Nanty laughed softly when they reached the part of the bailey near the stables. "And, I cannae disagree with ye because ye have just spoken aloud all I have been thinking. Yet, curse it, Ilsa, if it does mean the killer is still here--"
"He or she has been here all along. And managed to poison me when Diarmot and my brothers were here to help ye, er, watch o'er me. I dinnae think it will make much difference if ye ride off, for a few hours e'en. The danger is still within the keep. Dinnae forget, I have the women to watch my back."
"I could leave young Tom--"
"Nay, take him. Ye need someone to watch your back. If that trouble at the cave wasnae an accident, our enemy has already revealed an utter lack of concern for anyone who gets in his way. Or, mayhap, a lack of patience. Who kens when he might decide that ye are in the way. Take Tom."
"I will return as quickly as possible," he vowed, then strode away calling for Tom.
Ilsa smiled faintly as she headed into the keep to clean away the dirt from the garden. Nanty was trying very hard to make sure nothing happened to her or the children while Diarmot was gone. The man's sense of responsibility ran very deep. It was comforting even though it could cause him to be annoying at times.
She sighed as she entered her bedchamber. Her instincts told her the maid was no more than a pawn. Considering how long she had been missing, there might not be any way to tell how she had died. That would make this possible murder a successful one, giving the killer the time he sought. That would be beyond irritating, Ilsa decided as she scrubbed her hands and face clean.
As she patted her face dry with a soft linen cloth, Ilsa moved to look out the window at her ever improving garden. From here she could see the progress she was making. She could also see Geordie. The man looked around several times as he made his way toward the high walls that bordered the garden on two sides.
Since no one could get up onto the walls from the garden, Ilsa was immediately suspicious. She gasped as Geordie walked to the far corner, then seemed to just disappear.
Lacing up her gown as she ran, Ilsa made her way down the stairs and out into the garden as quickly as she could. It was not until she was in the same place she had last seen Geordie that she saw how he had managed to slip from view so completely. Hidden by a gnarled apple tree was a thick door set in the wall. It was a lovely old door with intricate carvings upon it, but it was also a deadly weakness in Diarmot's wall. She had to wonder how Diarmot had missed it or, if he did know about it, why he had allowed it to remain.
Ilsa took a deep breath, eased open the door, and found herself facing a stone wall. It took her a moment to see that she had to move sideways, that an attempt had been made to hide the door with an irregularity in the wall. Once at the edge of the wall, she peered around it and looked for Geordie. The man was just disappearing down the far side of the rise upon which Clachthrom was set.
A dozen thoughts raced through her mind. She should find someone to go with her as she followed Geordie. Geordie could be the traitor. The man could be dangerous. If he was meeting the one who was trying to kill Diarmot, both men could be dangerous. If she did not hurry, he would be impossible to follow, and whatever answer to their mystery he might provide would be lost.
Lifting up her skirts slightly, Ilsa hurried after him. Once he was on the far side of the rise, he made no attempt to watch out for anyone following him.
Nonetheless, Ilsa did her best to stay out of sight, but she had to wonder if his behavior was a sign of arrogance or of innocence. When he stopped at a small, roughly built shelter and brought out a sturdy pony, she cursed. Although the pony would not be able to go very fast with such a large man upon its back, it would still require her to move a lot faster to keep up with him.
Geordie looked around once, mounted the pony, and trotted away. She waited only a moment before hurrying after him. She was just beginning to think she would have to give up the chase when he reined in before a small cottage. A beautiful black mare waited there and, as Ilsa slumped against a tree to catch her breath, she knew whoever Geordie was about to meet had to have a comfortably full purse. Such a horse was not a poor man's mount.
A woman shrouded in a cloak answered Geordie's rap at the door. When Geordie pulled the woman into his arms, kissing her even as he pushed her back inside the cottage and shut the door behind them, Ilsa cursed. She had exhausted herself to discover a tryst. Just to be certain that really was all it was, Ilsa sat down and leaned against the trunk of the tree to watch the cottage. No one else came or went and, at what Ilsa decided was about an hour, Geordie came back outside.