Now sitting where he had slept she knew that nothing would ease this strange and unexplainable void. It would always be with her, the void that had been filled by the passion of his touch.
Her eyes burned, hot and dry and she lay down, pulling his blanket up over her. In a few moments, she told herself, she would put this behind her and go to her own chamber, go on as she always had, but for a few moments she would let herself be comforted by lying here in the darkness where he had lain.
Isabelle opened her eyes as a soft scraping sounded. It was the fact that she had not truly been asleep that allowed her to hear it for it was very soft.
Rising up, she moved to the door of the stall. In the outer chamber she saw the shadowy shape of a man leading a horse. Joy rose in her and she cried out. “Simon.”
She realized as she did so that the word had been spoke far too loudly. Even as Simon halted, another cry rose out of the darkness and a torch flared to life. That voice was joined by another and the stable folk rushed to gather around Simon.
One of them held another glowing torch high and its light found her. “It is Lady Isabelle who has alerted us to his escape.”
Another of the men said, “Lord Kelsey must be told.”
Across the heads of the men who held the torches Simon’s gaze met hers. In those brown orbs was anger and betrayal. “How could you?”
Isabelle shook her head as pain tightened her chest as she mouthed. “Nay, I…”
To her surprise his face was immediately colored by regret but she could not forget what he had thought. Though she understood how it must look, surely he must realize that due to the darkness and their zealousness to take him, no one had checked his mount. They assumed they had caught him leaving, not returning.
And even if that were not the case, dear heaven, how could he imagine such a thing, even for only a moment, after all that had passed between them, after she had aided his leaving only hours ago? Although he was unaware of this, she had done it.
She would indeed do well to keep her thoughts centered on her plans to go to Normandy.
The sound of her father’s voice behind her caused her to swing around. “Just where were you going, Warleigh?”
Her father came forward. Though his face was still quite pale and his cheeks gaunt from some loss of weight, his eyes held the same cold superiority they always had.
Even as anxiety at what he would do caused her chest to tighten she, too, wondered where Simon had gone. Although he had not left Dragonwick as she had feared, he had certainly ridden out with great stealth for some purpose.
But what?
He faced her father silently.
Her father motioned to the men. “Take him to the cellar.”
Chapter Fourteen
Isabelle was not surprised to be summoned to her father some hours later. “Sit down, Isabelle,” he said as he glanced up from the ledger he was going over.
She seated herself in the X-shaped chair with forced calm, for she feared her father might suspect the truth about the previous night. He leaned back in his chair, smiling that cool little smile that told her he was pleased about something. “You have done well, daughter.”
Surprised she stared at him, having no notion of why he could be so approving of her. “I…thank you, Father. Do you mean in alerting the castle to Simon’s escape?”
He raised those well-shaped gray brows. “Nay, that is your duty. So, you do not know?”
“Know what?”
“Why, that you are with child. Though I am somewhat displeased that you did not keep me abreast of this possibility, I am prepared to be lenient.”
Isabelle sucked in a breath of shock. She could not help it. No amount of self-control could have been sufficient to hide her amazement at this pronouncement. “But what…” She shook her head. “How would you know this when I myself do not…”
He smiled again. “The linens, my dear. The laundress has informed me that the time for your flux has come and gone by more than a fortnight.”
He was oblivious to Isabelle’s reaction. “This could not have come at a more opportune moment. All here know that Warleigh was caught escaping in the night. I have the proof that I found in the wood after I was fired upon.” He reached out to pick up the dragon brooch from the table where he had obviously kept it since the day he found it. “If he is killed while attempting to escape again who will question me?”
“But will the king not wonder why he was not informed of this?”
Her father looked at her. “I am sending him a letter to do that very thing. It will be sent before I act. Unfortunately Warleigh will not survive long enough for the king’s reply to reach me.”
Isabelle’s horror was numbing. “But Father…”
He frowned. “Do you presume to question me on this? You do not have any feelings for this man?”
She took a deep breath, realizing that she must get hold of herself if she was to be of any use to Simon. She must find a way to help him escape before her father could put his plan into effect. In spite of his assumption that she had informed her father of his leaving she could not see him murdered. Not even if he would always think of her as an enemy. “Nay, Father. I am simply overcome by the news that I am with child. I had not thought…You must see what a shock it has been to me. I am simply dazed.”
Dear Heaven, it was true enough. She had not even considered the possibility that she was with child. Especially in the days of her father’s illness when she had for the first time in her life been occupied with something that seemed to matter. But now he had pointed out the fact that she was with child, Isabelle knew it was true.
Her father continued to watch her for a moment. “Perhaps. Just be warned that I will not tolerate any hint of disloyalty.”
Resentment stabbed her. He would tolerate no hint of disloyalty? But was that not how he had always behaved toward her? He had treated her as if she were nothing but a means to his own ends for as long as she had memory and would continue to do so.
Isabelle was suddenly and irrevocably determined to leave Dragonwick as soon as she had helped Simon to escape. She must, for it was her only hope of ever making a life of worth for herself and her child.
So thinking, Isabelle spoke evenly. “I pray you, Father, do what you will with Warleigh. I would have it done with all the turmoil his coming has brought.” It shocked her, how hard she spoke the words in spite of the fact that they were in aid of throwing her father off the scent. “I have the heir of Dragonwick to concern myself with now.”
Her father nodded, seeming approving enough of her announcement though there was still a hint of something dark in his gray eyes. She met them unflinchingly and he nodded. “See that you remember that.” His gaze raked her and Isabelle was suddenly conscious that she had garbed herself with little care as she had been doing since her father fell ill. His tone was cold. “Pray do not show yourself in such disarray again. I am surprised you would so forget your place.”
Isabelle ran a self-conscious hand over the skirt of her woolen gown. “I…forgive me, Father. I have been much occupied in the running of the keep whilst you and the others were ill.”
He raised those brows high. “The castle women may see to their own duties now and you to yours. I am well enough and they must be, too. I will not tolerate slothfulness.”
Isabelle bowed her head. “I will see to my duty.”
“See that you do.” He looked down at his ledger. “Go now. I have much to see to since my illness. Aside from ridding myself of Warleigh.”
Isabelle nodded with deliberate unconcern and stood. Her pounding heart bid her run from his evil presence ere it somehow taint the new life inside her, yet she left without undue haste.
Isabelle knew she could not delay even one night. She must attempt to act before her father did.
The castle lay in darkness as Isabelle made her way through the keep and down the narrow stair that led to the chamber beneath the hall. Although she had instructed Helwys
to give the two guards who were watching over the prisoner a sleeping potion, she was very cautious.
In the light of the lanterns that burned in the wall sconces she could see that the two men were indeed asleep but there was no sign of Simon. Looking about she saw that the bolt had been engaged on the outside of the small chamber where her father’s wines were kept. Quickly she moved to pull it back and opened the door. Inside there was neither light nor sound. Holding her breath she stepped inside, then when there was still no indication of life she whispered, “Simon?”
From behind, she was suddenly pulled up against a hard chest. At the same time a hand covered her mouth. She knew that hand as well as her own for it had touched her in ways that made her ache inside to think on them, made her ache to know it would never do so again.
Quickly she told herself not to dwell on what could never be as he spoke in a hoarse whisper, “You are alone?”
She nodded and he took his hand away. Immediately she swung around. “You must leave the keep tonight.”
She watched him draw himself up and her eyes began to adjust to the dim light that came in through the open door. “It is what I had intended.”
Pain laced through her at his admission but she forced herself to keep her voice even. “I see.”
He grunted with what sounded like frustration, taking her arm in a tight grip. “You do not see. I am going to court to speak with King John. He must release me from this situation.”
“That is what you had always intended.” She studied the carpet beneath her feet. “I thought that you had left for good when I saw you go last night. Why did you come back?”
“You saw me?” he replied as she looked back into those shadowed brown eyes of his. “Why did you let me go?”
She made no effort to answer, as she did not know herself. “Where did you go?”
He grimaced. “If you must know, I met with my friend Jarrod. It was he who dropped the brooch your father found.” His gaze grew distant. “He and our friend Christian, who also wears the dragon on his shoulder, are like my brothers. I had to warn him against making any more attempts on your father’s life, although I understood why he did so when he informed me your father was trespassing upon my lands, harassing one of my holders.”
Isabelle blanched and Simon went on. “Do you not see? Kelsey is determined to take Avington in whatever way he can. You told me yourself that he has plans to kill me in the event that I am able to get you with child. I may not fear him but I grow tired of playing his game.”
Isabelle bit her lower lip, just barely keeping herself from telling him there was to be a child. For reasons she was not sure of, Isabelle could not bear to tell him. His immediate assumption that she had alerted the keep last night had reminded her of how things stood between them.
He went on. “I have heard nothing from Christian and can only see to this myself. I will speak to John.”
In spite of everything she could not keep the anxiety for her voice. “But the king did not heed you before.”
He took a deep breath raking a hand through the hair she so loved to touch. “Your father was there. I may have some hope of having my story believed if he is not present.”
“Why do you not call upon your friends? Surely they would come to your aid.”
The vehemence with which he replied made her realize he was adamant in this. “Nay, never. It is one thing to call upon my father’s friends. They are powerful men, beyond the king’s reach lest they commit some crime against the crown in their own right. Not so Jarrod or Christian, though they come from noble families. Jarrod is a bastard and Christian nothing more than the heir to a barony whilst his father lives. I would not have them jeopardize themselves.”
What he planned seemed very dangerous and she could do nothing. No matter what came she knew it was very likely that she would never see Simon again, even if she were not planning her own escape from Dragonwick. Either the king would listen and free him, in which case he would be going home to Avington, or else…
Nay. The other possibility was unthinkable.
Simon must survive. Why this was so important to her she did not question. She looked up at him. “You must go now.”
He nodded and started away then turned, “Isabelle, I am sorry for what I said, for accusing you of calling out to your father’s men.”
She shook her head, feeling that mask come over her face to cover her hurt. “There is no need explain. It matters not.”
Simon frowned, leaning close to her, his breath warm on her cheek. “Aye, it matters. I can see that it does in spite of your desire to hide it and that you will not allow yourself to forgive me for it. You trust no one and use each infraction as proof that your distrust is just.”
She closed her eyes. “I do not…”
A groan from one of the men interrupted her. She took a step backward. “This is a waste of precious time and to discuss it would change nothing.”
“That does not mean I will not try,” Simon told her even as he moved toward the door.
She made no reply as her chest throbbed with sudden misery. She would never see Simon again.
She followed him out of the tiny room and up the stairs, whispering, “Sir Edmund is awaiting you with two horses at the bottom of the hill outside the gate. The horses are not your own as they would be more quickly missed. Helwys informs me that Jack was happy to aid her in obtaining the horses and he will not tell anyone.”
He said nothing until the two of them were standing on the steps outside the great oaken door of the keep. “Tell Jack he has my thanks.” He looked down at her and she found herself drinking in every detail of his face, which suddenly seemed so dear to her.
He took a deep breath. “And for you, Isabelle…” He did not finish whatever he had been about to say but took her in his arms, his mouth finding hers in a hard pulse-quickening kiss that she knew would stay in her memory for all time. And like a silly fool she clung to him, her heart aching at the loss of this—of him.
Then releasing her just as abruptly, he was gone.
It was only short hours later as Isabelle was sewing the velvet bag containing her jewels to the inner seam of her cloak that her chamber door slammed open without warning. With deliberate casualness she set the sewing down, having a care to keep the bag out of sight. In the light of the candles he held she could see her father’s face and the rage that burned in it. He swept a disdainful glance over her, not moving from the doorway. “Where is your husband?”
Isabelle felt her already aching heart sink further. Only a few short hours had passed since Simon had left. She had counted, obviously unrealistically, on his having at least until the morning meal. Quickly she lied even as she attempted to disguise the signs of her tears by leaning back in the shadows of the bed hangings. “In the cellar.”
He strode across the room to bend over her, studying her closely. “He is not in the cellar. Somehow someone was able to give my men something to make them sleep. Whoever it was has helped Warleigh to escape.”
She heard the horror in her own voice and knew it must be convincing though it was not caused by her concern over the question but terror of what would occur if her father discovered who was responsible. “Who would dare do such a thing?” She must guard the truth for the sake of not only herself and the child, but also Helwys and Jack.
Isabelle stood swaying as she realized the tremendous consequences they could have brought upon themselves. She must leave this place with all possible haste.
Her father spoke sharply, “What is the matter with you, girl?”
She forced herself to meet that probing gaze. “I am sure it is the babe.”
He grimaced. “Sickly, are you?” His expression was disapproving. “I expected better of you.”
Isabelle raised her chin. “I am sorry, Father. I am sure my illness will pass quickly.”
“See that it does,” he instructed, thankfully completely unaware of the true source of her pain. “I won’t have yo
u lolling about.” As he went on she listened carefully. “I am sending word to the king this very hour. Warleigh will now be outlawed. We must go to court and petition the crown in the interest of the child. He has complicated all by this devilment but all may not be lost if I can convince the king that the child has rights to the title and lands in spite of his father’s crimes. I must convince him that the father’s nature will leave no mark upon the child, especially as I am willing to give it the benefit of my tutelage. The child’s future must be assured.”
Isabelle knew not what to say to this. No one had proved themselves more perfidious than her father.
Yet what he said next washed all other thoughts from her mind. “Methinks, Isabelle, that due to your fragile health ’twould be best for you to rest in your chamber until our departure for Windsor.”
She looked at him. “Are you saying you do not trust me?”
He smiled, “Nay, daughter, only that I would protect you, not only from ill health but from those who might attempt to harm you on Warleigh’s behalf. He may prefer to end your marriage by whatever means possible.”
Isabelle knew this thought had come into his mind because it was the way he himself thought. But she could spare little attention for that. She suddenly realized that she could not leave Simon to his machinations. She had to do something however little it might be, locked in her chamber as she was.
She must appear to be acquiescent as she always had been. She nodded. “I thank you, father, for your concern for me. I will do as you feel is best.”
That did seem to please him for he nodded. “Very good. I shall leave you to your rest then.” He stepped back, closing the door and sliding home the bolt he had installed outside it years ago.
Isabelle knew she must act. No matter how angered Simon would be by what she was about to do, she could not sit back and allow him to die, for that was surely what would happen if she did nothing.
As soon as Helwys returned to the chamber, she outlined her plan. The maid was pale and frightened, especially when Isabelle’s father clearly felt that something might be amiss or he would not have confined her. Yet she did not argue against their helping Simon.
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