"I'm thinking the lass is famished. Have you not been feeding her, lad?"
"Aye, when she's willing to eat," Dirk said, his face a bit flushed.
Was he blushing? Isobel could not imagine it.
Lewis laughed and motioned them toward a separate dining room. "I smell those Highland pies."
Isobel did too. The combined scents of baked venison, onions and other vegetables made her mouth water.
"Seat yourselves at the table and Mattie will bring out some food."
"Have you had word of my father?" Dirk asked, pulling out a chair for Isobel.
"Nay," Lewis said. "Only that he has been ill. I've seen no one from Durness in a month or more."
"I hope he still lives." Dirk seated himself beside Isobel.
"As do I, lad," the older man said. "Your da is a good man, one of the best in these parts."
Dirk nodded. The sadness in his eyes compelled Isobel to clasp his hand. She wanted to do more, perhaps pull him into her arms, and tell him she understood. Losing her own father had near killed her.
Staring down at her hand, Dirk gently squeezed her fingers for a moment, then released her. She pulled her hand away, feeling bereft, missing his warm strong hand. His touch was comforting, but also exciting.
"Why did I hear you'd died?" Lewis asked him.
Dirk sent a sharp glance her way. "'Twas a rumor that went 'round when I left."
"Gossips," the man grumbled.
Why had Dirk given her such a look?
Moments later, a gray-haired woman wearing a red kerch and a much younger one with brown hair and a sweet, angelic face served the steaming Highland pies. She assumed the older woman was Mattie, the cook Lewis had raved about.
The savory, baked onion scent made Isobel's stomach ache and grumble. The dish consisted of meat, onions, carrots and turnips in a flaky crust, served on a wooden trencher. Sliced oat bread was provided in the center of the table, and each person was provided a tankard of ale.
After Lewis said grace, he encouraged them all to eat-up.
Isobel didn't have to be told twice. After cutting the individually portioned pie apart and letting it cool for a few seconds, she devoured a large bite. "Delicious," she commented, tempted to moan in delight.
"Indeed," Dirk said.
Moments later, she glanced up to find Dirk watching her, questions in his eyes, before he focused again on eating. What was going through his mind? When she got him alone, she'd ask him why he was watching her with a strange, pointed look. Surely he didn't think she'd started the rumors about him dying.
"'Tis the best meal I've had in ages," Rebbie said once they'd finished.
Dirk and Isobel agreed.
After consuming more than she should have, she stood, proceeding from the room in front of the men. Beitris had eaten the same fare in the kitchen with the other servants.
"I have a small cottage next door," Lewis said. "My daughter and her family stay in it when they visit in summer, but 'tis empty now. Dirk, you and your bride can stay there tonight. I've had my manservant build a fire in the hearth. The cottage should be warm by now."
Heavens! Lewis MacLeod could not be serious. He expected her and Dirk to sleep in the same bed? Or were there two beds in the cottage?
"That isn't necessary," Dirk said. "I'm fine with sleeping here on the floor."
"Nonsense, man. With the beds here in this cottage and the one next door, there is plenty of room for everyone to have a soft, comfortable bed, even your servants."
"Sounds like a grand plan," Rebbie said. Though he held back a grin, humor danced in his devilish eyes.
Dirk shot a lethal glare at his friend, then his troubled gaze ran over Isobel. He turned back to Lewis. "Very well, then. I thank you for your generosity."
The older man gave a brief bow and headed toward the door. "I'll show you to the cottage, m'lady."
Chapter Six
"'Tis scandalous that you should spend the night with this MacKay stranger," Beitris whispered to Isobel in the wee one-room cottage that Lewis MacLeod had escorted them to. Dirk had suggested that Beitris get Isobel settled in first. Clearly he was stalling, which she was grateful for, because she needed a sponge bath.
She was unsure how she felt about this unusual situation. On the one hand, she deemed herself wicked for perpetuating the deception they'd begun earlier; on the other, excitement crackled along her nerve endings.
The cottage was cozy and warm with small stools and one high-backed wooden chair. A small table and a rudimentary kitchen with a cupboard occupied one side of the cottage, while a box bed sat on the opposite side.
"It may be scandalous, but he is no stranger," Isobel said. "I've known him since I was a young lass. Besides, we spent last night together in that abandoned cottage."