"How many years ago would that have been?"
"About ten. Ilsa feels Anabelle would have been about four and ten when she began the journals. This Precious Love was a wee bit younger." He shook his head. "That means that both women were ill-used whilst little more than children. It gave them yet another bond. I went to Dubheidland or Muirladen looking for answers. I may nay recall why, but it still seems the best place to start looking for L.O."
Sigimor nodded. "I have been eager to go there anyway, to find out why I havenae heard from any of my kinsmen. Nanty, Tait, and I will leave in two days'
time. I want to have a look at the journals written whilst your wife was being fostered first. I ken the land and people all round Dubheidland better than ye do and might see something that tells me where to start my search."
"Fair enough. I want to go with ye."
"Nay, that would leave no one to watch o'er Ilsa and the bairns."
Diarmot winced. "There would be young Tom, Peter, Father Goudie, and the women. And Geordie."
"Geordie is the one who brought Ilsa the poisoned wine."
"He explained that. One of the maids gave him the tray and told him it was by my order. His story is given the weight of truth by the fact that the maid is gone. She disappeared soon after Ilsa took ill. Fraser and Glenda say they will prepare all the food for Ilsa and the bairns. They all ken nay to go anywhere alone." He grimaced and dragged a hand through his hair. "I just feel as if there is a strong chance I will restir those elusive memories if I return to Muirladen."
"That does make sense, Sigimor," said Tait. "Tis certainly worth a try."
"Then I shall stay here," said Nanty. "Ye go, Diarmot. Tis the wisest choice.
I dinnae ken the land or the people there and I have no memory that needs prodding. I can keep watch here as weel as ye can."
"Thank ye, Nanty."
"And ye can reacquaint yourself with all of Ilsa's kinsmen," Nanty drawled, then laughed along with the Camerons.
Diarmot smiled and helped himself to some rabbit stew. Now that plans had been made his appetite had been revived. He felt the thrill of the hunt course through his veins, but he also felt the first real stirring of hope since his ordeal had begun. There was finally a real chance of getting some answers, of ending the constant expectation of another attack. He could finally put a name and a face to his enemy. That would put an end to the need to watch every shadow, to wonder which of the many people at Clachthrom could be trusted.
He would have some semblance of peace again. Time in which he could take a long, hard look at what did or did not exist between him and Ilsa. Time in which he could repair his marriage and make a proper family of them all. He could only hope that, by clinging so fiercely to his doubts and fears for so long, he had not lost the chance to do so.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It felt good to be clean from head to toe, Ilsa decided as she brushed her hair dry before the fire. The gentle washings given her when she had been ill and while her bleeding had lingered had not been enough to really make her feel clean. The moment Diarmot had left the room this morning, she had called for a bath and had luxuriated in it, shamelessly. Now the outside of her felt as good as the inside.
Glenda was too modest, she thought. The woman insisted Ilsa's own body had done most of the work, Ilsa knew she was a quick healer, but also knew Glenda's herbal remedies had helped her keep up her strength and cleanse the poison from her body. The medicines had also helped to dry up her milk with little discomfort, soothe her battered insides, and ease the loss of her child. Ilsa just wished the woman had a potion to ease the sorrow that still lingered over that loss.
She gasped softly when Diarmot suddenly strode into the room. He was supposed to be busy preparing to leave for Dubheidland. That was one reason she had insisted upon a bath. She had wanted to look her best when she bid him a good journey. Her eyes widened when he grinned and latched the door.
"Ye have had your bath," he said as he approached her.
"Aye." Ilsa suddenly felt very naked despite the heavy robe she wore.
"So your bleeding has ended then."
Ilsa blushed. "Aye."
"Ah, good."
Ilsa felt her eyes widen again as he began to shed his clothes. "I thought ye were leaving soon."
"I am. After," he said.
"After? Oh! I see how it is. Ye think to have a wee frolic ere ye ride off into the mists."
"Tis a fine, sun-filled day. Nary a mist in sight." He ignored her irritation and continued to undress.
"When are ye leaving?" she asked, suddenly suspicious and trying hard to ignore the fact that he wore only his braies now.
"In an hour." He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. "That should be time enough for a proper, hearty fareweel."