He placed his warm hand over hers where they rested at his waist. She almost sighed, appreciating his heat and lots more about his body, like how muscular and fit he was, unlike her late husband.
She'd been responsible for taking care of Jedwarth during his illness and before his death. He'd been sickly since the day she met him, which was the day she married him. She hadn't loved him, but she'd respected him for treating her well.
Rumors and speculations had abounded. Was she barren? Was the old earl impotent? Why had she not conceived him an heir?
'Twas difficult to conceive an heir when her husband could not perform his duties in the bedchamber. He had tried but it never happened.
She wondered what sharing a bed with Dirk would be like. Some part of her, deep inside, tingled. He was surely a virile man, young as he was, only a couple of years older than herself. Likely, he would perform like a stallion in the bedchamber.
She didn't know why she was thinking of this now when she should be focused on their safety. Glancing over the open moorland, she perceived no threat. A veil of snow partially covered the gray rocks and dull brownish-green heather. The brisk wind ensured most of the snow drifted further south.
Since she'd been old enough to be interested in the lads, she'd dreamed of having a marriage like her parents. They'd shared a profound love, many times sitting together, talking and laughing at their own private jests. And a few times she'd found them kissing in some dark corner, much to her embarrassment.
Her mother had given her advice about men. Thus far, Isobel hadn't found the type of man she'd always wanted. Each time she saw Dirk, he seemed more and more like that type of man. But what of it? A mountain of obstacles stood between them, like the whole of the MacLeod clan. And her brother too.
The closer she, Dirk, and their party rode to Castle Dunnakeil on the shore, the stronger the wind buffeted them. Part of the time, she scrunched behind Dirk's big body, hoping it would shield her from the worst of the wind.
When they crested the hill, she leaned around him. The ancient castle on its prominent rock formation and the ocean beyond lay spread out before them as far as she could see in both directions. What an amazing sight it was with the moody, violet-gray sky and the pale orange glow of the sun behind the clouds in the western sky.
Though the icy wind stung her eyes, she could not look away. The gray stone castle was large with three towers, surrounded by a tall stone wall. Clearly it was a well-built, defensive fortification. Though she knew not why, she liked it instantly.
She only hoped Dirk's clan accepted him as the chief he was born to be.
***
"Do you not see what he's doing?" Haldane asked loudly, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the dim great hall. The rest of the clan fell silent. "An imposter moving his friends in. He could be here to murder us in our sleep for all we know."
Dirk glared at his younger brother. You little bastard. He couldn't wait to send him away to live at Tongue.
"There is no need to be so dramatic," Aiden said. "I remember Dirk and this man is him."
Haldane rolled his eyes but refrained from arguing. Dirk was glad to see that at least Haldane was showing Aiden some respect.
"He's even brought his wife," Haldane announced, his gaze running over Isobel where she stood near the massive fireplace.
Dirk wondered what it was about him and Isobel that made people assume they were married. Simply because they rode a horse together, or because he escorted her up the steps and inside?
The gazes of twenty or thirty clan members switched between Dirk and Isobel, undoubtedly speculating whether they were indeed married.
His whole body heated. Embarrassment or rage? He couldn't be sure. Perhaps a mix of both. Since he'd taken a different name at the age of fifteen and hidden in plain sight all these years, he hadn't liked being the center of attention. And now, he shouldn't have to explain anything to his rude whelp of a brother. But since the marriage ruse was no longer necessary for Isobel's safety, he would be honest with his clan.
"She's not my wife. She's a lady I rescued on the way here."
"Och. His whore, then," Haldane accused. "I cannot believe the clan elders will tolerate this."
Rage quickened Dirk's blood. "You overstep your bounds, Haldane," he warned, moving toward his brother. "The lady is a member of the nobility and I barely know her. She is no one's whore. She's injured and we are simply showing her hospitality. Her brother is a chief. Apologize to Lady Isobel. Now."
"Nay." Haldane narrowed his eyes. "I'll not be obeying your orders."
Before he knew what he was about, Dirk wrapped a fist in Haldane's shirt and shoved him up against the stone wall. "That's not how you treat a lady," Dirk growled, nose to nose with Haldane. "Apologize now."
His younger brother's wide gaze bounced wildly about the hall. Silence reigned. Without doubt, the little weasel was looking for someone to come to his rescue. Dirk was proud of his clan when no one moved a muscle. Unlike Haldane, they all knew ladies were to be treated with respect.
"P… Pray pardon… Lady Isobel," Haldane stammered. His breathing was unsteady with Dirk's fist against his throat.
Noticing his wee brother was reluctant to meet his gaze again, he smirked. "Now, was that so hard?" Dirk asked, releasing him. "I expect you to show her and all ladies respect from now on."
Nostrils flaring, face flushing and green eyes glinting venom like his mother's might, Haldane backed away to stand behind Aiden's shoulder. "I'm going to get Mother, and you're coming with me, Aiden. I don't trust this… imposter. Come."
"I'm going nowhere." Aiden crossed his arms over his narrow chest. "'Tis past noon, and I'll not be traveling to Tongue this late."
He was a smart lad. Although Tongue was a part of MacKay lands, it would take at least a day to ride there.
"I'll go then." Haldane's brittle glowers were deadly in their intensity. "Mother will want to be here for the hearing."
Dirk seethed inside. How damned grand it would be to see Maighread Gordon again—the murderous witch.
Chapter Ten
Standing near the enormous fireplace, trying to warm herself with her maid, Isobel scanned the spacious but crowded great hall of Dunnakeil with its many tables and benches. Since Haldane had finished his insulting rant and stormed out, she could relax a bit. Although some of the clan members still sent curious glances her way.
Two sizable deerhounds lay before the fireplace on a plaid carpet, their heads resting on their paws. Though they had sniffed at her when she'd arrived, they now ignored her.
She glanced aside and up. Three sets of massive stag antlers hung on the stone wall over the fireplace, along with the MacKay crest—a hand holding a dagger or Highland dirk. The wording over it was in Gaelic—Bi Tren. Be valiant. That certainly described Dirk perfectly.
"Lady Isobel," Dirk said at her shoulder.
She turned. "Aye?"