Highland Groom (9 page)

Knowing this game could continue for a while, Ilsa decided to return to the keep for her sons would soon be demanding a meal. Gay fell into step on her right and Lady Gillyanne quickly joined her on her left. A brief glance back at the men revealed that the three MacEnroy brothers were too entertained to leave.

"Your family reminds me verra much of my own," said Gillyanne as they entered the keep and started toward the nursery. "The Murrays are a large, boisterous lot and we, too, seem to breed more lads than lasses."

Ilsa shook her head even as she smiled. "My father had four wives and I was the only lass born. When his last wife died bearing Fergus, who is but eleven, he said he had buried enough wives and wouldnae marry again. He died less than a year later of a virulent fever that swept through Dubheidland. It took many of the elders. So, at barely eleven, I found myself being raised by my brothers and cousins, mostly male as weel." She laughed softly as, the moment she entered the nursery, Diarmot's children rushed to greet her. "Finding myself with six sons and but two daughters seems verra natural."

"And, mayhap dealing with a stubborn fool of a mon willnae seem so strange, either."

"Och, nay, not strange at all. Nay easy, but nay strange."

"Ye will prevail."

"Is that an opinion born of some foreseeing or prophetic dream?"

"Nay, just a belief in the power of love, and ye do love him, dinnae ye?"

Ilsa sighed. "I do. I but pray it can survive the tests I am sure Diarmot will put it through."

*CHAPTER SIX*

The speed with which her brothers and the two younger MacEnroys disappeared into the alehouse almost made Ilsa laugh. They had all muttered something about needing to quench their thirst, but she knew they sought out willing women. She had spent her whole life around men so they could not fool her about such things, even though they continued to try. Although she puzzled over why they would waste scarce coins on a brief rutting with a whore, she considered it just another one of those manly things she would probably never understand.

"They are just seeking out a rutting," grumbled Gay. "Do they think we are too dim-witted to ken it?"

"Och, nay," replied Ilsa as she moved toward the market she had come to see.

"They ken that we ken exactly what they seek, but dinnae want to shock our delicate feminine sensibilities by being too truthful."

Gay snorted and rolled her eyes. "I dinnae understand men. I certainly dinnae understand how those lasses can rut with so many men they dinnae ken, mayhap dinnae e'en like."

"Ah, weel, 'tis for the coin, isnae it. Tis a hard life and some may have been pushed into it, nay chose it, but 'tis the way of the world. I suspect the lasses in that alehouse have some choice o'er which mon they bed down with.

Twould be verra fine indeed if all such lasses had truly chosen that life and were pleased with their lot, but there really isnae much we can do about it. If there is a lass about here who has been forced into that life and doesnae want to stay there, that will soon be kenned and I will see what can be done to help her. Tis all one can do."

"Aye, I suppose." She gasped softly and moved to a table filled with bolts of fine cloth. "Oh, Ilsa, look here. Tis a wonder to find such richness here."

"Gillyanne said this was a verra good market for the merchants stop here on their way to the larger, richer towns." Ilsa studied an extremely fine linen dyed a deep, rich blue. "This is verra lovely."

Although she knew it was an unnecessary extravagance, Ilsa soon reached a bargain with the man selling the cloth and arranged for it and some cheaper linen to be sent to the keep. Gillyanne had shown her the fine clothes and bolts of cloth left by Anabelle and Ilsa was willing to alter them for herself, but she also wished something new, something a little special and all her own.

She moved through the many displays of goods selecting ribbons for herself, Gay, and her new daughters. At one table she purchased a gentle scent for Fraser, at another something for each of Diarmot's children. Ilsa suspected it would not be appreciated that much, but she bought a wedding gift for Diarmot.

It was a beautifully wrought silver buckle, decorated with the swirling patterns favored by the ancients and a griffin with garnet chips for its eyes. They had been married only three days so she knew she could still disguise her urge to buy a gift for the man she loved as little more than custom or a courtesy. She might even hold fast to it until matters grew less uncertain between them.

Drawn by the scents of lavender and roses, Ilsa paused to survey the wares of the local herb seller and healing woman. The supply of medicinal herbs at the keep had been sadly depleted and, until she could restore the garden, she would have to buy what she needed. She was impressed by the variety offered and praised the white-haired woman for the quality of her goods.

"Ye are the new lady of the keep, are ye?" asked the woman.

"Aye," Ilsa replied and introduced herself and Gay.

"Heard that the laird married another lass than the one he walked to the kirk, one he had forgotten about. Saw the Campbells ride away that day." She stuck out one surprisingly clean, smooth hand. "I be Glenda, the midwife."

Ilsa shook the woman's hand and, realizing the tale of her marriage had already spread through the village, decided to be perfectly honest. "The laird's memory was damaged by a severe beating."

Glenda nodded. "So tis said. I didnae have much to do with his care as the Murray women are skilled healers and his kin. Tis right and proper they came to his aid. I tend most other ails and hurts."

"Aye, and e'en sold the laird the potion he used to kill his wife, ye old witch," snapped a dark-haired man as he moved to stand beside Ilsa.

"Ye ken weel that I deal only in the healing arts, Wallace," said Glenda.

Wallace ignored the woman's protest and looked at Ilsa. "Ye best watch what ye eat or drink, m'lady. Lady Anabelle didnae and she is dead. He couldnae abide the truth, that his lady preferred another mon to him, so he killed her."

"I find it verra hard to believe that Sir Diarmot would kill a woman," Ilsa said, her voice hard and steady even though she felt chilled by his angry accusation.

"Then I pity ye, m'lady, for we will soon be burying ye as weel."

Ilsa watched the man stride away and told herself not to heed his words. He was a handsome man, young and strong, and she suspected he had been one of Anabelle's lovers. That would taint his opinion about the woman's death, his probable jealousy of Diarmot making him see guilt in Diarmot's every word and deed. Despite the logic of that argument, Ilsa felt uneasy and knew it showed in her face when she turned to look at Glenda. The look upon that woman's faintly lined face was one of gentle sympathy.

"Wallace speaks from anger and jealousy, m'lady," said Glenda.

"Is what he says what the people of Clachthrom think and believe?" Ilsa asked.

"Nay all of them. I hate to speak ill of the dead, but Lady Anabelle wasnae weel loved." Glenda sighed and shook her head. "She was a strange lass. She had a handsome husband who cared for her, a fine keep to rule, and, though the laird isnae as rich as some, coin to spend. Yet, she was e'er unhappy, unsatisfied.

Twas as if she wanted to have every mon alive beguiled by her. I think she bedded near every mon about Clachthrom, those who werenae too ugly or too old, leastwise."

It was almost beyond Ilsa's understanding. For a woman to be so repeatedly and flagrantly unfaithful to a laird seemed mad. Punishment for such behavior was usually severe. The woman had been fortunate that all Diarmot had done was turn from her. Unless Wallace's accusation was true, she mused, then struggled to banish that thought.

"Were ye called to the keep to tend her when she was dying?" Ilsa asked Glenda.

"Nay. Lady Anabelle refused my help. She had tried to force me to sell her a potion to rid her womb of a bairn." Glenda nodded when both Ilsa and Gay gasped in shock. "I held firm against her for I dinnae deal in such things, but she was angry with me. Verra angry."

"Do ye think she found someone who would give her such a thing or tried to make one herself?"

"M'lady, I think a great many things about how and why Lady Anabelle died, but few of them point the finger of guilt at the laird." Glenda shrugged. "And, if he did have a hand in it, I cannae fully blame him. She shamed him time and time again and she told me herself that the bairn wasnae his."

"Diarmot wouldnae kill a bairn," Ilsa said, hating the tickle of doubt in her mind. "Whether twas his or nay, I cannae believe he would hurt a bairn, in or out of the womb."

"That is my belief as weel, m'lady, but, if the tale troubles ye, speak to Lady Anabelle's woman."

"Fraser?"

"Aye. She tended Lady Anabelle whilst she was dying."

"Are these suspicions often spoken of?"

"As often as most gossip."

Ilsa cast a nervous glance toward the alehouse her brothers had gone into. "I think I best gather a few facts as quickly as possible." She chose what she needed from the selection of herbs, and asked Glenda to send it to the keep before hurrying in that direction herself.

"Do ye think the laird killed his wife?" asked Gay.

"Nay. And, yet?" Ilsa shrugged. "All that has happened has weakened my trust in the mon, I fear. There is a verra small part of me that wonders if it is possible. Diarmot is a proud mon and Anabelle repeatedly shamed him, made him look a fool. That woman is the reason he is so bitter, so mistrustful of women.

For the brief time we were together, I did catch glimpses of such wounds to the heart, but I thought I had soothed them. There was arrogance."

"Weel, it might have been true ere he got his wits rattled."

"Possibly. What is important now is to get to the truth about Anabelle's death."

"To soothe that tiny doubt?"

"Aye, for I dinnae wish to become as wary and lacking in trust as Diarmot.

There would be no hope for our marriage if that happened."

"And for that ye need to do this so quickly we near run back to the keep?"

Ilsa shook her head. "Nay, I need to do this quickly so that I have the truth ere my brothers hear the gossip."

"Oh dear."

When Gay began to run, Ilsa nearly laughed, then she also began to run. She had not been in the village very long before hearing the gossip so there was no doubt in her mind that her brothers would hear it as well. If they had not all lingered within the walls surrounding the keep, Ilsa suspected they would have heard it a lot earlier. Ilsa hoped that the lack of such tales within the keep meant those who lived there did not believe Diarmot guilty. This new problem could take a long time to solve if there were ones within Clachthrom eager to keep her brothers suspicious of the laird. That would prove a slow, dripping poison to any hope of peace in her new home.

Ignoring the startled glances of the ones she and Gay ran past, Ilsa led her companion straight to the nursery. She was pleased to find Gillyanne there with Fraser and requested a few moments of privacy with the two women. After assuring Gay she would let her know exactly what she learned, and assuring the children she would soon return, Ilsa left Gay to watch over the nursery. She then led an openly curious Gillyanne and Fraser to the small solar she had claimed for her own.

"What do ye need to tell us?" asked Gillyanne as she sat down beside Fraser on a well-padded bench.

"I heard some rumors in the market today," Ilsa said.

"Oh, dear," murmured Fraser.

"What rumors?" Gillyanne asked at the same time.

"I was warned about my husband's inclination to poison his wives." She nodded at Gillyanne's gasp of shock. "Tis clear ye havenae been to the village much since Lady Anabelle died, Gilly, but Fraser kens what I speak of."

Fraser grimaced. "Aye. I had hoped that foolishness had waned, good sense killing all suspicion. Tis clear nay everyone there has any regard for a laird who has worked hard to keep them safe and their bellies full. Who told ye this wretched tale?"

"A young mon named Wallace."

"Ah, one of Anabelle's many lovers. A foolish lad who thought her a poor troubled soul and believed the laird the one to blame for it. Anabelle was troubled, but she was also mean-spirited, selfish and vain. Of course, he ne'er saw that. The laird had naught to do with Anabelle's death."

"_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."