Highland Groom

by Hannah Howell

  “Ye will have a bit of a mess to clean up when ye wake, Ilsa,” she said. “Ye are going to have to convince your stubborn brothers nay to skin your husband and hang his carcass on the stable wall. Weel, mayhap it will do the mon some good to get a taste of the meal he has been serving ye since ye got here.” She crossed her arms over her chest and nodded. “Aye, let the laird see how it feels to be thought a threat to ye. It might just knock some sense into his fool head.”

  “Curse it, I just want to see how she fares, ye fool,” Diarmot complained even as he allowed Nanty to pull him away from Ilsa’s bedchamber door. “Ye would think I was planning to slip in and cut her throat.” He exchanged a final glare with Sigimor who guarded the door.

  “Ye talked to Glenda,” said Nanty, “and she said Ilsa will recover. Until Ilsa recovers and clears up this confusion, her brothers willnae let ye near her. Accept it. She has had to put up with it from ye for weeks.” When Diarmot started toward Ilsa’s solar, Nanty released his grip upon his arm. “Suspicion has become a cursed plague in this keep. E’en Odo was putting us through an inquisition.”

  “I kenned Odo wouldnae accept some vague soothing words,” said Diarmot, pleased to talk about something beside the fact that he was getting a hearty dose of his own medicine and disliking it intensely. “Ilsa told me to ne’er underestimate the lad. She said he is what she considers the most dangerous of creatures.” He smiled faintly at the memory.

  “Oh? And what would that be?”

  “A clever little boy.” He nodded when Nanty grinned. “And he is. If I hadnae kenned the way to the cave that day, he would have led me to it without any hesitation. He was terrified that day, but got to Clachthrom to seek help and told me exactly what I needed to ken. He rules that nursery, but kindly, and by the will of the others. And, the way his wee mind works is a wonder. I dinnae think Ivy witless, yet Odo has her convinced that tis nay him letting wind in the night, but a dragon making the noises and the stink is the dragon’s breath.” He chuckled along with Nanty as they entered Ilsa’s solar. “Aye, Odo holds great promise.”

  “Are ye sorry he isnae your heir?”

  “Aye and nay. To be my heir, I would have had to marry his mother and that would have been a misery. If he doesnae choose to go elsewhere, he will serve the twins verra weel indeed, however. Odo has a keen sense of the order of things, has e’en asked me which of the twins will be the laird. I believe Ilsa and Fraser have made it clear to them all how the rules work and without hurting feelings or stirring resentment. I doubt I could have done it so weel.”

  “It doesnae hurt that your wife treats them all as if they are her own, either. What is wrong?” Nanty asked when Diarmot scowled at Ilsa’s table where the journals were. “The journals are still here.”

  “Aye, but closed,” said Diarmot, looking around the room once before returning his gaze to the table. “They were open when we first ran in here after hearing Ilsa scream. I noticed that when she spoke of the wine and I looked for it. They were spread out and all opened.”

  “Weel, someone has cleaned up all signs of her illness. Mayhap they cleaned other things.”

  “Nay. The yarns for the tapestry she works on are still scattered about on the seat near the window. Her sewing is still scattered about near the fireplace. Her quill and ink were not put away. Aye, someone cleaned up the vomit, but naught else was touched except for these.” He touched the journals. “They have all been closed. The notes Ilsa told me to look at arenae here either, yet tis clear that she had done some writing.”

  Nanty cursed and dragged his hand through his hair. “She found something, didnae she?”

  “Aye, which could prove a danger to her, but that isnae what worries me the most.”

  “Nay? If she made notes and someone has them, that means your enemy now kens what she has learned.”

  “True, but what troubles me the most is, who took them? It would appear that my enemy has an ally at Clachthrom.” He nodded when Nanty cursed again. “Exactly. The enemy I cannae find, cannae recognize, has set an adder in my nest.”

  Chapter FIFTEEN

  If there was a part of Ilsa which did not ache, she suspected it would be a while before she found it. Then the memories began to crowd her waking mind and she nearly cried out. Someone had tried to poison her. It had been in the wine, wine sent to her by Diarmot. Before fear and suspicion could grasp hold of her heart, her mind banished it. Someone wanted Diarmot to be blamed. There were a lot of things concerning her husband she was confused and uncertain about, but not her belief in his innocence. The question that needed answering was not whether or not Diarmot had tried to kill her, but who would want everyone to think he had.

  A dull ache low in her belly sharply recalled her to what else she had suffered. She had lost the child she had only just begun to suspect she was carrying. She knew that, because of the poison, it was probably for the best, but that eased her grief only a little. Ilsa felt the warmth of tears upon her cheeks and heard someone move near the bed.

  “Diarmot?” she whispered and struggled to open her eyes.

  “Nay, love. Tis Tait.” He gently bathed the tears from her face with a damp square of fine linen. “Do ye want a drink?”

  “Aye, please.” She finally managed to get her eyes open as he held her up slightly and helped her drink some water. “Where is Diarmot?” she asked, a little disappointed not to find him nursing her.

  “Why would ye be wanting to see him?” Tait held her against him as he arranged the pillows behind her back. “He gave ye the poisoned wine,” he said as he settled her against the pillows.

  “Where did ye come by such a strange idea?”

  “Ye said it. When we asked where ye got the wine, ye said Diarmot sent it to ye.”

  “Weel, what did ye listen to me for? Tis clear I was verra ill.”

  “Aye, for nearly two days. Actually, ye were verra ill for a few hours, then ye slept, and have done little else for two days. Glenda has been pouring healing potions down ye.” He sighed when Ilsa briefly touched her breasts. “Ye cannae feed the twins any more. Glenda says she cannae tell how long some poison might linger in your body or if it would e’en taint your milk, but felt certain ye wouldnae want to take any chances.”

  “Nay, I wouldnae. I am surprised it all disappeared so quickly, though,” she murmured.

  “Glenda had a potion to help that, too. Ye havenae eaten for two days, either.” He smiled faintly. “She says your body is a better healer than she is. She didnae e’en have to purge ye, that your body did it without aid. She said ye cleansed yourself, rid yourself of near all the poison.”

  “And my bairn,” she said and saw Tait pale, confirming it. “Dinnae look so worried. Tis a grief, but a wee one. I had only begun to suspect I was carrying so hadnae become, weel, attached. And, I am certain the poison killed the poor wee thing ere it e’en got a chance to settle in.”

  “Glenda called it little more than a promise. Also said ye were nay damaged in any way. Said it was for the best.”

  “It was.” She took a deep breath and pushed aside her grief. “Does Diarmot ken it?”

  “Ilsa, the mon may have tried to kill ye.”

  “Nay,” she began to argue.

  “I ken ye have feelings for the fool, but—”

  She placed her fingers against his lips to stop his words. “Diarmot would ne’er try to harm me. I cannae say what he feels, he may e’en wish I would just go away, but he would ne’er hurt me. And, my feelings dinnae have much to do with that judgment. Ye ken I was reading Lady Anabelle’s journals.” When he nodded, she removed her fingers from his lips, and continued, “She wrote of the day, about a month after Diarmot married her, that he found her romping with two men.”

  “Jesu.” He frowned slightly. “Two men?”

  “Aye, but dinnae expect me to tell ye how that worked e’en though Anabelle was quite explicit. She wrote of the confrontation and made it verra clear that she thought Diarmot a pathetic weakling.
And do ye ken why? Because for all he cursed her, he didnae raise a hand to her. He ne’er did and I cannae tell ye how hard she tried to push him to it.”

  “Are ye certain? Mayhap she pushed so hard he gave her the potion that killed her.”

  “Nay, he didnae. Anabelle wrote in her journal right up to the day she drank the potion that killed her. I wouldnae be surprised if she wrote in her journal just before she drank it. She ranted on about her failure to lure Diarmot into her bed so that she could blame him for the child she carried. Wrote about how she was going to be rid of it. She also heaped praise and gratitude upon the one who gave her the means to do so—Precious Love.”

  Tait frowned. “Ye mentioned something about a Precious Love when ye were so ill.”

  “Has Diarmot told ye about it, then? About what he thinks?”

  “Ah, nay. We havenae been speaking to each other.”

  “Idiots. Weel, I need to speak to him.” She sighed when Tait just frowned again. “Ye ken I speak the truth. If a mon cannae e’en bring himself to strike his new bride when he finds her romping with two men, do ye really think he could hurt any lass?”

  “Nay, probably not. Do ye want me to send one of the women in first?” he asked even as he started out the door.

  “Aye, please,” she replied.

  After getting Fraser to go to Ilsa, Tait hunted down Sigimor. He found his brother in the great hall sitting before the massive fireplace cleaning his sword. Tait poured them each a tankard of ale, handed one to Sigimor, then took the seat facing him.

  “Ilsa finally woke up and she wants to speak to Diarmot,” said Tait.

  “I hope ye made her see sense,” replied Sigimor.

  “Actually, she made me see sense.” He told Sigimor everything Ilsa had told him. “She is right. He wouldnae do it. Once I kenned she wouldnae die, I thought it all over and found it difficult to believe. Ilsa simply confirmed my doubts.”

  Sigimor took a long drink of ale, then sighed. “I had doubts as weel. Nay once since we came here have I seen any cruelty in him. Och, he may nay be verra kind to Ilsa in some ways since his wits are sadly rattled, but he isnae cruel. She knocked him on his arse in front of everyone and he did naught in retaliation. And, I also got to thinking on how he looked when he saw she was in so much pain and emptying her belly all over the keep.”

  “Nay the look of a mon who was but waiting to see if his plot would be successful.”

  “Nay, and the fear on his face wasnae that of a mon thinking he might be caught, either. Yet, Ilsa is in danger because of him. And, who the devil gave her the wine saying it was from Diarmot?”

  “Curse it, I forgot to ask. Do ye think the one who brought her the wine is the enemy or can lead us to him?”

  “Mayhap. I shallnae hold out any hope, though. We havenae had much luck with all of this so far.” He looked toward the door when Diarmot and Nanty entered. “Here be the fool now.”

  Diarmot poured himself some ale, glanced at the Camerons, and cursed softly when he caught them both staring at him. He was trying to be patient and understanding, but being treated like a mad dog ready to attack anyone at any moment was difficult to accept. He was sure he had not been treating Ilsa this poorly. It was even harder to calmly accept being kept from Ilsa’s side, having to talk to Glenda just to find out how his own wife was faring.

  “Ilsa is asking to see ye,” announced Sigimor.

  Barely stopping himself from spitting out the ale he had just put into his mouth, Diarmot’s mood quickly went from surprised to suspicious. “What did ye just say?”

  “Wheesht, are ye deaf as weel as stupid? I said Ilsa is asking to see ye,” Sigimor repeated in a loud voice.

  “And ye are just going to sit there and allow me to go to her? Are ye sure ye dinnae wish to search me for weapons? Mayhap march me up there with a sword at my back?”

  “Now, why would we do that? Tis your bedchamber. Rather thought ye kenned the way there.”

  For a moment Diarmot was torn between the urge to hurry to Ilsa’s side and the very strong inclination to punch her brother so hard the smirk he wore ended up on the floor. He finished his ale and started to leave the great hall, expecting to be stopped every step of the way, or acquire a large red-headed shadow. When neither occurred by the time he stepped out of the hall, he started to move faster, nearly running to Ilsa. There was always the chance Sigimor could change his mind.

  Ilsa was startled by Diarmot’s abrupt entrance. If she did not know better, she would think he had run to her room. When he peered back out the door as if looking for someone, she frowned. They were undoubtedly well protected now. Then he shut and latched the door. Before she could ask why he was acting so oddly, he was seated on her bedside, kissing her. Ilsa gave silent thanks to Fraser for the woman’s efficiency in freshening her up, then gave herself over to the pleasure of his kiss.

  “Have my brothers been troublesome?” she asked when he ended the kiss, sat back, and took her hand in his.

  “What do ye think?” He smiled faintly when she grimaced. “Ye certainly look better than ye did when last I saw ye. The children will be pleased to ken ye are recovering so weel.”

  “Fraser said she would bring them round for a kiss good night ere she puts them to bed. I was willing to see them now, but she said I should rest another day or two ere I deal with eight children.”

  “Wise advice.” He took a deep breath to calm himself, a little disturbed by the wealth of emotions afflicting him. “Ilsa, I didnae send ye that wine.”

  “I ken it. Geordie brought it and told me ye thought I might be wanting some. That was probably what I was trying to explain, but it didnae come out right. If I thought otherwise, twas but for a moment.”

  “I shall have to speak to Geordie, then, and find out where he got the wine. How do ye feel, Ilsa? Glenda was kind enough to tell me everything. How ye fared, the loss of the bairn, the fact that ye cannae help to feed the twins now. So many hard blows. I am sorry.”

  “Tisnae your fault. Aye, losing the bairn is a sorrow, but tis for the best. And, weel, the twins are already needing more than the breast. Gay can continue to feed them milk whilst I do the rest. So, let us put those sorrows aside, and speak on what I found in the journals.”

  “I dinnae ken what ye found.”

  “Oh? Was my script so poor then?”

  “Nay, I ne’er saw the notes ye made. When I reached your solar the journals were all closed and there were no notes.” He nodded when she started to look alarmed. “Someone didnae want me to see what ye had found. Whoever shut those journals and took your notes probably thought ye were soon to die and whatever ye had discovered would die with ye. I have spent the last two days trying to find out who went into your solar after ye took ill. Young Jenny cleaned the mess upon the floor, but swears she touched naught else, and I believe her.”

  “Aye, so do I.” Ilsa shook her head. “A traitor in our midst then. After those men tried to kill ye at the ridge, Sigimor wondered about that. It seems he was right to do so.”

  “That is rather galling.”

  Ilsa laughed softly. “Ah, weel, fetch the journals then and some writing supplies.”

  “Nay, ye need to rest.”

  “And ye need to see what I saw, to judge its importance as quickly as possible. We have already lost two days. Someone tried to kill ye on your own lands, Diarmot. If the incident at the cave wasnae an accident, they also tried to kill me right upon your own lands. They have poisoned me right here inside this keep. That brings the enemy too close to our bairns for my liking. I can rest after I show ye what I found.”

  Diarmot nodded and went to get the journals. Ilsa was right. They needed to find this person, needed to find the traitor within Clachthrom. Although it infuriated him to admit it, he knew the only men he could trust were Nanty, young Tom, and the Camerons. He knew it was probably unfair, but he would not include Geordie on that list until he was absolutely certain about where the man got that wine. He could also tr
ust Gay, Fraser, and Glenda. There were one or two others, such as little Jenny, but none of them would be much use in protecting his wife or his children.

  He was collecting up what he needed when Nanty walked in and said, “I thought ye were visiting with Ilsa.”

  After he explained, Diarmot recognized the curiosity Nanty could not hide. “Bring the writing supplies. Your hand is better than mine,” he said as he started out of the room. “I am surprised the Camerons arenae lurking about.”

  “Once they kenned ye and I were staying here, they went hunting rabbit. Sigimor likes rabbit stew.”

  “So it isnae just me they dinnae trust.”

  “Oh, they trust ye now. Seems they only trust each other, ye, me, and young Tom. Then the women, of course. Gay, Fraser, Glenda, and little Jenny. Tait thinks Peter is probably trustworthy, but wasnae ready to add him to the list. Or Geordie.”

  “Their list matches mine. Comforting, if irritating.” He smiled faintly when Nanty laughed.

  Diarmot hesitated a little when he entered the bedchamber and saw that Ilsa’s eyes were closed. Before he could turn and leave, however, she opened her eyes and smiled at him. He cautiously approached the bed.

  “Are ye sure ye dinnae wish to rest some more first?” he asked as he set the journals down on the bed.

  “Nay. This would prey upon my mind so vigorously I wouldnae be able to rest.” She started to look through the journals, finding the pages she had left them open to. “This Precious Love is mentioned here and there from the first journal to the last. I believe Anabelle met Precious Love when she was fostered with a certain L.O. She was probably fourteen then.”

  “A longtime love? That sounds unlike Anabelle. And, she wasnae faithful, was she?”

  “Never. So, one wonders why she didnae marry Precious Love. Why so consistently unfaithful? At times, she and Precious Love talked about Anabelle’s lovers. There.” She looked at the journals she had before her, then at Nanty who sat next to the bed. “I am going to read ye a word or two from each of these and I want ye to list them.”