"I dinnae believe," began Diarmot only to have Connor drag him several feet away from the growling Camerons. "This has got to be some devious game, Connor."
"Nay, I dinnae think so," said Connor. "The papers look too real." He glanced toward the small crowd at the back of the church, many of whom had slipped inside after the Campbells had left. "I expect some of that group are witnesses." He then looked toward his wife who still stood close by Lady Ilsa's side. "Gillyanne has accepted it all."
Diarmot followed his brother's gaze, saw Gillyanne standing with Lady Ilsa, and felt chilled. "Weel, she ne'er liked Margaret."
"Why are ye being so stubborn about this? Ye were seeking a wife. Weel, it appears ye have found one."
"She isnae what I sought."
"Nay? She is a bonny lass and has given ye two fine sons, legitimate ones."
"If her claims are true." Diarmot grimaced and dragged his hands through his hair. "She isnae what I sought," he repeated a little helplessly. "She isnae calm and sweet. There is the hint of strong emotions in her and I dinnae want that."
Connor softly cursed. "She came to find the husband she thought she had, one she hasnae heard from in a year, only to find him ready to marry another. That would rouse strong emotion in any lass with some wit or heart."
That was a pointed reference to Margaret's utter calm, but Diarmot could not bring himself to defend the woman. Margaret's complete lack of emotion under such circumstances was odd. "She is too thin and too red." He cursed when Connor slapped him on the back of the head.
"Ye clearly found her enticing a year past. Aye, she may nay be sweet and calm and her curves are but gentle ones, but those bairns prove they will serve ye weel. If I judge it right, there willnae be much of a dower, either. Tis evident that that lack didnae trouble ye a year past." Connor cocked one brow.
"Any other arguments ere ye do as ye ought?"
Diarmot just glared at Connor and slowly shook his head. He might be able to present more arguments, but Connor would just continue to knock them down with ease. Whatever he said now could be readily countered by the fact that it had evidently not caused him to hesitate to plight his troth to the woman a year ago, or so the Camerons would have diem all believe.
"How do ye ken I signed those papers of my own free will?" he finally asked.
"And how do ye ken that ye didnae? Ye certainly cannae recall. I believe the papers real, that no game is played here. It appears that Gilly thinks the same.
If there isnae any trick here, ye owe that lass vows said afore a priest. If there is some trick, then, would it nay be wise to have her close to hand? Ye say ye cannae recall her as lover or wife. Ye cannae recall who your enemy is, either. Wed her. If tis but a trick, a lie, that will be enough to end the marriage. Play the game for now."
There was a great deal of sense in what Connor said. Diarmot wondered why he hesitated, but he did. As he looked at Ilsa he felt a variety of emotions stir to life inside of him and suspected that was why. He wanted no emotions. He wanted peace. Although he could not readily identify what he felt, it was not peaceful. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he marched toward Lady Ilsa Cameron.
Ilsa was given no chance to complain or discuss the matter before she found herself kneeling beside Diarmot. A little dazed, she said her vows before Father Goudie. Diarmot did not hesitate to say his, but there was a cold anger in his voice as he did so and it made the words she had so longed to hear just another way to wound her. His kiss to seal their vows was also cold and abrupt.
She could think of nothing to say as she accepted Finlay back into her arms, smiling faintly at Gillyanne who had been kind enough to hold him. No one else seemed inclined to speak, either. Diarmot's hand on her arm felt a little too much like a manacle. This marriage was so far removed from all of her girlish imaginings, she knew she was in shock. It was not until they entered the keep that she regained her senses enough to realize that her sons needed to be attended to before she was subjected to any more shocks or slights.
"Do ye have a nursery?" she asked Diarmot, finally resisting his pull on her arm and forcing him to stop and look at her. "Gay and I need to feed and change the bairns." She felt very uneasy when he slowly smiled.
"The nursery," he murmured and started to pull her toward the narrow stone stairs that led to the upper floors. "Allow me to escort ye there."
A murmur of protest came from Diarmot's family, but he ignored them. Ilsa was not sure why the MacEnroys did not want her taken to the nursery or why Diarmot seemed far too pleased to take her. She could not think of any reason why she should suddenly feel so eager not to go, either, but she did.