"Tis a busy time of the year. I cannae lurk about the nursery."
He ignored Gillyanne's look of mild disgust, then winced as Finlay grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked it forward to shove it in his mouth. Diarmot was a little surprised at the strength of the child's grip and the look of stubbornness that settled upon Finlay's sweet face even as he worked to free his hair. Grimacing at the wetness of his hair when he finally freed it and tossed it back over his shoulder, Diarmot's eyes widened at the speed with which Finlay grabbed one of the laces of his doublet and shoved that into his mouth.
"Do ye think he is hungry?" Diarmot asked a grinning Gillyanne.
"Nay," she replied, kissing Cearnach's forehead when the child rested his head against her shoulder. "He just likes to chew on things. He has to be watched verra carefully. Your other bairns are verra good about that."
"My other bairns? I admit, I now believe Ilsa was once my lover, but that doesnae mean the twins are mine."
"They have your eyes."
Diarmot thought so, too, but was feeling too obstinate, too cornered, to admit it. "Blue isnae such an uncommon color." He shrugged. "I cannae be any more sure my seed bred these bairns than I am with the others."
"Ilsa is right. Ye need a slap upside your thick head," snapped Gillyanne.
"If ye keep treating Ilsa as if, at any moment, she is going to stick a dagger in ye and twist it, ye will ruin all chance of a good marriage."
"Oh? And what makes ye think I can have one?"
"Tis just like a mon to trust a lass who didnae deserve to be trusted, and nay trust the lass who does. Ilsa had been here a fortnight and hasnae done one thing to deserve the unkindnesses ye heap upon her. I ken she warms your bed verra weel indeed. She tends your home and tis looking better each day. She defended your sorry hide when her brothers thought to flay it from your bones because of those foolish rumors ye do naught about. She cares for the people of this keep and on your lands, winning the affection and trust of them all. Ilsa also cares for your bairns as if they were her own, something few other women would do. Fine, cling to your doubts and suspicions, e'en though ye risk waking up one day to discover that is all ye have to cling to, but ye could at least treat her with more courtesy."
He was still stinging from Gillyanne's words and struggling to find some reply, when Ilsa rejoined him. "Here, take your brat," he snapped, setting Finlay in her arms and tugging his doublet lace free of the boy's mouth. "I am too busy to play nursemaid."
Ilsa calmly turned to Gillyanne. "Would ye mind holding Finlay for a moment?"
"Of course not," replied Gillyanne, accepting the little boy into her hold, easily balancing him and his brother on her hips.
Diarmot watched in stunned fascination as Ilsa balled up one hand into a tight fist and swung at him. The force of the blow on his jaw was such a surprise, he staggered back a few steps. He cursed as he stumbled over a patch of uneven ground and sat down hard.
"Thank ye, Gillyanne," Ilsa said, retrieving the twins and setting them on her hips as Gilly had done. "Have a safe journey, and, please, let me ken when the bairn comes." She kissed Gillyanne on the cheek and strode back into the keep.
As he rubbed his jaw, Diarmot became aware that a small crowd was gathering around him. He looked up to find his brothers, Ilsa's brothers, his children, Gay, Fraser, and Gillyanne all staring down at him. He did not bother looking beyond them, certain he would find everyone else in the bailey craning their necks to have a look as well. . The women all looked disgusted with him, his children looked curious, and his and Ilsa's brothers all looked far too amused for his comfort. Diarmot stood up and brushed himself off.
"Said something insulting or just plain ignorant, did ye?" asked Connor.
"I thought ye were leaving," grumbled Diarmot.
Connor grunted, draped his arm around Gillyanne's shoulders, and started to escort her to the cart readied for her. "I think ye had more than your memory knocked out of ye. Seem to have lost what few manners ye had, as weel."
Diarmot ignored that since the rebuke was earned. He busied himself with the final farewells. The moment his family left, Gay and Fraser took the children back inside. Sigimor and Tait headed toward the stables after assuring Nanty they would bring his mount out to him. Diarmot frowned at his brother when Nanty stood in front of him with his arms crossed over his broad chest. All amusement had faded from Nanty's face and he looked nearly as disgusted as the women had.
"Where are the three of ye going?" Diarmot asked, hoping to divert the lecture he knew Nanty wanted to give him.
"Hunting," Nanty replied.