When she heard Aulay and Ivy giggle, she knew they would recover from their fright. Although that pleased her, she managed to scowl at her brother. "Such a clever wit, ye are." She quickly grew serious. "Tom?"
"Was waking e'en as we reached him," Sigimor answered. "Since he is also cursing and moving about as the rocks are lifted off him, I assume he is only battered and bruised."
"Thank God. And Odo? He looked weel enough, but I couldnae see him all that clearly."
"Dirty, nay more. Ah, your charming husband approaches."
Before Ilsa could prepare herself, she was staring into Diarmot's eyes. She did not need to see him very clearly to know he was angry. His gaze was hot enough to melt the rock. She inwardly sighed. Even if he could not find a way to blame her for this, she suspected what little freedom she had enjoyed was about to be seriously curtailed.
"What the devil are ye doing in there?" Diarmot demanded, not sure what annoyed him more, the danger she had been in or the fact that he had been afraid for her.
"Waiting for some burly lads to come and let us out," she replied.
"She was collecting rocks," said Sigimor, and, even though Ilsa could not see her brother, she was sure he was smirking.
When Diarmot looked at the pile of rocks he would have to move to free her, Ilsa snapped, "Nay those. Wee ones. I have been collecting rocks to make pretty pathways in the gardens."
Diarmot looked at her as if she was completely witless and Ilsa growled softly. She was getting very tired of that look. Her plan for the gardens was obviously one of those things that was beyond a man's understanding and, so, as with too many men, her husband assumed it was idiocy. Unfortunately, after this, it would be a long time before she gathered all the stones she needed, finished her pathways, and could show him the value of her plan.
"Best ye stand back whilst we move these stones," Diarmot said. "They could tumble inside and I wouldnae want ye to suffer yet another blow to the head."
Even as she obeyed, pulling the children back with her, Ilsa realized he was implying she had already had her wits rattled and she silently cursed. The only ones in danger of suffering a blow to the head at the moment were her husband and her chuckling brother. Perhaps she could draw Diarmot a picture to make her idea clearer to him. And, if that did not work, she could shove the picture down his throat. It was an enjoyable plan to contemplate as she waited to be freed.
The moment an opening was made that was big enough to climb through, Ilsa handed the children out. Ignoring the muttering of the men, she put out the fire, picked up the sacks of rocks they had collected and handed them out. As she started to climb out, Diarmot caught hold of her and nearly yanked her through the opening. Ilsa suspected what little patience Diarmot had had been sorely tested. Since Sigimor draped an arm around her, she leaned into him, suddenly in need of the support.
"Ye are looking sorely battered, lass," Sigimor said, gently grasping her by the chin and frowning as he studied her face.
"Some of the smaller stones were flung into the cave," she said, becoming achingly aware of each and every place she had been struck. "Where is Tom?"
"He is already on a litter and being taken back to Clachthrom," replied Diarmot, wondering why he felt so annoyed by the fact that Sigimor was the one offering comfort and support to Ilsa. "I think he is just badly bruised. It was clear naught was broken on the outside. Twill be a day or two ere we can be sure naught was injured inside the lad. Ye will need some tending as weel." He frowned at the sacks she had handed out of the cave. "Do ye expect us to tote these back to Clachthrom?" His frown deepened when Odo set two more down with the others.
Since she considered that a foolish question, Ilsa ignored it, and smiled at Odo. "Ye did weel, my wee brave knight."
"Thank ye, Mama." Odo frowned at her. "Ye got hurt." He looked at Diarmot.
"We have to take her home so that Fraser can care for her. She has blood on her."
"A fine idea, lad," said Sigimor and started down the path keeping a firm grip on Ilsa.
After staring at his wife's unsteady progress for a minute, Diarmot looked down at the sacks of stones. "I suppose I am expected to bring these along with us."
"We worked hard to collect them, Papa," said Ivy. "We want to help make the garden pretty."
Diarmot tossed a sack each to a grinning Tait and Peter, then started down the path carrying the other three. Peter and Tait followed, keeping a close eye on the children. When they reached the horses and Diarmot saw Ilsa already seated before Sigimor on the man's horse, he tossed Nanty the sacks and ignored his brother's look of surprise. Tait took Ivy up with him and Peter took Aulay.
So, instead of riding back to Clachthrom holding a grateful Ilsa, Diarmot found himself sharing a saddle with Odo again. Diarmot supposed that was only fair.