way, so be it."
"Ilsa," Sigimor began.
"A mon who dearly loved the woman he sinned with." Ilsa sighed and clasped her hands against her breasts. "A mon who thought her naught but a sad, troubled woman, driven to despair and sinful ways by her cruel wretch of a husband. A young mon who felt certain he could save her from herself with his love only to lose her to a cold, unforgiving grave. A mon who--"
"Enough," growled Sigimor as Tait rolled his eyes in disgust.
"Ah, so ye have decided ye erred in heeding the words of an angry, embittered adulterer?"
"Aye, and I have also decided that I cannae abide listening to any more of that mawkish nonsense ye were just spouting. God's toes, another moment or two of that, and I would have been emptying my belly into the dirt."
"Too true," murmured Tait.
"Then there is nay a need to be pounding my husband into the mud," said Ilsa.
"Nay, I suppose there isnae," agreed Sigimor, his disappointment clear to hear in his voice. "Of course, I suspect I could think of a few other verra good reasons to pummel the fool."
"Dinnae let me stop ye from trying," said Diarmot.
Ilsa rolled her eyes. "Have at it then. Pummel away. Indulge yourselves in your odd monly rituals until ye are broken and bleeding." She started toward the keep, Gillyanne and Fraser at her side.
"Where are ye going?" demanded Sigimor.
"I have important things to do."
"That was verra weel done," said Gillyanne as they entered the keep.
"Thank ye," Ilsa replied. "When one grows up so heavily outnumbered by men, most of whom are much bigger and stronger than ye are, ye have to be particularly clever."
"And devious."
"Aye, that is verra helpful as weel." Ilsa laughed with the women, then said,
"Weel, let us go and rescue poor Gay."
Sigimor watched Diarmot idly rub his belly as he watched Ilsa walk away. The moment the door of the keep closed behind the women, Diarmot looked at him, and Sigimor asked, "Hurts, doesnae it?"
"She is stronger than she looks," admitted Diarmot.
"Aye, she is, and that pointy, wee elbow of hers is a dangerous weapon. Be glad she used it on your gut. She caught our cousin Dennis in the groin once and I swear the poor lad walked funny for a sennight."
"Pointy wee elbow?" Diarmot murmured and briefly frowned at Connor when he laughed.
"Wheesht, ye didnae raise the lass weel, Sigimor," said Tait.
Sigimor punched him. Tait cursed as he staggered backward, then fell hard, flat on his back. He propped himself up on one elbow, rubbed his sore jaw with his other hand, and glared at his brother.
"What did ye do that for?" Tait demanded.
"_Ye_ were impertinent." Sigimor idly cracked the knuckles on each hand. "I also spent the whole walk from the village readying myself for an enjoyable fight, only to have our sister talk me out of it. Left me feeling a wee bit tense. I feel better now," he said and strode off toward the keep.
A still-chuckling Connor helped Tait to his feet. "All right, lad?"
"Aye," replied Tait as he brushed himself off. "He didnae hit me hard."
"Sigimor raised Ilsa?" Diarmot asked, unable to quell his sudden curiosity about his wife.
"Aye. Raised all of us. My father's fourth wife died birthing Fergus, who is eleven and some months now. Father died a few months later. A fever swept o'er Dubheidland. Took the verra old and the weak bairns, as such things always do, but it also struck hard amongst those about thirty and older. Took Da, two of my uncles, and one of my aunts. Left a lot of orphans and a fair number of widows.
Left Sigimor laird of a lot of needy people and he barely twenty. He had his twin Somerled to help, but also had a dozen younger siblings to care for and a lot of younger cousins either orphaned or without a father."
"There wasnae any kinswoman to take her in?"
"Several of them offered, but, either they were widows with a large brood of their own or didnae live on Dubheidland lands. Sigimor thanked them all kindly, but said Ilsa's place was with us. A
"Ilsa," Sigimor began.
"A mon who dearly loved the woman he sinned with." Ilsa sighed and clasped her hands against her breasts. "A mon who thought her naught but a sad, troubled woman, driven to despair and sinful ways by her cruel wretch of a husband. A young mon who felt certain he could save her from herself with his love only to lose her to a cold, unforgiving grave. A mon who--"
"Enough," growled Sigimor as Tait rolled his eyes in disgust.
"Ah, so ye have decided ye erred in heeding the words of an angry, embittered adulterer?"
"Aye, and I have also decided that I cannae abide listening to any more of that mawkish nonsense ye were just spouting. God's toes, another moment or two of that, and I would have been emptying my belly into the dirt."
"Too true," murmured Tait.
"Then there is nay a need to be pounding my husband into the mud," said Ilsa.
"Nay, I suppose there isnae," agreed Sigimor, his disappointment clear to hear in his voice. "Of course, I suspect I could think of a few other verra good reasons to pummel the fool."
"Dinnae let me stop ye from trying," said Diarmot.
Ilsa rolled her eyes. "Have at it then. Pummel away. Indulge yourselves in your odd monly rituals until ye are broken and bleeding." She started toward the keep, Gillyanne and Fraser at her side.
"Where are ye going?" demanded Sigimor.
"I have important things to do."
"That was verra weel done," said Gillyanne as they entered the keep.
"Thank ye," Ilsa replied. "When one grows up so heavily outnumbered by men, most of whom are much bigger and stronger than ye are, ye have to be particularly clever."
"And devious."
"Aye, that is verra helpful as weel." Ilsa laughed with the women, then said,
"Weel, let us go and rescue poor Gay."
Sigimor watched Diarmot idly rub his belly as he watched Ilsa walk away. The moment the door of the keep closed behind the women, Diarmot looked at him, and Sigimor asked, "Hurts, doesnae it?"
"She is stronger than she looks," admitted Diarmot.
"Aye, she is, and that pointy, wee elbow of hers is a dangerous weapon. Be glad she used it on your gut. She caught our cousin Dennis in the groin once and I swear the poor lad walked funny for a sennight."
"Pointy wee elbow?" Diarmot murmured and briefly frowned at Connor when he laughed.
"Wheesht, ye didnae raise the lass weel, Sigimor," said Tait.
Sigimor punched him. Tait cursed as he staggered backward, then fell hard, flat on his back. He propped himself up on one elbow, rubbed his sore jaw with his other hand, and glared at his brother.
"What did ye do that for?" Tait demanded.
"_Ye_ were impertinent." Sigimor idly cracked the knuckles on each hand. "I also spent the whole walk from the village readying myself for an enjoyable fight, only to have our sister talk me out of it. Left me feeling a wee bit tense. I feel better now," he said and strode off toward the keep.
A still-chuckling Connor helped Tait to his feet. "All right, lad?"
"Aye," replied Tait as he brushed himself off. "He didnae hit me hard."
"Sigimor raised Ilsa?" Diarmot asked, unable to quell his sudden curiosity about his wife.
"Aye. Raised all of us. My father's fourth wife died birthing Fergus, who is eleven and some months now. Father died a few months later. A fever swept o'er Dubheidland. Took the verra old and the weak bairns, as such things always do, but it also struck hard amongst those about thirty and older. Took Da, two of my uncles, and one of my aunts. Left a lot of orphans and a fair number of widows.
Left Sigimor laird of a lot of needy people and he barely twenty. He had his twin Somerled to help, but also had a dozen younger siblings to care for and a lot of younger cousins either orphaned or without a father."
"There wasnae any kinswoman to take her in?"
"Several of them offered, but, either they were widows with a large brood of their own or didnae live on Dubheidland lands. Sigimor thanked them all kindly, but said Ilsa's place was with us. A
Similar Books
