Текст книги "My brave highlander"

Автор книги: Vonda Sinclair

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"Mmm," he murmured along with more mumbled words, as if rousing again, and opened his eyes a crack. With a hand on her arm, he tugged her to him.

She let out a squeak of surprise. "I thought you were going to sleep. What are you doing? Dirk?"

"Aye," he whispered and drew her closer still. With a slight grin, he lifted his head and kissed her lips. Surely he was not yet recovered enough for this. But… Mmm. He tasted of virile male, whisky, and minty herbal tea. She could happily devour him, but this was bad timing.

"Dirk?" she said between his insistent kisses. "Do you even know who I am?"

"Mmm-hmm." He pulled her fully onto the bed beside him and rolled half on top of her. "My sweet Isobel." His kisses grew more demanding and passionate. More intoxicating. Even if she could stop him, she wouldn't want to.

My sweet Isobel? Not only did he know her name, he was calling her his. Was he in the grasp of a fevered dream? Had the herbal tea drugged him? Or was this a continuation of what they'd begun earlier in the night? Either way, she couldn't resist his heated, delectable mouth.

Sliding his hand down her back to her derrière, he drew her tight against his lower body. Having undressed him, she knew he was naked beneath the covers. Now, his erect member nudged against her lower belly. It was an entrancing and compelling feeling that made her want to draw even closer.

She knew little about men's bodies and had only seen a glimpse of one naked. She and her former husband had always slept in a darkened or dimly lit room. Nor did she truly know what an erect member felt like, skin to skin. She could find out now, if she was bold enough. Gathering her courage, she ran her hand down over the sculpted muscles and dusting of hair on Dirk's bare chest and stomach, beneath the covers and stroked her fingertips along his shaft, which felt as fevered as his head had moments ago. But even more fascinating, his member was hard as a wood timber, but the skin smooth and silky. Her instincts awoke and her body quickened at the feeling of his. Taking him within her hand, she squeezed, testing his hardness. Amazing.

He growled. "Isobel?"

"Aye."

"Ache for you," he breathed in a passionate tone between kisses.

Her heart fluttered like butterfly wings and tears rushed to her eyes. He wanted her, and somehow she knew it wasn't simply physical.

At least she hoped he'd wanted her as long as she'd been wanting him.

He moved down and brushed his face over her breasts still covered in her smock. Her nipples tingled and hardened in response. She gasped, unable to resist shoving her breasts against his face, craving more contact. Through the material, he took a nipple between his lips and nipped at it.

She moaned at the sharp delicious sensations that sparked through her body. Oh heavens, no man had ever done this to her. She hadn't imagined it was part of lovemaking. He untied her smock and drew it down past her shoulders, trapping her arms at her sides. But she loved the sensation of being imprisoned by Dirk. It was exactly where she wanted to be. Dragging the smock further down, he exposed her breasts, then locked his lips onto one, drawing the nipple into his hot mouth. Moaning, he licked and sucked, arousing her more and more with each moment. Oh, what luscious insanity. Squirming against him, yearning for more, she could hardly breathe.

He slid her smock up her thigh, his hot hand stroking up and down her bare skin.

"Mmm, soft," he whispered, then moved his hand to her inner thigh. With his lips, he tugged at her other nipple, then flicked it with his tongue while his hand slipped higher until he reached that most sensitive spot between her legs. The same place that tingled each time he touched her.

Although still fearful, because she'd never experienced this before, she inched her legs apart, craving and slowly inviting his touch. His fingertips barely stroked over her curls. Oh dear heaven, it was hard to breathe. She could not believe the powerful, spellbinding sensations his fingers wrought. She held onto him tightly, hoping he'd soothe the ache in her core.

He stroked with firmer pressure, making her want to submit to him. She widened her thighs further, unable to believe how she yearned. She'd waited years to find out what it felt like to be bedded. At first, she'd been terrified of the prospect. Now, although some part of her was still a wee bit apprehensive, she was more than ready to beg him. To experience the bedding with a man as appealing and caring as Dirk would surely be far more astonishing than she could've ever imagined.

Still suckling at her nipple, he pushed his finger… inside her.

"Dirk?" she gasped, for it hurt. Not terribly, but there was an uncomfortable stretching sensation.

"Aye… wet," he whispered, then stroked his finger in and out, gently. This motion felt better with each thrust of his finger until she was near bewitched and trembling, unable to take any more. Unable to understand what she was feeling.

She struggled to free her arms from the smock. Finally succeeding, she slid her hand down to his shaft, which was now rock hard, the feel of it incredibly arousing. Her body craved his beyond anything imaginable. Some strong instinct possessed her.

"I want you. I ache for you, too," she whispered, kissing him, flicking her tongue against his lips.

He growled, yanked the blanket and her smock out of his way and settled naked between her legs. "Wicked lass," he whispered against her lips.

Aye, she feared she was exceedingly wicked, but she didn't care at the moment. Threading his hair between her fingers, she kissed him. With a groan, he devoured her mouth and scooted upwards. His shaft prodded and teased her opening, sending a new, more potent, surge of need through her. She gasped and widened her legs, fearing it would hurt, but at the same time not caring. Her need for him was stronger than any fear of pain.

He ground his teeth and growled again, then seemed focused as he pressed upwards, attempting to enter her slowly. But their bodies didn't fit. He was much too large.

"Oh no. What if…?" She gasped. What if he truly wouldn't fit? What if he was so big he'd cause her serious injury?

When he paused, she feared he might change his mind.

"Don't stop," she said, starting to panic. "Take me."

"I'm… taking you, lass," he mumbled in a near whisper. His faint smile charmed her and helped her relax. "Stay calm."

"Aye. I'm calm."

"Ready for me?" he asked.

"Aye." More than ready. She bit her lip and braced for it.

With the surge of his hips, stabbing pain struck her but she forced herself not to cry out. Though tears flooded her eyes, she didn't want him to know she was an untried virgin. He might stop. Besides, most everyone who knew her assumed she had experienced the bedding. Now, it was true. Despite any pain, she was thankful Dirk was the one bringing her fully into womanhood and not her former husband.

Dirk muttered a curse and ground his teeth. "Mmm… so tight, Isobel," he breathed against her lips. "Relax…" Halting, he gently kissed her face, then ate at her mouth, his tongue once again seducing her. The pain slid away as her body gradually grew accustomed to the feel and size of his.

Strangely, despite the pain, she craved more from him, more moving, more of his erotic invasion. Her body felt hot, wet and tingly where it joined his. Gradually, the sharpest part of the clenching pain slid away and the tension within her eased. He must have felt this too for he withdrew and pushed in again with a sensuous slide.

"Oh! That's…" She didn't know what, but it felt delicious.

He made the move again, a withdrawal and a thrust, deeper this time. Oh, saints, she craved this and more. She widened her legs, hoping he'd give her more, even though the ache and burning sensation had not left her.

He cradled her derriere in his large hand. With a hip twist, he made another deeper thrust.

"Oh. I can't believe how that feels." The spellbinding tingles of pleasure. The overwhelming need for him to fill her. She bit his lip.

He muttered a curse and pushed deeper. "M'eudail."

My treasure? She melted at the endearment and lifted her hips to meet him. This set him off. With a groan, he drove into her again and again, faster with each lunge. Saints! The forceful way he moved scared her at first, but then she understood it. A quick thrusting rhythm that sent wave after wave of stunning sensation through her body, like a thousand stars bursting. She gasped, unable to believe how his body was moving within hers and the pleasure it triggered. Who could have imagined?

He closed his mouth over hers, catching her gasps and cries. He surged into her, but there was no true pain. Not anymore. With each thrust he shoved her higher until she could no longer breathe. The intensity and the pleasure clasped her in a vice, and he propelled her whole body into a devastating frenzy of pleasure-pain. She clutched at his muscular lower back, his powerful, flexing hips, trying to hold him deep within her. It made no sense. Nor could she think. But the grasping need shook her, refused to release her.

His body bowed upwards and he shoved deep, a passionate roar escaping his throat. Warmth flooded her lower belly as he trembled within her, and her body clutched at his, wanting what he offered. Oh, heavens, that was his seed… within her. That was something her late husband had been unable to give her. And she had been blamed for being infertile.

Dirk slumped on her, his face against hers, whispering a slurred mixture of Gaelic and English, curses, praise and endearments. She kissed his cheek, unable to believe the magnitude of what they'd shared. Although she'd experienced pain, she'd relished the pleasure. She was grateful he was the first, the only one to show her what lovemaking was.

His head dropped to the pillow and within seconds his breathing grew deep. His body became a lead weight upon her.

"Dirk? You're heavy." She pushed at him and with a grunt he rolled over to the side. His deep, even breathing continued.

Isobel slid out of bed. A stain of her virgin's blood remained on the linen sheet and on Dirk too. After pouring clean but cold water from the pitcher into his wash basin, she cleaned herself with the linen cloth and then Dirk. He mumbled words while she bathed his member, now more pliable than it had been. Once she'd cleaned it, it began stirring and shifting upright again. Saints! Surely he wouldn't be ready to perform again so soon.

She moved back, placed the cloth in the basin and watched. He sprawled onto his back and his semi-erect member moved to lie on his lower belly. It was not as hard as it had been but likely it wouldn't take much to make it iron hard again. He was incredibly virile to react this way given his injury and the fever, or whatever was wrong with him. Maybe it was the combination of whisky and medicinal tea.

She grinned, wondering whether she dared to climb back into bed with him this night. Between her legs, she felt sore, and her broken flesh stinging, but satisfied warmth permeated her. When she remembered the extraordinary pleasure, the warmth turned into an intriguing and sizzling tingle.

Unable to resist, she removed her smock, threw it aside and slid back into bed beside him. She kissed his shoulder and his chest. With a moan, he dragged her atop him to lie on his rigid shaft then captured her lips.

"Insatiable wench," he muttered with a grin.

He was right. She couldn't get enough of his kisses or his powerful body. While she flicked her tongue into his mouth, he slid his hands over her backside, then parted her thighs.

"Ride me," he whispered.

She wasn't sure what he meant. But his hand moved down between their bodies and he positioned himself at her entrance. Slowly, he pushed in.

Pain stabbed through her tender, torn flesh. She sucked in a hissing breath and forced herself not to let him know of her discomfort.

"You do it, lass."

She sat on her knees and drew him inside. He growled with each inch he slid deeper.

"Aye, that's it. Ride me."

Leveraging herself upward she moved so that he slid out a bit, then pushed down on him again. He easily matched her rhythm and his hips rose to meet her. She was afraid this would hurt worse, but it didn't. With each moment that passed, each withdrawal and thrust, her pleasure increased and she could easily see how someone could become addicted to this.

He ate at her mouth, flicking his tongue in the same rhythm. His hands framed her hips, and then he slid his hand over her mound. With his wet thumb, he rubbed an especially sensitive spot that drove her mad. He covered her mouth with his, catching her cries as the pleasure again magnified and became larger than life, causing her body to latch onto his and squeeze. He thrust harder, driving up into her depths, then held himself there, growling deep in his throat.

"Damnation," he muttered and, after a moment, lay back, breathing hard. "You trying to kill me?"

She giggled. "I think you know better than that."

"Hmm." The sound was between a laugh and a happy hum. "Sleepy," he mumbled.

"Aye. Go to sleep."

He grunted and lay still.

***

"What the hell happened last night, Isobel?" the yell startled her awake.

She jumped and opened her eyes to find Dirk standing before the bed glaring at her. Naked. Heavens, he was magnificently naked. Her gaze dropped to his erect shaft, but he quickly grabbed his plaid to cover himself. She giggled. Too late, she'd already seen his delightful appendage and felt what it could do.

"You were rather frisky last night," she said.

"Me?" he blasted.

"Stop yelling at me!"

"Damnation, Isobel," he growled, but kept his voice low. "Did we… hell, I know we did."

"Do you not remember?" Her stomach sank.

"I thought it was a dream." He muttered several shocking curses in Gaelic. "Why did you allow me to… do this?"

Because it was what she'd wanted too. But, as a woman, was she allowed to say that? Or would he see her as scandalous? He deserved the truth. "I wanted it as much as you did. I thought you were aware of what you were doing."

"How many times?" he questioned.

"Two."

His eyes rolled back in his head as if he were killed on the spot.

The plaid enticingly low around his hips, he paced back and forth before the bed. "Are you mad? What if I… what if you…?" Shaking his head, he muttered more curses.

She recalled the explosive joy of what they'd done. The unbelievable pleasure. How could he possibly not remember it? Certainly it had been ill advised and reckless, but she had been unable to resist. 'Haps she was an immoral wanton, but it had been one of the best experiences of her life. For him not to feel the same humiliated her. She knew his honor was at stake, but to her, what they shared was far greater than honor. She wanted him to be the center of her life.

I love him.Oh, saints! She did; she loved him. She couldn't have given herself to him so completely otherwise. Their lovemaking had nothing to do with duty and everything to do with the emotions growing between them.

"I don't understand," he said, frowning as if greatly troubled. "You were not a virgin, yet there's a blood stain on the sheets." He pointed to the middle of the bed. "Did I hurt you? Tell me I didn't force you."

"You didn't. I wanted to do it."

"Why is there a blood stain?"

"The truth is… I was a virgin."

Chapter Seventeen

A virgin?

What the devil? Standing beside the bed, Dirk stared down at Isobel, wearing only a sheet and still lying temptingly in his bed. He struggled to wrap his mind around this bit of information that didn't fit with anything else.

"You said you were married! A widow! Is that a lie?"

"Stop yelling! I did not lie." Her glare remained on him but her voice softened. "My husband was unable to perform in the bedchamber. He was ill most of the time I knew him."

Dirk frowned. With so many conflicting emotions spiraling inside him, he was unsure what he truly felt. "Your husband never bedded you?"

She shook her head. "Everyone thought he did. He begged me not to tell anyone because he was ashamed. The clan would view him as weak. So, everyone thought I was barren."

Though it might be wicked of him, some part of him was glad the old earl had been unable to perform his husbandly duty. Dirk's primal side was overjoyed to have been her first. But his rational side knew this meant trouble. An honorable man didn't deflower a virgin and walk away.

How had an innocent seduced him? Or had he seduced an innocent? How the hell could he lose control like that and bed a woman he'd never intended to bed? Certainly, he'd wanted to, but he was confident he could resist. Was he mad? Nay, the medicinal herbs, he suddenly remembered. Had Isobel drugged him with the help of the healer?

"But how did this happen?" He pointed between himself, her and the bed.

She lay on her side, looking beyond seductive, whether she meant to or not, wearing only the sheet and a plaid blanket. Her dark gaze moved over his chest. "I thought you were experienced."

He let out an exasperated breath. "I am. But how precisely did we end up in bed together? I remember I was very cold and you lay on top of me to warm me." How heavenly that had been.

"Aye. You were near frozen solid from where you fell into the water in the cave, then the long trek here in the cold wind."

"I appreciated your help. I remember the pain in my head… then the healer gave me an herbal tea to drink. What was in it?"

"She said it was something for pain. I'm not a healer and know only a little about herbs."

He could detect no deceit in her eyes. Maybe she was being honest and had no part in trying to drug him. "How did that lead to this?" He motioned at the bed.

"Well… I kissed your forehead and you grabbed me."

"I did? Saints," he muttered, his face heating. He'd never been one to get aggressive with women, unless they wanted it.

"You started kissing me and… heavens… it got hot in here. And then you rubbed your mouth over my breasts, and suckled at them. It felt amazing, and—"

"Enough!" Damnation, he already ached for her. He didn't need more fuel on the fire. She aroused him like no other woman ever had, and now the wall he'd built around his desire had been smashed.

"I thought you wished me to explain it to you," Isobel said.

"There is no need for such great detail. It… brings it all back, what little I can remember. And you could be…" An odd mixture of fear and hope stole his words. What was he thinking? He feared naught. But it was all so overwhelming and sudden.

"What?" she asked.

He released a pent-up breath. "You could be with child. Damnation. Are you mad, woman?"

"'Twas not my fault. You seduced me with your irresistible kisses."

Kisses. Aye, he loved kissing her and wanted to now. He forced himself to turn his back and pace away from her.

"Most chiefs want offspring, you know," she said. "Will you not need an heir when you're chief?"

He turned on his heel. "You are betrothed to another chief!" If she carried Dirk's bairn, the only way for that child—if it was male—to be his heir was if he married her.

She shrugged. "It matters not."

"It should. This could spur a clan war." Hell, he couldn't become chief one day and then lead his own clansmen into battle the next, all because he couldn't control his lusts with the virgin fiancée of his neighbor. 'Twas beyond irresponsible. He'd never been irresponsible before.

She frowned. "Do you think the MacLeods would attack your clan over it? Or mine?"

"They might. Your brother will likely have to work out an agreement with them and give them a gift."

"If he'd give them the land, they'd likely be appeased. 'Twas all they wanted anyway."

He nodded. "If they find out you're here, they may attack anyway, agreement or no. Feuds have been started over far less."

Long-faced, she stared at the floor. "I should leave, go back to my own clan."

A feeling of dread hit him in the pit of his stomach. He feared he could never let her go. His possessiveness was fired up and he couldn't imagine living his life without her. "Nay. I can't take you back there now. 'Tis winter. The wind blows too fiercely to travel by water. And to travel through MacLeod territory with you would be suicide without an army to ward off their certain attack."

"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 between 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."