My Brave Highlander (41 page)

"Which way are they headed?" Dirk asked loudly.

His clansmen quieted and turned to him. "We know not yet. Three men are following them."

"What is all the ruckus?" Rebbie asked behind him.

Dirk turned to find his friend fully dressed. "Thanks to Haldane, the prisoners have escaped. They killed two guards. We're going to find them." Dirk strode toward the exit, all the men following him.

They proceeded across the torch-lit bailey to the stables where the grooms and lads were already busy saddling horses.

"Each of the outlaws took a horse," one of the young grooms told Dirk. "I tried to stop him, m'laird, but your younger brother stole your horse."

A lit fuse of outrage burned through Dirk. "What? Haldane stole Tulloch?"

The groom shied back. "Aye. He forced me to saddle him at sword point."

"Damn the little bastard," Dirk growled. If Haldane was here, Dirk didn't know if he could stop himself from strangling him. He hoped Tulloch tossed the upstart into a bog.

"He must have stones the size of cannonballs," Rebbie muttered.

"Which might get him killed." Bravery didn't equal intelligence. "How many horses are left?"

"A couple dozen," the groom said.

"That's enough." They'd find the horse thieves and murderers.

A skinny lad ran into the stables, breathing hard. "M'laird, I didn't go with them."

Holding the lantern aloft, Dirk saw 'twas Ross, the friend of Haldane's Dirk had threatened with expulsion from the clan. "They freed me from the dungeon but instead of riding away with them, I hid until they left."

"I'm proud of you, Ross," Dirk said, halfway trusting the lad, and halfway wondering if Haldane had left him here for some nefarious purpose. 'Haps as a spy. But he'd give him the benefit of the doubt. "I'm glad you've learned a lesson. Do you ken where they're headed?"

"Nay, they didn't say. But 'twas Haldane, Gil, and some of Lady MacKay's guards who released us."

Just as Dirk suspected. "Stay here and help the stable lads."

"Aye, m'laird." Ross immediately joined the others, asking what they needed help with.

"Watch him," Dirk whispered aside to Conall. "I don't trust him. He may be working for Haldane. Don't allow him near Isobel. Will you relay the message to her guards?"

Conall nodded. "Indeed. Have a care, lad."

Dirk mounted the unfamiliar horse, a renewed surge of fury at Haldane heating his veins. He'd get Tulloch back, even if he had to chase Haldane all the way to the Lowlands.

Moments later, Dirk, Rebbie, Keegan, Erskine, and almost a dozen of the strongest, best-trained clansmen rode through the gates, leaving several guards to man the gates in the event the outlaws circled back.

Using lanterns and torches, they followed the hoof prints in the few inches of snow that blanketed the frozen ground of the moor. The tracks led south. A sinking feeling settled into Dirk's gut. Could they be headed toward Munrick Castle and the MacLeods?

Damn Maighread.
She'd sent Haldane to tell them of Isobel's whereabouts. That had to be it. She'd do anything to stop him, even betray her best friend's daughter. He should've expected nothing less from the hag.

A half hour later, meager dawn lightened the sky a wee bit. Dirk was startled to see a great black form moving across the moor in the snow, large hooves thumping against the ground as it grew closer.

"Tulloch?" Dirk drew up and motioned for everyone to stop. Aye, the warhorse trotted toward him.

"Well, I'll be damned," Rebbie said.

Dirk grinned and dismounted, thrilled to find Tulloch. The animal was more than a horse; he was a friend.

Skidding to a halt, but still unruly, Tulloch snorted and pawed the ground, as if mightily insulted that he could be stolen and ridden by a horse thief.

Dirk caught his reins. "There now, lad. Settle down." He allowed the horse to smell him and he calmed. "Aye, you did good. Did you toss the wee bastard in a loch? I hope so."

Dirk examined the horse for injuries, then checked the saddle and tack. All appeared well. He hoisted himself into the saddle. One of the men who'd been riding double, mounted the extra horse.

A couple of hours later, they reached Scourie and the trail of horse's hoof prints through the snow continued south, just as he'd expected.

Dirk paused and the other men followed suit. "They've gone to the MacLeods."

"Hell," Rebbie muttered.

"Why?" one of his clansmen asked. Of course, Rebbie, Keegan, Erskine and a couple others knew the reason, but not everyone in the MacKay clan did.

"My stepmother sent them. As you know, I rescued Lady Isobel MacKenzie in a snowstorm several days ago."

A few of the men nodded.

"What you may not know is that one of the MacLeods abused her and attempted to rape her. That's why she fled. And she's betrothed to their chief."

The men muttered curses and insults aimed at the MacLeods.

"Lady Isobel has been safe with us, but now, because of Haldane and the men with him, the MacLeods will know where she is. They'll come after her," Dirk said.

"Let them come! We'll skewer every last one of them!"

A shout went up. Clearly the men were pumped up on battle-lust and raring to go. The horses snorted and danced about amid the excitement.

"There's no need to ride further south," Dirk said once they'd settled down. "We know where they've gone. We'll return to Dunnakeil and prepare for battle."

"Aye!" several men shouted.

"After they ride all the way from Munrick, they'll be weary. We'll have the advantage."

"Aye, chief," several agreed.

Proud they supported him in his decisions, Dirk led the men home at a more sedate pace so as not to tax the horses. Once back at Dunnakeil, after they'd eaten midday meal, Dirk gave each of the men responsibilities to prepare for the arrival of the MacLeods. Some of the younger MacKay men had never seen battle because they'd had peace for several years, and the MacLeods had been allies. Dirk was near certain that alliance was now broken, since he'd rescued Isobel.

Finished with assigning duties, Dirk entered the great hall, hoping to get a moment alone with Isobel.

"Lad, we need to talk," Uncle Conall said, following him in.

Dirk turned. "Aye. What is it?"

"Let's step into the library."

Once they were inside, Conall closed the door. "The agreement with the Murrays troubles me."

"Me as well." That was an understatement. He hated to break an agreement his father had signed, but he couldn't follow through. He couldn't marry another woman when he loved Isobel.

Damnation! Where had that thought come from? The blood drained from his face, leaving him chilly.

He'd never fallen for a woman before, and he was uncertain what he was feeling, in truth. Maybe it wasn't love. Nevertheless, the emotion was fierce and strong and would not be denied.

"Then there is the issue of you and Lady Isobel," Conall said, in a serious tone.

"Aye." 'Twas certainly the issue that most occupied his mind and distracted him from the business of leading the clan.

"She's a bonny lass, and the first time I saw you observing her, I knew you wouldn't be able to resist her."

Dirk shrugged. "'Tis true." He couldn't deny it since Conall had seen Isobel in his bed, but neither was he going to confess all to his uncle.

"When you were fifteen, we all traveled to Dornie to visit with the MacKenzies."

"Aye, I remember it well," Dirk said.

"There's something you don't know." Conall scratched his gray beard as if not entirely comfortable with what he was about to reveal. "Your father wished to keep it a secret from you," he explained further. "The main purpose of that visit was not for your stepmother to visit her friend."

"What was the purpose?" Dirk asked, impatient with his uncle's beating about the bush.

"Your father wanted to arrange a betrothal between you and the MacKenzie's daughter."

A shock of confusion traveled through Dirk. "What?"

"Aye, Isobel MacKenzie is the daughter in question."

"I was never betrothed to anyone. My father would've told me."

"Indeed, he would have. Isobel's father refused the suit."

Dirk frowned, unsure if he wanted to ask
why.
This was all such a shock to him, a thousand questions crowded his mind.

"The MacKenzie did not give a good reason for refusing," Conall said. "Just that his daughter was too young and his wife wished that she be older before such an important decision was made. Of course, chiefs' daughters have been betrothed much younger than thirteen for marriage later, but she was a spoiled and coddled lass. No doubt her mother wanted to allow her to choose a husband." Conall shrugged. "Anyway, none of that mattered a year later when everyone thought you dead. But now, Isobel MacKenzie is here and you seem to enjoy her company, which makes me think… well, fate is a strange thing. And 'haps your father knew something none of the rest of us did."

Dirk was near speechless. Shaking his head, he tried to clear the chaos from his mind. One thing remained. "She is betrothed to someone else."

"Aye, but I thought you had a right to know. Your father told no one but me and a couple more people what his plans were for you. Once her father refused, he was disappointed. The MacKenzies are a bit wealthier than we are and 'haps that was part of the reason. Or 'haps they wished to secure some other alliance."

"I'm glad you told me." Dirk's first instinct was to be offended or hurt that her father would refuse the suit. But at thirteen and fifteen, Isobel and Dirk had been too young to worry about it at the time. 'Haps her father had not seen Dirk as good husband material at that age. Although he was unsure how a man would judge such a thing before a lad was even grown. More likely, 'twas simply a matter of the MacKenzie not needing to marry her to a MacKay since they were already allies.

"I'm all for a man choosing his own bride." Conall grinned.

"As you did?"

"Aye. Your aunt is a fine woman. We've been happy for many years. I want that for you too, as did your father. If Isobel is that woman, fight for her."

"I will." Indeed, how could he give her up now? He couldn't. "But I hate that I've dragged the whole of the MacKay clan into my battle."

"Any fight of yours is also our fight," Conall said in a zealous tone. "We'll not abandon you. You did a good deed, protecting Lady Isobel from the knave who would torture her, and also rescuing her from the elements."

Dirk nodded. "I'll have to marry her. No question about it."

"Is that a hardship?" Conall's brows quirked upward.

Dirk wanted to grin, but forced a straight face. "Nay, but I'll need her brother's permission. He may see me as an outlaw and refuse. I would have sent a missive letting him know where she is, but I feared the messenger would be detained while passing through MacLeod territory and the missive read. I didn't want them to learn her whereabouts at all costs. But now they will. Likely, they'll be here in a matter of days."

"Let them come! We won't give her up to the knaves."

***

Isobel stood outside the library door, disappointment engulfing her. She'd heard what Dirk said inside the room. He felt he had to marry her. As if someone were forcing him? Her intention had never been to trap him or make him feel forced into anything. She wouldn't do it. She would simply leave and go back to her brother's or her aunt's home. If Dirk had no choice in the matter, he'd resent her and the marriage, wouldn't he?

Conall opened the door, startling her, and Isobel jumped back.

He gave her a broad grin and a sweeping bow. "Lady Isobel." He strode down the corridor, whistling.

Wearing leather armor, Dirk eyed her suspiciously from just inside the doorway.

"I cannot marry you," she stated firmly, despite her throat constricting, then turned to walk away.

Dirk grabbed her wrist, dragged her inside the library and shut the door. "You shouldn't eavesdrop, Isobel."

"I didn't mean to," she snapped. Avoiding his gaze, she tried to shove her emotions beneath a thick cloak of indifference. "Aiden told me he saw you headed this way and I thought to see you for a moment." Because they had shared such profound intimacy the night before, and he'd had no free time to spend with her today beyond a passing greeting. "Then, I heard voices coming from inside." She yanked her wrist from his grip and picked up an enticing whiff of his manly scent—leather and horses and the fresh outdoors—that threatened her resolve. "You and your uncle were discussing me, so 'tis my right to listen."

"Damnation," he muttered under his breath.

"No one has a knife to your throat," she said, irritation bubbling inside her. "So please do not feel anyone is forcing you to marry me because we… shared a bed."

"Be quiet," he murmured.

Ignoring him, she went on, determined to speak her mind. "At least my first husband
wanted
to marry me. He didn't feel
forced
into it."