“Then come and help us choose one for Marion on the morrow.”
She studied them closely for a moment. “This isnae a trick, is it? Ye arenae trying to get me out of here and force me to meet with Simon, are ye?”
“Nay. When Simon saw us coming here, he made us swear to stay out of what is between just the two of you.” Both Ruari and Malcolm nodded vigorously in agreement with Kenneth. “I ask because I ken nothing about the ponies. Horses, aye, but nay ponies. Ne’er had one when I was small, either. Ye seem to ken something about them and it would be a help. And ye ken the mon selling them, aye?”
Ilsabeth had to admit that she was very tired of lurking inside the walls of Aigballa. A little visit to Old Gregor to look at his ponies would be nice. She nodded and they smiled. Ilsabeth felt a pang of guilt for mistrusting them so as they arranged a time for the trip.
“Did she agree?” asked Simon the moment his brothers joined him at the inn for an ale and a few meat pies.
“She did after a wee hesitation and accusing us of tricking her,” answered Kenneth. “She will be there after midday on the morrow. We take her to Old Gregor’s down the road to look at his Highland ponies. I felt that since we really are going to buy some, it wasnae a complete lie.”
Malcolm nodded. “Felt bad for tricking her until I saw she hadnae even opened your last letter and then she confessed to nay having opened the fourteen before that. She isnae being reasonable.”
“Nay, and that isnae like Ilsabeth,” Simon said, and sipped at his ale. “She was ne’er coy and this seems a bit like coy to me.”
“She mentioned that ye had forgotten about her for two months and how ye set her aside that day. Seems those wounds cut a wee bit deeper than ye realized.”
Simon nodded. “I was afraid of that. I panicked when she hugged me that day. Kenned that, if I didnae get her away from me, I would weaken and toss aside all worry about madness and that didnae seem wise at that time. So, aye, I cut away from her as if she was something dangerous or even unpleasant. As for two months of forgetting her?” Simon snorted. “As if I could. And, as if Ruari would let me if I tried.”
The brothers all laughed when Ruari blushed faintly, but he put up his chin and said, “Ye were tossing aside something good and I didnae want to see ye do that. ‘Tisnae often a mon has a chance like ye have.”
“Ruari, have ye made a mess of such a thing before?” Simon asked quietly, although thinking that, at only two and twenty, Ruari was a little young for such a thing.
“Nay, but a verra good friend of mine did. He did what all wanted him to instead of what his heart ached for and he is the most miserable bastard now. He hates the wife he was told was perfect and has to watch the one he loved go about with her husband and children. It eats at him every day and I fear he will grow bitter beyond fixing.”
“Sad to say, he just might. I have seen the same. ‘Tis my opinion that such arrangements for land or bloodlines or property should be banned. We have enough miserable bastards without making more through bad marriages.”
His brothers laughed and soon the talk turned to what to look for in the ponies they would buy tomorrow. It was late by the time Simon sought his bed. His empty, lonely bed, he thought as he slid in between the cool linen sheets. He had to be at his best on the morrow. He needed Ilsabeth and he had to get past her anger and hurt to the heart he was sure she had given him.
The fact that she had been hurt by his cold turning away from her and then two months of silence troubled him, and not only because he had hurt her. He was going to have to explain himself with the utmost care. Simon knew he would also have to be completely open and honest about all he felt for her. He knew he held to his privacy and controlled his emotions a little too tightly, but baring his soul felt like a giant step in the opposite direction.
As he sprawled on his back and stared up at the ceiling, he went over everything in his mind. With himself he could be utterly honest about what he felt for Ilsabeth. Somehow he was going to have to get those words out of his mouth. He would only have one chance because, even though her family was helping him to kidnap her, he knew they would come looking for her if he kept her too long.
“Tomorrow, Ilsabeth, please be in a mood to open your heart to an idiot with a tongue that has ne’er been smooth.”
Ilsabeth winced as she climbed into bed. She has spent too much time on her hands and knees weeding the garden. Her mother was right. She had to stop trying to work until her mind was too tired to think of Simon. Nothing was worth putting her child at risk.
Her child who had been conceived in a dungeon, she thought, and grimaced. Ilsabeth was not sure that was a story she wanted to tell her child later in life. In fact, considering all the bad things, the chilling things concerning Henry, that had happened, it might be best to forget the whole matter. She could always make up a story if her child was ever curious but the idea of lying to a child was an uncomfortable one.
And why am I worrying about things that are not even close to happening yet? she asked herself. It was because she did not want to think about Simon. In truth, she sighed, she did not wish to look at how she was acting toward Simon. Ilsabeth was beginning to feel a little ashamed of herself.
A soft rap at the door promised a welcome distraction and she sat up as she told the visitor to come in. Her mother came in and sat down on the edge of the bed and Ilsabeth became immediately nervous. Her mother had that look on her face that promised a lecture. The true problem with her mother’s lectures were that they were cleverly disguised, forcing the one hearing them to answer questions that invariably made them see some fault in themselves. Since Ilsabeth was beginning to see one already, she did not really want her mother to have seen it as well.
“Weel, that isnae a particularly welcoming look for your old mother,” said Elspeth.
Ilsabeth laughed. “Ye arenae old and weel ye ken it. I confess, the face was because I ken ye are here to give me one of your talks where ye get me to see that I am nay behaving verra weel.”
“Beginning to see it yourself already, are ye?”
“Aye, but I am having so much trouble getting beyond the hurt. In the beginning I tried so hard to be understanding. Henry was an evil beyond explaining. It was only reasonable that Simon would fear such evil could be a part of his whole family, that he needed time to see that he had none of that in him and ne’er could. But two months?”
“Men can be slow, love. And”–she patted Ilsabeth’s clenched fist–“he had a lot to deal with aside from his own confused feelings, didnae he. Then, too, he was trying to put ye aside for what he thought was your own good.”
“And just what gave him the right to think he kenned what was for my own good?”
“His being a mon.”
Ilsabeth’s temper faded and she laughed. “Aye, and ‘tis his nature. He protects and defends those who cannae do it themselves or those so caught up in another’s tangled web that they cannae get free without help. And I was both to him. I think that is what troubles me. Does he truly see me or does he see just another wounded innocent who needs his protection?”
