"Aye." Lord Ogilvey frowned. "Let me think. The woman lives in a wee cottage nay far from some oddly named place. Crackdrum? Clackhum?" He shrugged. "The woman's name is Elspedi Hamilton, if that is any help."
Diarmot was not sure what he said to the man, but the next clear thought he had was that he was going to beat the Camerons senseless as soon as they let go of him. He struggled in Sigimor's tight hold, but the man was far stronger than he was. They were outside in the bailey of Muirladen, but the Camerons obviously had no intention of letting him get on his horse.
"Calm yourself, lad," Sigimor said.
"I have to get back to Clachthrom," he said, even as he struggled to do as Sigimor commanded. "The woman Lord Ogilvey called a demon is living but an hour's ride from my lands. She can get to Ilsa at any time she pleases."
"Aye, and she has been there for a while, hasnae she? A few more hours willnae make any difference. Your brother Nanty and Tom are watching o'er Ilsa, as are the women. She is protected for now. Twill be dark soon and, if ye go hieing yourself off now, ye will just end up with your fool neck broken. That willnae help her, either."
Diarmot took several deep, slow breaths and felt Sigimor's grip loosen. The man was right. It was too late to ride out now. Waiting for dawn would be wiser, safer, and give him time to plan what he would do when he got there. The danger had been there all the time. It was not any more acute now than it had been just because he knew about it.
"Cease calling me lad," he muttered as he mounted Challenger. "I am of an age with you."
"As ye wish," said Sigimor as he, Somerled, Liam, and Tait mounted and followed Diarmot out of the keep. "What would ye wish me to call ye? Rogue?
Fool? Lecherous swine? Debaucher of my only sister?"
"How is it that your kinsmen have allowed ye to survive for so long?"
"It wasnae easy," muttered Liam from the safety of riding on the side of Diarmot away from Sigimor.
That started an argument and, by the time they returned to the great hall of Dubheidland, Diarmot was in control of himself. Since he knew the Camerons were not very good at restraint, he suspected they had used the argument to gain control of themselves, as well. He was a little surprised that it was Sigimor who had retained the sense to halt a mad dash to Clachthrom. Since it was a temptation still almost too strong to resist, Diarmot sat next to Sigimor at the head table and poured himself a large tankard of ale.
"I cannae believe I almost married the woman," he muttered, then grimaced when he realized he had spoken that thought out loud. Worse, Sigimor had heard it.
"Ye mean the calm, sweet, face-like-an-angel Margaret?" asked Sigimor, sipping at his ale as he watched Diarmot closely. "The one who was going to give ye peace in your life? The one who wasnae beset by troublesome emotion? Weel, aside from that urge to kill people."
Diarmot decided he was getting accustomed to this brother of Ilsa's for he just quirked a brow at the man and said, "I believe ye saw the lass. Did she look like a murderess to ye?"
"Nay, I will give ye that."
"So kind."
"Weel, tis certain ye havenae got much sense in choosing wives. Tis a verra good thing we convinced ye to choose our Ilsa."
It was, but Diarmot was not about to admit that to this man. "Ye mean Ilsa who throws ewers at my head? Ilsa who knocks me on my arse in the bailey in front of most of my men and some of my family? Sweet wee Ilsa who says I am fouler than the slime at the bottom of a midden heap? That Ilsa?"
"Aye," Sigimor agreed, laughter shining in his eyes. "At least ye need nay worry she will sneak up behind ye and cut your throat."
"True. Although, she did threaten to rip it out with her teeth once." He winked at Somerled who was laughing along with Tait and Liam, but then he grew serious. "Margaret is the one trying to kill me and Ilsa. I am certain of it.
Margaret is Precious Love."
"Aye," Sigimor agreed with equal seriousness. "She was wedding herself to ye so that she could kill ye with ease. I wouldnae be surprised to hear, if ye think on it a wee while, that your meeting the lass and the march toward the altar were all her doing. Sweetly and calmly, of course. That would explain why there was that time of peace and safety. Her attempts to kill ye in other ways having failed, she had planned to get as close to ye as a woman can and deal with the problem herself. Ilsa ruined that grand plan."
"Thus the return to random attacks and the attempts to kill Ilsa. Now we have our enemy. I just need to discover who her ally is within Clachthrom. It could be mon or woman." He frowned. "She left behind two maids, one of whom went missing after Ilsa was poisoned."