“I am nay sure I want to see into the heart of a mon like Henry.”
“Nay, but ye can take the fact that he has a verra black heart and then see how someone like him might do things. ‘Tis a verra useful thing.”
Before she could thank him for the compliment and suggest that he allow her to help search out the truth about Henry and his plots against the king, he kissed her. Ilsabeth knew she was being diverted, but decided not to complain. The moment he ended the kiss, she sat up straight and slowly removed her nightdress. Simon’s gray eyes went so dark they were nearly black and she could almost feel the heat of his desire when he looked at her.
“Ye are so beautiful, wee Ilsabeth.” He stroked his hands up her stomach to cover her breasts. “So soft.” He sat up and licked the taut end of her breast.
Ilsabeth lost all concern for the plots and evil of others. Such dark things did not exist when she was in Simon’s arms and he was warming her whole body with his passion. Before she lost all of her wits, however, she intended to pay Simon back for something, and pay it back in kind. She pushed him onto his back and, before he could grab her again, she began to kiss her way down his long, lean body.
By the time she had kissed her way to his taut stomach, Simon had a good idea of what she was planning and stopped all attempts to regain control of their lovemaking. He silently prayed that he was right about Ilsabeth’s intentions. If she did not do what he was anticipating the disappointment could kill him, he thought wildly as she nipped the inside of his thighs.
Her long, soft hair brushed across his groin in a silken caress. The hard tips of her breasts scraped over his legs in a way that made him ache. But it was when she touched her tongue to the base of his hard length and slowly dragged it all the way up to the tip that he shuddered from the force of the pleasure she gave him. He groaned and, to his dismay, she pulled away. Simon looked at her sitting between his legs, her long hair draping her lush curves in a vain attempt to preserve her modesty, and had to bite back a sharp command for her to continue.
“Ye stopped,” he muttered, his heart pounding so hard in his chest he was surprised she did not hear it, and he frantically tried to think of a polite way to ask her to return to what she had been doing.
“Ye groaned,” Ilsabeth said, but could tell by the look on his face that the sound he had made had not been one of discomfort.
“Aye, because it felt that good. I can be silent if I must.”
Ilsabeth quickly swallowed the urge to laugh. Simon looked somewhat desperate even as he looked annoyed. “Any rules?”
“No biting. At least, nay hard.”
This time she did laugh. “Fair enough.”
When she kissed the tip of his manhood and slowly circled the head with her tongue, Simon clapped a hand over his mouth. He did not want to make another sound that might have her stopping again. A moment later, he decided she had understood that he wanted her to love him with her mouth for she did not hesitate at all when she heard him groan out a curse. Simon grabbed all the control he could and held on tight, wanting to savor the pleasure she was giving him so freely for as long as he could. Freely and with surprising skill, he thought as he bowed up off the bed after she did something quick and clever with her tongue that sent a blinding rush of heat through him.
Simon knew he was not going to last as long as he wanted to when she slowly took him into her mouth. His body began to tighten almost painfully with a need for release as she loved him. The sight of her between his legs was enough to bring him close to release.
He finally grabbed her beneath the arms and pulled her up his body until she sat astride him. Not only was he pleased to find her wet and eager for him because he so badly needed her to be, but the realization that she had been aroused by what she had done to him nearly sent him over the edge. He thrust inside her, trembled at the way her damp heat clasped him tightly in welcome, and then lost himself in their blind rush to find their release, reaching it as one and clutching each tightly as it raged through them.
With limbs still drained of strength from the force of his release, Simon shifted their bodies around until her slim back was tucked up to his front. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek against her hair. Ilsabeth had been an innocent but she was proving to be the best lover he had ever had. Simon suspected the feelings he had for her added to the pleasure she gave him, but he knew the way she so freely gave of herself was what added to it all.
And just what did he feel for her? he wondered. He wanted her right where she was, in his arms and in his bed. The question was, for how long? Simon pulled his thoughts away from that path. This was not a good time to walk it. Not only was she not free to consider any future yet but his brother Henry was about to arrive in town. Matters between him and Ilsabeth could change a lot when she saw the sort of blood he sprang from.
She was right when she said that Henry was a madman. Simon suspected his elder brother had been born mad. He did not think it right to blame others in a family for the crimes of their kinsman, and so he was a lot fairer in his dealings than others were. Many believed that madness ran in the blood, and sometimes it did, but Simon had seen proof that it did not have to. It was not until he faced the fact that his brother was mad that Simon realized his opinion on that was not as firm as he had thought it to be.
Was there madness in his blood? He had not seen his younger brothers for years, not since they were bairns, but, in what little information he had gathered on them, he had not heard anything that indicated they suffered from any madness. Then again, Henry’s insanity was not clear to see right away.
“Simon, ye are going all tense again,” murmured Ilsabeth, her husky voice thick with oncoming sleep.
“Do ye think madness is in the blood?” he asked, and then cursed himself for the weakness that prompted such a question.
Ilsabeth turned until she could wrap her arms around him and rest her cheek against his chest. She was so sleepy; she did not really wish to discuss madness, bloodlines, and such things that required sharp wits to talk about clearly. Yet, she understood Simon’s uneasiness. He may have seen the madness in Henry for a long time but he had only just openly accepted it.
“Some is, some isnae,” she said. “Whatever madness has Henry in its grip isnae in ye, Simon. Henry doesnae care about justice or helping the innnocent. He cares only for Henry. He enjoys giving pain and ye dinnae.” She yawned and rubbed her cheek against him.
Simon kissed the top of her head and began to lightly rub her back. “Sleep, Ilsabeth. I but suffered a moment of weakness. I can list the differences between me and my cursed brother all by myself.”
“Ye do that.”
A heartbeat later he felt her grow limp in his arms and nearly laughed. When Ilsabeth was tired she often went to sleep just like an exhausted child. He was not sure why he found that endearing, but he did.
He did what she had told him to, listing the many differences between him and Henry. It helped a little but he knew the seed of doubt had rooted itself deep in his heart. Simon was just not sure if he could dig it out or how it might affect his life.
When he looked down at the woman asleep in his arms his heart cramped in his chest. Something else he was going to have to do soon was decide what he wanted to do with Ilsabeth Murray Armstrong. Every instinct he prided himself on said that the end of this trouble was coming soon and he would not be able to avoid thinking about her and the future too much longer. Simon was not sure why even the thought of making a decision about her, about her place in his life, made him sweat but he thought it was probably not a good sign.
Chapter 12
