"With the rest of us," Beitris hissed. "Not just the two of you alone. You may have to marry him in truth after this."
"Nonsense." Isobel was surprised the idea didn't bother her as much as it should have. She'd agreed to marry worse men than him. "No one will know of it except Lewis MacLeod and those in our party. I can't imagine word will be spread about."
"I'll stay to protect you. If he tries to force himself on you in the night, I'll scream loud enough to wake the dead."
Isobel snorted. "Are you mad? Dirk is not going to force himself on me. He is not like Nolan."
"Men are unpredictable at times. When their desires get roused up, they can lose control and have no sense at all."
"Hmm." That sounded exhilarating… just the thought of Dirk's desires getting roused up.
Beitris's eyes widened. "Don't tell me this is what you want."
"I have never known a man, Beitris, as you are well aware."
"Consider yourself lucky! For a man to take you is one of the worst things imaginable."
Isobel frowned. "Were you forced?"
"Nay, not forced. But not something I would've chosen to do. It was simply a duty I endured for my husband."
"I wonder though if 'tis always so bad? I think my mother must not have minded it too much. Else why would I hear her giggling inside their bedchamber when I stood outside the door?"
"You stood at the door, listening? You were a naughty lass!" Her maid's mouth gaped.
"Not long." Isobel waved a hand. "Besides, I didn't know what was going on at the time. I thought perhaps Da was tickling her. Or maybe he had said something funny. I knew they enjoyed their private moments."
"Aye. Well, I've heard that some women do enjoy the bedding. 'Haps it depends on the skills of the man."
"That's an intriguing thought." She wondered if Dirk had any skills in the bedchamber. She still remembered the way he'd touched her, helping her on and off the horse, holding her secure so Rebbie could set her finger bone. Dirk touched her gently at times, firmly at others, but he had never been rough.
"Do not even consider it!" Beitris warned. "You are not a whore, m'lady."
"I should hope not. But if a woman were to enjoy… relations… with her husband, that would not be shocking or scandalous."
"That man is not your husband."
"I'm well aware." Though when she thought about wedding Dirk, it was far more appealing than the thought of wedding the MacLeod, or her former husband. "'Tis a ruse, Beitris. I'm certain Dirk MacKay will be a well-mannered gentleman and not lay one finger on me."
"He'd best be a gentleman." Beitris was near militant in her vehemence.
"Or?"
"Well… I don't rightly ken. I suppose I could stand on a table and box his ears."
Isobel grinned at that image.
"Don't let him near the bed." Beitris shook a finger at her.
"If he wishes to sleep in the bed, I can sleep in that chair or on the floor."
"I'm happy to hear you plan to be a virtuous lass."
"Of course. I always have been. Why would that change now? And please don't say anything to him. Men will sometimes do the opposite of what someone tells them out of spite." Not that Dirk would. But she didn't want Beitris embarrassing her with talk of what they shouldn't do. She was certain he knew.
But some wanton, rebellious side of her wished he would be very wicked tonight.
***
Hell, what was Dirk going to do now? Spending the night with Isobel, alone in a tiny cottage? How would he survive the night with his sanity intact? Already, arousal simmered just beneath the surface.
Rebbie and Lewis indulged in a dram of whisky as they sat before the fire. Dirk had refused the drink. He needed to keep a clear head. The men's conversation was an annoying murmur that Dirk couldn't pay attention to no matter how hard he tried.
His imaginings of Isobel preparing for bed would not leave his mind. No doubt her maid had already helped her remove her outer clothing. If the cottage was warm and the bed had several blankets, there would be no need to sleep in all her clothes as she had last night. He shut his eyes, picturing her in naught but a linen smock, the undergarment that most all women wore. Though he knew he was mad, he yearned to see her bare and generous curves.
"Laird Rebbinglen, I have a bedchamber for you." Lewis rose to show Rebbie to his room.
"I bid you goodnight." Rebbie sent Dirk a smirking grin as he by-passed him.
Smug bastard. "Goodnight," Dirk muttered.
He rose and paced, knowing he had to go to the tiny cottage or be seen as suspect. Of course, if he truly had been married to her for less than six months, he'd be eager to get her alone. That was the role he must play.