"As soon as I have finished eating and visit with the bairns, ye shall have another lesson. Best to take advantage of the fact that Odo and Aulay arenae here to pester us to teach them." She frowned. "I hope they are all right."
"Of course they are. They are with their father. I think it verra good that Sir Diarmot is starting to take an interest in them."
It was, and by the time they returned, Ilsa told herself she would be over the pinch of jealousy she felt.
"Who lives in this cottage, Papa?" asked Odo as he peeked into the empty pot hung over the fire.
"No one now," replied Diarmot. "The old couple who used to live here died a few years ago."
Yet the little house looked remarkably clean, thought Diarmot as he looked around. It had been the sense of occupancy that had caused him to stop and look inside. It was not unusual for someone to take possession of an empty house, but he saw no sign that someone was actually living here. There were no clothes, no food, and no scent of a recent meal or a fire in the hearth. A clean straw mattress was upon the bed, however, a blanket folded neatly at the foot of the bed.
A trysting place, he thought, and smiled faintly. That made sense, explaining the cleanliness yet no sign of actual residency. Some lovers had stumbled upon the abandoned house and decided it was the perfect place to meet. Diarmot began to look for some clue as to who might be using his cottage. Just as he began to think it a waste of time, he caught sight of something wedged between the rough wooden leg of the bed and the wall. Diarmot got down on his stomach, smiling when Odo and Aulay did the same, flanking him.
Diarmot was just tugging what appeared to be a message free when a gruff voice said, "Weel, will ye look at the laird with his bonny face in the dirt."
A bone-chilling cold flooded Diarmot. He was back in Muirladen, sprawled in the mud, too broken and bloody to move. He flinched, his body remembering the booted foot that had struck him in the side, cracking a rib. For a moment, Diarmot felt caught tightly in his nightmare, could feel the bitter taste of fear in the back of his throat. Sweat broke out all over his body as he waited for another blow.
"Papa! Are ye stuck?"
Odo's childish voice and the feel of four small hands tugging at his clothes pulled Diarmot free of those dark memories. He scrambled out from beneath the bed, covertly shoved the note in a pocket within his doublet, and struggled to smile at his sons. They looked concerned, which touched him, and he wondered how long he had been held in the grip of his memories.
"I am fine, lads," he said as he stood up. "Aye, I was a wee bit stuck."
Diarmot looked around the cottage for the owner of that voice which had so deeply affected him, but saw only Geordie. The man stood in the doorway of the cottage, his thickly muscled arms crossed over his broad chest. Had the voice come from inside his head or had a harmless remark by Geordie stirred that memory? Diarmot suspected one of the attackers had said something very similar and that was why Geordie's words had had such an unsettling effect upon him.
"What were ye doing under there?" Geordie asked as he moved to let Diarmot and the twins walk outside.
"I thought I saw something, but twas naught," replied Diarmot, not wanting to reveal his discovery until he was certain no one would suffer for whatever might be written there. "I shall have to find new tenants for this cottage. Tis a waste for it to sit empty, the land about it left fallow, and the fields ungrazed. Ye ken the people hereabout weel, Geordie, so mayhap ye ken someone who would be interested in becoming a crofter here."
"Aye, m'laird, I will look about."
There was an odd note to Geordie's voice that caused Diarmot to frown after his man as Geordie walked away. Was he the one trysting at the cottage? Diarmot resisted the urge to immediately study the message he had found. Instead, he turned his attention upon his sons and getting them mounted. Auiay sat before Tom and Odo sat before Diarmot, both untiring in their questions and observations as Diarmot led his men back to the keep.
A chill still infected his blood and Diarmot struggled to fight it off. He realized he had not suffered from a nightmare since his marriage to Ilsa. Having her lithe, warm body tucked up close to his every night had obviously kept the nightmares away. That seemed odd as she would not be much protection if he was attacked. Diarmot decided that it was simply because he was not alone. He had been starkly aware of being all alone the night he had been attacked and that feeling had clearly lingered.
It was possible his memory was struggling to return. That would explain suffering his nightmare in the daylight and while he was awake. It would probably explain why Geordie's words had affected him so deeply. Diarmot hoped that was true, for he was sure some of the answers he needed were locked up with those memories. Even one small clue would be welcome for it would help them direct the search for his enemy more exactly.