She looked nothing like his late wife, or any other woman he had ever lusted after. She was almost too slender, her curves subtle ones. Her breasts were plump and round, but he suspected some of that fullness would disappear once the twins were fully weaned. The shadow of her form was visible through the fine linen of her shift, revealing a small waist, slim hips and slender legs. Her body showed little sign of having borne twins only a few months ago, yet even his cynical mind could not doubt that she was their mother.
Her eyes were beautiful, the rich green visible even in the soft light from a scattering of candles and the low fire in the fireplace. They were somewhat wide eyes, set beneath delicately arced brown brows, and rimmed with impressively long, thick lashes. Her nose was small and straight, her bones delicate, and her mouth slightly wide with temptingly full lips. There was the hint of the strong jaw-line her brothers had, but it suited her faintly round face. For a redhead, she had few freckles marring her soft, pale skin. Her long, slender neck was perfection.
Even though she was completely different from any other woman he had ever felt drawn to, Diarmot could see why he might have bedded her. Once he studied her children more closely, he might be willing to accept that he and Ilsa had once been lovers. Accepting her as his wife would take a great deal more. He had decided, however, that if she was going to play this game, he would gain what benefit he could from it.
"I have come to join my wife in the marital bed," he replied. "
Ilsa needed but one hard look at him to know he had not had a sudden revelation and now believed in her. "Ye dinnae think I am your wife."
"Nay? Mayhap I doubt your tale of what occurred between us a year ago, but I dinnae doubt that ye are now my wife." He started to move toward her. "We did kneel before a priest mere hours ago and say our vows."
"And ye expect me to play the dutiful wife to a mon who thinks me a liar?"
"Since when does what a mon think or feel about his wife keep her from giving him his husbandly rights?" Diarmot gave in to the strong urge to stroke her hair, finding it soft to the touch.
That was a sad fact Ilsa could not argue with. Another sad fact she had to face was how his nearness, his touch upon her hair, was heating her blood.
Although she could hide a great deal of what she felt, it was obvious she could not easily control her desire for him. Having him so close, smelling the clean, crisp scent of him, and knowing he was undoubtedly naked beneath the heavy robe he wore was rapidly stirring her desire for him to a near-feverish level.
"Ye dinnae believe I am your wife despite Father Goudie's blessing," she said. "Ye think I am trying to trick ye in some way, although I cannae understand why ye would."
"Nay? We were supposedly lovers, then handfasted, a year ago. A year ago I put my name to papers that give ye and your children claim to all that is mine.
A year ago someone tried to kill me. Such great coincidence has to raise a doubt or two even in the most feeble of minds."
"I see. So, ye dinnae just think me a liar, ye think me a threat to your verra life. I am surprised ye wish to be alone with me," she snapped as she took several steps away from him and turned to glare at him. "Are ye sure ye dare to slip beneath the sheets with such a dangerous lass?"
"Nay so dangerous when ye are unarmed and naked."
"Unarmed, naked, and nay the wife ye intended to bed this night, either."
Diarmot shrugged as he walked toward her, undeterred by how she retreated before his advance, for she was backing up toward the bed. "I wanted a woman in my bed and a mother for my bairns. Aye, I also sought a sweet, biddable lass."
"Of course. Instead, ye got one ye dinnae trust as far as ye can spit."
"Probably nay e'en that far. Howbeit, until the truth is revealed, ye will do for what I seek."
"Ye have a true skill at wooing a lass, dinnae ye."
"I dinnae need to woo ye. Ye took vows afore a priest. Those vows say ye will share my bed when I wish it. Shall we leave the marriage unconsummated then?"
She frowned. "It has been consummated. A year ago."
"Nay in the church's eyes."
Ilsa felt the bed against the back of her legs and tensed. She had thought she would be given time to consider the best way to deal with Diarmot, with this marriage he so clearly resented. During the tense evening meal in the great hall, he had not revealed any inclination to be her husband in even the smallest way. Now he was demanding his husbandly rights. He might not have had a change of heart, but he had obviously had a change of mind.