Diarmot was not sure he wanted to think about the reason for that too deeply.
When Ilsa started back to the bed, Diarmot got up and strode past her to disappear behind the screen. She caught her breath so quickly at the sight of his naked form, she coughed. Inwardly cursing her weakness for the man, she climbed back into bed. If the mere sight of him affected her so, it was going to be impossible to resist him in even the smallest of ways.
Turning on her side and snuggling comfortably into the feather mattress and plump pillows, she decided to give up on all thoughts of resistance, Ilsa suspected such a tactic would only add to Diarmot's suspicions even if she could accomplish it. There was no way it would protect her from the hurts he would undoubtedly inflict in the days to come, so it was a battle lost before it had even begun.
Trying to be always sweet and biddable was also hopeless and, she suspected, would also rouse his suspicions. So she would just be herself. Honesty in word and deed would be her weapon. Although she would not speak of her love for him, she would give it. She had already given him her passion and would continue to do so. All her instincts told her it was the best plan and, after so much indecision and wrestling with plan after plan, it was a comfort of sorts to finally settle upon one. Ilsa just hoped she had the strength to hold to it until Diarmot lost his anger, mistrust, and bitterness. She also prayed that, when he did, she would find what they had shared a year ago, that she would not discover that it had all been a lie.
She tensed when she felt Diarmot climb back into bed. He moved to press against her back and, before she could act to stop him, tugged off her shift and tossed it aside again. When he pressed against her again, she could feel his arousal, and shivered as her own desire was rapidly stirred to life.
"I was planning to go to sleep," she said, not surprised to hear the huskiness of her voice, for he was caressing her breasts and nibbling her ear, sending heat through her veins.
"Weel, go right ahead," he murmured and traced the delicate curve of her ear with his tongue. "I will just carry on."
She laughed softly. "Ye cannae do that whilst I sleep." She gasped as he slid his hand between her legs and her body swiftly responded to that intimate caress. "I think I might be able to stay awake for a wee bit longer."
Hope stirred in her heart when he chuckled.
She was not foolish enough to think such compatibility would last long, but it had to start somewhere. It was a tiny crack in the wall between them and cracks could be widened enough to bring down a wall. She would have to think of ways to weaken that wall, widen that tiny opening until she could slip through.
When he cocked her leg back over his and eased into her, she decided she would plot out her battle plan later.
CHAPTER FIVE
"Are all our new uncles as big as ye are?"
Ilsa smiled when Sigimor lifted up the curious Odo until they were eye to eye and said, "They are all wee, runty lads compared to me. I am the biggest, the strongest, and the wisest."
Odo giggled which prompted the other children to deem her brothers safe and venture closer, Ilsa had left the sleeping twins with Fraser so that she and Gay could take the older children outside. It had only taken one look as she reached the bailey to know that her brothers were preparing to leave. She swallowed a brief cowardly urge to ask them all to stay or take her home with them. Diarmot had been her choice. She could not hide behind her brothers simply because everything between her and her husband was not right.
Diarmot had made love to her this morning, then left. He had barely spoken to her except for the time he was uttering hot words of pleasure and delight against her skin. Ilsa supposed his silence was his way of honoring their truce, but it had quickly chilled her, stealing away all the warmth left by his lovemaking. She still believed her decision to welcome him into her bed was a good one, as was her plan to simply be herself. However, if Diarmot's plan was to make her senseless with passion every night and ignore her existence all day, building a good marriage was going to be very slow work indeed. So slow that she could easily be past caring when, and if, he ever regained some affection for her.
Ilsa started to walk around the bailey, intending to explore her new home.
She had to smile when Sigimor fell into step beside her, walking along at a steady pace even though he was covered with children. Ewart in one arm, Gregor in the other, Aulay on his shoulders, Odo and Ivy each wrapped around a strong leg, and Alice clinging to his jerkin. Her brother loved children and she had to wonder, yet again, why he was so hesitant to wed. One day she would have to ask him, she mused.
"And how are ye this morning, lass?" Sigimor asked, studying her carefully.
Despite her best efforts not to, Ilsa blushed. "I am just fine. Ye dinnae see any bruises, do ye?"
"Nay, not on the outside."
"Ah, weel, the other sort are mine alone to deal with."