My Brave Highlander

by Vonda Sinclair

  Maighread sent her a sympathetic smile, or was it patronizing?

  "Are you the same Isobel MacKenzie who was to marry the MacLeod chief?" Patience asked.

  Isobel felt the blood drain from her face. How did she know?

  "When we passed through over a month ago, we stopped at Munrick for two nights rest before continuing north. They talked of how they were expecting Lady Isobel MacKenzie to arrive soon to marry their handsome young chief."

  Isobel forced an uncomfortable smile. "Aye, that would be me."

  "What happened?" Patience persisted.

  "I… would rather not say."

  "You ladies warm yourselves. Lady Isobel and I will go see where the food and drink are." Maighred waited for her at the door.

  With dread, Isobel pushed up from her chair and followed, suspecting she was going to be questioned intensely.

  The older woman led her to an alcove at the end of the corridor. "I could tell you didn't wish to discuss it with them listening, but I am deeply concerned about what happened to you, lass."

  Isobel's stomach ached, for she was uncertain who this woman truly was, her mother's trusted confident or a soulless murderer. Either way, Isobel didn't want Maighread to become suspicious. She needed to gain her trust in order to find out her plans. Would the murderess try again to kill Dirk?

  Isobel wrung her hands. Either way, Lady Patience had already revealed that Isobel was betrothed to Torrin MacLeod. There was no need to deny it any longer. "Do you promise not to tell anyone?" Isobel asked. "It is a delicate situation."

  "Of course, my dear girl," Maighread cooed as if Isobel were five instead of twenty-five. "Your mother always trusted me with her deepest secrets, and you can too."

  "Very well. I thank you for your confidence," Isobel said, pretending she believed nothing of Dirk's accusations. "You see, my brother signed a contract for me to marry the MacLeod."

  "I'm certain your mother would say that was a poor choice." Maighread shook her head. "And did you marry him?"

  "Not yet. We're betrothed. But because of… something that happened, I had to leave. Snow was pouring down. Fortunately, Dirk MacKay and his friend came upon us between Munrick and Ullapool. I'm not sure we could've made it to shelter if not for their help."

  "Goodness. What on earth could've happened to cause you to run away during a snowstorm?"

  Isobel stared at the floor, burning with humiliation. Now she needed a reason for leaving the MacLeod. She could think of no better excuse than the truth. It didn't matter if Maighread knew what Nolan did. Maybe if she confessed such a traumatic experience, it would cause Maighread to trust her and commiserate with her.

  "A certain member of his clan was treating me badly."

  Maighread's eyes widened as if she were eager to devour the gossip. "Who and what did they do?"

  "His brother… accosted me and tried to force himself on me."

  Maighread gasped. "You poor dear. Your brother will seek revenge, surely."

  "I hope not." She cringed, loathe to imagine her brothers or any of her clansmen losing their lives because of this insanity. "I simply want to leave and forget about them."

  "Your brother didn't waste time in trying to get you married off again, did he?" Maighread shook her head in apparent exasperation, but Isobel doubted her sincerity.

  "Nay."

  "Well, I'm glad you are safe here now. 'Twas unfortunate Jedwarth could not get you with child before he died. Especially a boy child. If he had, you'd be in a much more secure position as mother of an infant earl."

  "Aye." She would like to have a child, but at the same time, she feared the earl's family would've tried to take over raising the babe and she would've been forced to the side. In the Highland tradition, her child would've been sent to foster with a prominent family. Her older brother had fostered with a lesser chieftain for seven years, during which she rarely saw him.

  "Laird Jedwarth was a close friend of my family, as you know," Maighread said. "A good man."

  Isobel nodded. She didn't want to think about her former husband, nor be called by his name any longer. The past needed to stay in the past. She was looking to a happier future.

  "But how on earth did you escape Munrick without the MacLeod chief knowing?" Maighread asked.

  "He was away in Lairg."

  "Ah, so his younger brother thought he had the run of the henhouse, did he?"

  "More like a wolf in the henhouse," Isobel said, remembering his viciousness.

  "And how did you escape this despicable brother of his?"

  Isobel shrugged. "I might have wounded him." And she didn't regret it either. She hoped he had a headache for a fortnight.

  Maighread laughed. "You injured him, my dear girl?"

  "I fear I did. I had to knock him on the head to stop him. He passed out and that's when I made good my escape in the night."

  Maighread chortled. "You are so much like your dear mother. I miss her terribly. She was indeed my best friend for almost five decades. And you are the image of her as well. To look at you takes me back to my youth." She shook her head. "Come, let's rejoin the other two ladies."

  Isobel followed her back to the warm solar. The maids were serving refreshments of bread, cheese and wine.

  "Please have a seat and tell me what you know of this fellow who calls himself Dirk," Maighread said.

  Isobel frowned, unsure how to respond. Maybe she could discover what Maighread truly thought. "You don't believe he's Dirk?" she asked, accepting the mulled red wine in an expensive crystal glass from the maid. Maybe Maighread was going senile if she didn't remember her stepson.

  "Nay! That man?" she asked in outrage and motioned toward the great hall. "He looks nothing like Dirk."

  Maighread was either mad or a gifted liar. Isobel remembered Dirk from her youth and he was definitely the same person. Indeed, he was about a foot taller and his shoulders twice as wide. His square jaw and chin were stronger, but his piercing pale-blue eyes had not changed. She would never forget his bewitching eyes, nor his rich, ginger-colored hair.

  "He's an imposter who thinks to steal my sons' heritage away from them. I won't let that happen. If you had sons, you would understand," Maighread said passionately.

  Isobel nodded. She supposed she would, but… Dirk was still Dirk. And Isobel could see the woman might well do anything to protect what she perceived as her sons'.

  "I should hope you would be able to easily prove he isn't the heir," Lady Patience said. "Seona is to marry the chief of MacKay, whoever holds this position."

  "Well, it won't be this outlaw calling himself Dirk. You can be assured of that. Aiden is the chief and will remain so. You have naught to worry over, dear Seona," Maighread told the young woman.

  Seona glanced about uneasily and Isobel wondered what she was thinking. Like Isobel, she was in a precarious situation, probably worried about what the future held for her. Her fate was in the hands of others… most of whom didn't give a fig about her happiness or well-being.

  But 'twas clear to Isobel that she was an intelligent lass who no doubt had fond wishes and grand dreams of a bright future, just as Isobel did. 'Haps she even wanted to find love. Indeed, what lass didn't wish to find love? This was usually out of the question for chiefs' daughters. Few love matches were formed, at least not for first marriages. Alliances between clans were far more important. All young ladies could hope for was a husband who didn't beat them and a clan who treated them with respect.

  A new thought rampaged through Isobel's mind. If Seona was bound by contract to marry the chief… and Dirk became the chief… did that mean Dirk would have to marry her?

  Surely not if he hadn't been in on the agreement between clans. Wouldn't any such contract be null?

  Why should it matter to Isobel anyway? She wouldn't be marrying Dirk. After what he'd said last night, she knew he was a man who followed the rules and traditions of their society. He believed in honoring contracts, vows and pledges. Well, she did too normal
ly, but the situation with the MacLeods was extreme.

  Anyway, Dirk was a man of his word. No matter how much he might have enjoyed the kiss—and he had—that wasn't going to sway him. Though she had little experience with physical interaction with men, it was obvious he'd been highly aroused and near out of control. Her heartbeat sped up like a fast-galloping horse with the memory of how Dirk had kissed her in a most sensual and carnally delicious way.

  "Lady Isobel?"

  She jumped, almost spilling her wine. Her gaze flew to Maighread. "Aye?" Her face heated.

  "Are you well?"

  "Indeed." She gulped the sweet, spiced wine, hoping it would calm her nerves.

  "Are you saying you truly believe this outlaw is Dirk MacKay?"

  Wanting to stay on Maighread's good side so she'd trust her, she didn't want to disagree, nor did she wish to lie and go completely against Dirk. What a quandary. "Mayhap," she blurted, hoping to stay impartial.

  "But you only met him once before, correct?"

  "'Tis true." Still, she remembered him clearly. He was someone she'd never forget—both handsome and fearsome. At the banquet they'd had at her clan's castle, Dirk had spoken to her once. Her feet had tangled in her skirts and she'd almost toppled down the steps, but he'd caught her arm and kept her from falling.

  Careful, lass, he'd said in the deep voice he'd possessed even at fifteen. Of course, his voice was even deeper now, and at times a wee bit raspy from the cold wind. The sound of it gave her heated shivers.

  The first time she'd met Dirk was brief, the words few. But his lingering and curious stares were among the details she hadn't forgotten. They had both been innocent to everything then. Whatever connection lay between them had not even been an infatuation. Just instinct and curiosity.

  "I'm sure you've forgotten what Dirk was like in the past dozen or so years," Maighread said.

  Hardly. Isobel sent her a vague smile, unwilling to argue. "'Haps."

  "Surely the MacKay clan will be wise enough to realize his duplicity," Maighread said.

  "They mentioned a birthmark," Lady Patience said. "Will the clan elders put so much faith in that as proof?"

  "I'm not certain. But even a birthmark could be faked." Maighread's eyes narrowed.

  "How would anyone know of it, especially if Dirk supposedly died twelve years ago?" Isobel asked, hoping she was the voice of reason.

  "Someone from the clan, Conall perhaps, may have gone south and found someone who resembled Dirk in coloring and used some sort of stain or red dye to mimic the birthmark. Aye. I'm certain Conall is behind this. He wants his own son, Keegan, to inherit. Conall himself is third in line to be chief, and Keegan fourth. He's using this imposter as a puppet. That must be his devious scheme."

  That was a stretch. If Dirk became chief, how would Conall or Keegan become chief? But Isobel refrained from asking. Clearly the woman was desperate and deluded, grasping at such ridiculous straws. Isobel wanted to remain as close to her as possible without angering her. Then she'd learn of any nefarious plans Maighread might be cooking up against Dirk.

  "If he is an imposter, what happened to the real Dirk?" Isobel asked with as much innocence and naivety as she could. "Was it an accident?"

  "Aye," Maighread said. "He and his cousin were out at Faraid Head, drinking whisky. Likely they were staggering around, too close to the edge of the cliffs, and fell." Maighread shook her head. "Poor daft lads."

  What a lie! It took all Isobel's strength to remain in her seat and not leap up and yell at the woman.

  "As for this imposter and Conall… I won't let them get away with it, that's a certainty," Maighread said, a vindictive gleam in her green eyes. "They should watch their backs."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Isobel and Seona Murray made their way down the stairs toward the great hall for supper. Isobel was not entirely sure she would get along with Seona. The lass was pretty and quiet, but a slight scowl was her usual expression.

  "Is something the matter, Lady Seona?" Isobel asked.

  "Nay." She produced a forced smile.

  "You can tell me. I won't tell anyone." Isobel lowered her voice and whispered, "Certainly not you-know-who. I ken well what it is like to live amongst a clan not your own. One that you're marrying into."

  Seona nodded. "I thank you for understanding. 'Tis simply that I don't yet ken what the future holds."

  "Aye, well, none of us do."

  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 excu
sed 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?"