My Brave Highlander (43 page)

It would be her word against his. Torrin would believe him, his own brother, over Isobel, surely.

At the same time, excitement rushed through Nolan at the thought of seeing the dark-eyed lass again. She'd bewitched him with her seductive looks and curvy body. He couldn't get her out of his head. He still wanted her, even though he was tempted to strangle her for injuring him.

If she told on him, he would, of a certainty, have to kill her.

Outside in the bailey, sleet and rain hissed through the air as they made their way to the portcullis over the narrow arm of the loch. Guards held torches and lanterns.

"Who are you?" Torrin asked the young, auburn-haired man at the forefront of the visitors beyond the iron bars.

"Haldane MacKay, son of Chief Griff MacKay, may God rest his soul."

"Griff MacKay is dead?" Cyrus asked.

"Aye, just over a month ago."

"I'm sorry to hear of it. You ken where my sister is?"

"If Isobel MacKenzie is your sister, aye. Dirk MacKay took her hostage."

Silence reigned for a moment as the men exchanged frowns.

"Dirk MacKay is dead," Torrin said. "And has been for over a decade."

"Aye," Haldane said. "This man is an imposter claiming to be Dirk MacKay. He's taken over the clan and castle and imprisoned my mother. And he has taken Lady Isobel hostage. He has used her ill and abused her."

"This is an outrage!" Cyrus said. "Who is he in truth?"

"We know not."

"I'll kill the bastard, whoever he is," Torrin muttered.

"And I'll help you," Cyrus said.

Haldane gave a sly grin and Nolan wondered what he was up to. Was any of this true?

One of the MacLeod guards spoke up. "A MacKay and a party of four passed through here a fortnight ago."

"Who was with him?" Torrin demanded.

"A woman he said was his wife, a man named MacInnis, and two servants. The MacKay man claimed his father was on his deathbed and he had to make haste."

"That's him. His friend is MacInnis," Haldane said.

Torrin muttered a string of curses, then asked the guard, "Did you get a look at the woman he said was his wife?"

"Nay, 'twas snowing. Nasty weather, and she was shrouded in wool blankets to keep warm."

"If that was Isobel, why would she say naught nor ask for the help of the MacLeod guards if she'd truly been taken hostage by MacKay?" Cyrus asked, narrowing his eyes at Torrin.

"That's what I'd like to know, but I wasn't here," Torrin growled.

"She fled Munrick for some reason. My sister is not daft. She would not have left here during a storm unless she felt her life was in danger. I want the truth from you and your clan," Cyrus demanded.

Rigid with suppressed rage, Torrin turned, his gaze landing on Nolan. "What happened while I was gone, brother? You were supposed to be watching over the clan and my betrothed."

A second of icy fear sliced through Nolan. No one could suspect him. "Naught that I know of. She simply vanished one night. We thought she'd changed her mind about marrying you."

"Nay, there had to be a reason," Cyrus said, his shrewd devil-dark eyes making Nolan squirm. "She agreed to marry Torrin. She would not simply change her mind. Something happened here."

"What are you not telling us, Nolan?" Torrin demanded.

"I've told you all I know." Stay calm, he told himself.

The two chiefs glared at him several moments longer and sweat broke out over his whole body, despite the chill wind.

Torrin turned back to Haldane. "Who do you have with you?"

"My friends, MacKays mostly, and two of my mother's guards."

"If you leave your weapons at the gate, you may stay the night," Torrin said. "We'll leave in the morn and rescue Lady Isobel."

***

The sky was overcast and the frigid wind whipping at a steady rate at Dunnakeil two days later when the skirl of bagpipes playing a call to battle from the roof of the guard tower alerted the MacKays something was amiss.

Dirk strode from the stables. The men knew what to do when the MacLeods arrived. He'd been training them for over a week. All wore armor and carried weapons as they gathered in the inner bailey.

"Halt!" one of his guards yelled from the guard tower.

Dirk hurried forward to see how many men had arrived and whether an attack was being launched.

Once Dirk reached the gates, he only saw two well-armed men of about his own age, garbed in plaid, armor and wool mantles. He hadn't seen these two in over twelve years, but he recognized them. The dark-haired one was Isobel's brother, Cyrus MacKenzie, and the other, with lighter brown hair, was her betrothed, Torrin MacLeod.

"We're here to see Dirk MacKay," Cyrus told the guard, then his gaze swung to Dirk. "What have you done to my sister, you blackguard?"

Holding a targe before him—in case someone decided to shoot an arrow or fire a pistol—and carrying a broadsword, Dirk approached the gates, his bodyguards Erskine and Keegan joining him. "She's well and safe. Far safer than she was with the MacLeods." Dirk glared at Torrin.

"What do you mean?" Cyrus demanded.

"Ask his brother, Nolan MacLeod."

"What about Nolan?" Torrin asked.

"He tried to rape Isobel," Dirk said.

"Why, that bastard," Cyrus growled and looked as if he might slay Torrin on the spot in his brother's stead. "How could you let this happen? I trusted you to take care of my sister."

"I knew naught of this." Torrin turned and narrowed his eyes at Dirk. "How did you find out?"

"Did Nolan not tell you she left Munrick in a snowstorm?" Dirk asked.

"Aye, but he said he didn't know why."

Dirk snorted. "Well, of course, he doesn't want you to ken he aimed to rape your future wife."

Torrin frowned, looking mightily troubled and glaring back toward where his men were gathered.

"Did you bring Nolan with you?" Dirk asked.

"Aye, the bastard is there, waiting with the others," Cyrus said through clenched teeth. "And I'm going to kill him."

"Remain calm," Torrin snapped. "We have no proof of this."

"I don't need proof! If my sister says 'tis so, then it is."

"We haven't yet had the chance to ask her. Question is… how did MacKay know of all this?" Torrin asked with suspicion, his green eyes narrowed at Dirk.

"I was traveling through Assynt with a friend to return home. That's when we found Lady Isobel and her maid on the trail. Snow was pouring down hard and the wind was cold. We helped them find shelter for the night, then brought them here to keep them safe until the sea was right for sailing. My plan was to bring her south to you, MacKenzie, on a galley so as to keep her away from Nolan MacLeod." Dirk scowled at Torrin.

"I'm going to talk to that knave now," Cyrus said, drawing his sword and starting back the way he'd come.

"I will," Torrin said, following Cyrus. "He's my brother. I'll deal with him." Torrin strode quickly toward the field where two dozen men waited, about half of them the MacKay prisoners who'd escaped, with Haldane in front. All on stolen horses.

"Hmph." Cyrus returned to stand before the portcullis but glared after Torrin. "If he lets that bastard go…" he said through clenched teeth.

"Would you care to come inside and talk?" Dirk asked, glad he could speak with Cyrus without Torrin about. "You can see your sister and verify for yourself she is well."

"I'd like that." Cyrus sheathed his sword.

"Open the gates for Chief MacKenzie only," Dirk ordered. "No one else."

He even allowed the MacKenzie to keep his weapons. Surely he wouldn't try anything, outnumbered several dozen to one.

Upon entering the great hall, they came face to face with Isobel. Seeing her always gave Dirk a jolt of need.

"Isobel. Saints!" Cyrus pulled her to him for a rough hug, then clasping her shoulders, held her at arms' length and gave her a hard look. "You gave me a fright, disappearing like that. Are you hurt?"

"Nay, not now. I thank you, brother." Isobel smiled.

"Not now? What does that mean?" Cyrus demanded. "Were you injured?"

"Only my finger. Did Chief MacKay tell you what happened?" Isobel's bewitching gaze darted to Dirk and sent his thoughts scattering. He hadn't touched her in several days, and he craved her more each day.

"Aye, some of it. I want to talk to you both in private. I want to know every detail. This Nolan MacLeod is a whoreson knave."

"We'll go into the library," Dirk said, motioning for Isobel to precede them.

She led the way and once the three of them were in the library, Dirk closed the door.

"How did you know where I was?" Isobel asked her brother as they sat down at the table.

"While Torrin was in Lairg, his brother, Nolan, apparently sent a messenger telling him that you had disappeared. Torrin immediately sent me a missive from Lairg, telling me you'd fled into a snowstorm and hopefully you would make it back to me in Dornie. I set out traveling north with our brothers and my men, hoping I'd run into you on the trail before you died from the elements. I still hadn't found you by the time I reached Munrick. I was there when Haldane MacKay arrived to tell us you were here."

"Oh." Isobel truly looked contrite. "I'm sorry to put you through so much trouble."

"Don't fash yourself over it. I simply wanted to find you safe, and thanks to MacKay, you are. Now, I want to know what this Nolan MacLeod did," Cyrus said.

Isobel gave him the same details she'd given Dirk on their journey here about the attempted rape and how they'd fought. The knave had broken her finger and she'd knocked him on the head with a stoneware jug.

"Good for you, sister. I cannot believe I trusted those bastards." Cyrus sat back in his chair.

"I cannot marry Torrin MacLeod now. You must know that."

"Aye, of course not. As long as his brother lives, he would be a danger to you."

A surge of relief rushed through Dirk. Now, he but had to get Cyrus's permission to marry Isobel. Would he agree to the arrangement?

"I thank you for understanding," Isobel said.

"Let me see your broken finger."

She held it out to Cyrus. She'd put the splint on again, Dirk noticed, after he'd fussed at her about not wearing it when she was bathing him. Och. He had to put that experience from his mind or he'd end up getting aroused at a very bad time.

"Who set it?" Cyrus asked.

"Laird MacKay and his friend, Laird Rebbinglen, did a splendid job on it. It is healing well." Isobel glanced at Dirk, her eyes dark and tempting as a siren. Though it had been hellishly difficult, he'd stayed away from her as much as possible over the last several days. He needed to make sure she was his and no one else's before they indulged too many times betwixt the sheets. 'Twas far too easy to become addicted to her and want her five times a day.

"Were you hurt in any other way?" her brother asked.

"I had a bruise on my face and a knot on the back of my head from the scuffle with Nolan, but it was not terribly painful."

"The bastard," Cyrus muttered under his breath, then turned to Dirk. "I thank you, Chief MacKay, for helping my sister." He held his hand out and Dirk shook it.

"My pleasure. And please, call me Dirk." He faced Isobel. "If you would give us a moment in private, Lady Isobel."

She sent him a suspicious and curious narrow-eyed look. "Very well." She exited, closing the door behind her.

Would she eavesdrop outside the door again as she had when he and Conall had talked? Dirk slipped to the door and opened it, finding her a few feet away, along with Erskine, guarding him. He gave Isobel a pointed look. She rolled her eyes and disappeared down the short corridor toward the great hall.

"Don't let her near the door," he murmured to Erskine. "I don't want her eavesdropping."

"Aye, chief."

Dirk closed the door and joined Cyrus at the table. "I need to ask something of you," Dirk said, sudden nerves seizing him. He had never done this before, nor had he witnessed anyone else making such a grand request. He hoped he would do it right.

"Aye, what is it?"

"I ask you…" Dirk cleared his throat. "I request Lady Isobel's hand in marriage."

Chapter Twenty-Four

"What?" Cyrus's dark brows lowered, giving him the look of a thunderous warlord. "You want to marry Isobel?"

"Aye," Dirk said, feeling the restless urge to spring from his chair and pace the library. "If her betrothal to MacLeod is off, I would like to marry her."

"Why?" her brother asked in a hard tone.

"Well… many reasons." Dirk's stomach knotted and he hoped he didn't get tongue-tied. "She is the loveliest lass I've yet laid eyes on. I'm newly a chief, and the clan elders are already dogging me about finding a bride." Those were two valid reasons—the least important ones he could think of, but he couldn't simply blurt out that he'd already bedded Isobel and that he was falling in love with her. Or, worst of all, that she might already be carrying his bairn. No brother would want to hear that.