"We'll go into the library," Dirk said, motioning for Isobel to precede them.
She led the way and once the three of them were in the library, Dirk closed the door.
"How did you know where I was?" Isobel asked her brother as they sat down at the table.
"While Torrin was in Lairg, his brother, Nolan, apparently sent a messenger telling him that you had disappeared. Torrin immediately sent me a missive from Lairg, telling me you'd fled into a snowstorm and hopefully you would make it back to me in Dornie. I set out traveling north with our brothers and my men, hoping I'd run into you on the trail before you died from the elements. I still hadn't found you by the time I reached Munrick. I was there when Haldane MacKay arrived to tell us you were here."
"Oh." Isobel truly looked contrite. "I'm sorry to put you through so much trouble."
"Don't fash yourself over it. I simply wanted to find you safe, and thanks to MacKay, you are. Now, I want to know what this Nolan MacLeod did," Cyrus said.
Isobel gave him the same details she'd given Dirk on their journey here about the attempted rape and how they'd fought. The knave had broken her finger and she'd knocked him on the head with a stoneware jug.
"Good for you, sister. I cannot believe I trusted those bastards." Cyrus sat back in his chair.
"I cannot marry Torrin MacLeod now. You must know that."
"Aye, of course not. As long as his brother lives, he would be a danger to you."
A surge of relief rushed through Dirk. Now, he but had to get Cyrus's permission to marry Isobel. Would he agree to the arrangement?
"I thank you for understanding," Isobel said.
"Let me see your broken finger."
She held it out to Cyrus. She'd put the splint on again, Dirk noticed, after he'd fussed at her about not wearing it when she was bathing him. Och. He had to put that experience from his mind or he'd end up getting aroused at a very bad time.
"Who set it?" Cyrus asked.
"Laird MacKay and his friend, Laird Rebbinglen, did a splendid job on it. It is healing well." Isobel glanced at Dirk, her eyes dark and tempting as a siren. Though it had been hellishly difficult, he'd stayed away from her as much as possible over the last several days. He needed to make sure she was his and no one else's before they indulged too many times betwixt the sheets. 'Twas far too easy to become addicted to her and want her five times a day.
"Were you hurt in any other way?" her brother asked.
"I had a bruise on my face and a knot on the back of my head from the scuffle with Nolan, but it was not terribly painful."
"The bastard," Cyrus muttered under his breath, then turned to Dirk. "I thank you, Chief MacKay, for helping my sister." He held his hand out and Dirk shook it.
"My pleasure. And please, call me Dirk." He faced Isobel. "If you would give us a moment in private, Lady Isobel."
She sent him a suspicious and curious narrow-eyed look. "Very well." She exited, closing the door behind her.
Would she eavesdrop outside the door again as she had when he and Conall had talked? Dirk slipped to the door and opened it, finding her a few feet away, along with Erskine, guarding him. He gave Isobel a pointed look. She rolled her eyes and disappeared down the short corridor toward the great hall.
"Don't let her near the door," he murmured to Erskine. "I don't want her eavesdropping."
"Aye, chief."
Dirk closed the door and joined Cyrus at the table. "I need to ask something of you," Dirk said, sudden nerves seizing him. He had never done this before, nor had he witnessed anyone else making such a grand request. He hoped he would do it right.
"Aye, what is it?"
"I ask you…" Dirk cleared his throat. "I request Lady Isobel's hand in marriage."
Chapter Twenty-Four
"What?" Cyrus's dark brows lowered, giving him the look of a thunderous warlord. "You want to marry Isobel?"
"Aye," Dirk said, feeling the restless urge to spring from his chair and pace the library. "If her betrothal to MacLeod is off, I would like to marry her."
"Why?" her brother asked in a hard tone.
"Well… many reasons." Dirk's stomach knotted and he hoped he didn't get tongue-tied. "She is the loveliest lass I've yet laid eyes on. I'm newly a chief, and the clan elders are already dogging me about finding a bride." Those were two valid reasons—the least important ones he could think of, but he couldn't simply blurt out that he'd already bedded Isobel and that he was falling in love with her. Or, worst of all, that she might already be carrying his bairn. No brother would want to hear that.
Cyrus eyed him shrewdly. "I ken she's a widow, but have you compromised her?"