My Brave Highlander (26 page)

Just outside the great hall, Keegan bowed to them. "Lady Seona, Lady Isobel, how lovely you both look this eve."

"I thank you, sir." Seona curtseyed.

Isobel mirrored her actions. "Master Keegan."

"Please allow me to escort you both to the high table."

Isobel certainly didn't need an escort. Upon seeing Seona's bright blush, she realized why he was paying so much attention to them.

"You two, go ahead. I must see if I can find Lady Jessie," Isobel said as an excuse to give the two a few seconds alone.

Seona gave her a pleading look. Isobel waved her onward with a smile. After glancing around and not seeing Jessie, she followed them.

Keegan pulled out a chair for Seona and then one for Isobel. Her eyes met Dirk's for a moment, and he sent her a wee secret smile, then she seated herself beside Seona.

Once Keegan walked away, Isobel leaned in closer. "I saw that," she whispered.

"What?" Seona questioned.

"I'm thinking he is smitten with you."

"Shh." The other lady's blush was fiery as she glanced around to see who might be listening.

Isobel held back a giggle, then whispered, "He is a handsome one." Keegan resembled Dirk, so naturally he would be attractive.

"Oh, do stop, I beg of you."

Isobel grinned and glanced along the table to find Dirk observing her with much interest.

Aiden sat in the chief's larger chair—which simply didn't seem right to Isobel. And his scowling, but larger, younger brother sat beside him one chair over from Isobel. Maighread took the seat between them, and Lady Patience sat on Seona's other side. Though Isobel did not relish sitting beside the woman, if Maighread made any malicious comments about Dirk, Isobel would be more likely to hear them.

During supper, tension permeated the air so strongly Isobel could hardly concentrate on her food—venison stew and bread, and then a course of roasted grouse, onions and parsnips. The few times Isobel had snuck a look at Maighread, the older woman had been glaring swords and daggers at Dirk. He'd sent a few dangerous looks his stepmother's way as well.

Maighread murmured something to Haldane, but it was so low Isobel couldn't hear with the roar of conversation in the great hall. What were they plotting?

Dirk talked quietly to his uncle and Laird Rebbinglen. Wide-eyed and fidgety, Aiden watched those around him. He appeared out of place and uneasy with the situation, especially since his mother's arrival. The previous nights, he'd been much more relaxed and eager for the music to begin so he could join in the fun.

When next she glanced at Dirk, his gaze was on her, shifting between her and Maighread with curiosity and concern, perhaps even annoyance. Surely he wasn't angry with her. Did he miss her sitting beside him as she had the nights before? She hoped so. Would he again escape to the stables, and if so, should she follow? Would he want her to?

Once supper was over, one of the musicians played a ballad and another joined him in song.

"I'm exhausted from all the travel," Maighread said to Isobel. "I think I'll retire early."

"We will too," Patience said, rising.

"I'd rather stay a bit longer," Seona said.

"Nay, young lady. Off to bed with you now."

Seona exhaled an annoyed breath, rose and followed her aunt.

"I'm not yet finished with my tart," Isobel said. Though she knew she should follow Maighread everywhere to learn her secrets, she craved staying near Dirk a while longer.

"Good night. I'll see you in the morn," Seona said.

The three excused themselves and left the room.

Isobel slowly ate her sweet fig tart, wondering how she might find an opportunity to be alone with Dirk for a few minutes.

His eyes kept straying to her now and again. She noticed he had eaten half his tart, but the remainder sat on his trencher, forgotten. Hmm, mayhap he was changing and starting to enjoy sweet things. She relished this tart almost as much as she had his kiss. On second thought, his kiss was far more delectable, and she couldn't wait for another one.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his thick arms over his chest. She recalled vividly how hard with muscle they were. During the kiss, he'd easily picked her up and pressed her against the stable wall while consuming her mouth with lustful heat.

Startling her from her musing, he rose abruptly from the table. She enjoyed watching the way his body moved, with such confidence and strength. When he edged in behind her chair, she held her breath, her heart rate shooting toward the stars.

"M'lady, might I have a word in the library?" he murmured too low for anyone else to hear, especially given the music and song echoing in the room.

"Aye." Cramming the last bite of tart into her mouth, she rose. He waited for her to precede him down a narrow corridor and into the library. He motioned to a chair and she sat, while he leaned against the edge of the substantial table occupying the center of the room. The fire in the hearth had burned down to coals and cinders but the room was still warm. Not that she was cold. The opposite, in fact. She felt overheated and flushed.

"You seem tight with Maighread," Dirk said in a mildly accusatory tone.

Isobel shrugged. Should she tell him she was trying to spend as much time as possible with the woman to find out if she was plotting against him? She was afraid he wouldn't like that. He might think it was too dangerous.

"Maighread and my mother were friends, as you know," she said vaguely.

He nodded. Eyes narrowed, he studied her. "Who was your first husband?"

"The Earl of Jedwarth." Why was he asking now? Her stomach knotted. Did he think her mad for marrying such an old man? She'd had little choice in the matter. Short of running away, like she did this time, she couldn't have escaped the marriage. Her brother had told her he'd no longer support her financially if she didn't marry to establish clan alliances. She didn't know if it was a true threat, or if he was only trying to coerce her. Cyrus was not known for his compassion.

"That's what I thought Maighread meant when she called you Lady Jedwarth." Dirk turned away and paced before the hearth. "Why did you not tell me?" Frowning, he observed her again.

"I don't like being called Lady Jedwarth. I'm no longer married to the man and every time someone calls me that, I cringe inside. I think of him and… the months, weeks and days before his death. Even though I didn't love him, it was an extremely taxing time. I want to move forward and think about the future. Surely something better awaits."

"Did he mistreat you?"

"Nay. He was kind enough, as was everyone in his household. But then, the day after his funeral, his nephew—his heir—arrived to send me back to my brother."

The last thing she wanted to do when she had time alone with Dirk was talk about the Earl of Jedwarth. The two men were drastically different. Jedwarth had been frail and sickly, while Dirk was the epitome of strength and health. Who could blame her for being drawn to Dirk?

"Jedwarth and the MacMorrison clan are closely allied with the clan Maighread was born into, the Gordons."

"Indeed, they were friends. But I had no choice in the matter. Do you think I'd choose a man who was nearly sixty years of age to marry? My brother arranged it."

She hoped Dirk wouldn't hold her first husband against her. Surely he knew most chiefs' daughters had no say in who they married. They weren't tied and dragged to their weddings, but they were not allowed to choose a man they found attractive. Nor were they allowed to marry for love.

Her mother and father had fallen in love after their arranged marriage. They had wanted her to have a say in who she married, but her brother was less sympathetic. She hadn't been able to find a husband while her parents still lived. No man had suited her. Her brother had run out of patience. Cyrus wasn't married, and he thought love matches were frivolous.

"Do you trust Maighread?" Dirk asked.

"Of course not." In fact, Isobel was exceedingly wary of the woman and her odd behavior.

"I hope you didn't tell her what happened at Munrick."

She cringed. "Although I didn't want to, I was forced to tell her what Nolan MacLeod did."

"Why?" Dirk demanded in a harsh tone.

"Lady Patience Murray had already heard I was supposed to marry the MacLeod, because she'd spent two nights at Munrick on the way here. I had to give a believable excuse for running out into a snowstorm. I hope Maighread will keep my secret. I also told her I would not marry the MacLeod. And I meant it."

Propping his hand against the mantel, Dirk nodded. "I hope you won't have to, but 'twill not be simple to extract yourself from the betrothal contract your brother signed. His word, his honor and his reputation are on the line. 'Tis not an action he will take lightly. Nor will the MacLeods."

Was Dirk like all other men who saw women as naught but pawns to be placed where they would benefit the men most? Rage rushed through her. "I don't care what my brother signed. I refuse to be pawed and accosted by the men of the clan I'm marrying into. Mother was shown great respect by our clan, and she taught me that I deserved no less than the same. Father loved her and treated her like precious glass. My wish is to find someone who will care as much for me but… it appears beyond my reach." Salty tears pricked her eyes as she stared into the orange coals. She hadn't meant to reveal so much about her emotions, but her words had poured out. She had not been raised to be a subservient nobody, trod on by others, and could hardly fall into that role now.

She ventured a glance at Dirk.

He had been staring at her, but shifted his gaze away from her.

What was he thinking? How pathetic she was? That she couldn't face reality? A love match was naught but a worthless fanciful whim? It hadn't been worthless to her parents. Their lives had been too short but they'd lived those years to the fullest and experienced more happiness than most people.

Although she'd had a sheltered upbringing, she'd known cold hard reality since her parents had died. Her brother had no qualms about pushing her out into the real world.

"Has Maighread talked to you about me?" Dirk asked.

Startled by his abrupt change in subject, she eyed him, but he wasn't even looking at her; he was examining the tapestry over the fireplace. He had to trust her in order to ask her that, didn't he? He seemed a wee bit vulnerable at the moment.

She was still perplexed by the half-mad way Maighread had denied that Dirk was who he'd said he was. "Do you promise not to tell her what I say?"

"Aye, of course. I talk to her as little as possible." He took the seat opposite her again.

"I think she is going senile," Isobel said.

"Why do you say this?"

"Even in private, she swears she has no memory of you."

Dirk snorted. "She remembers me, have no doubt of it. She's lying."

"Well, I thought perhaps that was the case, but she seems so vehement about it."

"I saw the recognition in her eyes. She knows who I am. That scares her. She's wanted the title and holdings for Aiden since he was born."

"She has always been kind to me." Isobel shook her head. "I can't understand this vicious side of her."

"Aye. She hides it from others for the most part, but she's held a grudge against me since the day she married my father. In truth, 'tis more like a strong, deep-rooted hatred. She attempted to kill me two other times when I was younger. Although she did not come so close as she did that last time."

Outrage sliced through Isobel. "Is the woman truly mad? How did she try to kill you the other times?"

Dirk stared into the glowing coals for a long moment. "The winter I was eight, I developed some sort of illness and fever. I was sick for days. I remember her coming into my room one night and opening the window shutters, allowing the icy air to gust into the room. I was perplexed about why she was doing that, but I was half-mad with fevered dreams and nightmares. I was too sick to arise and close the window. No servants or healers were about. She must have sent them back to their own beds. I only remember feeling cold and numb, then drifting off to comforting sleep. When I awoke, my father was shaking me violently and yelling. The room was filled with servants and clan members. They held me before the fire trying to warm me."

Isobel's throat constricted so tightly she couldn't speak and tears blurred her vision. She knew not what to say anyway. She was afraid if she opened her mouth she'd cry her eyes out. How could the woman she knew do such a cruel deed to a helpless, sick child? But she feared Dirk had seen the tears in her eyes.

He rose and paced across the library and back. "Another time when I was around ten, they told me I'd fallen and rolled down a flight of steps and hit my head on the stone floor. I only remember approaching the steps from the top and Maighread coming up behind me. I had no notion she would push me. Although I was cautious around her, I'd felt no true fear. But the memory of the rest is erased. When I awoke, my arm was broken and I was so sore all over I could hardly move. I still have the knot on the back of my head to prove it. I suspected she might have pushed me, and Uncle Conall thought that might have been the case."