My Brave Highlander(22)

"Why in blazes would she do that?" Dirk asked, feigning surprise, while in truth he wanted to belt the man for calling Isobel daft.

"We know not." The man's gaze drifted toward the cottage door.

Dirk tensed. The bastard had best not even consider it.

"Who is traveling with you?"

"My servants," Rebbie said.

"Then you won't mind if we search inside the cottage for the missing lady." He moved forward.

Alarm driving through him, Dirk stepped in front of the door, blocking it. "Nay. I wouldn't do that."

"And why not?" The MacLeod clansman halted, his face tightening dangerously, his sword clasped at the ready.

"His servant is very ill," Dirk said, hoping the knave believed the lie. Most people were terrified of disease, for it usually meant death. "We know not what it is. Coughing up blood. Might be catching."

The knave's eyes narrowed. "Neither of you has caught it yet. If you don't let us search, you may as well head south, for you won't be passing Munrick."

Loud coughing echoed from inside the hovel. "'Tis all right," George called in a raspy, weak voice. "It matters not to me if they search in here." He lapsed into another fit of coughing.

Why in blazes would George say such a thing?

"You heard the man. Step aside, MacKay," the man-at-arms demanded, the strong smell of whisky wafting from him on an icy gust of wind. If he was near sotted, his reflexes would be off. He might also have a difficult time recognizing Isobel.

Dirk glanced at Rebbie, who nodded and darted a fearsome look at one of the men, meaning he would take care of the second guard if need be.

Dirk didn't want to have to kill a MacLeod, but if the men figured out who Isobel was, he might have to.

Stepping aside, he allowed the MacLeod guards to enter the cottage and followed, Rebbie behind him. After a brief bit of silence, George feigned another coughing fit, then moaned and bent forward to spit on the ground, clasping at his stomach for good measure.

"Stay over there," one of the guards warned George, eying him with disgust.

Holding the lantern aloft, the two men scrutinized the horses, then noticed the doorway leading to the side room. They headed toward it and shoved the wool blanket aside to enter. Dirk's breath halted for the men would find Isobel and her maid within seconds. His fist tightened within the basket-hilt of his sword. He would protect Isobel at all costs, even if it meant killing two MacLeods.

Dirk entered the room behind them. His eyes searched the dimness of the smoky room as the men moved their lantern this way and that. Where were Isobel and her maid? Dirk could see them nowhere near the bedrolls or the tiny smoldering fire. Not in the corners either.

What the devil?

"No one else is here," one of the guards said. "I thought he said his servants were traveling with you."

"Servant," Dirk corrected.

"Very well, MacKay," the other said, his voice slurred. "We'll leave you to your sleep. If you see the lady and her maid, let us know."

"I will."

"She's a bonny lass with dark eyes. Her name is Isobel MacKenzie."

Dirk nodded, his shoulders so tense the muscles ached. Where the hell was Isobel? Was she hiding in this room someplace? There was no window here she could've crawled out.

"Well then, a good eve to you." The MacLeod man yawned.

Dirk followed them out. One of the men turned up his whisky flask and took a long swallow, then they both mounted, before riding back the way they'd come.

Rebbie stood silently at his side while they observed the men's progress through the snow, their torch moving further and further away.

"Where the devil did Isobel and her maid go?" Dirk growled low.

"I know not."

"Will you watch the men while I search for her?"

"Aye," Rebbie said.

Dirk strode into the cottage. "Isobel?" He tried to keep his voice down. "Where did they go, George?"

"There's a wee window opening behind where the horses are tied. The shutters were closed, but I pushed them open and helped the women out."

"Very canny of you. That couldn't have been easy for Beitris," Dirk said, taking the lantern and hastening out the door and around the side of the stone cottage to the back.

Isobel and her maid huddled there behind a prickly gorse bush.

"God's teeth, Lady Isobel," Dirk muttered. "You scared the life out of me." He drew her to her feet, then helped her maid. Beitris groaned.

"Couldn't be helped." Isobel brushed snow off her clothing. "After Beitris woke me, I heard them talking, and I knew they'd want to search. I remembered the battened off window from the night before."

"I thank you, sir," Beitris said, holding on tightly to his elbow as they rounded the cottage. "I wasn't made to contort in such positions and shimmy through windows."