My Brave Highlander (30 page)

"Aye."

"I wager he feels better than… better," Rebbie muttered. "Do you not?"

"Aye," Dirk said in a monotone that revealed nothing, his eyes still closed.

"Could I have a moment of privacy, if you please?" Isobel asked.

"Of course." Rebbie bowed and backed toward the corridor.

"Nay, you cannot go in there, Haldane!" Jessie ordered from outside the door.

"Step aside, sister," he growled then stormed into the room.

"What is…?" His eyes ran over Isobel in bed beside Dirk. "What the hell is going on here? Is this a jest?"

"He almost froze to death. I was but warming him with my body heat."

He gave a nasty laugh. "Aye. I'm certain."

"What do you want?" Dirk growled low.

"Stay away from Aiden. You almost got him killed. And release McMurdo from the dungeon. He's done naught."

Dirk grunted. "You're daft if you're thinking I'll do either."

"You're not chief! You can't order that anyone be held."

"Get out, Haldane. And not a word to anyone." Jessie tried to shove him toward the door, but, being much larger, he hardly budged.

Oh blast!
Haldane would tell his mother. And then she'd think Isobel and Dirk were having a tryst. Maighread might not trust Isobel as much after that. Or she might send someone to tell the MacLeod that Dirk had stolen his bride. Isobel would have to talk to her and assure her she was saving a man's life, not seducing him.

With a muttered curse, Haldane finally stomped from the room and Rebbie left too, giving Isobel the privacy she craved. Although Nannag still sat hunched before the hearth, she was focused on her healing herbs and making a tisane.

Isobel slipped out of bed and quickly draped the
arisaid
around her like a blanket, trying to avoid looking at Dirk. She couldn't believe he was aroused, considering he was injured and near frozen. Did naught keep a virile man down? That gave her a different sort of heated shivers.

Nannag washed the blood from Dirk's head to better examine his wound. "It bled a plenty, but 'tis only a wee cut and won't need stitching."

Isobel was glad to hear this, but she noticed the area around the tiny cut was turning a reddish-violet color.

A moment later, the healer brought the wooden cup forward. "Here, sir. Drink this." Despite her advanced age, she was a lively little woman with a strong voice.

Isobel helped Dirk raise his head off the pillow while he drank several sips.

"There now. That's good." Nannag took the cup away.

"What is in that?" Isobel asked, realizing too late that she didn't know if the healer was trustworthy.

"'Tis a secret blend for head injuries."

Isobel frowned. Herbs could heal or they could kill. Could Nannag be a pawn of Maighread? The blood in Isobel's veins chilled.

"Never fear, my dear. The recipe was passed down through many generations of my family and has healed many a warrior and removed the pain of wounds."

Isobel nodded, still unsure if the woman could have underhanded motives. "I thank you for helping him."

"I remember this man's great-grandfather." She smiled proudly. "My first responsibility is always to the chief of the MacKays and their sons. What about you?"

Although glad Nannag appeared loyal, Isobel frowned, wondering what the woman meant by her question. "What about me?"

"Why are you helping him so much, lass?" Her brows lifted, deepening the wrinkles in her forehead.

"Because he helped me. If he hadn't rescued me in that snowstorm, I might not be alive now." Of course, that wasn't the only reason, but it was the only one she was willing to give. No one need know how much she cared about him.

The elderly healer sent her an impish smile. "Well then, dear lass, you're lucky he found you." She gathered her things and waddled out the door, meeting Aiden and Erskine in the doorway.

They entered and approached the bed. "How are you feeling, brother?" Aiden asked.

Dirk opened his eyes. "I'm well, lads. Tell Keegan and the rest of the men that I'll live."

"I'll be guarding from the hallway if you should need anything," Erskine said.

"I thank you."

Aiden bid him goodnight and left. Erskine retreated to the corridor and closed the door.

Still wondering what the healer had implied about why she was helping him, Isobel let her gaze roam over Dirk. She was startled to find him watching her.

She moved forward and placed her hand along the side of his bristly cheek. His skin still wasn't back to a normal temperature but it was warmer than before. "Are you still cold?"

"Nay. I thank you for warming me. I daresay no one else in the clan would've done what you did. Nor would I want them to."

"But you didn't mind if I shared my body heat?" she asked.

He gave a brief laugh, then snapped his eyes closed tight with a grunt as if the laugh had caused him pain. "Nay. Your warmth was like paradise. I didn't realize how cold I was."

Isobel should've been embarrassed but she wasn't. Besides, she hadn't been naked. She wasn't terribly scandalous. "'Twas a matter of necessity. I did not wish you to freeze to death."

"I'm not that tender." He touched the injury on his forehead, then frowned.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"Not much. Damned McMurdo."

"You ordered the men to lock him in the dungeon?"

"Aye. I can hardly wait to question the bastard."

She took the cloth from the wooden bowl of warm water the maid had brought and dabbed at the blood remaining on his forehead. "I'll clean it gently and hopefully it won't start bleeding again. The healer said you wouldn't need stitches." It was mainly a bruise rather than a cut.

Dirk grunted and his eyes slid closed as if he were greatly relaxed. He didn't move while she washed the blood away from his head and his hair. His breathing grew deep as if he might have fallen asleep. What on earth had been in the herbal tisane?

He murmured words she couldn't understand as if talking in his sleep. Her maid told her she did that all the time.

"Aye, you must sleep and heal,
mo chridhe
." She kissed the side of his forehead, away from the wound. Goodness, now he felt much hotter. Surely he was not coming down with a fever. She pressed her lips against his skin again, more to check his temperature than to kiss him, but 'twas a good excuse to do just that.

"Mmm," he murmured along with more mumbled words, as if rousing again, and opened his eyes a crack. With a hand on her arm, he tugged her to him.

She let out a squeak of surprise. "I thought you were going to sleep. What are you doing? Dirk?"

"Aye," he whispered and drew her closer still. With a slight grin, he lifted his head and kissed her lips. Surely he was not yet recovered enough for this. But…
Mmm
. He tasted of virile male, whisky, and minty herbal tea. She could happily devour him, but this was bad timing.

"Dirk?" she said between his insistent kisses. "Do you even know who I am?"

"Mmm-hmm." He pulled her fully onto the bed beside him and rolled half on top of her. "My sweet Isobel." His kisses grew more demanding and passionate. More intoxicating. Even if she could stop him, she wouldn't want to.

My sweet Isobel?
Not only did he know her name, he was calling her his. Was he in the grasp of a fevered dream? Had the herbal tea drugged him? Or was this a continuation of what they'd begun earlier in the night? Either way, she couldn't resist his heated, delectable mouth.

Sliding his hand down her back to her derrière, he drew her tight against his lower body. Having undressed him, she knew he was naked beneath the covers. Now, his erect member nudged against her lower belly. It was an entrancing and compelling feeling that made her want to draw even closer.

She knew little about men's bodies and had only seen a glimpse of one naked. She and her former husband had always slept in a darkened or dimly lit room. Nor did she truly know what an erect member felt like, skin to skin. She could find out now, if she was bold enough. Gathering her courage, she ran her hand down over the sculpted muscles and dusting of hair on Dirk's bare chest and stomach, beneath the covers and stroked her fingertips along his shaft, which felt as fevered as his head had moments ago. But even more fascinating, his member was hard as a wood timber, but the skin smooth and silky. Her instincts awoke and her body quickened at the feeling of his. Taking him within her hand, she squeezed, testing his hardness. Amazing.

He growled. "Isobel?"

"Aye."

"Ache for you," he breathed in a passionate tone between kisses.

Her heart fluttered like butterfly wings and tears rushed to her eyes. He wanted her, and somehow she knew it wasn't simply physical.

At least she hoped he'd wanted her as long as she'd been wanting him.

He moved down and brushed his face over her breasts still covered in her smock. Her nipples tingled and hardened in response. She gasped, unable to resist shoving her breasts against his face, craving more contact. Through the material, he took a nipple between his lips and nipped at it.

She moaned at the sharp delicious sensations that sparked through her body.
Oh heavens
, no man had ever done this to her. She hadn't imagined it was part of lovemaking. He untied her smock and drew it down past her shoulders, trapping her arms at her sides. But she loved the sensation of being imprisoned by Dirk. It was exactly where she wanted to be. Dragging the smock further down, he exposed her breasts, then locked his lips onto one, drawing the nipple into his hot mouth. Moaning, he licked and sucked, arousing her more and more with each moment. Oh, what luscious insanity. Squirming against him, yearning for more, she could hardly breathe.

He slid her smock up her thigh, his hot hand stroking up and down her bare skin.

"Mmm, soft," he whispered, then moved his hand to her inner thigh. With his lips, he tugged at her other nipple, then flicked it with his tongue while his hand slipped higher until he reached that most sensitive spot between her legs. The same place that tingled each time he touched her.

Although still fearful, because she'd never experienced this before, she inched her legs apart, craving and slowly inviting his touch. His fingertips barely stroked over her curls. Oh dear heaven, it was hard to breathe. She could not believe the powerful, spellbinding sensations his fingers wrought. She held onto him tightly, hoping he'd soothe the ache in her core.

He stroked with firmer pressure, making her want to submit to him. She widened her thighs further, unable to believe how she yearned. She'd waited years to find out what it felt like to be bedded. At first, she'd been terrified of the prospect. Now, although some part of her was still a wee bit apprehensive, she was more than ready to beg him. To experience the bedding with a man as appealing and caring as Dirk would surely be far more astonishing than she could've ever imagined.

Still suckling at her nipple, he pushed his finger… inside her.

"Dirk?" she gasped, for it hurt. Not terribly, but there was an uncomfortable stretching sensation.

"Aye… wet," he whispered, then stroked his finger in and out, gently. This motion felt better with each thrust of his finger until she was near bewitched and trembling, unable to take any more. Unable to understand what she was feeling.

She struggled to free her arms from the smock. Finally succeeding, she slid her hand down to his shaft, which was now rock hard, the feel of it incredibly arousing. Her body craved his beyond anything imaginable. Some strong instinct possessed her.

"I want you. I ache for you, too," she whispered, kissing him, flicking her tongue against his lips.

He growled, yanked the blanket and her smock out of his way and settled naked between her legs. "Wicked lass," he whispered against her lips.

Aye, she feared she was exceedingly wicked, but she didn't care at the moment. Threading his hair between her fingers, she kissed him. With a groan, he devoured her mouth and scooted upwards. His shaft prodded and teased her opening, sending a new, more potent, surge of need through her. She gasped and widened her legs, fearing it would hurt, but at the same time not caring. Her need for him was stronger than any fear of pain.

He ground his teeth and growled again, then seemed focused as he pressed upwards, attempting to enter her slowly. But their bodies didn't fit. He was much too large.

"Oh no. What if…?" She gasped. What if he truly wouldn't fit? What if he was so big he'd cause her serious injury?

When he paused, she feared he might change his mind.

"Don't stop," she said, starting to panic. "Take me."

"I'm… taking you, lass," he mumbled in a near whisper. His faint smile charmed her and helped her relax. "Stay calm."

"Aye. I'm calm."

"Ready for me?" he asked.

"Aye." More than ready. She bit her lip and braced for it.