“I am nay the one who needs to be convinced. My brothers are gathered in the alehouse and will undoubtedly hear this rumor.” Ilsa nodded when the other two women winced. “Exactly. I need to ken everything that happened ere they return to Clachthrom.”
“Which could be soon and with fire in their eyes,” said Gillyanne.
“I fear so,” agreed Ilsa. “I cannae be sure Angus and Nanty will be able to stop them, either, or will e’en ken what is happening. Diarmot has made no attempt to ken the men my brothers are, nor allow them to learn who he is. Diarmot still thinks they are liars, mayhap e’en the ones behind the attempt to kill him, and that insult sits poorly in my brothers’ bellies, plus makes them suspicious of Diarmot. Sigimor and Tait will be strongly inclined to beat Diarmot, drag me home, and listen to explanations later. Mayhap. After a sennight or two.”
“Weel, we cannae have that,” said Fraser. “Anabelle found herself with child. It wasnae the laird’s for he had cast her from his bed many months before, near to a year, I believe. Most here at the keep kenned that, thus they would ken that she was carrying some other mon’s child.”
“Considering all else she had done, I am surprised that would concern her.”
“True. She made no secret of her whorish ways, seemed to flaunt them, in truth. By then, however, I think she wasnae quite right in her mind. She also didnae want the bairn. She ne’er wanted Alice, either, and seemed to forget the wee lass existed from the moment she bore the child. Since Anabelle had an easy birth, I cannae believe she feared the bearing of a child.”
“So, she got herself a potion to cleanse her womb of the bairn.”
“Aye. The healer Glenda in the village refused to give her one. Anabelle ranted about that for a few days, then seemed to calm herself. I had thought she had accepted it all, but, nay, she had her potion. She took it one night after having a fierce argument with the laird. Nay o’er the child, though. I dinnae believe the laird kenned Anabelle was carrying. Within hours we all kenned it, kenned what she had done, and kenned that she might soon pay for her sins with her verra life.”
“Ah, dear.” Gillyanne sighed and patted Fraser on the shoulder. “Ye couldnae stop the bleeding.”
“Nay,” replied Fraser. “We tried everything, worked all through the night. We would think it had stopped only to have it begin all over again. Twas a surprise in some ways for she was but two months along, mayhap e’en less, and she didnae suffer much when she miscarried the bairn. Ah, weel, sad to say, Anabelle died unrepentant, blaming everyone save herself as had e’er been her way. She e’en lost the chance for absolution and last rites for, when Father Goudie was summoned, she cursed him and wouldnae let him do it. Some of the things she screamed at the mon were appalling. I was shamed for her, although Father Goudie didnae look as shocked as I would have expected him to be.”
“He is a Goudie. They are a rough lot. I doubt much would shock him e’en though he oftimes displays a surprising naiveté for a Goudie.” Gilly looked at Fraser. “She didnae happen to say where she got the potion, did she?”
“Nay, but it wasnae from the laird. Truth is, she cursed him tenfold for nay helping her in her time of need.”
“A statement which would imply that he did ken about the bairn,” said Ilsa.
“Tis what I thought and remarked upon it, but she said he didnae,” Fraser replied. “When I thought o’er her ravings later, trying to make sense of it all, I decided the laird had failed her because he wouldnae let her seduce him back into her bed.”
“And thus give her the chance to claim the bairn was his.” Ilsa cursed softly and sat on a stool facing the other women. “That was probably what they argued about. Yet, considering how openly Anabelle shamed herself, it makes no sense at all that she would care that she would soon bear a child most kenned couldnae be her husband’s get. Unless, of course, she thought she might have a son.” Ilsa’s eyes widened slightly when Gillyanne cursed.
“That was probably her game,” Gillyanne said. “She had lost her hold upon Diarmot, might e’en have begun to fear he would find a way to set her aside. But, if she gave him a son, she wouldnae need Diarmot any longer, and could be rid of him. She may have thought she could then rule Clachthrom through the child.”
Ilsa thought about that for a moment, then shook her head. “Some mon would have been given the charge of the land and the child.”
“As Fraser said, Anabelle was vain. She probably thought she could control that mon as she could nay longer control Diarmot.”
It was a sad story, Ilsa mused, and it explained why Diarmot clung so fiercely to his wariness and the bitterness he could not always hide. The shadows in his memory hid the healing she was certain had begun when they had been together a year ago. Added to the scars left by his wife were new ones caused by an unknown enemy. It was not going to be easy to bring back the Diarmot she had known and fallen in love with, not unless his memory returned. Ilsa fought back the urge to just give up and go home.
Worse, when her brothers returned eager to tear Diarmot into tiny pieces, as she knew they would, she was going to have to tell them this whole sordid tale. Diarmot would be painfully reminded of why he had no faith in women for Ilsa knew she would probably not be lucky enough to keep him out of the way. He would undoubtedly be right there to hear all the details of the humiliation he had suffered at the hands of his late wife. It was enough to make Ilsa want to weep and scream.
In fact, the more Ilsa thought on all she had learned of Lady Anabelle, it was somewhat of a miracle Diarmot had been such a caring lover, had even married her. There must have been something in the air, she thought wryly. She did wonder if she had really known Diarmot at all. It was increasingly obvious that he had told her very little about himself.
“Did ye fear the rumor might hold some truth?” Gillyanne asked. “Ye must ken that Diarmot—”
Ilsa held up her hand to halt Gillyanne’s defense of Diarmot. “For one brief moment I wondered. Twas a verra small doubt. And that doubt concerned the death of his wife, for I had already learned enough to ken she was a curse. I couldnae believe he would cause the death of a child, however. Nay, not e’en one barely begun in the womb. Tis just that he isnae the same mon I kenned a year ago, although I now begin to fear I didnae ken him much at all. Tis now clear that he hid a great deal from me.”
“Men dinnae like to stir up painful memories. When I was first married to Connor, most of what I learned about him came from others. He was a verra controled mon who saw near every emotion as a dangerous weakness. He is still verra controled, but it doesnae trouble me now for I ken that he loves me.”
“Aye, that knowledge can give one the strength to deal with many things. Unfortunately, I dinnae ken if Diarmot loves me. E’en before the beating, he didnae actually say the words to me. In fact, if my brothers hadnae found us that day, I am nay longer sure that Diarmot would have married me. He didnae fight the handfasting nor did he show any anger or resentment o’er it, but he may ne’er have actually chosen me if it had been left to him alone.”
“Weel, ye are married firm now,” said Fraser.
“That I am,” agreed Ilsa, smiling faintly. “And tis what I want when I dinnae feel like throttling the fool.” Her smile widened briefly when both women chuckled. “I but need to hold firm until his memory clears and he finds out who his enemy is. However, right now, I just need to make sure my brothers dinnae kill him.”
“Then we had best get down to the bailey to meet them as they come charging in,” said Gillyanne as she stood up.
Ilsa stood and brushed down her skirts. “There is a part of me that would like to let my brothers knock my husband down at least once. Tis that part which is angry o’er the secrets he kept. Howbeit, once the fighting begins, twill be verra hard to stop it. I doubt Diarmot’s brothers would stand quietly by and allow my brothers to pound him into the mud, either. So, I shall hie to my husband’s rescue.”
Once out in the hallway, Fraser left them to chec
k on Gay and the children, promising to join them soon. Recalling how Sir Connor never let his pregnant wife go up or down stairs alone, Ilsa kept a gentle hold on the woman’s arm as they descended the narrow stone steps. She had not asked Gilly or Fraser to help her, but was glad of the support they so readily offered. The confrontation she was sure was coming would not be pleasant.
Once outside, she and Gilly sat on a bench near the steps that led into the keep and which faced the gates. It was a sun-warmed spring day and Ilsa wished she could enjoy it. Her brothers could be exceptionally stubborn when they felt they were protecting her and Diarmot was not in a mood to be conciliatory. It really was not a confrontation she wished to put herself in the middle of, but she had no choice. When Fraser arrived and sat with them, Ilsa was pleased with the added company and the diversion it promised. Waiting for a confrontation was almost as bad as being caught up in one.
“All is weel in the nursery?” she asked.
“Aye,” Fraser replied. “Gay is a wonder with the bairns. She is trying to feed your lads some gruel and tis a fine mess they are making, much to the delight of the others.”
“Tis a wee bit early to try gruel and mash with the lads, I suspect, yet they seem to need something more than the breast.”
“They are going to be big lads,” said Gillyanne. “My firstborn Beathan was ready for more verra early as weel. I could easily have weaned him completely at, mayhap, a sixmonth, but his wee sister still nursed. So, I would nurse her whilst feeding him his gruel, then nurse him a wee bit.”
“That is comforting to hear. There are so many rules and opinions about it all. What rule do ye follow?”
“I have one hard and fast rule. I am nay sticking any part of my body in the wee devils’ mouths once they get teeth.”
Ilsa laughed along with the other women. There had been few women around Dubheidland, especially after her father’s fourth wife had died, and none of those were of the same rank as she. Although she had cared little about that, the women had. Most of them had also been far more interested in the vast array of handsome Cameron males than in a too-thin, small girl child. Her brother Alexander’s wife had arrived shortly after Ilsa had married Diarmot and moved to the cottage, so she had not really gotten the chance to know the woman well. Now, having enjoyed the companionship of Gay, then Gillyanne and Fraser, Ilsa realized she had missed a lot, that a need she had not fully recognized was now fulfilled.
For a brief moment she felt guilty, as if she betrayed her brothers in some way, then told herself not to be foolish. She loved her brothers, had been happy in their company, and would always seek them out, even miss them when they were not close at hand. They had each other, however, and had often seemed beyond her understanding, just as she had often been beyond theirs. Even they would have to agree, there were simply some things a woman could not adequately discuss with her brothers.
“Ilsa, I believe your brothers are approaching,” Gillyanne said. “Tis but two men so they must have eluded Angus and Nanty.”
It took but one look at her rapidly approaching brothers for Ilsa to know they had heard the rumors. “Oh, dear.”
“Weel, they arenae charging the keep so, if they have heard the gossip, mayhap they intend to be reasonable.”
“I doubt it. Sigimor is wearing his enraged bull look.”
“How can ye see his face so clearly from here?”
“Dinnae have to see his face. His head is lowered a wee bit, his shoulders are hunched up, and he is stomping along with his hands clenched into fists. Aye, he has heard the gossip and he is in nay mood to be reasonable.”
“Ah, weel, at least ye have a chance to soothe his temper before he sees Diarmot.”
Catching sight of Diarmot and Connor coming out of the stables and walking toward them, Ilsa sighed. “Luck isnae on my side this day, I fear.”
Seeing Diarmot and Connor, Gillyanne looked back toward the Camerons. “It appears they will all reach the same area of the bailey at the same time.”
Ilsa stood up and squared her shoulders. “That cannae be allowed.”
“What do ye intend to do?”
“I intend to grab the bull by the horns, as they say.”
“Oh, dear,” murmured Fraser.
Chapter SEVEN
“Move out of the way, Ilsa.”
Ilsa met Sigimor’s glare with one of her own. She had quickly placed herself squarely between Sigimor and Tait, and Diarmot and Connor. Even though the MacEnroys had no idea yet what had upset her brothers, they had already tensed in reaction to the fury her brothers revealed. The way her brothers had fixed their glares upon Diarmot as they had entered the bailey and immediately started toward him made Ilsa doubt they would have taken the time to offer any explanations before attacking her husband.
“Aye, move out of the way, Ilsa,” said Diarmot as he stepped up closer behind her.
One glance over her shoulder was enough to tell Ilsa that Diarmot was as eager for a fight as her brothers were. “Oh, do hush, Diarmot,” she snapped, too annoyed to enjoy his look of utter astonishment. “Ye dinnae e’en ken why they want to pummel ye.”
“I dinnae need a reason and, mayhap, I will pummel them,” Diarmot said.
“Fine. As soon as I have this all explained and settled, have at it. At least then it will just be one of those strange monly things, and not something done out of a complete misunderstanding.”
“Strange monly things?” Diarmot muttered.
Ilsa ignored him and glared at her brothers again. “Now, ye are going to listen to what I have to say.”
“Of course,” said Sigimor.
“Good. I am glad ye have decided to be reasonable,” Ilsa said carefully, not really believing his swift capitulation.
“I intend to be verra reasonable. Whilst Tait and I beat your worthless husband into the mud, ye can go and collect Gay, the bairns, and all your belongings. Then ye can talk all ye wish to as we take ye back to Dubheidland.”
“Oh, leaving me so soon, my love?” said Diarmot. “I am devastated.”
Ilsa rammed her elbow into Diarmot’s stomach. A part of her was pleased to hear his breath leave in a gasp and another part of her was a little appalled by her actions. A brief peek at her husband revealed him bent over clutching his belly as he fought to regain his breath. She winced, but quickly turned her attention to her brothers again.
“Curse it, Ilsa,” snapped Sigimor. “Now we have to wait until he can breathe again. Wouldnae be fair otherwise.”
“Listen to me while he recovers then. I ken what ye heard in the village,” she began.
“Then ye ken why ye cannae stay here. The mon poisoned his last wife.”
“Nay, he didnae. She poisoned herself.”
Sigimor snorted in disbelief. “From what little I have heard of the woman, she wasnae the type to kill herself.”
Ilsa was pleased to hear that Sigimor had learned some of the ugly truths about Lady Anabelle. It would make it easier for him to believe what she had to tell him. It also meant she did not have to say too much about the woman’s behavior while Diarmot was listening. She desperately wanted to avoid reminding him too much of all the betrayals he had suffered in the past. Lady Anabelle’s malevolent shadow caused her enough trouble already.
“She didnae try to kill herself,” Ilsa said. “She was trying to rid her body of a bairn.”
“Is that what he told ye?”
“Nay, Fraser told me all about it when I asked her why such rumors were being whispered about.”
“She would defend him. He is her laird.”
“Actually, although he is my laird now,” Fraser said, “I came here as Lady Anabelle’s companion.”
Ilsa realized Fraser and Gillyanne had moved closer, obviously hoping their presence would cause the men to hesitate before coming to blows. “There, ye see, Sigimor? She would ken the truth better than most. Lady Anabelle didnae want the bairn and asked Glenda the village healer to give her a potion. Glenda refused for
she doesnae deal in such things. So, Lady Anabelle got one from someone else or e’en tried to mix one up herself. It rid her womb of the bairn, but it also drained away all of her life’s blood.”
“That makes no sense. Why rid herself of a bairn? She had already had one and she was married.”
“It wasnae Diarmot’s bairn. It couldnae be and most all here would ken that.”
“Aha!” Sigimor raised his fists a little. “That is why he gave her the potion that killed her. He couldnae abide the fact that she carried another mon’s child. Tis said he already had to bear that shame once.”
“Wee Alice isnae a shame,” Ilsa snapped, “and I best nay hear ye say so again. Try thinking, Sigimor, if it willnae cause ye too much pain to do so.” She ignored his scowl and Tait’s snicker. “The mon has a nursery full of children most men would ignore or disdain. I doubt the five women who gave him those bairns were all virgins when he bedded them, so he would have questioned their claims that he was the father of their children. Yet he took them in, he accepted the responsibility for them. Does that sound like a mon who would give a woman a potion to kill the bairn in her womb?”
“Weel, mayhap he didnae ken there was a bairn. He was just trying to be rid of his wife.”
Her brother had stumbled upon one truth, but Ilsa was not about to let him know that. Sigimor and Tait were looking calmer. Agreeing that Diarmot had not known his wife carried some other man’s child would start them on yet another round of arguments and explanations.
“And exactly who told ye the rumors that would cause ye to make such an accusation?” she demanded.
“A young mon named Wallace,” began Sigimor.
“Och, aye, Wallace. He is the same one who whispered poison in my ear in the market. The same Wallace who accused poor Glenda the healing woman of giving Lady Anabelle the potion, e’en calling her a witch. He was one of Lady Anabelle’s lovers, ye ken. It doesnae make him a verra unbiased talebearer, does it. Howbeit, if ye must accept the word of a mon who would betray his own laird in such a way, so be it.”
Highland Groom Page 8
