She laughed, but it was quickly choked back when he took her nipple deep in his mouth and suckled. Ilsa tangled her fingers in his hair and gave herself over to the hunger he bred in her. This was what she needed and it was obvious that he did as well. At least here they were still well matched.
Their lovemaking quickly turned fierce and wild. Ilsa could not get enough of the taste or feel of him. Diarmot acted as starved as she felt. When he finally joined their bodies with one hard thrust, she could not hold back, falling into that sweet oblivion he always gifted her with. She clung to him as he swiftly followed her there.
"Now I truly am exhausted," Diarmot murmured as, finally able to move from her arms, he tucked her up against him and nuzzled her hair.
"My brothers couldnae make ye tired, either?" she asked sleepily and grinned when he grunted.
"Your brothers could weary a saint. I was, er, astonished when I first entered Dubheidland," he said as he idly stroked her stomach. "I have ne'er seen so many redheads in my life. Twas near to blinding." He smiled when she giggled.
"My welcome wasnae verra warm at first, but Sigimor explained everything."
"Oh, dear."
"Aye, whilst some of your kinsmen accepted me after that, there were a few who watched me as if they expected me to start drooling and babbling at any moment." He laughed along with her, then kissed the side of her neck and closed his eyes. "Tis over now, Ilsa."
"Aye, a sad ending, but still a relief."
"Now we can cease peering into every shadow and just live our lives. Now we can take the time to work on our marriage."
Ilsa waited for him to say more, but then heard him snore softly. The tension that had suddenly gripped her eased away and she sighed. She should have expected something to be said, some change to happen now that he had regained all his memories and their enemy had been defeated. Yet the thought of any change made her extremely uneasy and she did not really understand why.
Their marriage was not perfect, but it was far better than most. They shared a delicious passion and, slowly, had begun to share other things. They had a large family already and many friends. Now they would be able to accept friendship and make new ones amongst the people of Clachthrom since they no longer had to suspect everyone of being a traitor or the enemy. She did not know what more he thought they should have and realized, to her great surprise, that she did not really want to know.
What had happened to her dreams and her hopes, she wondered? Had they also disappeared that day she had entered the church to see him about to marry someone else? Had hurt and anger bred a fear she had not fully recognized until now? There was a lot she had to think about before she could accept any more changes. Unfortunately, she had the strong feeling Diarmot would not give her any time.
That was just like a man, she thought crossly. His mind was now at ease, his enemy was dead, and now he would turn his attention to his wife and his marriage. All was clear and simple in his manly mind.
She took a slow deep breath to calm herself, realizing she was working herself into a temper. It was late, she was exhausted, and it was not the time to think about anything as important as her marriage. Or as complicated as her own feelings, she mused with a tired sigh as she closed her eyes. She would find the time to think about it all on the morrow.
Ilsa placed her hand over his where it rested upon her stomach and felt a brief pang of lingering grief over the child that had been stolen from them.
Diarmot had become a very good father and she wanted to give him another child.
Glenda had quietly told her ways to halt the seeding of her womb and Ilsa was determined to use them. She had made that decision because she had not been certain of what would happen to them or what Diarmot felt and wanted. Now it seemed she would hold to the decision because she no longer knew what she felt or wanted.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
"I dinnae understand why we are doing this," complained Gay.
Ilsa sighed as, deciding they were well out of sight of the men on the walls, she helped Gay mount her horse. She then mounted her own and settled the sling a cooing Cearnach was in more comfortably in front of her. There probably had not been a need to sneak out of Clachthrom. No one would have stopped her or asked any questions, nor did she need a guard at all times. She was hoping that a little stealth would make it difficult for Diarmot to guess what she had done, a least for a few hours.
"I told ye, the mon is driving me insane," Ilsa said as she nudged her horse forward.
"He is wooing ye," Gay said as she followed. "He has been wooing ye verra nicely for two days now."
"I ken it, but why?"
"Mayhap because he wants ye to be more than a bedwarmer now?"
Ilsa ignored that. "I cannae think with him about."
"Wooing makes it difficult for ye to think clearly? I thought that was what it was supposed to do."
Gay had grown very confident and strong over the last few months, Ilsa mused.