Highland Protector (33 page)

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?”

“Only he can answer that, love, and ye are nay even reading his letters.”

“I ken it. I have been behaving badly. Oh, a week mayhap, of sulking and pouting, but I have gone way beyond that.” She frowned. “I find that I am afraid of being hurt again.”

Elspeth hugged her. “ ‘Tis a common fear of women in love. But, sweetheart, a mon in love suffers as weel and ‘tis often harder for them to express what they are feeling. Just think on this. This proud mon, this mon ye say keeps himself in control, has been lurking about here for three weeks sending ye gifts and letters. Even when he kens ye are refusing to accept any of them, he is still here.”

Ilsabeth felt an urge to cry. “I have been unkind.”

“Nay, ye have been afraid. He hurt ye and I think he hurt ye more than his poor monly brain can understand.” She smiled when Ilsabeth gave a watery giggle. “But, how can he ever understand enough to ne’er do it again if ye willnae even talk to him?”

“I ken it. I have to get rid of the fear, dinnae I?”

“Nay so much get rid of it as push it aside long enough to listen. What he wants to tell ye may well mend the wound.”

“Ye dinnae think it will just add to it, make it deeper?” she asked in a near whisper.

“Nay. Ye may curse me if I am wrong, but I truly dinnae believe a mon hangs about getting rejected for three long weeks unless he feels something verra deep and strong.” She placed her hand on Ilsabeth’s stomach. “And, ye have a piece of him inside ye now. Ye have that child to think on. Is it just your heart that was bruised, or your pride as weel?” She kissed her on the cheek and started out of the room. “Just try, lass. Even a mon desperately in love can only abide so many nays before he gives up. He has his pride, too.”

Ilsabeth settled back down and stared up at the ceiling. Her mother was right. It was not just her heart that was bruised, but her pride. She had given Simon everything and he had turned from her, rejected it all. It had broken her heart but it had also lacerated her pride. The two of them together had kept her from forgiving Simon.

And Simon did have his pride. She had seen it. Thinking over how she had treated him for the last three weeks, she was astonished that he was still here, still trying. She had certainly paid him back in kind and she was not very proud of that.

She would go with the brothers and pick out some ponies on the morrow and then she would invite Simon to a private dinner here at Aigballa. The two of them would talk as she had not allowed him to talk before while she was still nursing her wounds. There would be some things she would insist upon before she gave in to him and the very first was to know exactly how he felt about her. Now that she had had a taste of how it felt to have her love rejected, she was not going to go anywhere with him until she was sure he returned it.

A small smile curved her mouth. It would be so nice to see him again, to touch him even in the polite confines of a shared meal. Now that she had seen how she was acting and why, she could admit to how desperately she had missed him. His brothers claimed Simon missed her, too. It was foolish for two people to miss each other if there was no true reason for them to be apart. On the morrow she would put an end to this game one way or the other.

Ilsabeth frowned as the three brothers herded into the barn. The best ponies were out in the little corral, but they had only glanced over them and then insisted upon looking in the little barn. Even Old Gregor had insisted. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of horse droppings and hay. Her stomach curled in revulsion and Ilsabeth decided her child did not like that scent.

“I think I had best go outside,” she said. “I am feeling a wee bit unweel.”

“Why?” Kenneth sniffed. “Old Gregor keeps a verra clean barn.”

She was about to tell him that no matter how clean a barn, once a horse or pony was put inside the smells began when someone slipped a linen sheet over her. Two strong arms were wrapped around her and she was carried off. For one brief moment she was terrified but then, as the outside air cleared her nose of the smell of the barn, she smelled a very familiar scent.

Why was Simon spiriting her away? Because she had refused to speak to him. Ilsabeth sighed as she thought of the lovely romantic setting she had planned for their meal together. She hoped he had remembered to bring food and wine to wherever he was taking her.

It was not long before being wrapped in a linen sheet and carried over a broad shoulder was not comfortable and Ilsabeth complained. The sheet muffled her words and all she got was a mumbled apology in what Simon must have thought was a disguised voice and a pat on the backside. After the first pat, there was a moment’s hesitation, and then another pat that was much more like a caress. There was obviously one particular thing Simon was missing, she thought, and had to admit that she was missing it, too. Even her awkward position could not dispel the warmth that slight caress sent through her body.

When he ran his hand up and down her leg, she decided a true kidnap victim would protest so she screeched a little. Simon obviously was not thinking clearly if he thought all kidnap victims were so complacent. Then she had a wicked thought and turned her head to the side in the hope that she would be somewhat more understandable when she spoke.

“Ye had best put me down and run for your life,” she said. “Ye willnae get away with this. This place is swarming with my kinsmen and kinswomen and they will hunt ye down like a mad dog when they discover what ye have done.”

He mumbled something that sounded like assurances that she would come to no harm. Then he began to caress her leg again as if he could not help himself.

“I am warning ye... Oh. Oh. My. Do that again,” she said as she heard a door open. “Oh, that feels so verra fine.”

She screeched when she was suddenly dropped on a bed. Ilsabeth tore the sheet off her head to find Simon staring down at her, his hands fisted on his hips and a look of pure jealous anger on his face. She could not help it, she started to laugh.

Simon looked down at the giggling woman he had carried all the way from Old Gregor’s and shook his head, a reluctant smile pulling at his lips. She had not been fooled for long. And all that ooh and aahing had certainly caused him a moment of alarm. One did not like to think that one’s woman would ooh and ahh at just any touch. And the wretch had known that, too.

“That was a mean trick ye just played,” he said.

“Me? I wasnae the one who ran off with ye wrapped in a sheet. And, I need to speak to your brothers about the sin of lying.” She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, recognizing one of the many little cottages her family kept for guests, a necessity when one had a family as large as hers. “Weel, this was fun, but I need to go and get a pony.”

“My brothers are buying the ponies. One for Marion, one for Reid, and one for Elen.”

“Because they ken exactly what they are looking for.”

“Aye, one of the people they lived with raised them.”