Dragon's Dower. Catherine Archer

lad bowed, keeping his head down.

      Kelsey seemed to be somewhat mollified by Simon’s lack of resistance to his position of power. But he continued to keep his nose raised to a haughty angle. “I mean to finish attending some matters in my tent. Sir Fredrick, you are to see that there are no more disturbances.”

      The shadow nodded, his narrowed eyes sliding over Simon. He slipped a caressing hand to the hilt of his sword as he leaned close to whisper in his master’s ear. The earl shook his head sharply as he whispered, “Not now, my friend. We must remember John’s wishes.”

      The knight’s disappointment was obvious and it took no great amount of imagination to guess at the subject of their exchange. Simon realized he must watch his back with this one, though it seemed he would heed his master as far as an open attack was concerned. There was no doubt in Simon’s mind that he had naught to thank for his continued good health but Kelsey’s determination to hold him for the crown. From that whispered phrase it seemed he would not be averse to changing his mind.

      Sir Fredrick continued to study Simon as he took up a rigid stance outside the ring of the fire. Simon dismissed him, focusing on the arrogant earl as he strode away with no concern whatsoever for the fact that the exchange might have been overheard. His back rigid, Simon balled his hands into fists at his sides. He would very much like to change the straight angle of that autocratic nose. He forced his hands to open, for he must remember Avington, and the folk who lived there, were what mattered here not some self-indulgent sense of injured dignity.

      If they did mean him ill, they would not find him so very easy to kill.

      Through his anger, he heard Wylie whisper, “’Tis a disgrace, my lord, you being held by that blackguard.”

      Deliberately, Simon made a greater effort to gain mastery over his feelings. He was certain no one could have heard the exchange but himself, and he would keep it to himself. He put a soothing hand on the squire’s shoulder, a warning hand. “Pray hold your tongue, lad. I am not pleased by events but neither am I uneasy in my mind. All will right itself soon enough.”

      The boy raised hopeful eyes to his face. “You are too easy with them, my lord. We should fight our way through this as Martin has told me you were forced to many times in the Holy Land.”

      Simon leaned closer, his tone admonishing. “Heed me, boy. What happens here is not the same. There we fought the enemy. Here, the king himself has ordered that I be put under Kelsey’s rule. We would be committing not only a foolish act, but a suicidal one in defying Kelsey and through him the king.” He held that light-blue gaze. “Dost understand me, Wylie? ’Twould be treason. You must keep your head till I devise a way to make the king see that I have no desire to plot against him.” Which was a true enough statement. He did sympathize with the other nobles but he had no intention beyond that at this moment.

      It was Kelsey he wished to see brought low. Yet that anticipated outcome must wait. Hate him though Simon did, he would not risk Avington.

      Simon was not completely reassured when the boy said, “Aye, my lord,” for his lips were set in a stubborn line as his resentful gaze flicked over the earl’s men, lingering longest on the prideful countenance of the squire who had so offended him.

      That grudgingly muttered acquiescence was all he would get and would have to do, in these circumstances. Simon need simply keep ahead of the willful boy.

      Kelsey must be lulled into believing he posed no threat no matter how difficult that feat might prove, no matter how hotly his anger and resentment burned inside him. Simon only hoped that he would begin to ease his vigilant eyes ere long. He did not wish to resort to accepting Jarrod’s wild notion of laying in wait for the earl and killing him even though the situation had become dire enough to warrant casting chivalry aside. Not whilst he was the one most likely to be suspect.

      If they could only garner the support of the other nobles to petition for his release he might still find a way out.

      He must find a way.

      And he must do this in the midst of trying to understand his own unwanted awareness of his enemy’s daughter. He could not afford himself the self-indulgence of giving in to his attraction for her, not if he meant to be free of her and her supercilious and reprehensible sire.