Текст книги "My brave highlander"

Автор книги: Vonda Sinclair

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

Chapter Fifteen

Dirk glared at the person who dared to enter his bedchamber at midnight without knocking. Any leftover arousal drained away, leaving icy warning in its wake.

Aiden stood just inside the closed door. What the devil was he doing bursting in at this hour?

His young brother's wide-eyed gaze darted between Dirk and Isobel. "Pray pardon," he mumbled. "I knocked but 'haps you didn't hear."

Dirk inhaled deeply, trying to calm his rapid heartbeat and forcing his warrior side back into submission. He was now glad he hadn't obeyed his instincts where Isobel was concerned or Aiden might have seen something truly shocking, considering Dirk had forgotten to bar the door. And now, thankfully, Isobel again had the blanket wrapped around her.

"What is it, Aiden?" Dirk asked.

"'Tis mother. She's sent Haldane to find McMurdo and bring him here."

McMurdo, the murderous highwayman. "Why?"

"She didn't say, but she wants to meet with him behind the church. And it has something to do with you."

"When?"

"Whenever Haldane finds him and brings him back. I know not how long that will take."

"Damnation," Dirk muttered. "What else did she say?"

"That she would not allow the imposter—you—to take my inheritance."

Dirk shook his head, his heart near breaking at Aiden's precarious position. "I thank you for warning me."

"You are my brother. The eldest. I wouldn't wish to take what is rightfully your inheritance."

"You're a good man, Aiden."

His brother gave a brief grin and stood straighter, but then he grew serious again. "I wasn't in the great hall when Ma arrived, but one of the other men told me what you revealed. Was Ma the one who tried to have you killed twelve years ago?"

"Aye. The only proof I have is that the assassin said, 'Lady MacKay sends her regards.' And after what you've just told me about McMurdo, it makes me believe he was the man she hired."

"I was afraid of that." Aiden shook his head. "She's near mad with desperation to stop you. I must talk to her."

"That might not be a good idea," Dirk said. "If you defend me, you'll likely anger her."

Aiden shrugged. "She would never harm me. She's doing all of this for me." He gave a brief bow. "I'll be on my way now."

"Oh and Aiden," Dirk said. "If you please, don't tell anyone you saw Isobel in my bedchamber."

His face flushed, but he grinned. "Of course not." He disappeared out the door.

"Oh heavens," Isobel whispered.

"I knew the witch would start scheming again," Dirk muttered. "She must be planning to have McMurdo try to kill me again."

"What will you do?" Isobel asked.

"Catch him and make him confess everything."

***

Dirk and Keegan slipped along the south wall that surrounded the cemetery and the church. Rebbie and the rest of the men had circled around the north wall to lie in wait. The moonlight glinting off the thin layer of snow made hiding in the night more difficult. Gusts of wind off the sea made hearing at any distance near impossible.

The wall around the church was low enough to climb over. Dirk rose up slowly and peered over the top to see if McMurdo waited behind the church. Or would he meet with Maighread inside? Nay, there was some movement in the shadows of the stone building.

Dirk crouched behind the wall again, out of the wind. "He's there. I'm going inside the church to hide," he whispered to Keegan.

"He might hear you."

"We need to listen in on his conversation with Maighread. 'Tis not possible in this wind."

"No telling if she'll even come out in this cold to meet him. She may make him wait until the morn."

Dirk shook his head. "She's a tough old nag. I wager she'll meet him as soon as possible. She's desperate to be rid of me."

"Once she goes through the gate, we can block her exit and we'll have her captured," Keegan said. "I'll have the rest of the men surround the wall, and they'll capture him if he tries to jump over and escape."

"Aye, but no proof as to what they're doing. I must hear her tell McMurdo that she wants him to kill me. When I hear that, I'll have solid proof. Then mayhap, once we capture him, McMurdo will confess. If you're beside me and hear the same thing, you're also a witness."

"Very well."

They crawled across the frozen ground to the corner. The east side of the wall contained the gate. "I have a better idea," Keegan whispered. "We'll wait here and once Maighread arrives and enters the gate, we'll slip in behind her."

"That might work." Dirk glanced at the sky. "A few clouds are rolling in. They'll help conceal us."

A lone figure exited the church gate silently, then ran toward the beach.

"That's him," Dirk muttered, standing. "McMurdo is escaping. Come on." At the north side of the wall he whistled to the other men and waved them toward the beach. The outlaw's dark cloak disappeared behind a sand dune as he crested the ridge above the beach on the other side of the castle.

"Hurry," Dirk yelled, running to catch up with the bastard. Once he reached the ridge of sand dunes he could see no evidence of the outlaw. "Light the lantern," he told Erskine. "Surely he has not gone out to Faraid Head." Ice ran in his veins. He had not been to Faraid Head since that fateful day twelve years ago. He didn't wish to return now but he would if he had to. "Damn McMurdo," he muttered.

"I wager he's gone to Smoo Cave," Aiden said, breathing hard. "He hides out there sometimes."

Dirk spun to face his brother. "Where did you come from?"

"I was watching from the bushes by the stream."

"'Tis too dangerous for you. Go back to the keep."

"Nay. I'm still the chief and I'll do what I want as long as I am." He smiled, his teeth visible in the moonlight.

Dirk muttered a colorful curse.

"Smoo Cave, you say?" Rebbie asked.

"Aye," Aiden said.

"That makes sense," Dirk said. "He's probably trying to throw us off by doubling back."

Once Erskine had the lantern lit, the footprints in the freshly blown sand and the trace of snow were evident. But the tracks headed toward Faraid Head, which was naught but a maze of sand dunes, and at the end, cliffs.

Ignoring the tracks, Dirk headed the men east as Aiden had suggested, in the direction of Smoo Cave. Soon they came upon more fresh tracks in the snow-dusted sand.

"Aha. You are a canny man, Aiden." Dirk paused and lightly slapped him on the shoulder.

His younger brother smiled proudly. Once Dirk was made chief, he was going to have to find a position that would be perfect for Aiden, one that paid well. He didn't want the lad to feel he was losing anything. Of course, he was a talented musician, but he was so intelligent, he deserved another position.

The cloud cover grew more pronounced and the strong wind off the North Sea buffeted them as they left the sand dunes and moved closer to the rugged coastline again. They increased their speed. Within a half hour they neared the towering embankment over Smoo Cave.

"Careful you don't fall," Dirk warned Rebbie as they descended the narrow path that switched back and forth down the steep hillside toward the sea inlet. The other men followed. The wind was not as severe in this protected ravine because of the tall cliffs on either side.

After reaching the bottom of the trail, Dirk halted, held up his hand for quiet, and listened. He heard naught but the waves of the incoming tide and the squawking of a few disturbed sea birds.

"You stay out here, Aiden. We'll go in and look for McMurdo," Dirk said, keeping his voice low.

"Nay, I'm going in to help. I'm no longer a child so cease ordering me about."

"'Tis for your own good. I don't want you hurt," Dirk muttered in a harsh tone as he visualized McMurdo easily overpowering his much smaller brother.

"I blame myself for the strife you're having now with my mother and I want to do something to make it right."

"'Tis not your fault, brother. Besides that, you have been helping. He may have men waiting inside. Do you know how many in his band of thieves?"

"Nay," Aiden said. "I think most of them were killed a few years ago when Da and his men hunted them down. McMurdo was the only one who escaped. But he may have recruited more men by now."

"Very well. Let's approach quietly." Sword in hand, Dirk crept through Allt Smoo, the wide, shallow river that flowed leisurely from the cave. The icy water did not penetrate his oiled leather boots but he still felt the cold of it.

A small fire burned low in the back corner of the cave but he saw no one. They had to be lurking in the inner cave which was only accessible by boat. Dirk moved toward the narrow entrance to the cave's second room. A waterfall poured inside, its roar diminished because of the time of year. One boat waited at the mooring. It would hold five men.

Dirk turned back to the others. "Who wants to go with me to the inner cave?"

"I'm going," Aiden said and moved forward. "The earl should stay here because he has no experience with this cave."

"Aiden, you truly do try my patience," Dirk said, irritation twisting through him. "You and Rebbie stay here and guard. Keegan, Erskine and Flynn will come with me."

But Aiden didn't listen. He climbed aboard the boat. "I have rowed this boat dozens of times."

Dirk rolled his eyes, vexed that the lad wouldn't listen nor did he care that Dirk was trying to keep him safe. But he couldn't exactly haul his arse out of the boat now. "If the bastards try to escape, Rebbie, you and Flynn stop them."

Rebbie nodded. "Have a care. I detest caves and that one does not look inviting in the least."

"You have the right of it." Dirk had explored all parts of this cave many times in his youth.

After Dirk and Keegan climbed aboard with Aiden, Erskine followed with the lantern and released the boat from its mooring. Aiden rowed across the water-filled cavern.

Although Dirk could hardly get accustomed to the idea, Aiden truly was a man now. Not a helpless little boy. But he still had that thin, lanky lad look about him. And within minutes he was huffing and puffing from the exertion.

"Get up, Aiden, and let me row," Keegan said, rising. The boat rocked.

"Careful you don't overset the boat," Erskine said, his voice echoing from the cave's ceiling. The lantern cast eerie reflections onto the wet walls.

The two cousins carefully switched positions and Keegan, with his brawny upper body strength, started rowing and the boat moved much more swiftly. They stayed to one side of the cave and avoided the waterfall. He was glad the water flow was low. In spring, the waterfall was so exuberant that taking a boat across was dangerous.

Within a couple of minutes, they arrived on the opposite side of the cave. Keegan jumped out and tugged the boat onto the bank and secured it to the mooring beside another boat. Someone was definitely here.

Dirk could hear no sounds, save the waterfall, and no light shined from within the third, much smaller, chamber of the cave. Taking the lantern, and his sword, he advanced toward the narrow opening.

A man rushed from the darkness. Dirk only saw the glint of light off a blade the instant before it swung toward him. He lifted his own weapon just in time, his blade taking a hard strike.

He handed the lantern off to Keegan. Dirk stood in the guard stance, his blade poised and ready to strike. Now he could see his opponent was McMurdo. His hair, once dark, was now long, gray and stringy. But physically, he still appeared strong and robust.

"How long have you worked for Lady MacKay?" Dirk asked.

"I work for no one but myself." 'Twas the same voice that had said those hated words twelve years ago… Lady MacKay sends her regards.

"I understand you bought yourself a crypt in the new church," Dirk said.

"Aye, the former Laird MacKay was a good man."

"But you are not. Do you think your donation makes up for all those people you murdered?"

"I have never murdered anyone." He grinned. "And you are an imposter."

Dirk returned a sinister smirk. "You say this because you still want to believe you killed me twelve years ago when you pushed me off that cliff."

"I know not what you mean." He lashed out with his broadsword, but Dirk easily blocked the move. Again and again their swords clashed.

The man may have been a great swordsman in his day, but he was now several years past his prime. His sword arm was growing shaky.

Dirk struck just the right way, and the other man's sword went flying.

"Aha." Dirk held the tip of his sword near the other man's throat. "Now, we're going back to Dunnakeil where you will spend some time in the dungeon. Tie his hands," he said to Erskine.

His future sword-bearer did as he asked and shoved McMurdo toward the boat. All five men climbed aboard and this time Erskine rowed while Keegan and Dirk kept their swords pointed at the criminal.

McMurdo sat quietly, glaring at each of them in turn. Midway of the cave, he leaned back and kicked toward Aiden. His booted foot stuck the lad solidly in the shoulder and he toppled from the boat and into the water.

"You bastard!" Dirk yelled and shoved McMurdo face down in the boat. "Sit on him, Keegan!"

"Help!" Aiden thrashed about in the water, his arms flailing. His head went under, then rose to the surface again. He gasped for breath.

"Damnation, Aiden. Calm yourself! Row the boat closer to him," he instructed Erskine.

Aiden sank. Hell, the lad couldn't swim.

Dirk pulled off his cloak and scabbard but didn't have time to remove anything else. He feared Aiden would drown in a matter of seconds. He jumped into the water. The icy cold was a shock to his body. He swam to the spot where Aiden had gone down. Where the hell was the lad now? He ducked beneath the surface, but could see naught in this midnight, peat-tinged water. Kicking to the surface again, he heard someone yell.

"Help!"

Flinging the water from his eyes, he found Aiden a short distance away. Dirk swam toward him then grabbed him so he wouldn't sink again. "Hold on. We'll get you back to the boat."

Aiden clung around Dirk's neck. A ruckus broke out on the boat. Keegan swung an oar at McMurdo, who had somehow managed to free his hands. The bastard grabbed the oar and fell backward onto Erskine, dragging Keegan with him.

"Damnation!"

Keegan hung onto the oar with one hand and slugged McMurdo with his other fist. Erskine slid his arm around McMurdo's throat from behind, choking off his air. McMurdo kicked Keegan in the groin and sent him groaning onto the other end of the boat. "Bastard!"

McMurdo pushed the oar behind him, jabbing it at Erskine's head.

Dirk swam with Aiden toward the boat. "Hold onto the side."

Dirk grabbed for the oar but McMurdo yanked it beyond his reach at the last second, then struck him with it. Dirk couldn't dodge in time and the thwack on the forehead sent pain ratcheting through his skull.

Knife in hand, Keegan launched himself at the highwayman. "Cease! I'll slit your throat, old man!"

Eying how close Keegan's sgian dubh was to his throat, McMurdo froze and dropped the oar. "Very well, you got me, you shite."

"I should finish you off right here. Then you can put that expensive tomb to good use."

He held up his hands in surrender.

"Tie his hands and his feet this time," Dirk said. Once they had, he and Aiden climbed aboard, shivering in their wet clothes. They placed their prisoner face down this time and watched his hands closely.

Keegan rowed and they quickly arrived at the boat landing. Once in the outer cave, Dirk guided Aiden, quaking with cold, toward the small fire at the back of the cave. The men had built it up and added more dried driftwood.

"What the hell happened? You took a swim?" Rebbie asked.

"Aye, that bastard knocked Aiden overboard and I went in to help him."

"He's a good brother," Aiden said, his teeth chattering.

Rebbie nodded. "You two best get dried off before we head outside into the wind."

The cave was in a protected location, tucked between two cliff walls. And the heat of the fire had warmed the walls of rock here in the back of the cave. It would take some time to dry all their clothes. The lick on the head smarted and Dirk felt somewhat dizzy. Everything grew black and he felt himself falling over but could do naught about it.

"Dirk?" Someone pried his eye open. He frowned, focusing on Rebbie's blurry face above him.

"You had a serious injury, my friend. That gash on your head is bleeding badly."

"We have to get him to the castle where the healer is," Keegan said. At least Dirk thought it was Keegan. His thinking wasn't too clear at the moment.

"His clothes are still too wet to leave the cave," Rebbie said. "And so are yours, Aiden."

"Nay, my plaid is always wet in winter. The wool is warmer when wet."

"I'm thinking his trews are not wool, but a thick linen instead."

"We'll pull them off him then."

"No one is touching my trews," Dirk growled. "I'm well." He shoved to his feet, gritting his teeth against the pain in his head and fighting the dizziness. He refused to show weakness before the men. What kind of chief would he be if he was so easily brought to his knees? He'd fought in far more grisly battles. Rebbie and someone else caught him before he realized he'd staggered.

"McMurdo?" he asked.

"Tied up," Keegan said.

"What are we waiting for?" Dirk demanded. "Let's get him to the dungeon."

"We're waiting for your trews to dry, brother," Aiden said.

"My trews are fine just as they are." He headed toward the cave opening, pretending to ignore how the cold air chilled his wet hair and scalp. He pulled his wool mantle's cowl over his head. That was much warmer, but he was still dizzy and his head ached so strongly he couldn't think clearly. He hoped he could make it up the narrow path that led to the top of the cliffs.

He struggled up the pathway, agonizingly placing one foot in front of the other. Once at the top, the splitting ache in his head increased to near unbearable. Must have been the exertion of the climb. The wind pounded against him strongly, the temperature like ice. It plastered his wet trews to his legs. Surely they would freeze solid in a matter of minutes. Though he could hardly feel his legs, he moved forward, felt himself falling and all went black.

Chapter Sixteen

Isobel couldn't sleep after Dirk and his men had gone to find McMurdo. Who knew what the murdering highwayman would do? She lurked in a dark nook beneath a stairwell. What if Dirk never returned? Nay, she couldn't think of that. He meant too much to her to even contemplate something terrible happening to him.

At one point, Haldane and Maighread had come rushing back from outside and up the stairs, arguing in low tones. She only heard a word here or there and it made no sense. Apparently, they knew the men were onto them.

Praying Dirk would return safely, she waited. A long while later, loud voices of several men echoed from the great hall.

Isobel rushed from her hiding place. When she arrived in the dimly lit hall, she froze at the scene before her. Two men helped Dirk shuffle across the floor, one under each arm. His eyes were closed more than open. The side of his face and his hair were bloody.

She hurried toward them. "What's happened? He's bleeding terribly, and he's drenched."

"The highwayman kicked me off the boat as we were crossing through the cave," Aiden said, his thin body shivering and his teeth chattering as he stood before the fireplace. "Dirk jumped in and saved my life, then the bastard grabbed an oar and hit Dirk on the head."

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.

Isobel helped Dirk raise his head off the pillow while he drank several sips.

"There now. That's good." Nannag took the cup away.

"What is in that?" Isobel asked, realizing too late that she didn't know if the healer was trustworthy.

"'Tis a secret blend for head injuries."

Isobel frowned. Herbs could heal or they could kill. Could Nannag be a pawn of Maighread? The blood in Isobel's veins chilled.

"Never fear, my dear. The recipe was passed down through many generations of my family and has healed many a warrior and removed the pain of wounds."

Isobel nodded, still unsure if the woman could have underhanded motives. "I thank you for helping him."

"I remember this man's great-grandfather." She smiled proudly. "My first responsibility is always to the chief of the MacKays and their sons. What about you?"

Although glad Nannag appeared loyal, Isobel frowned, wondering what the woman meant by her question. "What about me?"

"Why are you helping him so much, lass?" Her brows lifted, deepening the wrinkles in her forehead.

"Because he helped me. If he hadn't rescued me in that snowstorm, I might not be alive now." Of course, that wasn't the only reason, but it was the only one she was willing to give. No one need know how much she cared about him.

The elderly healer sent her an impish smile. "Well then, dear lass, you're lucky he found you." She gathered her things and waddled out the door, meeting Aiden and Erskine in the doorway.

They entered and approached the bed. "How are you feeling, brother?" Aiden asked.

Dirk opened his eyes. "I'm well, lads. Tell Keegan and the rest of the men that I'll live."

"I'll be guarding from the hallway if you should need anything," Erskine said.

"I thank you."

Aiden bid him goodnight and left. Erskine retreated to the corridor and closed the door.

Still wondering what the healer had implied about why she was helping him, Isobel let her gaze roam over Dirk. She was startled to find him watching her.

She moved forward and placed her hand along the side of his bristly cheek. His skin still wasn't back to a normal temperature but it was warmer than before. "Are you still cold?"

"Nay. I thank you for warming me. I daresay no one else in the clan would've done what you did. Nor would I want them to."

"But you didn't mind if I shared my body heat?" she asked.

He gave a brief laugh, then snapped his eyes closed tight with a grunt as if the laugh had caused him pain. "Nay. Your warmth was like paradise. I didn't realize how cold I was."

Isobel should've been embarrassed but she wasn't. Besides, she hadn't been naked. She wasn't terribly scandalous. "'Twas a matter of necessity. I did not wish you to freeze to death."

"I'm not that tender." He touched the injury on his forehead, then frowned.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"Not much. Damned McMurdo."

"You ordered the men to lock him in the dungeon?"

"Aye. I can hardly wait to question the bastard."

She took the cloth from the wooden bowl of warm water the maid had brought and dabbed at the blood remaining on his forehead. "I'll clean it gently and hopefully it won't start bleeding again. The healer said you wouldn't need stitches." It was mainly a bruise rather than a cut.

Dirk grunted and his eyes slid closed as if he were greatly relaxed. He didn't move while she washed the blood away from his head and his hair. His breathing grew deep as if he might have fallen asleep. What on earth had been in the herbal tisane?

He murmured words she couldn't understand as if talking in his sleep. Her maid told her she did that all the time.

"Aye, you must sleep and heal, mo chridhe." She kissed the side of his forehead, away from the wound. Goodness, now he felt much hotter. Surely he was not coming down with a fever. She pressed her lips against his skin again, more to check his temperature than to kiss him, but 'twas a good excuse to do just that.