Highland Protector (30 page)

He was leaving her. She could see it in his eyes. The gray was as cold and penetrating as it had been the first day she had met him. What Ilsabeth did not understand was why he was doing it.

“Simon?” She reached out to him and he stepped back.

“ ‘Tis time for ye to go home, Ilsabeth,” he said. “Your family will be anxious to see that ye are unharmed by your ordeal. They will soon be returning to their home and that is where ye should be.”

“If that is what ye truly wish,” she whispered, determined not to cry in front of him even though her eyes felt full of tears. “It is what must be.”

Ilsabeth watched him walk away and knew he was taking her heart with him. She did not understand. The last time he had visited her in her prison his words had been tender, his touch even more so. Now it was like hugging a stone. She looked at Tormand, who just shrugged.

“A mon can be a fool sometimes,” Tormand said.

“He can change so in but one night?”

“If he has come to a decision, aye.”

She thought about it for a moment and then sighed. “It has to do with Henry’s madness, doesnae it?”

“I think so. Give him time. Seeing it so clearly has overset him. Ye didnae see it but Henry lost what little grip he had on sanity right there in front of the crown. It wasnae a pretty sight. He also boasted of all he had done whilst still out on the battlefield.”

“Time, is it? We shall see.”

Now she was growing angry. Simon had questioned the belief that such sicknesses of the mind crop up within families. Obviously when it appeared in his own, he lost all of his former doubts of such beliefs and suffered fears for himself and his children

The thought of children caused her to place her hand on her belly. It was too soon to know but considering how often she and Simon had made love, it was a possibility that she already carried his child. She searched her heart for a fear of the insanity that had taken Henry and felt none. Her family was not free of that problem yet it did not run rampant in the bloodlines. Henry was twisted in some way from the day he was born; she was certain of it. She had also seen none of it in Simon or his brothers. She just wondered how long it would take Simon to see it, too.

“Are ye going to be all right?”

She managed a smile for her cousin. “Aye. I willnae say that I willnae hold out a hope that he will come to his senses, but aye, I shall be fine. It has been a terrible time for him.”

“Where Simon?” demanded Elen.

“Simon has gone home, love,” Ilsabeth said, and gently brushed some of the thick curls off Elen’s face as the child began to scowl.

“He left us,” said Reid.

“Now, ye dinnae ken that for certain,” Ilsabeth began to protest.

“I do ken it. He didnae e’en want to smash his mouth on yours.”

“Smash his mouth on yours?” muttered Tormand. “I would have thought Simon had more finesse than that.”

Ilsabeth elbowed her cousin in the stomach and he grunted before he laughed. “Reid, Simon is a grown mon and he can do as he pleases. We may nay agree with what he is doing, but ‘tis his right to do it.”

“Then why do ye look so sad?” “Weel, I didnae say I had to like what he was doing.”

Reid stood up very straight. “If he has hurt your feelings then I will go and punch him in the nose.” “Thank ye, Reid, but, nay, dinnae do that. Ye must understand that adults can decide that they cannae be together even if they have been, er, smashing mouths.” She tried to elbow Tormand in the stomach again when he snickered but he nimbly eluded it.

“Does that mean he cannae be with us, either?”

“I fear so, although if he e’er asks for ye to visit I willnae say nay.”

“Where Simon?”

“Simon had to leave, love,” she said again, and had the feeling she was going to have to repeat herself on that matter more times than she wanted to deal with.

“Simon stay.”

“Oh, dear.” Ilsabeth could see that look of stubbornness forming on Elen’s angelic face and prepared for what could become a glorious fit of rage. “Simon cannae stay, dear.”

“Where Simon?” Elen bellowed, her small hands clenched in front of her. “Want Simon now.”

“Elen, we cannae always have what we want,” Ilsabeth said, and thought to herself that that was sadly true even for adults who ought to have better control over their lives.

“Si... mon!!!”

Simon halted on the steps out of the dungeon as that childish bellow resounded off the walls of the cool, damp stone. He closed his eyes and fought the urge to go back to the child. It was best for Elen if he did not waver. She would get over needing to see him.

“Si... mon!!”

He hesitated another moment and then bolted up the stairs, the sound of Elen bellowing his name following him every step of the way. Selfish bastard that he was, he had not even considered the children’s feelings. It was too late to back down now. Repeating the words that it was better for them all if he left, he slammed the door to the dungeons behind him, cutting off that bellow. He knew though, that he would be hearing the angry pain in it for a long time.

Simon studied the lands of Lochancorrie closely as he, his brothers, and the men Henry had dragged from their homes all rode toward the huge keep that dominated the hillside in front of them. Not many of the fields were planted and there appeared to be few livestock grazing on the low, rolling hills around them. He had to wonder what Henry had done in his time as laird aside from abusing the people who depended upon him.

“Is it all like this?” he asked Wallace, thinking that winter could prove to be very harsh if they did not get in some supplies.

“Aye,” replied Wallace as he looked around. “'Tisnae as bad as I thought it would be in truth. Seen it worse. Henry wasnae here much after the spring rains ended, ye ken, for he was off plotting with those others. I think the people here must have used his absence to get some work done. But, Henry did take a lot of men from the fields to train them for his war. He was also fond of large feasts.

He would have his friends round, snatch a few lasses, and do naught but eat, drink, and wench for days.”

“Weel, we shall have to think of some way to build up the supplies or it shall be a dangerously lean winter. Now, do ye think Henry’s guard is still here?”

“Nay, for the gates to the keep are open.”

“It could be a trap,” said Malcolm, and drew his sword, Kenneth and Ruari quickly doing the same. “If Henry’s guard was loyal to him I wouldnae trust them as far as I can spit.”

“They were loyal enough,” said Wallace, “for they got all the food and wenches they wanted when he was here.”

“Wallace, am I going to find a keep full of Henry’s bastards and poor abused lassies who cower at every shadow?” asked Simon.

“I fear there are some bastards. Henry didnae pay much attention unless they were the children of his wives and I fear the poor lassies he bred didnae live long. There are some, as I said, and all are lassies. So ye dinnae need to worry that there will be anyone challenging ye for the laird’s seat.”

“I wasnae worried about that so much as I was worried that Henry didnae take care of the children he bred.”

“He didnae but those ones were luckier than the ones bred under his own roof.”

Simon shook his head as they cautiously rode into the inner bailey. All that waited for them were a few women and children and a half dozen soldiers who showed no sign of attacking them. Simon got the bad feeling that Henry had stripped the place bare in his quest to be a king.

He turned to ask Wallace to introduce him only to see that man leaping from his mount and running toward a slender red-haired girl with a plump baby in her arms. Most of the other men from Lochancorrie were doing the same and the bailey was filled with the glad cries of welcome. Simon experienced a distinct stab of envy.

He dismounted and climbed up the steps to the front door. Turning, with his brothers flanking him, he called for the attention of those gathered in the bailey. The moment they were all looking at him with a mix of anticipation, hope, and resignation, he struggled to think of what he needed to say.

“Your laird, Henry Innes, is dead. He was executed last week for the crime of treason against the crown.” Someone cheered and Simon ignored it. “I am Simon Innes, the new laird of Lochancorrie, and these are my brothers.” He introduced his brothers in order of their age and noticed how the curiosity of the people began to overcome the wariness. “We need to get to work. From what I have seen, we have a lot of hard work ahead of us if we dinnae all want to starve this winter.

“I will take an hour now to clean up and eat and then I want anyone who has something to say to come to me in the great hall. That should also give ye time to tell the others, such as the people in the village. We shall all have to work together if we are to make this place what it was in my grandfather’s time. While I am certain some of the tales of the bounty and beauty of this place at that time are just that–tales–I suspect that with some efforts we can do it or come close. Go and spread the word about the meeting and think of what is important to ye that ye feel must be attended to.”

“Weel, at least they havenae run screaming from the keep at the thought of four Innes men here,” murmured Malcolm.

“They were a wee bit wary to start but I think the return of their men, hale and weel fed, helped ease things,” Simon said as he opened the door to the keep and came face-to-face with a plump woman of about thirty years holding the hand of a pretty dark-haired girl. “May I help ye?”

“Aye, I be Annie. I do most of the ordering of the household. The laird thought this child to be mine.”

“And she isnae?”

“Nay, m’laird, she is yours.”

Simon looked at the little girl again. There was no question she was of Innes blood with her thick black hair and clear gray eyes, but he could see nothing to tell him she was his child. He looked back at Annie. “Are ye certain?”

“She be born of Mary, the laird’s third wife, nine months after ye were beaten nigh unto death. Mary didnae want her”–Annie kissed the child on the cheek–“and we all ken what the laird did to his girl babies, so I took over the whole care of her.”

“But he said he had killed my child.”

“He thought he had. There was another bairn born that night, another wee lass, but I kenned that one wouldnae be living for long. The breathing was all wrong, ye ken, and the skin was yellow. I switched the bairns. When the other poor lass died, I claimed the bairn everyone thought was Mary’s and have raised her. She is yours, laird. Nay question of it.”

He looked at the little girl. “What is your name, loving?”

“Marion.”

“A fine name. Weel, when I have bathed and eaten, ye may sit with me in the hall if ye wish. There is going to be a meeting and we are all going to talk about what needs to be done here to make it a better place.”

“May I think of some things, too, and speak?”

“Aye, ye may. Now, we shall meet in the hall in an hour.” He held out his hand to her. “Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Marion shook his hand.

Annie suddenly smiled at him, revealing that she had been a very pretty young woman at some time. “Ye will do, laddie. Ye will do.”

“I suppose that was a compliment,” said Kenneth as they all gathered in the laird’s bedchamber while several serving girls ran back and forth with water to help the men bathe.

“I think so,” Simon murmured, and found himself wondering what Ilsabeth would think of his child.

“Do we wish to ken how it is ye had a child with Mary?” asked Malcolm, and there was a thread of anger in his voice.

“In a moment.” Seeing that the tub was full as was the washbasin, he ordered the serving girls away and shut the door behind them. “ ‘Tis a long and sordid tale. I was eighteen and a wee bit naïve when it came to women,” he began, undressing as he spoke.

He had reached the part where he had heard Henry and Mary discussing him as if he were a stud bull and then took off his shirt. The looks of horrified shock on their faces made him wince a little. He had become accustomed to the feel of the scars and Ilsabeth’s acceptance of them had made him forget how they looked.

“Why are ye nay dead?” asked Ruari.

“My foster father said he decided I was too stubborn to succumb to it or the fevers that wracked me for days afterward. This is what I was still all too painfully aware of, despite the fact that it was healed, when I arrived to rescue a bitch who didnae need rescuing.”

“Has Ilsabeth seen those?”

“Aye,” Simon replied with a hint of wariness behind his reply.

“And she stayed. Weel, until ye threw her away.”

Simon gave his youngest brother a scowl and then climbed into the tub. “I believed, and still do, that she deserved better than the brother of a mad-mon and a traitor, or the laird of a keep that will need years of work and a lot of money to see life improve here. Now, let us speak of any ideas ye might have for making this land one that can be lived off, and lived off weel.”

By the time Simon went down to the hall to start the meeting, his mind was swimming with ideas. He took little Marion by the hand and seated her in the chair at his right hand. A grin from Malcolm told him his brother was not insulted, willingly giving up his rightful seat to the little girl. To his amusement he noticed that Marion held a small chalkboard with several things listed on it.

The meeting began cautiously, all those who had gathered to say their piece doing so with some trepidation. Simon could only imagine how Henry would have taken some farmer or cottager trying to give him a suggestion. As he listened and responded with quiet, thoughtful answers, people began to relax and he knew he was now hearing the true concerns of Lochancorrie’s people. And then Marion raised her hand.

“What is it, loving?” he asked her.

“I think we need to mend the stables and keep them nice and clean so that, if I get a new pony, it will have a nice home.”

Simon noticed that he was not the only one who had to bite back a laugh over that very clever way of asking for a pony. “Ye need a pony, do ye?” He frowned when her bottom lip wobbled in a way he recognized from Elen.