A faint rustling in the brush behind her made Ilsa jump. She searched the area behind her and to either side, but could see nothing. Sternly telling herself she was allowing her fears to disorder her mind, she strode into the clearing surrounding the cottage. She used the walk to calm herself, to push all her fears down, deep inside of herself. If she was to have any chance at all of saving the children or herself, she was going to have to be cold-blooded and clear-headed.
There was a part of her that was already coldly determined, the part that wanted these people dead. It was a ruthless, vengeful part. These people had threatened her children, callously endangered the lives of innocent bairns.
There was no mercy in her heart for them. If she got a chance to kill them, she would not hesitate. It might appall her later, but she suspected she would find all the comfort she needed every time she saw her bairns smile.
Just as she reached the door, it was flung open, and Ilsa came face-to-face with Geordie's lover. The woman wore no concealing cloak now. Ilsa was shocked, but did her best to hide it as she met Margaret Campbell's ice-cold gaze. Those pale blue eyes were not empty now. They glittered with fury, a touch of triumph, and what Ilsa suspected was madness. She had the fleeting thought that she would have to tell Gillyanne she had been right about that anger.
It all made sense now. Margaret was Anabelle's Precious Love. Diarmot would certainly have found peace with this woman, the peace of the grave.
The fact that no one was guarding the approach to the cottage suddenly occurred to Ilsa. Margaret had obviously been watching for her, but Geordie was not at the window watching for anyone else. They had believed she would do exactly as they had commanded and had apparently not planned for any other contingency. Ilsa dearly wished she had known that. She would have brought an army with her.
"Greetings, Ilsa Cameron," said Margaret, speaking loudly so that she could be heard over Finlay's wailing.
"I believe I am Ilsa MacEnroy now or have ye chosen to ignore that as thoroughly as ye have ignored all good sense and reason?" asked Ilsa, fighting the urge to run to her child.
"I dinnae need to acknowledge something that will prove to be so verra short-lived." She stepped to the side. "Do come in."
Although it was tempting to stick one of her daggers in Margaret as she stood there so exposed and vulnerable, Ilsa resisted the urge. She walked into the cottage and briefly looked around, taking note of where everything and everyone was, just as Sigimor had taught her. Alice sat on the small bed, Cearnach lying on her right. She rubbed his back as she watched Lucy try to calm a screaming Finlay. Geordie sat at a small table drinking ale and eating oatcakes, occasionally glaring toward Lucy and Finlay.
Margaret slammed the door and also glared at Lucy. "Cannae ye shut that brat up?"
"Mayhap he is hungry," Lucy said.
"Mayhap he just doesnae like ye touching him," murmured Ilsa as she walked toward Lucy and took Finlay into her arms.
The baby's crying shuddered to a halt. Ilsa ignored the surprise Lucy, Geordie, and Margaret could not hide and rubbed Finlay's little back until he was breathing more evenly. She almost smiled as, once Lucy moved away, she set Finlay down next to Alice, for she was now between the children and the ones who wished to hurt them. It was obvious that they did not consider her any more of a threat than the children. Sigimor would find that very amusing.
"Weel, tis plain to see that ye arenae much use," Margaret said, frowning at Lucy.
Ilsa realized what was happening barely in time to cover Alice's eyes. Lucy had sat down next to Geordie. The moment Margaret spoke, the maid began to look uneasy. Margaret gave Geordie one long, hard look. He shrugged, wrapped his big hands around Lucy's neck and, before the girl could even gasp, he snapped her neck. Lucy's body slipped to the floor and he calmly went back to eating and drinking.
When Margaret idly poured herself a goblet of wine, Ilsa shivered. The complete lack of emotion the pair revealed as they had executed the maid was chilling. Lucy had served her purpose and they had tossed her aside with the ease of a diner casting a bone to the hounds.
These were not people who could be reasoned with, Ilsa decided as she took her hand from Alice's eyes, and rubbed the trembling child's back. Alice may not have seen the killing, but, young as she was, she had the wit to know what had just happened. It was an ugliness Ilsa could not shield her from now. There were far more important matters to deal with than Alice's tears. Ilsa could only pray she would have the chance to dry them later.
"Would ye like some wine?" Margaret asked Ilsa and she smiled faintly.
"Nay, thank ye," Ilsa replied. "I have tasted your wines before and found them too bitter." She noticed that Geordie paused in drinking his ale.