"Ye kenned who they were?" Tait asked in surprise.
Diarmot sighed. "My wife kept meticulous records of everything she did, from when and how she cleaned her teeth to each mon she rutted with." He decided they did not need to know that Anabelle had not only listed who, but how, where, and how often. Only a few times had the name been missing. "Almost to a mon it was nay more than succumbing to a need and a beautiful woman. A few thought that cuckolding their laird was a daring coup. Only Wallace showed any sign of anger or jealousy, but he didnae have the coin needed to hire someone to beat me, nor will he."
"My wife's family has almost completed an investigation of the more weelborn lovers the woman had," said Connor. "Tis much the same. A few raised some doubt, but that begins to look as if it is simply a reluctance to confess to cuckolding a mon."
"Jesu." Tait shook his head. "I am astonished that ye didnae kill her, Diarmot."
"She wasnae worth hanging for," Diarmot said, then turned and headed back into the keep.
As soon as the door shut behind Diarmot, Connor looked at the three younger men. "Diarmot is probably right about Wallace, but I think it wouldnae hurt to give the mon a second, hard look."
"Agreed," said all three.
"And try nay to do it from the alehouse," he drawled as he strode away from the three blushing young men.
Diarmot paused at the door to his bedchamber. He could hear the sound of softly splashing water. The thought of catching Ilsa naked and relaxing in her bath had him reaching for the door latch. He slipped into the room and quietly shut the door behind him.
It took but one look at Ilsa to stir his desire. Her lithe body was only lightly shadowed by the soapy water of her bath. She was resting her head against a drying cloth folded over the rim of the tub, her glorious hair hanging down the outside to pool slightly on the floor. Her strong, slender arms rested on the sides of the tub, her eyes were closed, and her face was slightly flushed. Diarmot wondered how any mon could not think she was beautiful.
He hesitated to move, fighting the urge to shed his clothes and join her in that bath. It was not a good time for him to lose himself in the passion they shared for he was feeling a dangerous softness toward her. She had defended him to her brothers and he could not deny that he had been touched by that. Instinct told him a seed of doubt had been planted in her mind when Wallace had spat out his accusations, but it did not matter. She had not rushed to him with accusations, but gone to Fraser and Gillyanne to seek out the truth. It was more than many another had done. Her own words had also told him that, whatever else she may have briefly thought, she had not been able to believe that he would harm a child, in or out of the womb. It was impossible to harden himself against that.
When, despite what good sense was telling him to do, Diarmot took a step toward the bath, Ilsa's flush darkened and she slowly opened her eyes. He kept his gaze upon her as he shed his clothes. The way she pulled her legs up close against her body and wrapped her arms round them did nothing to cool his blood.
She had beautiful legs.
"What are ye doing?" she asked. "Ye cannae mean to get into the bath with me?"
"Tis exactly what I mean to do," replied Diarmot even as he shed the last of his clothes.
"Ye will nae fit."
"Aye, I will."
Ilsa cursed softly in surprise as he stepped into the tub, bringing the level of the water dangerously close to the edge. Try though she did, she could not stop herself from looking at him. She liked the look of him far too much. The sight of his lean, strong body, and his obvious arousal stirred her blood. The way he studied her as he bathed should have made her uncomfortable, but only aroused her more. The heated looks he gave her made her feel almost beautiful.
"Such modesty isnae necessary between a wife and her husband," Diarmot said, smiling faintly at the way Ilsa continued to huddle at the far end of the tub.
He certainly was not troubled with it, Ilsa thought a little crossly, but said, "A bath is a private, intimate thing."
"So is what I intend to do verra soon."
"Now? But, we must soon go down to the great hall for our meal."
"Aye, I dinnae intend to miss that, either."