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 excused 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?"
"The Earl of Jedwarth." Why was he asking now? Her stomach knotted. Did he think her mad for marrying such an old man? She'd had little choice in the matter. Short of running away, like she did this time, she couldn't have escaped the marriage. Her brother had told her he'd no longer support her financially if she didn't marry to establish clan alliances. She didn't know if it was a true threat, or if he was only trying to coerce her. Cyrus was not known for his compassion.
"That's what I thought Maighread meant when she called you Lady Jedwarth." Dirk turned away and paced before the hearth. "Why did you not tell me?" Frowning, he observed her again.
"I don't like being called Lady Jedwarth. I'm no longer married to the man and every time someone calls me that, I cringe inside. I think of him and… the months, weeks and days before his death. Even though I didn't love him, it was an extremely taxing time. I want to move forward and think about the future. Surely something better awaits."
"Did he mistreat you?"
"Nay. He was kind enough, as was everyone in his household. But then, the day after his funeral, his nephew—his heir—arrived to send me back to my brother."
The last thing she wanted to do when she had time alone with Dirk was talk about the Earl of Jedwarth. The two men were drastically different. Jedwarth had been frail and sickly, while Dirk was the epitome of strength and health. Who could blame her for being drawn to Dirk?
"Jedwarth and the MacMorrison clan are closely allied with the clan Maighread was born into, the Gordons."
"Indeed, they were friends. But I had no choice in the matter. Do you think I'd choose a man who was nearly sixty years of age to marry? My brother arranged it."
She hoped Dirk wouldn't hold her first husband against her. Surely he knew most chiefs' daughters had no say in who they married. They weren't tied and dragged to their weddings, but they were not allowed to choose a man they found attractive. Nor were they allowed to marry for love.
Her mother and father had fallen in love after their arranged marriage. They had wanted her to have a say in who she married, but her brother was less sympathetic. She hadn't been able to find a husband while her parents still lived. No man had suited her. Her brother had run out of patience. Cyrus wasn't married, and he thought love matches were frivolous.
"Do you trust Maighread?" Dirk asked.
"Of course not." In fact, Isobel was exceedingly wary of the woman and her odd behavior.
"I hope you didn't tell her what happened at Munrick."
She cringed. "Although I didn't want to, I was forced to tell her what Nolan MacLeod did."
"Why?" Dirk demanded in a harsh tone.
"Lady Patience Murray had already heard I was supposed to marry the MacLeod, because she'd spent two nights at Munrick on the way here. I had to give a believable excuse for running out into a snowstorm. I hope Maighread will keep my secret. I also told her I would not marry the MacLeod. And I meant it."
Propping his hand against the mantel, Dirk nodded. "I hope you won't have to, but 'twill not be simple to extract yourself from the betrothal contract your brother signed. His word, his honor and his reputation are on the line. 'Tis not an action he will take lightly. Nor will the MacLeods."
Was Dirk like all other men who saw women as naught but pawns to be placed where they would benefit the men most? Rage rushed through her. "I don't care what my brother signed. I refuse to be pawed and accosted by the men of the clan I'm marrying into. Mother was shown great respect by our clan, and she taught me that I deserved no less than the same. Father loved her and treated her like precious glass. My wish is to find someone who will care as much for me but… it appears beyond my reach." Salty tears pricked her eyes as she stared into the orange coals. She hadn't meant to reveal so much about her emotions, but her words had poured out. She had not been raised to be a subservient nobody, trod on by others, and could hardly fall into that role now.
She ventured a glance at Dirk.
He had been staring at her, but shifted his gaze away from her.
What was he thinking? How pathetic she was? That she couldn't face reality? A love match was naught but a worthless fanciful whim? It hadn't been worthless to her parents. Their lives had been too short but they'd lived those years to the fullest and experienced more happiness than most people.