Highland Groom

by Hannah Howell

  Ilsa was not so sure about that. Diarmot was a proud man and she had just left him without a word. He would have to explain her absence to everyone. That was not going to make him very happy.

  To her relief, nothing more was said. She rode home to Dubheidland with her brothers and Liam and it was just as it always used to be. It was also not the same, she realized. No matter how hard she tried to put him from her mind for the length of the journey home, she kept thinking about Diarmot. By the time she reached her little cottage, she was tired of thinking of the man.

  “So, here ye are, lass,” said Sigimor as he set her bag down in the cottage. “Just as ye left it. I will send some lads down here with some food and ale.”

  “Thank ye, Sigimor,” she said as she let Gay take Cearnach so that she could slip away and feed the twins.

  “I ken Liam said I should just leave it be, but—” he sighed and dragged a hand through his hair.

  “Just say it, Sigimor. I think whatever it is ye are thinking has probably been gnawing away at ye for the whole ride here.”

  “He is a good mon, Ilsa.”

  “I ken it.”

  “I think ye could have a verra good marriage and all those bairns love ye.”

  She winced. It was hard not to think about how her leaving might have hurt the children. Even telling herself that it was best for them if she could rid herself of the mass of tangled emotions within her did not ease her guilt by much.

  “Weel, that is it,” he said and kissed her on the cheek. ’Ye do your thinking then. Just remember that ye have a good mon for a husband and six wee bairns that love ye. I ken ye think I am nay being fair by mentioning them, but I dinnae think ye can make any decision without considering them.”

  “Nay, ye are right. I cannae.”

  “Think hard and fast, lass.”

  “Hard and fast? Why?”

  “Because I am expecting your mon to come after ye e’en if ye arenae.”

  Ilsa cursed as he left. She had come to the cottage for peace and time to think. If Liam and Sigimor were right, she was not going to be given much of either.

  “Weel, ye took your time in coming here,” said Sigimor as, three days later, Diarmot strode into the great hall of Dubheidland, Nanty and Odo by his side.

  “I wasnae planning to make a journey,” said Diarmot as he sat down, set Odo down on the seat next to him, and helped himself to a tankard of ale. “There were a few things which needed to be done ere I could leave.” He smiled his thanks at a young boy who poured Odo a tankard of goat’s milk before sitting down next to the boy. “And ye are?”

  “Fergus the last,” the boy replied and grinned. “Have ye come to take that stubborn, senseless sister of ours back home to Clachthrom?”

  Diarmot looked at Sigimor. “Been ranting about her, have ye?”

  “And ye havenae?”

  “I think he has,” said Odo, “but he mumbles a lot and I cannae understand what he is saying. Glenda said that was probably a good thing as most of it was probably cursing.”

  “Aye,” agreed Sigimor. “And why have ye come, lad?”

  “I was chosen by the others to make sure Papa doesnae say anything stupid.”

  Sigimor and the other Camerons gathered in the great hall roared with laughter and Diarmot sighed. He thought it very traitorous of Nanty to join in with them. Even Odo giggled. He had tried to convince the boy that he did not need the help, but there had been no dissuading him. Diarmot had not had the heart to simply refuse to take him, either. The children had been very accepting of Ilsa’s leaving, but he knew that was because they depended upon him to bring her back. Odo, he supposed, was their little guarantee.

  “Have ye had a hard time of it, then?” asked Sigimor.

  “Weel, nay,” replied Diarmot. “The children have been verra patient. I was pressed to explain things a little better than Fraser did. She told them it was a woman’s thing.” He was able to join in the laughter this time.

  “She has set her arse back in that wee cottage. Liam keeps an eye on her,” Sigimor added and grinned.

  “Does he. How kind of him.”

  “He thinks so. Now, dinnae misunderstand me, as I am nay blaming ye or her, but Ilsa is troubled. I had to leave it to Liam to talk to her because she started saying things that made my head ache. I am nay verra good at understanding her at times. Liam tried to explain it to me. It seems ye erred by nay wooing her when your wits were still rattled.” He frowned. “Something about her being one thing then another then another and she doesnae ken what she is to ye or what she wants to be.”

  “Weel, that is as clear as mud.”

  “So thought I. I think ye were supposed to want to woo her when ye didnae ken who she was. Wheesht, that doesnae sound any better, does it.”

  “Nay. It doesnae matter. I will go and speak to her.”

  “And it looks as if ye chose a verra good time to do so.” Sigimor nodded toward the door of the great hall.

  Diarmot looked to see Gay enter carrying Finlay followed by Liam carrying Cearnach. Gay’s eyes widened as she saw him, but before she could retreat, Odo was hugging her legs. Diarmot just smiled as Odo dragged her back to the table.

  “Greetings, m’laird,” said Gay as she let Diarmot take Finlay for a moment. “I just brought the lads here to visit with their kinsmen.”

  “As they should.” He handed Finlay back to Gay and took Cearnach from Liam. “In fact, I think it would be verra good for them if they visited for a good long while. Let us say a whole night.”

  “Oh. If ye think they should.”

  “Aye, I think they should.”

  She sighed and nodded, then frowned slightly at Odo. “Why have ye brought him?”

  “I came to make sure Papa didnae say anything stupid,” said Odo and he grinned when Gay laughed. “I was chosen.”

  “Weel, that doesnae surprise me.” Gay looked at Diarmot. “I dinnae believe she was intending to stay away verra long.”

  “Mayhap not now, but after a few days? Or a few days more?” He shrugged. “She has had her time to think. Now tis time to talk.”

  Diarmot did not find the way Gay grimaced very encouraging, but he stood up and started for the door. He smiled faintly when Odo, Nanty, Tait, Sigimor, and Liam all fell into step behind him. For a long time he had been a very solitary man, morose and lost in his own troubled thoughts. It appeared that was most definitely at an end.

  As he made his way to the little cottage where he and Ilsa had spent two blissful weeks after their handfasting, he told himself he must be calm, gentle, and understanding. Ever since she had come back into his life, Ilsa had been confronted with one trouble after another. It should be no surprise that she might be upset or uncertain.

  The cottage was coming into view by the time he gave up trying to convince himself that he was not mad, or hurt, or insulted. He was all of those things. He was also afraid that he had lost the chance to have back what he had so briefly enjoyed a little over a year ago. That soured his mood as well.

  If Ilsa had just stayed at Clachthrom, they could have quietly sorted this out as the adults they were, he thought. Instead he had had to leave Clachthrom at a very busy time of the year, come to Dubheidland to face her vast army of kinsmen, and fetch her home where she belonged. Everyone at the two keeps knew his wife had run away from him. It was embarrassing. Ilsa obviously had not considered how it would look. His pride had been badly bruised by the whole affair. Few said anything, but it was easy to see that everyone thought he had done something to make her go away. He had had to endure a great deal of unasked-for advice about the management of wives.

  By the time he reached the door of the cottage, Diarmot had worked himself up into a fine temper and was feeling sorely abused by his wife. He would give her some time to talk about whatever she thought was important, and then he would take her to bed. After that, he would take her home and there would be no more of this nonsense about needing time to think. That decided, he did not even b
other to knock upon the door, just threw it open and glared at the woman who was causing him to act so irrationally. The brief look of horror that crossed her face when she saw him pleased him. Perhaps if she was a little afraid he would not have to deal with much discussion. They would go to bed, exhaust themselves, and then go home. He crossed his arms over his chest and silently dared her to give him an argument.

  Chapter TWENTY-TWO

  Ilsa screeched softly in surprise when the door to the cottage was abruptly flung open. She turned to scold whichever brother had made such a rude entrance and nearly gaped. Diarmot stood there looking extremely cross, his arms folded over his chest as he glared at her. Odo stood beside him looking exactly like his father despite the darker hair. Behind them she could see Tait, Liam, Nanty, and Sigimor, all of them grinning in a way that made her want to slap them.

  She desperately wanted to say something clever, but nothing came to mind. Since she had fled her husband like a frightened child, she doubted she could say anything that he would find particularly amusing. She silently admitted to herself that she was embarrassed by her behavior, but she would rather nail her feet to the floor than admit it to anyone else. Neither would she let everyone know that she recognized her own cowardice.

  “Greetings, husband,” she said pleasantly as she grabbed a jug of ale and set it on the table. “Ye must wish a drink as I think ye have had a long, rather swift journey.” She wondered why he had waited three days to follow her, then told herself not to be so petulant. She had wanted time to think, had she not?

  “I see.” He watched her set out tankards on the table through narrowed eyes. “Verra weel, we shall play the game your way for a wee while.” He moved to the table and sat down, Odo quickly sitting down beside him.

  Looking at the four men peering in the door, she asked, “Are ye joining us?”

  “We were just deciding if it was safe,” said Tait as he led the other three men inside and sat down next to Odo.

  “And why wouldnae it be?” Ilsa poured each of the men some ale, then gave Odo a small tankard of goat’s milk.

  “Mayhap they understand how irritated a mon might be to wake up and discover his wife has deserted him?” Diarmot asked. “Crept away like a thief in the night?”

  “Actually, I crept away at dawn. Ye must have slept late.”

  Ilsa watched the other men’s eyes widen even as Diarmot’s narrowed again. She noticed that even Odo had stopped drinking his milk to gape at her. What made her goad her husband, she did not know, but she suspected she was not going to stop. Since the other men were drinking their ale rather quickly, she also suspected she and Diarmot would soon be alone together. Ilsa was not sure that was what she wanted.

  “I needed my rest after my wife wrung me dry during the night,” Diarmot drawled and took some pleasure in her blush, even though she looked strongly tempted to throw the jug of ale at his head. “After such a night, I was, naturally, quite surprised to find she had slipped away home.”

  Even as Ilsa opened her mouth to respond to that outrageous remark, Sigimor leapt to his feet. “Thank ye for the ale, lass. We will be leaving ye and your husband alone to talk.” He grabbed Odo up in his arms and hurried toward the door, the other men close at his heels.

  “But I was supposed to stay to make sure he didnae say anything stupid,” protested Odo.

  “I think that a great many stupid things are about to be said, lad,” said Liam. “Best let them go at it. Ye can return later to mend things if tis needed.”

  Ilsa stared at the door as it shut behind her cowardly relatives, then looked at Diarmot. He smiled. It made her wish she had not allowed Gay to take the twins to visit their uncles at the keep. The way he idly sipped at his ale told her he was far calmer than she felt, despite the signs of anger she had seen. That did not bode well. She poured herself a tankard of ale and sat down opposite him.

  “Are ye done thinking?” he asked, and almost smiled again when she scowled at him.

  The faintly amused look upon his handsome face annoyed her. She had realized it had been cowardly, even childish, of her to run home because she was upset and confused, but to have him apparently think the same was irritating. Ilsa also realized that she was afraid. She was afraid that he would simply take her back to Clachthrom with nothing settled between them. She was even more afraid that he wanted all she had given him a year ago, but would still not be returning it in kind.

  In the time she had been back in her little cottage, Ilsa had done a lot of thinking. She had given Diarmot everything she had had to give when they had first become lovers. In recalling all that had passed between then, she had come to the sad realization that he had never spoken of love, that she had foolishly seen love in sweet words and heated embraces. When he had left her, she had clung to her dreams and her faith in him, certain that he would return for her. With each month that had passed with no word from him, those dreams and that faith had slowly turned to ashes, and it had been a constant grief to her.

  Her love had never died. Ilsa was not sure it could. She had buried it, however, buried it very deeply. Despite all of her plans to prove herself and win his heart after reaching Clachthrom, she now knew that she had never really intended to completely free that love again. She had not dared, had always feared a return of the pain she had felt when she had thought herself deserted, then found herself forgotten. In many ways she had liked their marriage as it was, that she had only wanted there to be trust between them. It had been passionate, but safe.

  Then he had started to woo her. The sweet words, the tenderness, the hints of affection had beckoned to that love she was trying so hard to keep safely tucked away. That part of her so eager to give him everything—heart, soul, and mind—had begun to stir to life again and it had terrified her. It still terrified her.

  “Ilsa,” Diarmot said, a little annoyed by the way she seemed to be ignoring him, “why did ye leave?”

  “To think,” she replied, struggling to subdue the panic she could feel coming to life inside of her. “Aye, to think, just as everyone has obviously told ye. There are many things I need to think about. Since I arrived at Clachthrom it has been one shock after another. Margaret, becoming mother to eight children instead of just two, someone trying to kill ye, then kill me, too, and your loss of memory. Weel, there was nary a moment with some peace to just think, was there?’

  “Ilsa, ye are babbling,” he murmured and took her hand in his. “I ken it hasnae been easy for ye. Ye have been sorely pressed.” He kissed her hand. “And I was most unkind much of the time. Aye, my memory was gone, but I cannae use that to excuse all my faults. Ah, but now, my Ilsa, I can remember it all. How sweet ye were, those passionate trysts in the copse, the plans and promises made. I want that back, Ilsa.”

  He was startled when she yanked her hand free and jumped to her feet. For a moment he was hurt, feeling the sharp sting of rejection, but then he looked closely at her. Ilsa looked more than just upset or confused, she looked terrified. This trouble between them was a lot more complicated than he had realized.

  “Why must ye try to change everything?” she asked, a strong hint of desperation in her voice.

  “I was hoping nay to change things so much as return to what we once had together.”

  “I cannae. Dinnae ye understand?”

  “Nay, I dinnae. Ye stay whilst I am being unkind and flee when I try to fix things, things I had made wrong.”

  “It went wrong o’er a year ago! It went wrong when ye ne’er came back for me, ne’er sent word.” She stamped her foot and placed a hand over her eyes when she realized she was crying. “I tried so hard to believe in ye, in what we had shared. For near three months I kept trying and then I had to face the truth, that ye werenae coming back for me. I accepted that.” She placed her other hand over her heart as she felt a stirring of that old pain. “And then, and then I had to hunt ye down. We had two sons. I couldnae just hide here, denying them what was theirs by right. And, oh, I found ye, dinn
ae I? Kneeling afore the priest exchanging vows with Margaret.”

  Shock over the sight of Ilsa crying had kept Diarmot stuck to his seat, but now he stood and cautiously approached her. It sounded as if she was saying that her love for him had died from the force of too many blows. Yet, if she had lost all love for him, why was she so upset, so afraid to hear his fumbling words of affection?

  “Ye ken why I was marrying Margaret,” he said. “I had forgotten—”

  “I ken it! I ken all of that, I truly do. hi my head, I ken it The forgetting of me, nay kenning that the twins were your sons, the suspicions, all of it” Try as she did to stop crying and calm down, all Ilsa seemed capable of doing was crying harder. “So I accepted. I decided we would simply begin anew. I would prove myself to ye. Twas necessary. I accepted that, too.”

  “But now ye think ye cannae accept me? Is that it?” He stood close by her side and lightly stroked her hair.

  “Dinnae be such an idiot”

  Her small fist connected somewhat forcefully with his side and Diarmot grunted. Then he smiled faintly. He did not know what was troubling Ilsa, but it was not that she did not care for him. How he could be so sure of that simply because she called him an idiot and hit him, he did not know, but he did. Now he just needed to puzzle out what she was talking about. He hated to see her cry, to see her so upset, but he hesitated to try and soothe her. The truth was tumbling out. It might require some untangling, but he knew it needed to come out. He was going to have to tell a few truths himself if there was to be any hope for them.

  “I thought once ye trusted me again, all would be weel,” she continued. “I thought I kenned what I wanted, but then ye got your memory back, and ye started to give me sweet words and gifts and I realized I didnae ken what I wanted at all. Ye were stirring it all up again and it made me afraid. I cannae bear it. I am nay that strong.”

  Diarmot could not hold back any longer. Her tears were painful for him, especially since he was the cause. He pulled her into his arms, kissed the top of her head, and gently rubbed her slim back.