Highland Groom (32 page)

It was a blow to realize that he had been so wrong about Geordie, but Diarmot shook that small grief aside. "Good, where did she go?" He did not like the identical looks of chagrin the women wore.

"She didnae leave the wee map with us," said Gay. "We think she did that on purpose so that we couldnae follow her."

"So, Ilsa is alone with Geordie and Margaret."

"Margaret!" Fraser cried out in surprise.

"Aye, Margaret," said Diarmot. "I will explain it all to ye later. Right now I need to find a way to get to my foolish wife."

"I ken where she is, Papa," said Odo, gazing up at Diarmot. "I followed." He cast a wary glance at Fraser.

"We will discuss why ye are a naughty wee lad later," said Fraser.

"Where did your mama go, lad?" Diarmot asked Odo.

"To that wee house where ye got stuck under the bed," Odo replied.

"Did ye follow her all the way there and then come home verra fast?"

"Aye, Papa. I came home verra, verra fast."

Diarmot crouched down in front of the boy, hugged him, then held him by his small shoulders. "Think hard, lad. Were there any men outside, guards like we have here at Clachthrom?"

"Nay, Papa. There was no one about. Mama walked right up to the cottage.

There wasnae e'en a mon at the door. Then the lady opened the door and Mama went inside. It was that lady ye were going to marry before Mama came home, Papa. Why does she want to hurt Mama, Alice, and the bairns? Is it because ye chose Mama instead of her?"

"That is some of it, my brave lad. If ye still have questions, ye may ask me later. After I have brought your mama and the others home." He kissed Odo on the cheek, then gently pushed him toward Fraser. "Ye were wrong to run off on your own, lad, and we will have to talk about that, too," he said as he stood up.

"But, ye did weel, my wee knight." He looked at Gay. "Are ye verra sure it was Geordie?"

"Aye, m'laird," replied Gay. "He wore a mask, but, aye, twas Geordie. What I felt was certain was confirmed by what Ilsa had just seen. She followed Geordie when he slipped away from Clachthrom. He went to that cottage and met with that woman. Tis certain now they were confirming their plans to take the bairns, but Ilsa was on foot. Thinking it had just been some lover's tryst, she didnae hurry home and was cursing herself for that."

"Jesu, doesnae anyone in this family stay where they are put?" cried Nanty.

"I leave for but a few hours and ye are all running about the lands alone and unguarded."

"It makes one wonder if that maid's body was meant to be found now, meant to draw ye away from Clachthrom," said Diarmot.

Nanty shivered. "She had obviously been dead since the day she went missing or soon after. I cannae conceive of anyone wanting to carry that around."

"It worked." Diarmot looked at Sigimor. "We will need fresh horses, I think."

"I will fetch them," Nanty said and, with Tom's help, led away the weary horses Diarmot and the Camerons had ridden in on.

Sigimor watched the women take Odo back into the keep. "If ye e'er want to foster that lad out for a wee while, I would be proud to take him in. Dinnae believe in sending the bairns off to someone else for near all their life, but some of them are served weel for a wee bit of training elsewhere."

Diarmot stared at Sigimor for a moment. "Arenae ye e'en a wee bit worried about Ilsa?"

"More than a wee bit. Tis why I talk about other things." He shrugged. "It helps keep the bloodlust from getting too strong. Mon cannae think clear when that happens."

Somerled nodded. "And when one thinks clear, one recalls that our Ilsa isnae some sweet, shy lady who thinks a knife is only to eat with. She is a Cameron.

She willnae let them hurt her or the bairns without shedding some blood herself."

"Margaret may be easily defeated," said Diarmot, "but Geordie is a big mon."

"So are ye, but she knocked ye on your arse," said Tait.

"Ilsa is also clever and has dealt with men bigger and stronger than her for her whole life," said Somerled. "Ye dinnae think she survived all of us by being sweet and smiling prettily, did ye? Aye, the lass is in danger, nay doubt about it, and it isnae certain she can win this fight. But, I promise ye, she went there armed, she plotted every step of the way, and she will be watching close for a weakness. I am fair certain these enemies of yours already have one verra serious weakness."

"And what would that be?" asked Diarmot.

"All they see when they look at our Ilsa is a wee lass who could probably be blown away in a strong wind."

Somerled and his brothers were right, Diarmot thought, and felt his fears ease back just a little, enough for him to pull forth the strength and clear head he would need. Ilsa was slender, delicate, yet strong. He had felt the strength in that lithe body often enough. She was clever and would understand the need of a clear head and a steady hand. Her love for the children and her need to keep them safe would also make her a force to be reckoned with. All Ilsa would need was for Geordie and Margaret to make a few simple mistakes and there was a very good chance she would survive this.

*CHAPTER TWENTY*

"Weel, ye have already made one serious error, Precious Love," Ilsa said, gently nudging the children back until they were behind her, pressed against the wall.

"Have I?" Margaret glanced at the sword in her hand, then smiled at Ilsa.

"What would that be?"

"Ye killed the only real threat to me."

"Ye dinnae see this weapon as a threat?"

"Nay in your hands."

"I have used one before." She looked at Alice. "I will be grieved to hurt Alice. She looks so verra much like Anabelle. Tis as if Anabelle lives on in her child."

"Wheesht, I hope not. Anabelle was vicious. She used people. She used ye, too, Precious Love."

"Ye didnae ken Anabelle," snapped Margaret. "Ye could ne'er understand her.

Those men, those swine, thought they had beaten her, but she rose victorious o'er them. She made them crawl, exposed their filthy weakness to all the world.

Aye, she used them, but she loved me." Margaret sighed.

"If twas possible, I would spare her child, raise her as my own. It cannae be, however. If I am to have my revenge upon Diarmot, ye all have to die."

"Since ye have killed Geordie and Lucy, just how do ye plan to explain our deaths?"

"Oh, I shall make sure it looks as if Geordie killed ye, then poisoned himself. Guilt drove him to it, of course. Mayhap I shall leave a wee note wherein he confesses all. Lucy's death, too. I must nay forget that."

"Och, nay. I dinnae suppose ye have considered the possibility that I may offer a few objections to your plans. Or, did ye expect me to simply hold my hair out of the way and direct ye to the best place to strike?"

Ilsa could see how angry Margaret was growing and decided her plan was working. It surprised her a little for she had not completely expected it to.

She had hoped to make Margaret so angry, so agitated, she would act without thought, would be blindly eager to spill her blood. Then Ilsa could make a run for the door, drawing the woman outside as Margaret chased her. More important, it would draw Margaret and the sword she held away from the children, out to a place where Ilsa would feel it safe to draw and use her own weapons, to fight.

It was a plan with only a small chance of success, she had thought, but apparently she had been wrong.

"Do ye nay understand that your wee life is in my hands?" Margaret hissed.

"What I understand is that ye obviously lost your wits years ago. I dinnae fear ye. Ye are naught but a murderous whore, just like your lover Anabelle was."

Margaret's rage came so hot and swift, Ilsa nearly missed her chance, a mistake that could have been deadly. She raced for the door even as Margaret lunged toward her, sword raised. Margaret quickly followed, screaming curses.

Ilsa was prepared to run a long way, but then she heard Margaret stumble. She turned, hoping to take advantage of it, but Margaret was already getting back on her feet, the sword still firmly grasped in her hand. Ilsa slid her hand into the hidden slit in her skirts and clasped the dagger that was sheathed there.

Now she had the freedom to draw her weapons and fight. Although she did not want to kill Margaret, she was ready to do so if needed. The woman's obvious madness had eaten away at Ilsa's bloodlust.

"Margaret is going to kill her," said Diarmot.

He started to move into the clearing surrounding the cottage only to be yanked back by Sigimor, who said, "If ye go charging in there now, ye will distract Ilsa and that could certainly get her killed."

Diarmot did not move, his gaze fixed upon Ilsa, but he wondered aloud, "Where is Geordie? Or Lucy?"

"Gone from here or dead, I should think. They would be watching this if they were able. Dinnae think Ilsa would have gotten Margaret outside waving that sword about if Geordie was still close at hand. Or able."

"Nay, I think ye may be right. So, my children could be all alone in the cottage."

"Ah, aye, and that makes sense. That is why Ilsa has drawn this madwoman out here. Now Ilsa can draw her own weapons and fight without fearing that the children will be hurt." Sigimor looked to the rear of the cottage and smiled faintly. "Ye do breed some fine children, Diarmot."

Diarmot followed the direction of Sigimor's gaze and nearly gaped. Alice was coming out of the back of the cottage dragging a blanket upon which rested his sons. The little girl was having a difficult time, stumbling as she fought to pull the blanket along. It was a lot of weight for the child to haul, but she appeared very determined.

"Come on," said Sigimor. "I think tis safe enough for us to go round and come up behind _the_ cottage."

After one last look at his wife, Diarmot followed the others. He wanted to rush down and end the threat Ilsa faced, but forced himself to accept the judgment of her kinsmen. They knew her strengths and skills far better than he did. He could, however, help his daughter and sons.

By the time Diarmot reached Alice, she was crying silently and was badly scraped from falling down so often, but she was still struggling to get her brothers away from the cottage. Her eyes widened when she saw him and the others, but she obeyed his signal to be quiet. A moment later, he was holding her in his arms while Sigimor carefully checked the twins for any injuries.

"They wanted to hurt my brothers, Papa," Alice said quietly.

"Ye were a verra brave lass to try to save them," he told her, speaking in a near-whisper.

"Odo says we have to take care of each other."

Liam came out of the cottage, crouched near them, and said, "Only Margaret is left."

"I think Geordie broke something in Lucy," Alice said. "Mama covered my eyes so I couldnae see him do it."

"And Geordie?" Diarmot asked.

" 'Member when ye told us Mama was sick because she dranked bad wine?"

Diarmot nodded. "I think Geordie dranked bad ale." She glanced toward the front of the cottage. "Are ye going to help Mama now?"

"Aye, sweet Alice, I am."

"I will stay with the bairns," said Nanty.

"Would m'lady like me to fetch a damp rag, mayhap a wee bit of water, to clean her wounds?" Liam asked Alice.

Free of Diarmot's hold, Alice sat down on the blanket and looked at Liam.

"Aye, sir. I gots dirt on me and I dinnae like it."

Diarmot followed the Cameron twins and Tait along the side of the cottage until Margaret and Ilsa were in view. As he watched his wife, Diarmot began to doubt that anything would distract Ilsa from Margaret and that sword. Ilsa had the intense, watchful air of a warrior, one alert for danger or the opportunity to strike. Sigimor drew his dagger and Diarmot was a little surprised to feel himself relax. He had not realized how confident he had become of Ilsa's brothers. There was no doubt in his mind that Sigimor would use that dagger with deadly skill at the first hint of a real threat to Ilsa's life. For now the decision silently made was that they would let Ilsa deal with Margaret.

"Put aside the sword, Margaret," Ilsa said. "I dinnae want to kill ye."

Margaret laughed. "How can ye kill me? By drowning me in your own blood? I have the sword."

Ilsa drew her dagger. "I am nay unarmed. I could have this buried deep in your heart ere ye completed one swing of that sword." She nodded when Margaret frowned, looking uncertain. "Lay down the sword. Ye willnae hang for this," she promised, hoping Diarmot would agree. "We can send ye to your father, have him protect ye from yourself."

"My father?" Margaret laughed, but it was not a pleasant sound. "My father cannae protect me, willnae protect me. He ne'er has. He didnae protect me from his own brother, did he? Or my cousins. Or his foul drunken friends!"

Her father was obviously the wrong person to speak of, Ilsa thought Now she knew where Margaret's madness had been bred. Ilsa could weep for the frightened, abused child Margaret had been, could find mercy in her heart for the scarred, troubled woman facing her, but she would kill her if Margaret pressed her to do so. She was not sure Margaret really understood or believed that.

"I must have my revenge," Margaret said. "Diarmot took Anabelle away from me.

I will take ye away from him."

"Ye gave the woman the potion that killed her, Margaret."

"That mon had got another bairn on her and wouldnae accept it as his! She would have been shamed!"

"That woman was carrying some other mon's bastard and, if she was shamed, she brought it upon herself by being a whore."

"Nay! Ye didnae ken her! She was a warrior. She showed men their own weakness and foulness. She conquered them in their hundreds. She could make e'en the most pious mon desire her, show him and the world that he was nay any better than the beasts in the field."

"Ye think she was some great battle maiden because she could get a mon's rod stiff? It doesnae take any great skill to do that. Wheesht, a mon can wake up alone in his bed with a stiff rod just because he had a passing thought about breasts. And getting a mon to rut on her was nay a great victory. If a mon is hungry enough he would rut on an ugly woman with boils on her arse. He would just squint a lot. She lied to ye. Mayhap she lied to herself, as weel. I dinnae ken why she did what she did, but it wasnae any great victory. Are ye really prepared to die for those lies?"