lecherous nature."
It was not easy, but Diarmot decided to ignore that slur. "How did I go from meeting her to wedding her?"
"By the same route many a lecherous rogue takes--seduction. Ilsa was easy prey as the fool lass thinks she isnae one to catch a mon's eye. She thinks her lack of gentlemen seeking to court her is because she hasnae got a big dowry or lush curves or a bonny face."
"When tis mostly that she has a veritable sea of strong kinsmen encircling her," murmured Gillyanne.
Sigimor nodded. "That was for the best at times. We all felt she should have her heart's choice in a mon, but didnae want her picking some rogue who would leave her poor and unhappy. Sad to say, our manner of sorting the wheat from the chaff spawned rumors that made the lads wary, the cowards. We werenae at hand when she met this rogue," Sigimor said with a nod toward Diarmot. "By the time we were, the rogue had won her heart and seduced her. Wheesht, me and five of my brothers found them trysting in the wood. Truth is, near to rode right over them. Twas clear he had taken her maidenhead and, since Ilsa wouldnae let us kill him, we demanded marriage." Sigimor frowned when Gillyanne buried her face in her hands and her shoulders trembled slightly. "It wasnae so bad, m'lady. Sir Diarmot's pride may have been a wee bit bruised, but naught else. Though, I be thinking he may have deserved more. Aye, and still might."
Gillyanne raised her head and smiled at Sigimor, revealing that she had been laughing, not crying. "I wasnae upset, Sigimor. I but suddenly realized how ye kenned Ilsa was intending to throw that jug and why it is she has such a fine aim."
"Aye, we do irritate the lass at times," he said and grinned.
"Why handfast? Why nay a priest?"
"Didnae have one. Ours died a month before Sir Diarmot arrived."
"Died in his mistress's bed," said Tamhas Cameron. "Actually, he died in his mistress and it wasnae easy to prepare him for his burial, I can tell ye. Had to get some lard and ..." he grunted a curse when his older brother Ranulph shoved him off his seat.
"My pardon, m'lady," Sigimor said, ignoring the brief tussle which took place between his brothers before Tamhas was seated again. "The lad is but nineteen and hasnae learned his manners yet."
"Quite all right," Gillyanne said in a voice choked with laughter. "So, ye decided upon a handfasting."
"Aye. Got the lovers to tidy themselves up and took them off to the alehouse to find our cousin Liam. Set the groom in a barrel and had my brother Gilbert there," he nodded toward a very sturdily built young man with flame red hair and blue eyes, "to sit on it whilst we discussed the matter with Liam."
Diarmot slouched in his chair and drank his ale, wondering if it was possible for this tale to be any more humiliating. He forced himself to listen carefully to every word, however. It might help him to catch one of the Camerons in a lie.
He stoutly ignored the small inner voice that suggested this had to be the truth, that no one would concoct such a convoluted or farcical tale if they feared being caught in a lie.
"This Liam was able to help?" asked Gillyanne.
"Aye," replied Sigimor. "He spent some time in a monastery. Being a sharp-witted lad, he learned a lot. Had to leave in the end, though, as the rules about celibacy proved a wee bit too difficult for him to follow. Liam wrote up those papers and we got Sir Diarmot to sign them. Then Liam led the handfasting ceremony. After that the bride and groom went to a wee cottage for a fortnight."
"After which Diarmot left only to be attacked. Why was your sister nay with him?"
Sigimor grimaced. "He insisted he had to go alone, that some trouble was dogging his heels and he wanted it tended to before he took Ilsa to his home. We were verra uneasy about it, but, if he was telling the truth, we didnae want Ilsa put in danger. Ilsa believed him. Poor lass tried verra hard to keep believing e'en though she neither saw nor heard from him again.
Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child