My Brave Highlander(48)

"I thank you, m'laird," she murmured.

"'Tis my pleasure."

Dirk flicked a glare over Isobel's head toward his friend, but Rebbie was busy eating. Forcing his attention back to his own trencher, Dirk took a bite. He felt imbecilic, both for not acting more quickly and for being annoyed. It didn't matter. Isobel was betrothed to another man and would soon be leaving. He'd best not grow too used to her being around. Yet he couldn't deny he relished being in her presence. His body hummed with repressed excitement.

Ever solicitous, Rebbie poured her more wine. "You grew up in Dornie, did you not?" he asked.

"Aye. At Teasairg Castle."

"I have never been to that area."

"'Tis lovely, with the three lochs."

Dirk listened to the exchange going on beside him, feeling like he was eavesdropping on a private conversation. He ground his teeth, then forced himself to take another bite of food. He wasn't hungry and his stomach ached. What the hell was wrong with him?

Rebbie murmured words that Dirk was unable to make out and Isobel giggled.

Dirk's teeth slid together again and he felt like growling. He cleared his throat and took a sip of spiced wine.

"Is everything all right?" Isobel asked, leaning close to his shoulder.

"Hmm? Aye." He caught himself noticing how seductively dark her eyes were in the candlelight. And how her lips were a tempting blush-red color. Damnation, man, get yourself under control.

"You've barely eaten a few bites," she said. Her concern for him sent a warm feeling to the pit of his stomach.

"I'm not hungry," he said a bit more gruffly than he'd meant to.

"He's in one of his moods. Pay him no mind," Rebbie said.

Dirk glared at his friend.

Rebbie's dark brows shot skyward. "What? You ken 'tis true. You get in dark moods sometimes."

Dirk grunted when he wanted to tell Rebbie to mind his own business. "My mood is fine, I thank you," he muttered in a dry tone.

Isobel sent him a fleeting smile then turned back to her venison. He was glad to see she was eating heartily.

He forced himself to take another bite and focus on anything besides Isobel. He glanced down the table toward Aiden. He felt bad for the lad, caught in the middle and being used as his mother's puppet. Maighread might arrive within the next day or two. What would he do then? He couldn't order her to leave until he was chief… if the elders decided in his favor at the hearing. She would most likely be in a murderous rage, but she would hide it well. She always did.

He was momentarily distracted by maids serving strawberry tarts. The one on his trencher smelled good but he had no appetite for sweets now. Isobel bit into hers with relish.

"Mmm, this is delicious." Her moans vibrated madly through his body, stimulating him in ways he shouldn't be while sitting amongst several dozen people in a great hall.

Two chairs down, Aiden leaned forward. "Are you going to eat that, brother?"

To hear Aiden call him brother after all these years was gratifying. His heart warmed.

"Nay." Dirk handed the tart over and Aiden seemed not much older than the last time they'd been together as he grinned and devoured it.

When Dirk turned back, Isobel was watching him with an amused expression.

"I hope you didn't want that." He hadn't thought to offer it to her.

She shook her head and finished chewing. A bit of the pink strawberry glaze remained on her lips but she quickly licked it off. Damn, she really shouldn't do that. He suddenly had an insane craving for a strawberry-flavored female.

"Nay, I'm stuffed to the gills," Isobel said. "I take it you don't enjoy sweets."

Depended on the type of sweets. Sweet females he certainly enjoyed more than pastry tarts. He shrugged. "At times."

After most of the clan had finished eating, musicians tuned up their instruments then motioned for Aiden to join them. Dirk remembered him playing a flute when he was a wee child. He'd even started playing pipes when he was seven summers. But now he retrieved a violin from a case in the corner.

The beautiful music that flowed from his instrument astonished Dirk.

"He plays amazingly well, does he not?" Isobel asked beside him, awe in her voice.

"Aye. He's a natural. Has been since he was a wee lad." Dirk was proud of his younger brother. He might not be a warrior, but his musical talents more than made up for it.

"Do you play an instrument?" she asked.

"Nay." Would she find him lacking if he couldn't play music? What did it matter if she did? He was not here to please her. He was here to take on a responsibility that was his by birthright. Strangely, he found he looked forward to it. Finally, he was home where he belonged, where he felt more himself than he had for the past several years. And yet, he found nothing about it calming. Quite the opposite. Several things annoyed him, not the least of which was Rebbie and Isobel.