Ilsa placed her hand over his where it rested upon her stomach and felt a brief pang of lingering grief over the child that had been stolen from them. Diarmot had become a very good father and she wanted to give him another child. Glenda had quietly told her ways to halt the seeding of her womb and Ilsa was determined to use them. She had made that decision because she had not been certain of what would happen to them or what Diarmot felt and wanted. Now it seemed she would hold to the decision because she no longer knew what she felt or wanted.
Chapter TWENTY-ONE
“I dinnae understand why we are doing this,” complained Gay.
Ilsa sighed as, deciding they were well out of sight of the men on the walls, she helped Gay mount her horse. She then mounted her own and settled the sling a cooing Cearnach was in more comfortably in front of her. There probably had not been a need to sneak out of Clachthrom. No one would have stopped her or asked any questions, nor did she need a guard at all times. She was hoping that a little stealth would make it difficult for Diarmot to guess what she had done, a least for a few hours.
“I told ye, the mon is driving me insane,” Ilsa said as she nudged her horse forward.
“He is wooing ye,” Gay said as she followed. “He has been wooing ye verra nicely for two days now.”
“I ken it, but why?”
“Mayhap because he wants ye to be more than a bedwarmer now?”
Ilsa ignored that “I cannae think with him about”
“Wooing makes it difficult for ye to think clearly? I thought that was what it was supposed to do.”
Gay had grown very confident and strong over the last few months, Ilsa mused. She was delighted that the girl had recovered from her ordeals so well. At the moment, however, she rather missed the somewhat shy, meek Gay.
“Tis difficult to explain. I think I had finally accepted what I had, the way my marriage was. Now the fool wants to change everything and it makes me nervous.”
“I think ye are afraid.”
Ilsa started to vehemently deny that, then grimaced. “Mayhap I am, but I am nay sure of what or why. Every time I find a moment to think about it, to try and understand what is troubling me, there is Diarmot, kissing me, telling me sweet things, or giving me little gifts.”
“Ah, how cruel and unthinking of him.”
“There is a distinct lack of sympathy in ye for my confusion.”
“Quite possibly. I am nay the one afflicted, so mayhap I cannae understand. Howbeit, if ye think ye have to get away from the fool for a while, then get away ye shall. I am just nay sure why we had to be so secretive about it. Why didnae ye just tell him that ye wished to visit with your family for a wee while and leave with your brothers?”
“Because Diarmot would probably want to come with me and then I would have to try to find a reason why he couldnae, or why the children couldnae, or why—”
“I understand. Actually, this may be for the best. ye really dinnae have any time to yourself, to think, and to sort out what ye feel and what ye want First it was someone trying to kill ye and Diarmot, then there are all the children ye were given as a bridal gift, and there were all the troubles caused by his loss of memory and mistrust. Aye, mayhap a few days at the cottage with only your fourteen brothers and two score and then some cousins is just the quiet repose ye are needing.”
“Just as I thought ye were understanding, ye slap me offside the head,” Ilsa murmured, almost able to laugh at Gay’s words. It was hard to ignore the humor of them no matter how she felt. “I may nay explain myself weel, but I do need this. I am certain it will clear my head.”
“If Sigimor doesnae knock it off your shoulders when we catch up with him.”
“Ah, weel, there is that possibility,” she said and tried not to think of the coming confrontation with her brothers.
“But, why did she go away?” asked Odo.
Fraser sighed, understanding some of Ilsa’s need to get away from Clachthrom and her husband for a little while, but not sure she could make it understandable to the children. “Tis a woman thing, lad,” she finally said and ignored Glenda’s snort of amusement.
Ivy frowned. “Tis a woman thing? That makes no sense. I think we need to talk to Papa.”
“Aye,” agreed Odo. “He will ken what Mama is doing and where she went to do it. She probably told him.”
“I doubt it,” murmured Fraser as she watched Alice, Aulay, Ivy, Odo, Gregor, and Ewart leave the nursery.
“Are ye just going to let them go and ask the mon?” asked Glenda. “I think the laird is still asleep.”
“Good.” She smiled when Glenda laughed.
“I dinnae ken what the lass is thinking,” admitted Glenda. “The laird has finally come to his senses and is wooing her and she runs away. Where is the sense in that?”
“I think she is afraid, Glenda. She loved him deeply when they handfasted, then found herself deserted, and when she comes here, what does she find? Anger, mistrust, and some madwoman trying to kill her. Mayhap her fear comes from holding out her heart all those months ago and having it so thoroughly stomped on. She kens it isnae all the laird’s fault, but I doubt that lessened the hurt any.”
“Nay, I doubt it did. Weel, then mayhap this is for the best. Mayhap those two need to cease tiptoeing about each other and have it out.”
“Have it out?”
“Weel, do ye think that the laird is going to be all smiles and sweet words after he has chased her down?”
“Nay,” said Fraser and frowned. “Yet, how is that supposed to help?”
“If the laird goes to her breathing fire and outraged male pride, our lady is going to spit right back at him. Somewhere in all that spitting the truth will out. One or the other of them will surely say something that makes it all clear and they can get on with being lovers again.”
“I am nay sure if that makes any more sense to me than what Ilsa said.”
“It will. Now let us just wait and see how loud the laird bellows.”
“Ye find enjoyment in the strangest things, Glenda.”
“Papa. Papa.”
Diarmot grimaced as a small hand patted his cheek. He stretched out his hand, but Ilsa was not there. Since he could not toss whatever the problem was into her lap, he slowly opened his eyes. Odo looked especially sweet as he smiled and that made Diarmot very uneasy. He looked again and realized all six of his older children were standing around his bed, although Gregor was doing his best to pull himself up onto the bed.
“Is the keep on fire?” he asked as he rubbed a hand over his face.
He was tired. Not only had he been up late talking with Ilsa’s brothers and cousin, who had left at dawn, but his wife had kept him awake for a long time after he had come to bed. That had been very enjoyable, he mused, then quickly smothered the memory as his body began to react. He did not want to have to explain that condition to any of the children and he had no doubt at least one of them would notice. Probably Odo, he thought as he pulled himself up into a seated position and collapsed against the pillows.
“Nay, Papa, the keep isnae on fire,” said Odo.
Clutching the covers that Gregor nearly pulled off as he finally got his plump little body up on the bed, Diarmot grunted as the little boy threw himself onto his chest. “Then why am I blessed with your company so early?”
“Tisnae early, Papa,” said Alice. “Tis nearly noon.”
“Aye? Weel, I didnae get to bed until verra late. So, what is it ye have all come here to tell me?”
“Where has Mama gone?” asked Odo.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Where has Mama gone,” Odo repeated, speaking very slowly.
“She must be around the keep somewhere.”
“I dinnae think she told him, Odo,” said Ivy. “She must nay have wanted him to ken about this woman thing.”
“What woman thing?” asked Diarmot, wondering if this was some new strange nightmare caused by the rather large quantity of ale he had drunk last night.
“Mama has gone away and Fraser said it was a woman thing,” replied Odo. “We thought ye would ken where she has gone and why she would go there. We thought she would have told ye. I think maybe Mama has been a wee bit sneaky, aye?”
“Aye,” agreed Diarmot as he lifted Gregor up, kissed him on the cheek, and set him on the floor. “Go back to the nursery. I need to get dressed and find out what has happened.”
The moment the children left, Diarmot got out of bed. He puzzled over what they had said as he washed and dressed. He also experienced a growing sense of unease. The children thought Ilsa was gone. From what they had said, so did Fraser, and the woman had tried to explain it, badly. Lacing up his doublet, Diarmot hurried to the nursery.
The way Glenda and Fraser eyed him so warily as he entered the nursery did not put Diarmot at ease. “Where is Ilsa?”
“She has gone back to Dubheidland,” replied Glenda.
“I thought we werenae supposed to tell him where,” said Fraser, frowning at Glenda.
“Ye promised nay to say where. If ye noticed, I didnae promise, didnae say anything.”
Diarmot stood right in front of the two women, knowing he towered over them as they sat in their chairs with their mending in their laps. They did not look very intimidated, however. There were obviously some disadvantages to being surrounded by strong women.
“Ilsa has gone back to Dubheidland?” he asked.
“Aye, m’laird,” replied Fraser. “She left here about an hour or so after her brothers and that lovely lad Liam rode out.”
“If she is going back to Dubheidland, why didnae she just ride out with the Camerons?”
“Oh, she didnae wish them to ken what she was about until later.”
“When they were far enough away from Clachthrom that they would have to listen to her, couldnae simply drag her right back here and continue on their way,” said Glenda.
Diarmot was stunned. Ilsa had left him. She had spent hours last night making love to him until his eyes crossed, then gotten up out of bed and ridden away. That made no sense at all.
“I dinnae understand,” he muttered and dragged a hand through his hair.
“I am nay sure I do, either, m’laird,” said Fraser. “The lass said she needed to think, needed to get away alone and sort matters out.”
“Sort matters out? Alone? There are fourteen brothers and two score and more cousins running about Dubheidland! A leper wouldnae be alone there!”
“Now, he has a point,” murmured Glenda, and grimaced when both Diarmot and Fraser glared at her. “Mayhap ye ought to go and get some food in your belly, m’laird. Break your fast. Think about it a wee bit. I believe a mon always thinks better on a full stomach.”
Fraser’s eyes widened slightly when Diarmot growled and strode out of the nursery, six children hurrying after him. “I dinnae think he is going to be understanding about this.”
Glenda laughed.
Diarmot had to admit he felt a little better now that he had eaten. He leaned back in his chair and studied the six children seated at the head table with him. Gregor and Ewart wore more food than they had eaten, but all six children had sat quietly, sharing the meal with him. Unfortunately, he also knew they waited for him to tell them what he was going to do. Even though he felt better and his head was clear, he did not have an answer for them. He certainly did not have any explanations for why Ilsa had left.
“Did ye do something naughty, Papa?” asked Alice.
The peace had ended, he decided. “Nay, I am sure I didnae do anything naughty. That isnae why Ilsa left.”
“Ye gave her flowers,” said Odo. “Mayhap she didnae like them.”
“Odo, she spends hours every day in the garden. I think she likes flowers.” Diarmot sighed. ’This makes no more sense to ye than it does to me. Did Fraser tell ye anything else?”
“She said it wasnae because of us,” replied Odo, then frowned. “But, if it isnae us and it isnae ye, what is it?”
“A woman thing,” said Alice.
Diarmot thought the look of disgust Aulay and Odo gave their sister was very similar to the sort many men must give women they did not understand. He wished Ilsa was here so that he could give her that look. “Now, I ken ye might nay understand all I am about to say, but listen anyway. There were some problems between Ilsa and me, a few difficulties in our marriage.”
“Because your wits were raided,” said Alice.
“Aye, that says it rather weel,” murmured Diarmot. “Sometimes a mon and his wife dinnae understand each other verra weel. Misunderstandings can arise. I think that is what has happened here. Ilsa has gone back to Dubheidland to think about everything and try to come to some understanding.”
“Are ye going to just leave her there then, Papa?” Odo asked. “If she doesnae understand something, shouldnae ye go and explain it? Men sometimes need to set a lass down and talk sense into them.”
“Ye have been talking to your uncle Sigimor, havenae ye?” Diarmot smiled when Odo nodded. “A word of advice, some lasses dinnae take weel to being sat down and talked sense to, especially if tis a mon doing the talking.”
“She will come back, willnae she?”
“Of course, because I intend to go and get her.”
“Today? Will ye go and get her today?”
“Nay. I will set out after her in two days’ time. She wanted time to, er, think about things. Two days should be enough, I am thinking. I cannae leave until then, anyway, as I have things I must get done first. A few meetings and some decisions that can nay longer be put aside. So, in two days, I will go and see if she understands things better.”
“And if she doesnae?”
“Then she can come back here and do her thinking. She belongs here and tis time she understands that little matter.” For a moment he was afraid he had let too much of his growing anger into his voice, but six little children mimicked the stern look he suspected was on his face and nodded in full agreement. It was nice to have allies.
“I hope ye have a verra good explanation for this, lass,” said Sigimor as he helped Ilsa dismount and took Cearnach into his arms.
Ilsa grimaced as Tait helped Gay down then took the horses away. It was dark and she had nearly missed finding her brothers. Fortunately, Liam had realized they were being followed and had found her. She tried not to feel like a naughty little girl as she sat down near Sigimor by the fire and smiled her thanks to Somerled when he served her a bowl of rabbit stew.
“I am nay sure I do,” she finally admitted to Sigimor.
“Lass, ye have left your husband and that is a verra serious thing. Now, when he was being an idiot and his wits were raided, I might have understood. Wheesht, I probably would have helped ye. But, that isnae how it is anymore, is it?”
“Nay,” she muttered and quickly filled her mouth with stew so that she could have a little time to think about what to say next.
“Nay. In fact, the mon was wooing ye verra prettily, if I am nay mistaken.”
“Aye, I think he was wooing me. Dinnae ken why. Why does a mon need to woo his wife? Does that make sense to ye?”
“Aye and nay. A husband needs to keep his wooing sharp, I think, to keep the wife happy. In your case, the husband needs to do some wooing because he hasnae been that kind to ye since ye arrived at Clachthrom. He remembered everything and now kens that he has been unkind. I think he was trying to mend things or make apologies, or something.”
“Aye, he woos me after he remembers everything. He didnae woo me just because he wanted to when his wits were rattled. Nay, he waited until his memory was back and then he thinks, oh, Ilsa isnae so bad, is she? So, then he starts wooing.”
Sigimor looked at his brothers and Liam, but only Liam was smiling. Somerled and Tait looked as confused as he felt. Since Liam was smiling, he fixed his gaze on him, and jerked his head toward Ilsa, silently urging his cousin to deal with it.
“Ilsa, what are ye running from?” asked Liam.
“Why
would ye think I was running?” she asked, and frowned when, suddenly, it was only her and Liam sitting at the fire. “Cowards,” she muttered.
Liam laughed. “Aye, they are. Ye are running, Ilsa, but ye are a clever lass. I think ye ken ye cannae run far enough or fast enough to escape what is troubling ye.”
“I loved him, ye ken,” she said quietly.
“I ken it. Ye never would have let him seduce ye if ye didnae. Nay, ye would have left him a piece or two short and his ears ringing with curses.”
“Wheesht, I dinnae think I was quite that bad.” She sighed. “I am just so confused. When I got to Clachthrom and found out he didnae e’en remember me, weel, that hurt. Then I decided to accept that and start all over. All that time that he had no memory of me, I tried to get him to care for me as I ken he used to. It didnae work, nay verra weel.”
“Ah.” Liam nodded. “Then he gets his memory back and all is weel, except that ye remember several months where naught ye could do would make him care.”
Ilsa blinked and stared at her cousin. “I think that might be it. I also think I am a coward.”
“Weel, in matters of the heart a great many of us are cowards. Love and all that can leave a deep wound and it cannae be stitched. I think the bleeding can last for many a year.”
“Mayhap for the rest of your life,” she whispered then shook her head. “I went from being his lover and someone he cared about, to being a liar and mayhap a killer, to just being mayhap a liar, and suddenly back to being his wife and someone he may care about.”
“And thus a verra great confusion.”
“Exactly. When he left for Dubheidland to find out the truth, he was at the point where he thought I might be lying just a wee bit. Then he returns, our enemy is defeated, and suddenly he is like the Diarmot I kenned a year ago. I just need time to think about it all.”
“Aye, ye do. I wouldnae take too long to think and think hard, though.”
“Ye think Sigimor will make me go back?”
“Och, nay, for all he may start growling about wives and the rules they ought to follow.” Liam exchanged a grin with Ilsa. “Nay, love, I think your husband will be coming after ye.”
Highland Groom Page 27