he had not foreseen how devious Kelsey would prove.
Kelsey had already been at court with his stolen letter when Simon arrived. Nothing Simon had said in his own defense had been heeded and he would not have been allowed any other witnesses even if he had been inclined to let his friends stand for him.
Kelsey could not know their identities or they would have been accused, as well. Simon would keep it that way.
He pressed his horse to a faster speed.
So preoccupied was he that Simon was nearly upon the wagon blocking the center of the road before it gained his attention. Casting a puzzled gaze over the wagon he immediately realized that one of the rear wheels was lying beside it in the road. Several men, most of them garbed in mail and obviously soldiers, were working to raise it in order to get the wheel back on. Horses of decent breed, as well as a glossy black mare of exceptional quality, were tied to a tree just off to the right.
Two women, one in a long hooded cape of good wool and another in a hooded cape of heavy burgundy velvet stood looking on. A noblewoman and her entourage, he assessed quickly. Most likely they were on their way to court.
In spite of all that was going wrong in his own life, Simon found himself stopping. He greeted the two women. “Is there aught I might do to help you?”
The taller of the two, the one in the velvet cape raised her head….
Dear heaven, he thought as his eyes met hers, which were almond shaped and the most unusual color he had ever seen, for they were the exact shade of newly budded lilacs. Her alabaster skin molded features of perfect and pleasing symmetry like those he had seen on statues while travelling through Italy, the nose straight, the cheekbones high. Her lips were such a luscious wild berry hue that he wondered if she had been biting them. The dark ebony hair that rimmed the inside of her hood seemed to come afire with subtle streaks of deep red in the morning light.
She was beautiful, undeniably, incredibly, mesmerizingly beautiful.
It took Simon a moment to realize that those perfect lips were moving, answering the question he had forgotten he’d asked. Her voice, having a slight huskiness for a woman, was soft and evenly modulated, and it stirred his senses as greatly as her beauty. “I do not know what it might be, sir.” She did not fully meet his gaze for more than a brief moment as she gestured to the men who had not ceased in their efforts to raise the wagon. “There are hands enough to see it done.”
A firm rejection of his offer, but perhaps just what a gently bred young woman should tell a strange man.
Still he lingered, finding himself asking inanely, “Do you go on to court?”
She kept her gaze cast down and he noted the way her lashes lay very thick and dark over her ivory cheeks. “My lord, I do appreciate your concern but we really require no aid. And my father would not have me converse with a man unknown to me, lest there be some pressing need for it.”
Simon was not at all surprised. The man who counted himself this damsel’s father must certainly have a care with her.
Truth be told he was somewhat of a blackguard to linger about here staring like an untried lad. He might soon find himself wed, and though it was not of his choosing, his circumstances made his attentions to the young woman less than honorable.
Simon bowed, his tone softer than it might have been had he not felt somewhat doubtful of his own reasons for continuing to tarry. “Pray forgive me, my lady. I did not mean to cause you such discomfort by gawking as so many others must.”
She looked up at him then, seeming to really see him for the first time, her uncertain gaze moving over his face. He smiled reassuringly, feeling a deep desire to put her at her ease.
Her lashes fluttered down, then up as she cast him a shy look. For a moment her gaze seemed almost wishful.
One of the men spoke up. “Is there a difficulty, my lady?”
Immediately that expression of cool dismissal fell into place. “Nay, Sir Brian. This man was only asking if he might be of help. I have told him he may go on his way.”
Simon looked to the man, who met his gaze with disapproval. He had no right to the resentment he felt. The fellow was only doing his duty.
Yet Simon could not resist one more look at those haunting eyes, which now seemed to hold no expression at all. He felt unexplainably disappointed.
He bowed again and prodded his horse onward. Christian and Jarrod awaited him.
Yet he found himself looking back to see that the young woman was watching him. Then his horse took him around a bend in the road and she was gone.
Feeling oddly bereft Simon gave himself a mental shake. He had no time to allow himself to entertain romantic notions toward a young woman with whom he had exchanged no more than a handful of words at the side of the road.
No matter that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Marriage to his enemy’s daughter would mean that he would no longer be a free man, in spite of the fact that the very notion was abhorrent to him.
Jarrod and Christian swung about as he approached them where they sat at a narrow wooden table in a window alcove within the dim interior of the inn. The low-beamed chamber’s other occupants paid more heed to their cups than to each other, which was one of the reasons for choosing this location. Both his friends’ expressions were grave.
As always, Jarrod spoke first, his black eyes piercing in their intensity. “What said the king?”
The question brought a new rush of shock and disbelief over what John had proposed. Yet Simon’s tone was amazingly matter-of-fact. “His majesty has proposed a solution in the form of a wedding.”
Christian shook his gold-streaked brown head in confusion. “A wedding?”
“Aye, between myself and Kelsey’s whelp.”
“What say you?” Jarrod rose from the well-worn bench, his hand going to the hilt of his sword.
Simon sat wearily on the other bench beside Christian, telling him, “Desist, my friend. Anger will gain us naught.” He felt Christian’s strong and comforting hand upon his shoulder. It was ever thus, Jarrod needing to be soothed, and Christian soothing. He knew these two men as well as he did himself. They were his brothers in all but flesh. Now that his true brother, Arthur was dead, his only brothers. He accepted each as he was, the aspects of his personality being all that Simon would ask for.
Jarrod sank back down, speaking more evenly, though there was still a gleam of outrage in those black eyes. “Pray tell us what you are talking about.”
Simon took a long drink from one of the two half-filled cups on the table before replying. “King John informs me that unless I agree to wed the daughter of the very man we have sworn vengeance upon, I will lose my head.”
Again Jarrod reached for his sword, though this time it was clearly a symbolic gesture for his other hand went to the brooch at his broad shoulder. His tone was filled with outrage. “You can not agree to such a demand. And if resistance means your death, then we go with you.”
Simon answered him calmly. “And what would our deaths solve? For that is what the outcome would be. The three of us can not hope to triumph against the crown. It would
