"This Liam was able to help?" asked Gillyanne.
"Aye," replied Sigimor. "He spent some time in a monastery. Being a sharp-witted lad, he learned a lot. Had to leave in the end, though, as the rules about celibacy proved a wee bit too difficult for him to follow. Liam wrote up those papers and we got Sir Diarmot to sign them. Then Liam led the handfasting ceremony. After that the bride and groom went to a wee cottage for a fortnight."
"After which Diarmot left only to be attacked. Why was your sister nay with him?"
Sigimor grimaced. "He insisted he had to go alone, that some trouble was dogging his heels and he wanted it tended to before he took Ilsa to his home. We were verra uneasy about it, but, if he was telling the truth, we didnae want Ilsa put in danger. Ilsa believed him. Poor lass tried verra hard to keep believing e'en though she neither saw nor heard from him again. When the year and the day were near done, we insisted she come to him."
"If I have figured the times correctly, he was beaten verra soon after leaving Ilsa, and right in your village."
"Nay, I cannae believe that. The whole village kenned he had married our Ilsa. Nary a one of them would do him ill."
"But, we are fair certain he was beaten in Muirladen."
"Och, that isnae on our lands. We are the Camerons of Dubheidland."
And there was irony, thought Diarmot. A vast clan of redheads living in a place called the dark headland. He wondered if he was actually caught up in one of his nightmares, was actually still asleep in his bed, then decided he had never been that lucky.
"Then who holds Muirladen?" asked Connor.
"Weel, the mon there now is a Sir Randolph Ogilvey, but I believe he holds it for someone else," replied Sigimor. "It changes hands a lot. E'en the people living on the land are nay too sure and they are a weel mixed lot, so one cannae judge by their names. Tis a dower land, always has been, and each new laird holds a different name and brings his own people who add their names to the village rolls. Twould take some searching to find the true holders of it and we have ne'er been interested as we have ne'er had any trouble from them."
"Can ye find out?"
"Och, aye, if ye think it important."
"It may help us discover who had my brother beaten near to death."
"I will send word back to Dubheidland with my brothers and set them to the task."
Diarmot tensed and frowned at Sigimor. "And why nay see to the task yourself?"
"Because Tait and I will be staying here to keep an eye on things," replied Sigimor.
"Do ye think your sister needs your protection?" Diarmot was unable to hide his outrage over the suggestion that he might hurt a woman.
"Weel, there is obviously still some trouble dogging your heels, isnae there?
And, since ye have become such an ill-tempered, callous rogue, mayhap we stay to protect ye from Ilsa."
"Did ye kill him?" Gay asked when Ilsa marched back into the nursery.
"Nay. Gilbert told everyone to duck," replied Ilsa as she took a fretting Finlay into her arms, sat in a chair near the fireplace, and began to nurse him.
"For a moment, Diarmot sat there, an excellent target, but Sir Connor yanked him out of the way."
Gay sat down opposite her and began to nurse Cearnach. "Tis for the best. I dinnae think the mon needs his head cracked open again."
"Nay, he doesnae," agreed Fraser as she sat on a padded stool near Ilsa's chair. "He truly was near death, m'lady. I have ne'er seen a mon so badly beaten and I didnae see him until some time after the attack. It took him months to heal."
"Weel, I had naught to do with it," said Ilsa.
"I ken it, but I fear my Anabelle taught the laird wariness, mistrust, and bitterness long before that. The beating only made it worse."
"Your Anabelle?"
"Aye. I was her companion. I kenned from the beginning that Sir Diarmot was smitten with her, but I couldnae do anything. No mon will heed ye when ye try to make him see the evil in the woman he woos. He certainly wouldnae listen to some poor kinswoman forced to bow to Anabelle's every wish. She put on a fine show, acting so verra sweet and demure."
"But she wasnae either of those things, was she?"
Fraser shook her head. "Nay. She was a spoiled, manipulative, e'en cruel, woman. She was also a whore," Fraser added with a sigh.
"She was unfaithful?" Ilsa tried to think of what sort of man could prompt a woman to be unfaithful to a man like Diarmot, but found it impossible.
"Weel, I wouldnae call all unfaithful wives whores. Some husbands deserve to be cuckolded. Or, there is no love within the marriage, but tis found elsewhere and thus the sin is committed. But, Anabelle was truly a whore. She rutted with any mon, delighted in seducing foolish men to betray liege, lover, kin, or wife.
How she hid that part of her for e'en the few months she did, I dinnae ken. The truth was finally revealed but a month after the wedding when the laird caught her with two men from the village."
"Two?"