"Weel, she does. He kenned about ye ere we did. And, Ilsa would have spoken up about your lechery. Aye, loud and long. Such lechery would have appalled her and ye wouldnae have gotten into her bed so cursed fast. We would have been asking ye some hard questions ere ye handfasted as weel. What did ye do, push her into the room full of your bairns with nary a word of warning?"
To his dismay, Diarmot could feel the sting of guilt's color upon his cheeks and he glared at Sigimor. "She wanted the nursery. I showed it to her."
Sigimor shook his head. "Ye werenae such an ill-tempered, unkind sod when we kenned ye. I think that beating knocked more than your senses awry." He crossed his arms over his broad chest. "I am now wishing I had let the others come along so that we could all take a turn beating some sense and charity into your thick head."
"What others? There are more of ye? Just how many cursed brothers does she have?"
"Fourteen. Three sets of twins. Ilsa is the only lass. Has two score and seven cousins, too, and only three of them are lasses, but then ye kenned all of that."
Diarmot scowled at Gillyanne who was laughing so hard she had to cling to Connor for support. All three of his brothers were doing a poor job of hiding their own amusement. He saw absolutely nothing funny about this. A doting father or brother was well known to be a problem for a husband. He was beset by a doting army of huge redheads.
"Why dinnae ye just assume I dinnae recall any of it," Diarmot said. "Play the game. Tell me exactly who Ilsa Cameron is and how I came to be handfasted to her." He gave Sigimor a cold smile. "Mayhap it will bestir my memory."
"I have heard that a sound knock upon the head can help," said Tait, slowly rising from his seat, his hands clenched into hard fists.
"Sit, Tait," Sigimor ordered, nodding when, after a moment of hesitation, Tait obeyed. He then looked at Diarmot. "Fine, we shall play your game. Ilsa met ye when she stopped our cousins Ivar and Marcus from knocking ye senseless. They considered the lass at the inn theirs, ye ken, and felt ye were trespassing, Ilsa is probably regretting the fact that she didnae see that wee incident as proof of a lecherous nature."
It was not easy, but Diarmot decided to ignore that slur. "How did I go from meeting her to wedding her?"
"By the same route many a lecherous rogue takes--seduction. Ilsa was easy prey as the fool lass thinks she isnae one to catch a mon's eye. She thinks her lack of gentlemen seeking to court her is because she hasnae got a big dowry or lush curves or a bonny face."
"When tis mostly that she has a veritable sea of strong kinsmen encircling her," murmured Gillyanne.
Sigimor nodded. "That was for the best at times. We all felt she should have her heart's choice in a mon, but didnae want her picking some rogue who would leave her poor and unhappy. Sad to say, our manner of sorting the wheat from the chaff spawned rumors that made the lads wary, the cowards. We werenae at hand when she met this rogue," Sigimor said with a nod toward Diarmot. "By the time we were, the rogue had won her heart and seduced her. Wheesht, me and five of my brothers found them trysting in the wood. Truth is, near to rode right over them. Twas clear he had taken her maidenhead and, since Ilsa wouldnae let us kill him, we demanded marriage." Sigimor frowned when Gillyanne buried her face in her hands and her shoulders trembled slightly. "It wasnae so bad, m'lady. Sir Diarmot's pride may have been a wee bit bruised, but naught else. Though, I be thinking he may have deserved more. Aye, and still might."
Gillyanne raised her head and smiled at Sigimor, revealing that she had been laughing, not crying. "I wasnae upset, Sigimor. I but suddenly realized how ye kenned Ilsa was intending to throw that jug and why it is she has such a fine aim."
"Aye, we do irritate the lass at times," he said and grinned.
"Why handfast? Why nay a priest?"
"Didnae have one. Ours died a month before Sir Diarmot arrived."
"Died in his mistress's bed," said Tamhas Cameron. "Actually, he died in his mistress and it wasnae easy to prepare him for his burial, I can tell ye. Had to get some lard and ..." he grunted a curse when his older brother Ranulph shoved him off his seat.
"My pardon, m'lady," Sigimor said, ignoring the brief tussle which took place between his brothers before Tamhas was seated again. "The lad is but nineteen and hasnae learned his manners yet."
"Quite all right," Gillyanne said in a voice choked with laughter. "So, ye decided upon a handfasting."
"Aye. Got the lovers to tidy themselves up and took them off to the alehouse to find our cousin Liam. Set the groom in a barrel and had my brother Gilbert there," he nodded toward a very sturdily built young man with flame red hair and blue eyes, "to sit on it whilst we discussed the matter with Liam."
Diarmot slouched in his chair and drank his ale, wondering if it was possible for this tale to be any more humiliating. He forced himself to listen carefully to every word, however. It might help him to catch one of the Camerons in a lie.
He stoutly ignored the small inner voice that suggested this had to be the truth, that no one would concoct such a convoluted or farcical tale if they feared being caught in a lie.