My Brave Highlander(46)

His younger brother's wide gaze bounced wildly about the hall. Silence reigned. Without doubt, the little weasel was looking for someone to come to his rescue. Dirk was proud of his clan when no one moved a muscle. Unlike Haldane, they all knew ladies were to be treated with respect.

"P… Pray pardon… Lady Isobel," Haldane stammered. His breathing was unsteady with Dirk's fist against his throat.

Noticing his wee brother was reluctant to meet his gaze again, he smirked. "Now, was that so hard?" Dirk asked, releasing him. "I expect you to show her and all ladies respect from now on."

Nostrils flaring, face flushing and green eyes glinting venom like his mother's might, Haldane backed away to stand behind Aiden's shoulder. "I'm going to get Mother, and you're coming with me, Aiden. I don't trust this… imposter. Come."

"I'm going nowhere." Aiden crossed his arms over his narrow chest. "'Tis past noon, and I'll not be traveling to Tongue this late."

He was a smart lad. Although Tongue was a part of MacKay lands, it would take at least a day to ride there.

"I'll go then." Haldane's brittle glowers were deadly in their intensity. "Mother will want to be here for the hearing."

Dirk seethed inside. How damned grand it would be to see Maighread Gordon again—the murderous witch.





Chapter Ten





Standing near the enormous fireplace, trying to warm herself with her maid, Isobel scanned the spacious but crowded great hall of Dunnakeil with its many tables and benches. Since Haldane had finished his insulting rant and stormed out, she could relax a bit. Although some of the clan members still sent curious glances her way.

Two sizable deerhounds lay before the fireplace on a plaid carpet, their heads resting on their paws. Though they had sniffed at her when she'd arrived, they now ignored her.

She glanced aside and up. Three sets of massive stag antlers hung on the stone wall over the fireplace, along with the MacKay crest—a hand holding a dagger or Highland dirk. The wording over it was in Gaelic—Bi Tren. Be valiant. That certainly described Dirk perfectly.

"Lady Isobel," Dirk said at her shoulder.

She turned. "Aye?"

"I'm sorry Haldane was so rude to you," he murmured in a deep tone that soothed her.

"You don't need to apologize for him." Although Isobel had been mortified and her face burning from his brother's unfair accusations and the clan members' stares, she didn't blame Dirk.

What a holy terror Haldane was. She was tempted to box his ears for being so bad-mannered, as she'd done to her own younger brothers a time or two. Even though Dirk and Haldane both possessed ginger-colored hair and tall height, naught else about them was similar. Certainly not their manners.

But standing with Dirk and talking privately always made her feel better, as did looking into his compelling eyes.

"Sounds like he will cause trouble," she said.

"Aye. Have no doubt of it." Dirk glanced over her shoulder. She turned to find a statuesque and beautiful woman, several inches taller than herself, headed toward them. "Do you know my wee sister, Jessie?" he asked.

For a certainty, the young woman had to be his sister; they had the same pale blue eyes and copper hair. "Nay, but I've heard her name mentioned."

Dirk introduced them.

"'Tis a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Jessie," Isobel said with a curtsy. "And 'tis a shame we haven't met before now."

Someone called Dirk's name and he strode across the great hall, leaving the women alone.

"Indeed. My father would never take me to Dornie when he took my stepmother to see your mother," Jessie said. "And I fostered with the Keiths for seven years. Come, I will show you to your chamber."

They chatted as they climbed the narrow stone stairwell to the second floor and moved down a long corridor, Beitris following. A door led to a tiny room containing a bed covered in a generous layer of multicolored plaid blankets. A couple of straight-backed chairs flanked the hearth where a fire burned. What appeared to be an abundantly padded pallet lay before it, with more blankets. A narrow window, not much wider than an arrow slit, occupied the back stone wall. Isobel found the room to be quaint and cozy.

"This is a wee room but 'tis one of the warmest in winter," Jessie said. "And it has always been a favorite of mine."

"I thank you. 'Tis lovely," Isobel said.

"I help Aiden manage the household staff as I did for my father before his death."

"That's generous of you to help your family so much."

Jessie shrugged. "My stepmother has never enjoyed staying here. For a certainty, I don't enjoy living with her. So 'tis a pleasant arrangement."