grimace, Simon was most reluctant to do what was needed to breed those children.
“I have what I believe may be good news, Reid.” Simon smiled at the boy and then lightly tousled Elen’s thick curls. “And for your sister. I had a word with Sir Donald Chisholm today.” He frowned when Reid grew pale.
“Ye arenae going to make him take us back, are ye?” asked Reid in a voice that was high and taut with fear.
“Nay, never. I wouldnae trust the mon with a mangy dog let alone two fine children like ye and your sister. Nay, I went to make him live up to his rightful responsibilities.”
“Oh, how good of ye,” said Ilsabeth. “Did ye beat him into naught but a stain upon the floor?”
“Bloodthirsty, arenae ye,” murmured Simon, and resisted the urge to grin at her like Reid was doing. “I but punched him once in his nose when he appeared reluctant to do as I asked. I also threatened him a wee bit.”
“What did ye ask of him?”
“A dowry for Elen and money for Reid so that he might have a better choice for what he wishes to be when he is grown.”
“And he gave ye some?” asked Reid in astonishment.
“He gave me what he had there and has sworn to give me the rest as soon as he is able. I will then see to the care of it until Elen weds and ye, Master Reid, make up your mind as to what ye wish to be and what may be needed to accomplish that.”
“Thank ye, sir. I will do ye proud.”
“Ah, laddie, ye dinnae need worry o’er that. Just do as your heart tells ye and that will be enough.”
Old Bega entered and hurried right over to a yawning Elen, scooping the sleepy child up in her arms. “ ‘Tis my night to tuck them up in their wee beds,” she said as she waved Reid to her side.
“So it is,” said Ilsabeth as she hurried over to kiss Elen and Reid on the cheek. “Be good and I shall see ye both in the morning.”
Old Bega led the children out of the room, talking every step of the way. Ilsabeth shook her head as she retook her seat and reached for one of the apples set in a bowl in the middle of the table. It was no wonder Elen talked so much, she mused, as she neatly cut and cored the apple, when the child spent so much time with a woman who never seemed to be quiet.
Tossing a piece of apple in her mouth, Ilsabeth looked at Simon. “That was a verra good thing ye did,” she said as soon as her mouth was empty.
“The mon couldnae be allowed to shirk his responsibilities,” replied Simon, already wondering when he could slip away without offending her too much.
“Many do. Do ye believe he will gather the rest of the money ye demanded of him?”
“I do believe so. Told him I would be watching and if he didnae I would beat him until he could-nae sire any more children.”
“A verra good threat.”
“Thank ye. And what were ye planning to do with him if ye e’er found him?”
“Beat him o’er the head with something verra heavy until he fell at my feet begging for mercy and then go and speak with his wife.”
“His wife may weel be pleased that he is taking his pleasure somewhere else. Those eight children, if ye recall.”
“Ah, of course. Weel, yours was still a verra good threat.”
“The mon is an utter coward. One didnae need a truly good threat to make him cower but I believe one should always do one’s best.”
She laughed and Simon’s insides tightened with desire. It was such a free sound, so full of honest delight that it acted upon him like a caress. He idly wondered when the last time was that he had made a woman laugh and did not like the fact that no memory leapt to mind. When had he become so somber, lost that sense of fun he could faintly recall having when he was younger? Simon had the sinking feeling that it was yet another thing Mary had stolen from him along with his naïveté and ability to trust easily.
Ilsabeth saw the somber and tense expression rob Simon’s handsome face of that light humor he had just displayed and inwardly sighed. It
“I have what I believe may be good news, Reid.” Simon smiled at the boy and then lightly tousled Elen’s thick curls. “And for your sister. I had a word with Sir Donald Chisholm today.” He frowned when Reid grew pale.
“Ye arenae going to make him take us back, are ye?” asked Reid in a voice that was high and taut with fear.
“Nay, never. I wouldnae trust the mon with a mangy dog let alone two fine children like ye and your sister. Nay, I went to make him live up to his rightful responsibilities.”
“Oh, how good of ye,” said Ilsabeth. “Did ye beat him into naught but a stain upon the floor?”
“Bloodthirsty, arenae ye,” murmured Simon, and resisted the urge to grin at her like Reid was doing. “I but punched him once in his nose when he appeared reluctant to do as I asked. I also threatened him a wee bit.”
“What did ye ask of him?”
“A dowry for Elen and money for Reid so that he might have a better choice for what he wishes to be when he is grown.”
“And he gave ye some?” asked Reid in astonishment.
“He gave me what he had there and has sworn to give me the rest as soon as he is able. I will then see to the care of it until Elen weds and ye, Master Reid, make up your mind as to what ye wish to be and what may be needed to accomplish that.”
“Thank ye, sir. I will do ye proud.”
“Ah, laddie, ye dinnae need worry o’er that. Just do as your heart tells ye and that will be enough.”
Old Bega entered and hurried right over to a yawning Elen, scooping the sleepy child up in her arms. “ ‘Tis my night to tuck them up in their wee beds,” she said as she waved Reid to her side.
“So it is,” said Ilsabeth as she hurried over to kiss Elen and Reid on the cheek. “Be good and I shall see ye both in the morning.”
Old Bega led the children out of the room, talking every step of the way. Ilsabeth shook her head as she retook her seat and reached for one of the apples set in a bowl in the middle of the table. It was no wonder Elen talked so much, she mused, as she neatly cut and cored the apple, when the child spent so much time with a woman who never seemed to be quiet.
Tossing a piece of apple in her mouth, Ilsabeth looked at Simon. “That was a verra good thing ye did,” she said as soon as her mouth was empty.
“The mon couldnae be allowed to shirk his responsibilities,” replied Simon, already wondering when he could slip away without offending her too much.
“Many do. Do ye believe he will gather the rest of the money ye demanded of him?”
“I do believe so. Told him I would be watching and if he didnae I would beat him until he could-nae sire any more children.”
“A verra good threat.”
“Thank ye. And what were ye planning to do with him if ye e’er found him?”
“Beat him o’er the head with something verra heavy until he fell at my feet begging for mercy and then go and speak with his wife.”
“His wife may weel be pleased that he is taking his pleasure somewhere else. Those eight children, if ye recall.”
“Ah, of course. Weel, yours was still a verra good threat.”
“The mon is an utter coward. One didnae need a truly good threat to make him cower but I believe one should always do one’s best.”
She laughed and Simon’s insides tightened with desire. It was such a free sound, so full of honest delight that it acted upon him like a caress. He idly wondered when the last time was that he had made a woman laugh and did not like the fact that no memory leapt to mind. When had he become so somber, lost that sense of fun he could faintly recall having when he was younger? Simon had the sinking feeling that it was yet another thing Mary had stolen from him along with his naïveté and ability to trust easily.
Ilsabeth saw the somber and tense expression rob Simon’s handsome face of that light humor he had just displayed and inwardly sighed. It
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