Highland Groom (7 page)

"Just because ye have spread your legs for your husband, doesnae allow--

mmmphf." He stared at her in shock when she clapped her delicate hand over his mouth, then he scowled at her.

Ilsa slowly lifted her hand from his mouth. "Were your monly needs adequately satisfied?"

Adequately satisfied was a paltry description of what he had felt, but he would not argue with her. "Aye."

"And, so, ye may consider demanding your husbandly rights again from time to time?"

Several times a night and probably in the morning as well, he mused, but simply replied, "Aye, I may."

"Then might I suggest ye temper your words when ye are in here with me?

Despite my anger earlier--"

"When ye tried to kill me with the jug?"

She ignored that and continued, "I am able to control my temper more often than not. I ken what ye think and ye ken what I think, and I suspect we will feel inclined to voice our opinions again in the coming days. Howbeit, here wouldnae be a good place to do so. My anger might grow hot, but I suspect the rest of me would quickly grow cold."

That sounded very much like a threat, but it also made sense. If nothing else, he would put her on the defensive and that wariness would certainly dim her passion. Agreeing to a truce here meant he could not use her desire against her. There would be no trying to trick her into revealing some truth while muddled with passion. It was a loss, but not a big one. Considering what flared between them, Diarmot suspected he would have found such subtlety and deviousness very difficult.

"Ye seek a truce here, do ye?" he asked.

"Aye," she replied as she tugged the sheet up to cover herself. She tossed a corner of it over him as well, and ignored the wry look he cast her. "A truce.

The battle stops at that door. I doubt we can follow that rule precisely, but, if tis set, we will at least try."

"A truce then." He was faintly amused when she stuck out her hand, but he shook it. "Does that mean ye willnae try any tricks here? Willnae be a threat?"

Ilsa rolled her eyes and bent over the side of the bed to retrieve her shift.

"That was a short truce. Nay, I willnae try any tricks or assault your poor wee body with my superior strength and skill at arms."

She certainly had a true skill with sarcasm, he mused. Worse, it carried the sting of truth as well. He watched in surprise and growing amusement when she disappeared beneath the sheet. The wriggling and soft curses that ensued told him she was attempting to don her shift under there. When she reappeared above the sheet she looked tousled and flushed.

"Such modesty is unnecessary," he said. "After all, but moments ago--"

"Weel, I dinnae feel as I did but moments ago," Ilsa quickly interrupted him.

"Nay, I willnae be a threat here," she said, "not that I e'er was. And, since ye dinnae trust me as far as ye can spit, I dinnae understand why ye e'en ask for my word on that. Ye willnae believe it."

"Give it anyway and then our truce can begin."

"Do I have your word to try no tricks or attempt to harm me then?"

"Of course."

"Weel enough, then ye have mine." She shook hands with him again then got out of bed.

"Where are ye going?"

"Behind that screen set in the corner which should have told me that I had been put into your bedchamber. Ye would have no need of a privacy screen in your own room, nor I in mine." She slipped behind the screen and began to wash. "I hadnae looked about much, either, so hadnae noticed any signs that this was your bedchamber." She peeked around the screen and frowned at him. "Tis a verra plain bedchamber. Thought it was one kept ready for guests." She returned to the chore of washing. "Ye have made no mark upon the room."

Diarmot looked around his bedchamber and realized she was right. There was nothing to mark it as his unless one opened his clothes chests. Although he was not sure what he could do to change that, it was strange that he had not yet done so. Considering the many long months he had spent in the room recovering from the beating, there should have been some clear sign of his presence.

Diarmot was not sure he wanted to think about the reason for that too deeply.

When Ilsa started back to the bed, Diarmot got up and strode past her to disappear behind the screen. She caught her breath so quickly at the sight of his naked form, she coughed. Inwardly cursing her weakness for the man, she climbed back into bed. If the mere sight of him affected her so, it was going to be impossible to resist him in even the smallest of ways.

Turning on her side and snuggling comfortably into the feather mattress and plump pillows, she decided to give up on all thoughts of resistance, Ilsa suspected such a tactic would only add to Diarmot's suspicions even if she could accomplish it. There was no way it would protect her from the hurts he would undoubtedly inflict in the days to come, so it was a battle lost before it had even begun.

Trying to be always sweet and biddable was also hopeless and, she suspected, would also rouse his suspicions. So she would just be herself. Honesty in word and deed would be her weapon. Although she would not speak of her love for him, she would give it. She had already given him her passion and would continue to do so. All her instincts told her it was the best plan and, after so much indecision and wrestling with plan after plan, it was a comfort of sorts to finally settle upon one. Ilsa just hoped she had the strength to hold to it until Diarmot lost his anger, mistrust, and bitterness. She also prayed that, when he did, she would find what they had shared a year ago, that she would not discover that it had all been a lie.

She tensed when she felt Diarmot climb back into bed. He moved to press against her back and, before she could act to stop him, tugged off her shift and tossed it aside again. When he pressed against her again, she could feel his arousal, and shivered as her own desire was rapidly stirred to life.

"I was planning to go to sleep," she said, not surprised to hear the huskiness of her voice, for he was caressing her breasts and nibbling her ear, sending heat through her veins.

"Weel, go right ahead," he murmured and traced the delicate curve of her ear with his tongue. "I will just carry on."

She laughed softly. "Ye cannae do that whilst I sleep." She gasped as he slid his hand between her legs and her body swiftly responded to that intimate caress. "I think I might be able to stay awake for a wee bit longer."

Hope stirred in her heart when he chuckled.

She was not foolish enough to think such compatibility would last long, but it had to start somewhere. It was a tiny crack in the wall between them and cracks could be widened enough to bring down a wall. She would have to think of ways to weaken that wall, widen that tiny opening until she could slip through.

When he cocked her leg back over his and eased into her, she decided she would plot out her battle plan later.

*CHAPTER FIVE*

"Are all our new uncles as big as ye are?"

Ilsa smiled when Sigimor lifted up the curious Odo until they were eye to eye and said, "They are all wee, runty lads compared to me. I am the biggest, the strongest, and the wisest."

Odo giggled which prompted the other children to deem her brothers safe and venture closer, Ilsa had left the sleeping twins with Fraser so that she and Gay could take the older children outside. It had only taken one look as she reached the bailey to know that her brothers were preparing to leave. She swallowed a brief cowardly urge to ask them all to stay or take her home with them. Diarmot had been her choice. She could not hide behind her brothers simply because everything between her and her husband was not right.

Diarmot had made love to her this morning, then left. He had barely spoken to her except for the time he was uttering hot words of pleasure and delight against her skin. Ilsa supposed his silence was his way of honoring their truce, but it had quickly chilled her, stealing away all the warmth left by his lovemaking. She still believed her decision to welcome him into her bed was a good one, as was her plan to simply be herself. However, if Diarmot's plan was to make her senseless with passion every night and ignore her existence all day, building a good marriage was going to be very slow work indeed. So slow that she could easily be past caring when, and if, he ever regained some affection for her.

Ilsa started to walk around the bailey, intending to explore her new home.

She had to smile when Sigimor fell into step beside her, walking along at a steady pace even though he was covered with children. Ewart in one arm, Gregor in the other, Aulay on his shoulders, Odo and Ivy each wrapped around a strong leg, and Alice clinging to his jerkin. Her brother loved children and she had to wonder, yet again, why he was so hesitant to wed. One day she would have to ask him, she mused.

"And how are ye this morning, lass?" Sigimor asked, studying her carefully.

Despite her best efforts not to, Ilsa blushed. "I am just fine. Ye dinnae see any bruises, do ye?"

"Nay, not on the outside."

"Ah, weel, the other sort are mine alone to deal with."

"Do ye believe his tale?"

"More and more. There are new scars upon his body. Lady Gillyanne and Fraser both support his tale. My doubt is bred from his claim that he doesnae remember me yet our time together came before the attack upon him. Then again, our time together was short and there is no glint of recognition in his eyes." Ilsa shrugged. "It will take me some time, I think, to decide what I believe. It didnae help Diarmot's cause when I discovered he ne'er told me he was married once, nor that he had six children. It was a lie in many ways, so one has to wonder if this is but another lie."

"Aye, I think the same." As they entered a sadly neglected garden, Sigimor divested himself of the children. "Tait and I will be staying. If naught else, a danger still lurks in the shadows. A threat to Diarmot could be a threat to ye, too."

"Do ye think ye can discover what it is?" Ilsa asked as she and Sigimor sat together on a stone bench while Gay meandered through the garden with the children. "I am sure Diarmot and his family have been trying."

"They have, but they also have lands to tend and people to care for. That means they cannae spend all their time trying to uncover this enemy. For months after the beating, their greatest concern was helping Diarmot recover. Tait and I can take up the hunt and hold fast I may be the laird of Dubheidland, but I have a small army of kinsmen who can tend to the land and its people whilst I tend to this. Diarmot's brother Nanty intends to do the same."

"Do ye think ye can uncover his enemy?"

"It willnae be easy, but, aye, we will find the bastard." Sigimor gently brushed a stray lock of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. "Do ye still love the fool?"

"Aye." Ilsa grimaced. "I would rather I didnae, but it isnae an easy feeling to cast aside."

"I havenae seen much of the fool this morn, but it didnae appear as if your wedding night changed much."

"He conceded that we must have been lovers. Tis a start." She blushed faintly. "The passion is still there between us. That, too, is a start. We have also agreed to a truce within the bedchamber."

"How gracious of the mon," Sigimor grumbled.

"If he truly has lost all memory of me, then, aye, it is. And, as Diarmot said, whether he believes my tale or nay, I am his wife now and should accept that responsibility. That is exactly what I have decided to do."

"I am nay sure I understand."

"Weel, after thinking of and tossing aside several plans, I have decided to simply be his wife, to simply be what I am. I intend to try to shield my poor battered heart in whatever way I can, but, in all else, I will deal honestly with the mon. No plots, no games, no tricks. I think that is the only way to deal with a mon as suspicious and wary as Diarmot MacEnroy."

Sigimor rubbed his chin as he considered her words for a moment, then said,

"Tisnae fair that ye must prove yourself."

"Nay, it isnae, but that is what I must do. Again, if he truly has no memory of me, then he doesnae ken anything about me. Since he is in danger, tis only right and wise that he suspects me, and is wary."

"Mayhap, and, aye, the best way to change his mind is to be honest in all ye do and say. He has to learn to trust in ye again. Of course, if he but plays some game with us--"

"Then ye can beat him into mash and toss him on the midden heap."

"Fair enough."

* * *

"What are ye looking at?" asked Nanty as he entered Diarmot's ledger room and moved to stand next to him by the window he stared out of.

"Sigimor Cameron covered in children," Diarmot replied, never taking his gaze from the group entering his garden.

Nanty grinned as he watched the children climb off Sigimor and skip through the garden. "Your bairns trust the mon."

"And so I should?"

"Ye should at least note that they have no fear of the mon despite his great size. One should always take notice of how a child reacts to someone. They can of times sense things we cannae."

That was true, but Diarmot felt no inclination to admit it. When he had first seen how his children had accepted Sigimor, he had felt a pang of jealousy for he was not close to his children. Since he had to accept the fact that that was his own fault, he then felt guilty. Uncomfortable with both emotions, he was not feeling very kindly toward Sigimor Cameron, the man who had inspired that brief, damning moment of reflection.

"The Camerons appear to be a closely bonded family," Nanty murmured.

Diarmot glanced at his brother, irritated by the false look of innocence upon Nanty's face. "Ye trust them, dinnae ye. Ye believe their tale."

"Nay need to make it sound as if I betray ye in doing so."

"Why not? They could be the ones behind all my troubles, the ones who tried to kill me."

"If her brothers had wanted ye dead, ye wouldnae be here now to wonder on it.

They wouldnae have left ye near death; they would have made sure ye had breathed your last ere they walked away. And, we talked to every mon, woman, and child in Muirladen, yet gained verra little useful information. I doubt that would have been the way of it if a small army of giant redheads had been in the area at the time ye were attacked."