My Brave Highlander (29 page)

"I understand you bought yourself a crypt in the new church," Dirk said.

"Aye, the former Laird MacKay was a good man."

"But you are not. Do you think your donation makes up for all those people you murdered?"

"I have never murdered anyone." He grinned. "And you are an imposter."

Dirk returned a sinister smirk. "You say this because you still want to believe you killed me twelve years ago when you pushed me off that cliff."

"I know not what you mean." He lashed out with his broadsword, but Dirk easily blocked the move. Again and again their swords clashed.

The man may have been a great swordsman in his day, but he was now several years past his prime. His sword arm was growing shaky.

Dirk struck just the right way, and the other man's sword went flying.

"Aha." Dirk held the tip of his sword near the other man's throat. "Now, we're going back to Dunnakeil where you will spend some time in the dungeon. Tie his hands," he said to Erskine.

His future sword-bearer did as he asked and shoved McMurdo toward the boat. All five men climbed aboard and this time Erskine rowed while Keegan and Dirk kept their swords pointed at the criminal.

McMurdo sat quietly, glaring at each of them in turn. Midway of the cave, he leaned back and kicked toward Aiden. His booted foot stuck the lad solidly in the shoulder and he toppled from the boat and into the water.

"You bastard!" Dirk yelled and shoved McMurdo face down in the boat. "Sit on him, Keegan!"

"Help!" Aiden thrashed about in the water, his arms flailing. His head went under, then rose to the surface again. He gasped for breath.

"Damnation, Aiden. Calm yourself! Row the boat closer to him," he instructed Erskine.

Aiden sank. Hell, the lad couldn't swim.

Dirk pulled off his cloak and scabbard but didn't have time to remove anything else. He feared Aiden would drown in a matter of seconds. He jumped into the water. The icy cold was a shock to his body. He swam to the spot where Aiden had gone down. Where the hell was the lad now? He ducked beneath the surface, but could see naught in this midnight, peat-tinged water. Kicking to the surface again, he heard someone yell.

"Help!"

Flinging the water from his eyes, he found Aiden a short distance away. Dirk swam toward him then grabbed him so he wouldn't sink again. "Hold on. We'll get you back to the boat."

Aiden clung around Dirk's neck. A ruckus broke out on the boat. Keegan swung an oar at McMurdo, who had somehow managed to free his hands. The bastard grabbed the oar and fell backward onto Erskine, dragging Keegan with him.

"Damnation!"

Keegan hung onto the oar with one hand and slugged McMurdo with his other fist. Erskine slid his arm around McMurdo's throat from behind, choking off his air. McMurdo kicked Keegan in the groin and sent him groaning onto the other end of the boat. "Bastard!"

McMurdo pushed the oar behind him, jabbing it at Erskine's head.

Dirk swam with Aiden toward the boat. "Hold onto the side."

Dirk grabbed for the oar but McMurdo yanked it beyond his reach at the last second, then struck him with it. Dirk couldn't dodge in time and the thwack on the forehead sent pain ratcheting through his skull.

Knife in hand, Keegan launched himself at the highwayman. "Cease! I'll slit your throat, old man!"

Eying how close Keegan's
sgian dubh
was to his throat, McMurdo froze and dropped the oar. "Very well, you got me, you shite."

"I should finish you off right here. Then you can put that expensive tomb to good use."

He held up his hands in surrender.

"Tie his hands and his feet this time," Dirk said. Once they had, he and Aiden climbed aboard, shivering in their wet clothes. They placed their prisoner face down this time and watched his hands closely.

Keegan rowed and they quickly arrived at the boat landing. Once in the outer cave, Dirk guided Aiden, quaking with cold, toward the small fire at the back of the cave. The men had built it up and added more dried driftwood.

"What the hell happened? You took a swim?" Rebbie asked.

"Aye, that bastard knocked Aiden overboard and I went in to help him."

"He's a good brother," Aiden said, his teeth chattering.

Rebbie nodded. "You two best get dried off before we head outside into the wind."

The cave was in a protected location, tucked between two cliff walls. And the heat of the fire had warmed the walls of rock here in the back of the cave. It would take some time to dry all their clothes. The lick on the head smarted and Dirk felt somewhat dizzy. Everything grew black and he felt himself falling over but could do naught about it.

"Dirk?" Someone pried his eye open. He frowned, focusing on Rebbie's blurry face above him.

"You had a serious injury, my friend. That gash on your head is bleeding badly."

"We have to get him to the castle where the healer is," Keegan said. At least Dirk thought it was Keegan. His thinking wasn't too clear at the moment.

"His clothes are still too wet to leave the cave," Rebbie said. "And so are yours, Aiden."

"Nay, my plaid is always wet in winter. The wool is warmer when wet."

"I'm thinking his trews are not wool, but a thick linen instead."

"We'll pull them off him then."

"No one is touching my trews," Dirk growled. "I'm well." He shoved to his feet, gritting his teeth against the pain in his head and fighting the dizziness. He refused to show weakness before the men. What kind of chief would he be if he was so easily brought to his knees? He'd fought in far more grisly battles. Rebbie and someone else caught him before he realized he'd staggered.

"McMurdo?" he asked.

"Tied up," Keegan said.

"What are we waiting for?" Dirk demanded. "Let's get him to the dungeon."

"We're waiting for your trews to dry, brother," Aiden said.

"My trews are fine just as they are." He headed toward the cave opening, pretending to ignore how the cold air chilled his wet hair and scalp. He pulled his wool mantle's cowl over his head. That was much warmer, but he was still dizzy and his head ached so strongly he couldn't think clearly. He hoped he could make it up the narrow path that led to the top of the cliffs.

He struggled up the pathway, agonizingly placing one foot in front of the other. Once at the top, the splitting ache in his head increased to near unbearable. Must have been the exertion of the climb. The wind pounded against him strongly, the temperature like ice. It plastered his wet trews to his legs. Surely they would freeze solid in a matter of minutes. Though he could hardly feel his legs, he moved forward, felt himself falling and all went black.

Chapter Sixteen

Isobel couldn't sleep after Dirk and his men had gone to find McMurdo. Who knew what the murdering highwayman would do? She lurked in a dark nook beneath a stairwell. What if Dirk never returned? Nay, she couldn't think of that. He meant too much to her to even contemplate something terrible happening to him.

At one point, Haldane and Maighread had come rushing back from outside and up the stairs, arguing in low tones. She only heard a word here or there and it made no sense. Apparently, they knew the men were onto them.

Praying Dirk would return safely, she waited. A long while later, loud voices of several men echoed from the great hall.

Isobel rushed from her hiding place. When she arrived in the dimly lit hall, she froze at the scene before her. Two men helped Dirk shuffle across the floor, one under each arm. His eyes were closed more than open. The side of his face and his hair were bloody.

She hurried toward them. "What's happened? He's bleeding terribly, and he's drenched."

"The highwayman kicked me off the boat as we were crossing through the cave," Aiden said, his thin body shivering and his teeth chattering as he stood before the fireplace. "Dirk jumped in and saved my life, then the bastard grabbed an oar and hit Dirk on the head."

Bastard was right. She'd like to take that oar to McMurdo's head. Dirk looked terrible, his skin pale and his lips a faint blue.

"He's freezing! Let's get him out of those wet clothes and he'll warm up," she said.

"I'm fine," Dirk growled between clenched teeth, his body starting to shiver and shake. "I'll… my chamber."

He staggered toward the steps. Clearly he was more injured than he would admit.

"Bring some hot water and whisky," she directed one of the male servants who had been sleeping in the hall. "Where is the healer?" His wound would need cleaning and a healing balm applied.

"I'll fetch her," Aiden said.

"Your clothes are wet too, Aiden."

"Aye. I'll change," he called as he trotted away.

Dirk moved under his own power slowly up the narrow turnpike stair. Two of his clansmen followed and Isobel brought up the rear. How long had he been out in the freezing wind, drenched as he was? He was sure to catch an ague. Once in his chamber, he fell onto his bed.

"Help me get him out of those icy wet clothes," she said to the two men.

"Wool is warmer when it's wet," Keegan said.

"Well then, why are his lips turning blue?"

The man frowned.

"Stoke the fire. I'll do this." She removed Dirk's mantle then the layers of wool tartan frozen in icicles. His linen shirt stuck to his skin.
Saints!
She untied his trews and yanked at them. Erskine helped her turn him over and slip the clothing from his back.

"Leave me be," Dirk grumbled.

"Nay. Do you want to die?" she asked.

She threw a dry wool blanket over him and tugged his trews off.

"What happened?" asked a shrunken ancient woman from the doorway.

"Are you the healer?" Isobel asked.

"Aye. I'm Nannag."

"Thank goodness you're here. Someone hit him on the head with a wooden oar. He's bleeding badly and near frozen."

Once all Dirk's wet clothes were piled in a heap on the floor, she covered him with another woolen blanket.

The two men left and the healer examined the gash on Dirk's forehead. "It has stopped bleeding. We'll wash the blood away and see if the wound needs stitching. I'll fetch the necessary herbs for a tea." She disappeared out the door.

Dirk's skin retained the unhealthy bluish pallor and powerful shivers racked his body. He needed warmth immediately and the heat from the small fireplace would not reach the bed for a long while.

Isobel unclasped her belt and lowered her
arisaid
to the floor. Removing everything excerpt her thin linen smock, she crawled beneath the blankets and lay on top of him.
Heavens,
his whole body was like a solid block of ice.

He sucked in a sharp breath and his cold hands clasped her waist, giving her a chill. He mumbled words Isobel couldn't decipher. His breath smelled of whisky. Perhaps one of the men had given him some to help warm his veins.

"Shh. Just rest. I'll get you warm again." She kissed his neck, thankful he had returned to her. His skin was so cold she worried he might have frostbite.

His body quaked with another severe bout of shivers. Hopefully he was gradually warming, for he had not even been shivering when he'd first arrived at the castle.

"Oh, Lady Isobel! What are you doing?" Jessie asked in a surprised whisper.

Isobel glanced toward her, just inside the door, hands covering her eyes. "I'm getting him warm with my own body heat. If I hadn't, he might have died."

"Oh." Jessie uncovered her eyes and rushed forward. "How is he?"

"Gradually warming, I think."

The healer returned, approaching the bed with wide eyes and a faint smile. "Let's see if he'll wake enough to drink some whisky."

"I think he already had some," Isobel said.

"I'll steep some herbal tea then." After shuffling to the fireplace, she sprinkled some leaves in a wooden cup and poured hot water on it.

"I'll guard the door, Isobel, lest word get out you're in bed with my brother." Jessie headed toward the door, but before she could reach it, Rebbie entered.

"How is he?" His brows shot up. "Having much more fun than I am, I see."

Burning heat rushed over Isobel. "Don't be silly, Laird Rebbinglen! I'm warming him with my body heat."

"Lucky bastard," he muttered.

Jessie proceeded into the corridor and pulled the door closed behind her.

"'Tis not a jest. He could've died."

"Hmph. Wish I'd almost died instead."

"Go to hell, Rebbie," Dirk mumbled.

Isobel drew in a sharp breath, but was glad he acted more alert.

Rebbie chuckled. "You see, he's perfectly lucid. Rugged as the Highlands, that one."

That's when she noticed something hard prodding her leg as she lay on top of Dirk.
Oh heavens
, was that…? Was he aroused? Staying beneath the covers, she rolled off Dirk and laid her hand along the side of his chilled face. "Are you feeling better?"