It was sad, that was what it was, thought Ilsa as she propped herself up against the pillow to watch Diarmot wash and dress. She held the sheet over her breasts and fought the urge to sigh. It was a pleasure to watch him like this, to see how gracefully he moved, to study the ripple of muscle below his fine skin. She was glad that he never bothered to make use of the privacy screen except to relieve himself. What was so sad was this hard proof that she was utterly enthralled despite all of her efforts to protect her heart. Diarmot, however, seemed to have protected his heart with the finest Spanish steel.
There was one very thin ray of hope. She hated to cling to it, but could not seem to stop herself. Yet, since the accident at the cave a fortnight ago, Diarmot had ceased to treat her as a threat. Outside of the bedchamber, he was not warm, but he was also not as cold and distant as he had been. The occasional muttered remark told her that he still doubted her tale that they had been handfasted, but, more and more, he behaved as if he accepted her as his wife.
Even more important, he behaved as if he accepted the twins as his sons.
She tried not to act surprised when he paused by the bed. He did not simply give her a brief kiss and leave, but stood frowning at her, his hands on his hips. It was obvious he was actually going to speak to her. Ilsa prayed he was not about to break their truce. She was not at her sharpest in the morning, certainly not sharp enough to effectively defend herself if he began to utter some of those suspicions he still clutched so close to his armored heart.
"I plan to take Odo and Aulay with me today," he said.
"Where?" she asked, tensing slightly as she fought the urge to demand he explain himself. Odo and Aulay were his children, his sons, and he had every right to do as he pleased with them.
"To ride with me o'er my lands." He shrugged. "To tally the livestock, inspect the fields, speak to the people. Odo and Aulay cannae be my heirs, but they are my sons and part of this clan."
"Oh, aye, but is it safe for them to go?"
Diarmot realized he had expected her to be concerned. That was why he had consulted her about his intentions, something he had not needed to do. No matter what else he thought about her, it was clear that he had fully accepted her place as the mother of his children. He supposed he ought to take some time to consider how her complete acceptance of his children, her unquestionable affection for them, contradicted all of his suspicions about her.
"It willnae be just the three of us," he replied.
"There will be half a dozen men with us. I havenae gone many places on my own for a long while." He gave her a brief kiss and started to leave. "They will be weel guarded."
Ilsa slumped against the pillows and frowned at the door as he shut it behind him. She was not quite sure what to make of it. Diarmot had consulted her about the children, something he had never done before. Did that mean he had accepted her as their mother or would he have done the same with Fraser if he had no wife? It was one of those puzzles she would probably drive herself mad trying to solve.
She got out of bed and moved to wash up, then dress. There were still a few discolorations on her skin from the battering she had received at the cave, but that was all. Tom had recovered quickly as well. For a fortnight all had been peaceful so she told herself not to worry about Diarmot, Odo, and Aulay. In fact, everything had been so very quiet she was tempted to leave the confines of Clachthrom herself, but fought the temptation.
"Good morning," called Gay from the doorway. "I have brought ye something to break your fast."
"Ah, good. Come in, come in," Ilsa muttered as she finished lacing up her gown and stepped out from behind the privacy screen.
"Oh, that gown looks lovely, Ilsa." Gay shut the door, then set the tray she carried on the chest near the fireplace. "That dark green is a good color for ye."
"One of Lady Anabelle's." Ilsa ran her hand down the side of the skirt, astonished at the softness of the wool. "Fraser fitted this one for me. I am nay sure I wish to think too much on how much of Diarmot's money was tossed away on such finery. The woman must have had a gown for every day of the month."
"Mayhap two months. All in rich colors. All of the finest cloth. Ye would think she had been handmaiden to the queen." Gay set a stool by the chest where she had placed the food. "Come, sit on this and I shall tidy your hair."
"Her wardrobe reveals her vanity, I think," said Ilsa as she sat down and helped herself to a honey-sweetened oatcake. "And a part of me can easily understand the craving for so many pretty things. However, Nanty said she nearly beggared Diarmot, making it difficult for him to care for his lands and his people. That is unforgivable."