Текст книги "My brave highlander"

Автор книги: Vonda Sinclair

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Chapter Twenty-Seven

As Maighread charged toward Dirk, his warrior side leapt to the forefront as if he were on the battlefield, an enemy rushing him, but there was no time to unsheathe his sword.

Seeing the dirk in her hand, he instinctively grabbed her wrist and twisted, turning the blade toward her instead. When she slammed hard into him, the dagger drove deeply into her chest. She screamed like a banshee, her dark green eyes emanating evil, staring him down as if she could kill him with her glare alone.

Warm, slippery blood covered their hands and a moment later, she sagged against him, her breathing harsh but shallow.

"I curse you," she rasped. "With my last breath, I curse you."

"You cannot curse me!" He yelled into her face, determined that she hear him. "You have no power over me, witch."

He released her and let her slide to the floor, her dagger still imbedded in her chest. Given its location, the blade had missed her heart, but it must have damaged her vitals badly for she was unconscious in mere moments… and dead within a minute.

"Good riddance," Cyrus growled.

Dirk was simply trying to catch his breath and calm himself after the surge of alarm combined with his battle instincts taking over and spurring him to quick action. He inhaled deeply. "Aye." He stared at her, hardly able to believe the person who had wanted to kill him for most of his life was dead. He was finally free of her evil influence. Forever.

"She got what she deserved," Rebbie said, laying a hand on Dirk's shoulder. "She was a murderess. The only reason she didn't kill more people was because she wasn't exceedingly good at it."

"Not for lack of trying," Dirk muttered, wishing she'd died years ago so she couldn't have poisoned Isobel and Aiden.

Now, he simply prayed they would recover.

***

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Dirk observed Isobel's flushed, slumbering face in the wee hours of the morning. One candle lit her chamber to a dim glow in the darkest night. Beitris snored on her pallet before the fireplace, but Dirk couldn't sleep. His whole life hung in the balance, just as Isobel's did.

Watching her thrash about and moan during the past several hours had near ripped his heart from his chest. He wished he could take all of her pain upon himself.

I love you, Isobel.

What if he never got to say those words to her while she was fully aware and conscious? He now realized that to hear those words coming from her lips was his fondest wish. Holding her hand, he stroked his thumb across her small palm, savoring her silky warm skin.

She had to live, she simply had to. But what if she didn't?

God, he could barely breathe when he imagined it.

"Nay. You must recover, Isobel," he whispered and pressed his forehead against the back of her hand.

She wiggled about and groaned in her sleep, then muttered words he couldn't decipher.

He yearned to see her smile and laugh again, to listen to her teasing, playful whispers in his ear. He could imagine nothing better than living out his days with her.

Now he understood why all those tragic love ballads contained so much pain and sadness. The mere thought of losing her gutted him. He'd rather die himself.

Moaning, she shifted about restlessly as if struggling against someone.

"Come back to me, Isobel," he whispered and touched her face gently with his other hand, stroking her smooth, overheated skin. "Stay with me."

She captured his hand in hers and held it possessively against her cheek. She calmed and slept peacefully, her breaths deep and even.

He said a prayer of thanks and made a plea for her life.

Closing his eyes, he imagined what it would be like to marry her, to seal their vows with a kiss before everyone, proclaiming her his permanently.

"How is she?" the whisper came from behind him sometime later.

Dirk turned to find Rebbie with his head stuck in the doorway. "She's been sleeping. Is it dawn already?" No light shown through the window.

"About six. Have you slept?"

"Nay, I'm not sleepy." He had to be sure Isobel was truly well before he would allow himself to sleep. He couldn't lose her.

Rebbie frowned. "You look exhausted."

"It matters not. What matters is that Isobel and Aiden recover fully."

"I'm certain they will."

"How is Aiden?"

"Sleeping peacefully."

Dirk nodded. "Thank God."

After sunrise, Jessie, Nannag, and a few female servants came and went, checking on Isobel while she slept soundly, also bringing him porridge, oatcakes, and other things to eat. His stomach knotted too much for him to eat more than a few bites.

Around mid-day, the room was quiet and empty but for Dirk and Isobel. She opened her eyes and glanced around the room.

Dirk held his breath, noting her skin was a normal color now, not flushed red as it had been for many hours.

"How do you feel?" he asked, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Better." She watched him with a pleasant expression, her eyes still dark but almost back to normal.

He released a breath along with some of the tension that had tightened his muscles. "Do you remember what happened?"

She frowned. "Some of it, but 'tis hazy and confusing. I had the strangest nightmares."

"Maighread poisoned the tart you and Aiden shared," Dirk said, trying to keep his expression neutral. Although what his stepmother had done angered him beyond reason, after she'd died, his anger had drained away. Now, all he felt was relief, since Isobel had awakened and the reports on Aiden had been positive.

Isobel sucked in a sharp breath. "Saints! That evil harpy. I remember you talking about poison last night, but I didn't know who'd done it. She was trying to kill you again, wasn't she? 'Twas your tart we shared."

"Aye." Should he tell Isobel that Maighread was dead now, or wait? He didn't want to overset her after her illness.

Isobel shook her head, her eyes worried. "I remember Aiden falling to the floor in the midst of playing music. How is he?"

"Sleeping soundly, last I heard. Hopefully he is stirring by now."

"A pox upon Maighread. Did you arrest her?"

He studied Isobel and the violet smudges beneath her eyes, trying to assess whether she was up to the news. She'd find out soon enough, and he needed to be the one to tell her. "Maighread's dead."

Isobel's mouth dropped open. "Mo chreach! In truth?"

"Aye. She ran at me with a dagger, intending to stab me. My instincts took over. I grabbed her wrist and the dagger stabbed her instead."

"Good." Isobel released a long breath. "I'm glad she's dead. She tried to murder you too many times already."

"Aye. She can no longer harm either of us." He kissed her knuckles, relieved the news didn't upset her, and instead, seemed to calm her.

"Does Aiden know?" she asked, her voice softening.

Dirk shook his head. "I haven't told him yet. He was very ill and sleeping."

"I hope you will break the news to him gently. He is a caring lad."

"Aye." And she was a caring lass. He could hardly contain his joy that she was recovered, but he hid it well. He had never been one for showing emotion.

"How long did I sleep?" she asked, squeezing his hand.

"Since last night, around nine."

She gave a faint grin. "Have you been sitting here staring at me all night?"

His face heated at her taunting tone, though he knew not why. In truth, he was beyond happy that his prayers had been answered and that she was feeling well enough to tease him again. "I had to make sure you were well," he said in a tone huskier than he'd intended.

She lifted his hand, kissed the back then held it to her cheek. "You are a treasure," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

Damn, he hoped she didn't cry or he might do the same. "And you are my treasure, lass."

"Dirk?" she said.

"Aye?"

"I love you." Her words and her wee smile lit up the dark corners of his heart.

Scarce able to breathe, he pulled her up into his arms. "And I love you," he whispered into her ear, but even those words seemed inadequate. "You are my life," he added, hoping to tell her how much she meant to him. "And you near scared the life out of me, Isobel."

"I'm sorry." Her arms went around him, holding him close.

He kissed her forehead, her eyes and her cheeks. Saints, how he cherished her.

She giggled and tears streamed from her eyes.

He pulled back a few inches. "Don't cry. What's wrong?"

"You love me," she breathed, her throat obviously constricted.

"Of course I do, but 'tis naught to cry over." He stroked her tears away with his thumb.

"I was afraid you wouldn't," she confessed.

He gave her an exaggerated frown. "How could I not? You bewitched me and stole my heart."

She grinned. "I wish we could get married today."

"As do I, but we might have to wait a day or two until you and Aiden are fully recovered."

"Oh, m'lady, you're awake!" Beitris rushed into the room. "Thank the heavens."

Dirk released Isobel and rose from the bed to pace about the room.

Beitris fussed around her for several moments, plumping her pillows, asking how she felt, and if she was hungry.

After Beitris hurried out in search of oat porridge, Isobel said, "I'm so glad you don't like tarts."

Dirk gazed into her dark eyes, knowing what she was thinking.

"If you did, you would have eaten double the poison I did and mayhap died." Tears glimmered in her eyes.

Seating himself on the bed again facing her, he kissed her forehead. "Shh. 'Tis over."

Wiping her eyes, she nodded, then gave a wry grin. "I'm thinking I won't like tarts as much in the future."

He doubted that, and she didn't have to worry. He was releasing anyone associated with Maighread from his employ. In addition, he was pressing charges against Levina for attempted murder.

"Maybe you should see how Aiden is while Beitris helps me bathe and brush my hair. I want to be more presentable," Isobel said, attempting to comb her fingers through the snarls of her dark brown hair. "I must look a fright."

"You are beautiful." Truly she was. Never had there been a more appealing sight than her smile, which she now gifted him with.

"I thank you for staying by my side and helping me so much during the night."

"You remember that?" he asked.

"Of course, I do. You were very gentle and comforting."

Dirk hated when his face heated.

"Are you blushing again?" she asked with an impish grin.

"Nay. Are you cold?" He rose and paced the fireplace. Taking the poker, he stirred at the glowing coals, then added a brick of peat.

"Though no one would guess it, you are the sweetest man I know."

"Hmph. No one else needs to know that, especially not Rebbie." Propping the poker to the side of the hearth, he paced to the window but couldn't help glancing her way. She gave him a bright smile and he relished it.

When Beitris returned with a steaming bowl of watery oat porridge, Dirk knew that was his prompt to leave the room while Isobel ate, bathed, and had her hair brushed. He wanted very badly to kiss her before walking out, but decided Beitris might be shocked senseless and overturn the porridge.

Determined that he'd return in a half hour, Dirk strode to Aiden's room. He was only now awakening. The sound of the door squeaking open must have startled him.

Dirk nodded to Uncle Conall who sat by his bedside. "How do you feel, brother?" Dirk asked, taking the other chair.

Aiden swiped his hair out of his eyes. "Better than last night. What the devil happened?"

"Do you remember the tart you shared with Isobel? My tart?"

Aiden nodded.

"Well… your mother ordered the baker to poison it in an attempt to kill me again."

"Saints! How could she do such a vile thing?" Wild-eyed, Aiden looked from Dirk to Conall and back again. "I must speak to her." He shoved the covers back.

"Aiden." Dirk shook his head. "Your mother is dead."

The lad's eyes widened and his jaw went slack, reminding Dirk of how he'd looked as a child. "What? How?" he asked softly.

"She charged me with a dagger last night when I confronted her about the poisoning." Dirk hated to tell his brother the news. Even though Aiden knew she was a murderer, he still loved her. "For your sake, I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you."

"I'm not sorry," Aiden said with a troubled frown. "As long as she lived, she would've never given up on killing you. You did what you had to."

Dirk nodded. "I thank you for understanding."

"How is Lady Isobel? Was she as sick as I was?"

"Aye. If either you or Isobel had eaten the entire tart, that person would likely be dead. I truly can't imagine losing either one of you." Dirk was grateful for both his brother and the woman who would be his wife.

"You are the best of brothers, and even though it made both of us sick, I'm glad Isobel and I ate the tart instead of you. It might have killed you."

That sentiment warmed Dirk's heart. 'Twas good to be with family again. "I wish no one had eaten the tart."

"Aye. Mother was mad," Aiden said. "Just because she loved me was no reason to kill people for my benefit. I certainly didn't want her to do any of it."

"I know."

"Does Haldane know of her death yet?"

Dirk shook his head. "None of us have seen Haldane in days. The outlaws who were brought in were three of his friends, captured when they'd gone back to their parents' cottages for supplies."

"I fear that he'll keep trying to kill you, brother, imagining that he can take over as chief. He may even want revenge for Mother's death."

***

Three days later, the tables in the great hall had been pushed against the walls and the massive fireplace decorated with dried heather, ribbons and evergreen boughs… at least Jessie told Isobel they had been. She had not been down to the great hall yet this morn since it was her wedding day.

A winter snowstorm was blasting Durness—all was white and blustery outside the windows—and they'd decided against holding the wedding in the church. Although Isobel and Aiden had recovered almost fully, Dirk refused to allow either of them to go outside until the weather improved.

Wearing her wedding attire, Isobel could not wait for the cue to descend the stairs. The boisterous laughter and revelry told her the clans were enjoying starting the celebration early.

Hearing footsteps, she glanced out the door to see her brother, wearing a nice belted plaid of dark blue, white and green, making his way down the corridor. Jessie and Beitris adjusted her veil and her plaid sash, then Jessie handed Isobel a small bouquet of dried heather and greenery.

"Are you ready for your wedding, sister?" Cyrus asked.

"Aye, more than ready." She'd been tempted all morning to make a mad dash down the stairs to find Dirk. She hadn't been allowed to see him all day.

Cyrus grinned and offered his elbow. "I wish Mother and Father could be here today," he said as they moved along the corridor. "They would be so happy for you, because you've found what they had."

"Aye. Cease or you'll make me cry." Tears already burned her eyes and Dirk hated to see her crying.

Cyrus chuckled. "Very well. Today is for happiness only."

"Indeed."

Once they'd descended the turnpike stair, single-file, she took his elbow again and they proceeded into the great hall. Aiden played a lovely ballad on his flute while they walked down an aisle in the middle of the dozens in attendance from all three clans.

Where he waited before the massive fireplace with the reverend, Dirk smiled, looking so handsome in his blue and black belted plaid, a fancy black doublet and all the finishing touches. Seeing how happy he looked, she wanted to run to him and fling herself into his arms. Instead, she marched sedately beside her brother, her smile so broad her cheeks ached. Tears of joy threatened but she kept them under control.

Rebbie, standing beside Dirk, briefly elbowed him in the ribs, but she was glad to see that Dirk wouldn't take his eyes off her. Instead, he smiled wider.

Once Cyrus handed her off to Dirk, he grasped her hand and kissed it.

Dirk distracted her so much, 'twas difficult to pay attention to the reverend's words. She only knew she wanted to be his wife and cherish him always. Once they finished their vows and Reverend MacMahon announced they were man and wife, Dirk drew her to him and kissed her in a lingering and delicious way that enslaved her senses. Could she drag him to his bed now?

She wrapped her arms around his neck and, between kisses, whispered, "I love you."

"I love you too, lass," he murmured against her ear, lifted her and swung her around, making her even dizzier. She laughed.

A boisterous cheer went up, along with several bawdy whistles from the crowd. Aiden played a lively, joyful tune on his violin. Everyone congratulated them, shaking hands and embracing them.

A short time later, Jessie pointed them toward the decorated high table. The rest of the tables in the hall were assembled and moved into place so the feast could begin.

Reverend MacMahon said grace and then the first course of food was served. Aiden began playing The Laird o' Logie. She grasped Dirk's hand, tears coming to her eyes.

He leaned to whisper in her ear. "Shh, lass. Don't cry."

"You are my dream come true," she whispered back.

He kissed her, but that only made her cry harder because she was so happy.

Epilogue

A little over three weeks later, the weather in Durness had calmed a bit, though it was still cold out. The MacKenzies and MacLeods left just before dawn, heading for their homes many miles to the south. Dirk, Isobel and several in the MacKay clan had seen them off after breaking their fast.

Dirk climbed the turnpike stairs behind Isobel, knowing she was sad to see her brothers leave. He disliked the tears in her eyes and had tried to comfort her with an arm around her shoulders as they watched her brothers ride out through the gates. Dirk was glad to have gotten to know her family better. They were good men, the lot of them.

"We'll visit them in the summer," Dirk said at the top of the stairs as he tucked her arm around his elbow.

"I would like that. Or 'haps in the spring and then again in the fall." She gave a hopeful grin.

"'Haps. I'm sure Torrin would allow us to spend a night at Munrick along our journey if we go partway overland."

She shivered. "Munrick Castle gives me the creeps, but if you're by my side every minute, I wouldn't mind so much."

"I'll never leave your side, lass. Ever. And certainly not around the MacLeods."

"Good." She smiled.

Dirk had forgiven Torrin MacLeod for not being present at Munrick in order to protect Isobel, but he couldn't see himself becoming best friends with the man. Torrin was a bit too cocky and devil-may-care about many things. His brother, Nolan, had not shown himself again. Chances were he'd returned to Munrick.

Haldane and McMurdo also had not shown their thieving faces. Dirk had sent out search parties to arrest them and the remaining outlaws, but they must have left the area. They would no doubt return in spring. He couldn't imagine McMurdo relinquishing his expensive tomb in the church, nor Haldane giving up on being chief of Clan MacKay.

"You wouldn't believe what Torrin asked me last night," Dirk said, closing their bedchamber door once they were inside.

"What?" Isobel asked, her eyes wide and curious.

"If I would consider a trial marriage between him and Jessie."

"What? Nay!" Isobel gasped with a shocked grin. "'Twas obvious he was smitten with her, but Jessie only wanted to avoid him. Have you told her?"

"Not yet. I told Torrin I would think on it and give him an answer in the summer. In truth, I'm not certain I trust him."

"Jessie was already in one handfast trial marriage for a year and a day." Isobel grimaced. "It did not go well."

"In truth? I didn't know that." How could he have missed such an important bit of information about his sister?

"Aye, you'll have to ask her about it."

"I will, but right now I intend to take my wife back to bed." Dirk unclasped the brooch holding her arisaid together. "My very naked, beautiful and delectable wife." He kissed her neck, relishing her soft skin.

"Oh," she breathed, tugging at his clothing until he wanted to rip them from his body. Soon enough they were both naked. He lifted her and lay back on his huge bed. He loved the sensation of her light weight upon him, her silken skin brushing across his. Framing his face with her hands, she kissed him deeply and thoroughly, her tongue toying with his. He was the luckiest man on earth to have a wife that he treasured beyond all things, even beyond his own comprehension.

He flipped her over so that he was on top. He gazed down at her in the candlelight, hardly able to believe she was here with him and that they were married.

"I always knew you were special, from the first moment I saw you twelve years ago," he said. "We were too young then, but your dark eyes bewitched me just as they do now."

She smiled. "I didn't ken you were such a sweet-talker, my gorgeous and brave warrior husband."

"You inspire me."

"I confess that I couldn't forget our first meeting either. Your piercing blue eyes haunted me. Have I told you today that I love you?" she whispered.

"Aye, but I must hear it again, as many times as you're willing to say it." He grinned.

"I love you."

Every time she said that, a hot, potent mixture of desire and emotion slammed into his chest. "And I love you, my lady, my wife," he murmured against her lips, then kissed her.

___

Please look for other books in my Highland Adventure series. My Fierce Highlander and My Wild Highlander are the first two. I will be adding more stories to this series in the future, including stories about Torrin & Jessie, Rebbie, and others.

If you enjoyed this book, I hope you will consider leaving a brief review for it at the site where you purchased it. Thanks so much!

About The Author

Vonda Sinclair's favorite indulgent pastime is exploring Scotland, from Edinburgh to the untamed and windblown north coast. She also enjoys creating hot, Highland heroes and spirited lasses to drive them mad. She is a past Golden Heart finalist and Laurie award winner. She lives with her amazing and supportive husband in the mountains of North Carolina where she is no doubt creating another Scottish story. Please visit her website to learn more. www.vondasinclair.com

Author's note

Donald McMurdo was an actual villain from the mists of history, a highwayman who lived in the Durness area in the early 1600s. He allegedly murdered eighteen people and tossed some of them down into Smoo Cave to drown. He died in 1623 and was buried in Balnakeil Church, just as he requested. It was reported that he paid a thousand pounds for this burial site.

I changed a date to fit my story. Balnakeil Church was rebuilt and completed in 1619. A much older church sat on the site prior to this. Balnakeil is Gaelic for "bay of the church."