Bastard was right. She'd like to take that oar to McMurdo's head. Dirk looked terrible, his skin pale and his lips a faint blue.
"He's freezing! Let's get him out of those wet clothes and he'll warm up," she said.
"I'm fine," Dirk growled between clenched teeth, his body starting to shiver and shake. "I'll… my chamber."
He staggered toward the steps. Clearly he was more injured than he would admit.
"Bring some hot water and whisky," she directed one of the male servants who had been sleeping in the hall. "Where is the healer?" His wound would need cleaning and a healing balm applied.
"I'll fetch her," Aiden said.
"Your clothes are wet too, Aiden."
"Aye. I'll change," he called as he trotted away.
Dirk moved under his own power slowly up the narrow turnpike stair. Two of his clansmen followed and Isobel brought up the rear. How long had he been out in the freezing wind, drenched as he was? He was sure to catch an ague. Once in his chamber, he fell onto his bed.
"Help me get him out of those icy wet clothes," she said to the two men.
"Wool is warmer when it's wet," Keegan said.
"Well then, why are his lips turning blue?"
The man frowned.
"Stoke the fire. I'll do this." She removed Dirk's mantle then the layers of wool tartan frozen in icicles. His linen shirt stuck to his skin. Saints! She untied his trews and yanked at them. Erskine helped her turn him over and slip the clothing from his back.
"Leave me be," Dirk grumbled.
"Nay. Do you want to die?" she asked.
She threw a dry wool blanket over him and tugged his trews off.
"What happened?" asked a shrunken ancient woman from the doorway.
"Are you the healer?" Isobel asked.
"Aye. I'm Nannag."
"Thank goodness you're here. Someone hit him on the head with a wooden oar. He's bleeding badly and near frozen."
Once all Dirk's wet clothes were piled in a heap on the floor, she covered him with another woolen blanket.
The two men left and the healer examined the gash on Dirk's forehead. "It has stopped bleeding. We'll wash the blood away and see if the wound needs stitching. I'll fetch the necessary herbs for a tea." She disappeared out the door.
Dirk's skin retained the unhealthy bluish pallor and powerful shivers racked his body. He needed warmth immediately and the heat from the small fireplace would not reach the bed for a long while.
Isobel unclasped her belt and lowered her arisaid to the floor. Removing everything excerpt her thin linen smock, she crawled beneath the blankets and lay on top of him. Heavens, his whole body was like a solid block of ice.
He sucked in a sharp breath and his cold hands clasped her waist, giving her a chill. He mumbled words Isobel couldn't decipher. His breath smelled of whisky. Perhaps one of the men had given him some to help warm his veins.
"Shh. Just rest. I'll get you warm again." She kissed his neck, thankful he had returned to her. His skin was so cold she worried he might have frostbite.
His body quaked with another severe bout of shivers. Hopefully he was gradually warming, for he had not even been shivering when he'd first arrived at the castle.
"Oh, Lady Isobel! What are you doing?" Jessie asked in a surprised whisper.
Isobel glanced toward her, just inside the door, hands covering her eyes. "I'm getting him warm with my own body heat. If I hadn't, he might have died."
"Oh." Jessie uncovered her eyes and rushed forward. "How is he?"
"Gradually warming, I think."
The healer returned, approaching the bed with wide eyes and a faint smile. "Let's see if he'll wake enough to drink some whisky."
"I think he already had some," Isobel said.
"I'll steep some herbal tea then." After shuffling to the fireplace, she sprinkled some leaves in a wooden cup and poured hot water on it.
"I'll guard the door, Isobel, lest word get out you're in bed with my brother." Jessie headed toward the door, but before she could reach it, Rebbie entered.
"How is he?" His brows shot up. "Having much more fun than I am, I see."
Burning heat rushed over Isobel. "Don't be silly, Laird Rebbinglen! I'm warming him with my body heat."
"Lucky bastard," he muttered.
Jessie proceeded into the corridor and pulled the door closed behind her.
"'Tis not a jest. He could've died."
"Hmph. Wish I'd almost died instead."
"Go to hell, Rebbie," Dirk mumbled.
Isobel drew in a sharp breath, but was glad he acted more alert.
Rebbie chuckled. "You see, he's perfectly lucid. Rugged as the Highlands, that one."
That's when she noticed something hard prodding her leg as she lay on top of Dirk. Oh heavens, was that…? Was he aroused? Staying beneath the covers, she rolled off Dirk and laid her hand along the side of his chilled face. "Are you feeling better?"
"Aye."
"I wager he feels better than… better," Rebbie muttered. "Do you not?"
"Aye," Dirk said in a monotone that revealed nothing, his eyes still closed.
"Could I have a moment of privacy, if you please?" Isobel asked.
"Of course." Rebbie bowed and backed toward the corridor.
"Nay, you cannot go in there, Haldane!" Jessie ordered from outside the door.
"Step aside, sister," he growled then stormed into the room.
"What is…?" His eyes ran over Isobel in bed beside Dirk. "What the hell is going on here? Is this a jest?"
"He almost froze to death. I was but warming him with my body heat."
He gave a nasty laugh. "Aye. I'm certain."
"What do you want?" Dirk growled low.
"Stay away from Aiden. You almost got him killed. And release McMurdo from the dungeon. He's done naught."
Dirk grunted. "You're daft if you're thinking I'll do either."
"You're not chief! You can't order that anyone be held."
"Get out, Haldane. And not a word to anyone." Jessie tried to shove him toward the door, but, being much larger, he hardly budged.
Oh blast! Haldane would tell his mother. And then she'd think Isobel and Dirk were having a tryst. Maighread might not trust Isobel as much after that. Or she might send someone to tell the MacLeod that Dirk had stolen his bride. Isobel would have to talk to her and assure her she was saving a man's life, not seducing him.
With a muttered curse, Haldane finally stomped from the room and Rebbie left too, giving Isobel the privacy she craved. Although Nannag still sat hunched before the hearth, she was focused on her healing herbs and making a tisane.
Isobel slipped out of bed and quickly draped the arisaid around her like a blanket, trying to avoid looking at Dirk. She couldn't believe he was aroused, considering he was injured and near frozen. Did naught keep a virile man down? That gave her a different sort of heated shivers.
Nannag washed the blood from Dirk's head to better examine his wound. "It bled a plenty, but 'tis only a wee cut and won't need stitching."
Isobel was glad to hear this, but she noticed the area around the tiny cut was turning a reddish-violet color.
A moment later, the healer brought the wooden cup forward. "Here, sir. Drink this." Despite her advanced age, she was a lively little woman with a strong voice.