My Brave Highlander

by Vonda Sinclair

  "I suppose I'll have to stay until spring. By then, we'll know whether or not I'm with child."

  He ground his teeth, imagining her lush body swollen with his child. Although he found the image beyond appealing, he'd never thought about having children before. His life had always been too disrupted. For the last ten years he'd done little but travel with his friends. But now, all that was behind him. He might be voted in as chief today. That meant settling down, leading his people and marrying. He hadn't planned to look for a wife right away. Perhaps in a year or two, after he'd accustomed himself to being chief.

  But if Isobel carried his child, he would have to marry her. Not that the prospect was hellish in the least. Marrying her could quite possibly be paradise. But what of her betrothed? The last thing he wanted was a feud with the MacLeods.

  She'd been a virgin. He shook his head. Had he been rough with her? He barely remembered taking her. 'Twas more like a feverish dream, vague, but the memory was there. He remembered the pleasure. Twice was more than enough to get her with child.

  "I'll have to marry you. I won't have any other choice," he said.

  She frowned. "You have a choice. If you don't want to marry me, then don't." She rolled over, turning her back to him. "If you would be so kind as to leave the room, I'll dress and get out of your way."

  Damnation. Now he'd gone and done it. Hurt her feelings. He was not accustomed to womanly sensibilities.

  "Pray pardon," he said. "But like you said, you might be carrying my bairn. My heir." His head swam. Was this sensation left over from the bash on the head, the herbs, or from things happening so fast? He could hardly believe she might have already conceived his heir before he was even chief.

  She shrugged. "That seems to matter little to you."

  "It matters, have no doubt of it."

  She sat up, covered in the blanket, glaring at him with those bewitching midnight eyes. "You wanted me," she accused.

  "Aye, that I did." And still do. Right now. He couldn't say that. They didn't need another session to make sure she was with child. He doubted he'd withdrawn from her before his seed spilled, as he had with other widows he'd been with.

  "You dragged me into your bed." She pointed at him. "So don't make it all my fault."

  "'Tis not your fault. I blame myself." 'Haps without the drugging herbs, he would've been more in control, but even so, he'd wanted her since he first saw her.

  Something deep inside him said she was supposed to be his. But at the same time, it seemed too good to be true. And that made him suspicious.

  To imagine her with MacLeod filled him with anger and possessiveness. Nay, Dirk had to marry her. But he needed to obtain her brother's permission, else he'd truly be seen as a bride thief and a kidnapper. Honor was important to him and he had not gone about this in an honorable way. For him to steal the MacLeod's betrothed and marry her was no small offense. They'd retaliate. He didn't want war, bloodshed, and loss of life over this, his own daft mistake. Without doubt, he'd have to give MacLeod something of great value in exchange to regain peace.

  "What a damnable mess," he muttered, rubbing his scratchy beard stubble.

  "I don't mean to burden you," Isobel grumbled and slid to the edge of the bed. She reached for her smock in the heap of clothing on the floor, her movements jerky and filled with ire. "Like I told you before, I want a husband who cares about me. If you are not capable, then I will leave."

  "Damnation, Isobel. I care."

  "I don't believe you. You are naught but annoyed with me."

  "Not with you. With the situation."

  "The situation with me."

  "I hope that you can forgive me." He used a gentler tone. "I have to deal with the MacLeod chief and your brother in a diplomatic way or this situation will blow up in my face. And I'm not even a chief yet. I wanted to do things in a certain order. Now that's jumbled. Other chiefs will question my honor. They'll consider me an outlaw and a kidnapper for stealing a neighboring chief's bride."

  "Well, then. I'm sorry I've sullied your immaculate honor and your perfect reputation, most noble sir."

  Damned if she didn't have an impertinent mouth. He was tempted to silence her with a fierce kiss.

  Knocks sounded at the door. "Dirk? Are you feeling better?" Rebbie called from the corridor.

  "Aye," Dirk said.

  The latch on the door clicked but didn't budge. He'd barred the door earlier so no one would barge in and find Isobel in his bed. He hoped no one had seen them together while they'd been sleeping.

  "'Tis time for the hearing," Rebbie said, his voice muffled by the wood. "Everyone is assembling in the great hall."

  "I'll be there in a moment. I'm dressing." Or at least he was going to. He didn't wish to drop the plaid and give Isobel an eyeful. Nor did he want her to know how intensely she affected him every time he saw her. He craved her, and the foggy memories of last night only taunted and tempted him. He glanced back to see Isobel securing her arisaid. "Don't allow Maighread to find out what happened between us," he said.

  "Why not? Are you ashamed?"

  "Nay," he growled. "She will use it against me. She will do anything to hurt me, that includes hurting you."

  "Well, I'm sure you remember that Haldane saw us in bed together last night when I was warming you, so she'll assume the worst."

  'Slud! He'd forgotten about Haldane. All his memories of last night were foggy.

  "She would not harm me, surely, given who my mother was. Would she?"

  "Don't be naïve, Isobel. And never underestimate that woman. She is a poisonous snake in the grass."

  "I won't say anything about us spending the night together, obviously," she said meekly while staring at the floor, avoiding his gaze. He wanted to tell her not to be cross with him. He was doing the best he could. But he'd probably muddle that too. She was the first woman he'd shared more than a passing conversation or roll betwixt the sheets with. He knew how to talk to men in a straightforward, honest way, not caring whether they liked what he said or not.

  Women were different. They took things the wrong way and developed hurt feelings over the merest slight. He would have to remember to consider his words carefully before he said much to her.

  Damn, how she tempted him. He wanted naught but to grab her, take her back to bed and devour those rosy pink lips of hers. He yearned to remember every sharp and luscious detail of what it had been like with her, but the herbs had clouded his memories.

  "Opium poppy," he said.

  "What?"

  "Nannag must have put opium in that tea." He remembered its effects now, because he'd had it before, following a battle wound.

  "I didn't know she would give it to you."

  "Don't fash yourself over it." He was simply glad to understand why he'd lost control so easily.

  Fully dressed now, she approached the door, then glanced back at him. "I will see you at the hearing."

  Wishing he could say more, he nodded, then watched her exit.

  He would have her again. But next time, he would do things right. He'd obtain her brother's permission and then he would marry her. He couldn't touch her again before then.

  ***

  "I told you Isobel was his whore," Haldane said to Maighread in the solar, the morning sun shining in.

  "What are you talking about? They said she was trying to get him warm because he'd fallen into the water." Of course, to do such a thing was indecent, especially since Isobel was a lady and not a healer.

  "Well, she must have warmed him all night then, for she never left his chamber and never returned to her own."

  "How do you know this?" Maighread demanded. "Are you following her about?"

  "Not me. One of the maids is keeping an eye on her for me." He grinned, making her wonder what else the maid was doing for him.

  More importantly, what in blazes was Isobel MacKenzie doing? Betrothed to a chief and sleeping with another man? Playing with a fire that could set off an explosion of clan wars be
tween the MacKays and the MacLeods.

  Did Dirk love the lass? If Isobel wasn't the daughter of her dearest friend, Maighread would send a missive to the MacLeods so fast they'd think a gale was blowing through. Although she wanted Dirk to be in all sorts of danger, she didn't want to endanger Isobel, but the lass was not proving to be too canny or ladylike.

  "I thank you for telling me, Haldane. I'll deal with them."

  He nodded and left the room.

  Aiden still waited by the door. "You wanted to see me?"

  "You're taking me to see McMurdo," Maighread said.

  "Nay, Mother. The dungeon is a filthy place."

  "Do you think I care? You're going to tell the guards to allow me entrance. You're still chief… until the hearing, at least. The clan may side with the imposter, but the battle isn't over yet."

  "I don't think you should see or talk to McMurdo. He is a dangerous criminal and he could hurt you."

  "He'll not be able to touch me!"

  Aiden narrowed his eyes. "What are your plans?"

  Why was her wee son now questioning her actions? He'd never done that before. "I'm not going to break him out. He deserves to be there. He's a murderer after all, but I need to speak to him for a few minutes about the grave site he paid your father and the church for."

  "Very well, but I must ask a favor of you."

  "Anything, my dear. Do you not know I would do anything for you?" she cooed, hoping her naïve son would believe her.

  "I will count on it, then. I ask that you leave Dirk be. I ask that you not harm him nor hire anyone else to harm him."

  "Why, Aiden," she said as dramatically as she could muster, given that she wasn't the least bit surprised that he'd sided with his big brother. "What sort of person do you think I am? I would never hurt anyone, imposter or not. I simply don't want him stealing what is rightfully yours."

  "I don't see how you can say that when you know he is Da's eldest son."

  "I'm sorry, but I honestly don't believe he is your brother."

  He scrutinized her with intelligent eyes, and she wondered if he was going to believe her. Maybe she hadn't been genuine enough.

  A shocking thought occurred to her. Had he been the one to tip off Dirk and his men to go chasing after McMurdo? Aye, somehow they'd known she was to meet McMurdo at the church. By the time she'd arrived, the place was deserted. Two hours later, McMurdo was in the dungeon and Aiden and Dirk had returned drenched. They'd been together, of course.

  What a little traitor her son was. He was the one she risked everything for! Did he not realize being chief was the only way to secure his and his brother's future? He was from a long line of powerful leaders here in the north of Scotland, but all he wanted was to be a troubadour. No more than a servant. She was beyond disappointed in him.

  If he didn't want the chief's position, Haldane would. She didn't care which, but one of her sons would be chief.

  "I shall not lay a hand on the imposter. Come now, let's go. You're a good son." She led the way into the corridor and he followed.

  Outside in the blustery morning air with icy snowflakes stinging her face, they crossed the stone-paved bailey together. Although the guards cast them strange looks, they allowed Maighread and Aiden entrance to the dungeon with no complications. After the hearing, if Dirk was made chief, he would bar her from talking to McMurdo.

  Her son was right, the dungeon was a nasty, damp and dark place, but that didn't matter. She'd worn her oldest clothing.

  The guard set the lantern outside the cell door and Maighread squinted toward the man shackled to the wall inside.

  "McMurdo?"

  "Aye, m'lady."

  "Go find Haldane for me, Aiden," she said, turning to her son.

  "Nay, I'll not leave you here alone with him." Something about wee Aiden as her protector seemed out of place.

  "He's chained to the wall. He cannot come near me. I must speak to Haldane immediately."

  Aiden's eyes narrowed, and he addressed her in a hushed whisper. "If you and Haldane break McMurdo out, the guards may hurt or kill you both."

  "We're not going to break him out, darling. Do you think I'm mad? I told you he deserves to be exactly where he is. He's a murderer. Go bring your brother to me."

  Aiden gave her one last glare and shuffled away to do her bidding as he always did. She was glad he was easy to control despite his scruples.

  She turned toward the prisoner. "McMurdo, listen to me. Are you awake?"

  He grunted and his beady black eyes peered at her. "Aye."

  "I paid you a great sum of money to do a job several years ago. But you didn't do that job, now did you? You stole my thousand pounds. That's about the same amount you paid for that crypt in the church, is it not?"

  The chains rattled. "I thought he was dead. He fell down the cliff. I swear it. I have no notion how he survived. 'Twas a miracle."

  "Lie all you want. I'm making you another deal. Either complete the job now or I'm taking my thousand pounds back."

  "How? I have no money."

  "You will not be buried in your crypt."

  "Nay, m'lady! How will I finish the job now? I'm chained and locked up."

  "I might be able to find someone to help you escape."

  "Aye, I beg of you, m'lady. Help me out of this hell-pit and I will do whatever you wish. You will allow me to keep the tomb, aye?"

  "When I see with my own eyes that the job is complete, aye. And you're not to open your mouth about our arrangement to anyone. We have never spoken."

  "Agreed. I'll do it." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I'll kill Dirk MacKay this time."

  Chapter Eighteen

  A half hour after Isobel left Dirk's chamber, a knock sounded at her bedchamber door. Her heart vaulted into her throat. Could it be Dirk?

  When she opened the door, she found Dirk's sister waiting there, wide-eyed.

  "Isobel, the servants are gossiping," Jessie whispered.

  Isobel dragged her friend into the room and closed the door. "About what?" she asked, glad Beitris had gone to the kitchen for a small meal for her since she'd missed breakfast. And, of course, Beitris had had plenty to say about why Isobel had missed the meal.

  "They are saying you didn't leave my brother's bedchamber all night," Jessie said.

  Isobel's face heated. "He is injured and required someone to stay with him." Although she considered Jessie a new friend, she couldn't confess all to her.

  Jessie raised an auburn brow. "What are you not telling me?"

  "Naught."

  "Come now, Isobel. I'm not a naïve and innocent lass. I was in a temporary marriage for a year and a day."

  "Aye." Isobel remembered what Jessie had told her earlier.

  "And you're a widow. We both ken what goes on betwixt a man and a woman in the bedchamber."

  "Indeed." Did she ever! She would never be the same after experiencing such passion and intensity. Now she knew who had all the fun. Wanton women. No wonder they always looked so smug and happy.

  "Well?" Jessie prompted.

  "That is to say… I ken now… for a certainty."

  Jessie frowned. "What does that mean?"

  "My former husband and I didn't… have relations. He was unable." Isobel held up a hand. "Before you say anything, I wanted to know what it was like. I had to know, truly, what happened during the coupling. I'm five-and-twenty, after all."

  Jessie gaped. "Last night was the first time for you?"

  "Aye."

  "But Dirk is injured."

  "Do you think that matters to a man? He dragged me into bed with him."

  Jessie sucked in a quick breath, her blue gaze sharpening, so like her brother's. "How dare he!"

  "Nay, I did not wish to object." Isobel smiled as heat washed over her.

  "You enjoyed it?" Jessie asked in a skeptical tone.

  "Aye, 'twas far more amazing than I could've ever imagined."

  "Amazing? I would never call it amazing." Jessie grimaced as she p
aced back and forth.

  "Your experiences were not good?"

  "Nay. My husband—if you can call him that—in my temporary marriage was annoying."

  "Why did you enter into a temporary marriage?" Isobel knew they were commonplace in the Highlands, but rarely did they benefit the woman.

  "My father arranged it with a prominent chief to the southeast. As you ken, such a marriage is for a year and a day. If the woman is with child at the end of that time, the couple will most likely wed in truth. If there is no child, the couple can either marry or part ways. I was not with child, so we both chose to part ways. A chief must always have an heir. If the woman is barren, he can send her back to her family and find a more fertile wife. But we only had relations three times during that year. I'm thinking that was not enough." She shrugged. "Not that I wanted him to bed me more than that."

  "But you are a beautiful woman. How could he only want you three times?"

  "He found another lass more to his liking. They are now in a temporary marriage. He'll probably tire of her in a few months. Men are fickle."

  "I hope not all men are." Indeed, what if Dirk tired of her? But what did it matter, since they weren't in any sort of marriage, temporary or otherwise?

  "I haven't been around my brother much since we were bairns so I couldn't say if he is fickle or not. If he is canny, he will marry you."

  A thrill raced through Isobel at the thought. "I would like that, but I don't want a man who is forced to marry me. He should do it because he wants to. The bigger problem is I'm already betrothed to someone else."

  Jessie nodded and sat down on a stool near the hearth. "I ken it. What is he like?"

  "Torrin MacLeod is a nice enough looking man—brown hair, green eyes, almost thirty summers. But he is in love with a village lass, 'haps the daughter of a crofter, and has children with her. At least that's what his knave of a brother told me. The clan will not allow him to marry her. He but wanted to marry me for the three hundred acres in my dowry. And 'haps for an heir."

  "What a horse's arse," Jessie grumbled.

  "His brother is even worse." She'd already told Jessie about the incident at Munrick and how she'd near bashed in Nolan's head.