Dirk nodded, his azure gaze turning slightly melancholy. "He will be with us in spirit, but I wish he could be here in truth."
"As do I, along with my parents. My mother always talked about attending my wedding." Tears pricked Isobel's eyes.
Dirk lifted her hand and kissed the back, staring into her eyes for a long moment. Abruptly, he turned to Aiden on his other side.
"Aiden, do you ken the ballad, The Laird 'o Logie?"
Aiden frowned. "Nay. I don't recall that one."
Isobel smiled at Dirk and swiped at the tears still blurring her vision. How sweet that he remembered she wanted that ballad played at their wedding feast. She wished to kiss him all over his precious, handsome face, but restrained herself and squeezed his hand instead. "'Tis a Lowland ballad," Isobel said to Aiden, remembering that one of the minstrels her father had employed when she was a lass had been from Falkirk.
"Mayhap Isobel could teach it to you," Dirk suggested. "'Tis her favorite. If you learn it in time, I'd love it if you'd play it at our wedding feast."
Aiden's eyes brightened. "Aye. I'd be honored."
"She can play it for you on her flute," Dirk said.
"I didn't know you played, Lady Isobel," Aiden said, his voice excited.
"Only a wee bit. You're exceedingly gifted, and I look forward to hearing you play it." Giddiness charged through her again. She could hardly wait for tomorrow, her wedding day, when she'd marry the man of her dreams. She wanted to jump up and down and embrace Dirk. Instead, she caught herself bouncing in her chair a bit and grinning like a fool.
Dirk observed her from the corner of his eye, amusement lighting his expression. He looked mischievous, like he wanted to kiss her, but he tore his gaze away and scanned the people in the hall instead. She knew he wouldn't engage in public displays of affection, but once they were in private, he would make up for it with delicious, bewitching kisses.
She sipped her wine as the dessert tarts were served. She wondered if he had told Cook to serve tarts every night since she loved them so much. Dirk's cupbearer had already sliced off the side of their tarts to sample them, making sure they were safe to eat.
A male servant appeared at Dirk's shoulder. "M'laird, Master Keegan would like to see you outside. Three of the outlaws have been captured and brought in."
"I'll be right back." Dirk kissed Isobel's hand again, rose from his chair and, taking his shaggy wool mantle, followed the servant out. Erskine, Rebbie, Cyrus and Torrin trailed after him.
She wondered which outlaws had been captured. She hoped one of them was Nolan. Trying to put the knave from her mind and think about pleasant things, like Dirk and their wedding day, Isobel bit into her tart with relish. Mmm. This one was blackberry, one of her favorites. Truth be told, she loved all types of tarts.
"I look forward to learning the new ballad. Will you play it here in the great hall for everyone?" Aiden asked, popping the last of his tart into his mouth.
"Oh, nay." Isobel shook her head emphatically. "I'm very much an amateur. I fear my skills are not good enough to perform, but I'll be glad to play it for you on my flute in private."
He nodded, glancing at Dirk's wooden trencher. "He's not going to eat this tart, you know."
Isobel shook her head. She still couldn't figure out how Dirk could resist sweets. "It shouldn't go to waste." She grinned, knowing how much Aiden enjoyed tarts.
"In truth, I'm already stuffed, but…" Aiden cut it in two pieces with his knife. "Half for you and half for me." He bit into his portion with much enthusiasm.
"I thank you. By the way, how long will it take for you to learn the ballad?" she asked.
"A couple of hours."
"Indeed? That fast?"
Aiden nodded.
He amazed her with his musical ability.
Someone across the hall called out to him. He waved a hand. "If you will excuse me, Lady Isobel, the bard wishes me to play a tune."
"Aye, go."
He leapt up from his chair and bounded across the great hall like a big pup.
After finishing her tart, she eyed the half still left on Dirk's trencher. If she kept eating sweets like this, she would grow plump. But, if she now carried Dirk's babe, she would grow plump anyway.
Glancing about to make certain no one was witnessing her gluttony, she took the half tart and bit into it. Mmm.
Moments later, Aiden was playing a lovely but melancholy Gaelic ballad on the violin—Griogal Cridhe. Though no one was singing, she knew the words about a woman mourning the loss of her beloved Gregor of the great but maligned MacGregor Clan. That combined with the poignant and woeful tones brought tears to her eyes.
Suddenly overwarm and thirsty, Isobel guzzled her wine then turned her attention back to Aiden.