.”
Ilsabeth was so relieved that he understood that she drank down her cider and then went and sat on his lap. “I thought about sending ye a message and waiting for ye to come and help find her, but then I kenned that would take too long.”
“Colin Rose would have had her tucked up in his house by then.”
“Is that who that was? Ye ken the mon and what he is and yet he is still walking about?”
“No proof. And a laird for a father. And he willnae be walking about after tonight, at least not for a verra long time.”
“Did ye beat him?”
“So eager ye sound. Nay, I wanted to, but the soldiers decided to do it. They must have kenned I wouldnae help the mon for they began to beat him while I was still close enough to hear it.” He set his empty tankard down and pulled her into his arms. “I kept Reid from looking and just kept right on walking.”
“Do ye feel guilty about that?”
Simon thought about that for a moment. “Nay, not a bit.” He smiled when she laughed.
“I was so afraid for her, Simon,” she whispered.
“Aye, and ye were right to be. She needs to be watched verra closely. I have naught but admiration for young Reid for keeping her alive and safe for so long. She may be the bonniest wee thing I have e’er seen and as sweet as summer fruit, but she is also a great deal of trouble on two wee feet.”
“She certainly is.” Ilsabeth kissed his throat. “We must needs go and have our meal in but a few moments.”
“I was thinking we might have a little something else first.”
Wriggling on his lap, she could feel how hard he had grown. “I can tell but it will have to wait until later.” She sat up and kissed him before hopping off his lap. “I am certain Old Bega has had a stern talk with Elen but I believe I will add a few words myself. See you in a moment.”
Simon watched her leave and shook his head. He had gone from sitting by the fire with a dog and a cat to having a house full. He certainly was not lonely now.
Ilsabeth frowned at the door to Simon’s ledger room and wondered if she should go in. MacBean had brought Simon a message and she had not seen the man since. She wished he would share such things with her, but she was not going to try and make him do so, if only because she knew she would be hurt if he refused to do it. She had not even pressed for the tale about how his back had become so scarred and yet he had said he would tell her.
The problem was that, unless he began to share his life with her in more than the bedchamber, it was going to be very hard to win his love. She would be reduced to being no more than his bedmate and that thought twisted her heart. Her parents shared everything as did most of her other married kin. That was what she wanted with Simon but she knew that if she tried to force that sharing it would never be right. It had to be given willingly.
Her only thought was to spend as much time as she could with him when they were not making love. He would have to talk to her then. Once he became more comfortable talking to her, he would begin to share his news, good or bad. At least, she hoped so, she thought, and grimaced as she rapped on the door.
Stepping into the room after he called out permission to enter, she frowned. He was just sitting there with a tankard of ale in his hands. Ilsabeth had the distinct feeling he had just been staring at the walls. She placed the small plate of fruit on his table and smiled at him.
Simon could not stop himself from smiling back. There was something about the way Ilsabeth looked at him that made him happy. He needed that at the moment, too. The king had demanded his presence in the morning and Simon had nothing to report. That always left his liege displeased and a displeased king was not what Simon wanted to face early in the day.
The lack of news to give the king had made Simon all too aware of how little he was discovering concerning the true killer and the traitors. Instinct told him time was running out. He could only pray that did not mean it was running out for Ilsabeth. It was frustrating. All he needed was one hint, one misstep by the guilty ones, and he could unravel the whole twisted mess. Killing Ogilvie had been a mistake but the killer had covered his trail very well.
