"No more than you want her," Dirk grumbled with a glare toward his friend. The memory of Rebbie and Isobel's conversation during supper, then the dancing, made Dirk's gut wrench.
"Aha! There's where you're wrong, my friend," Rebbie said. "I'm not dimwitted enough to chase after the skirts of an almost married woman."
"Nor am I. Do you think I want a feud with the MacLeods?"
"Nay. I see that's holding you back."
"It's enough." Aye, indeed, more than enough. He couldn't return to his clan only to lead them into a battle of his own making. He didn't kidnap MacLeod's bride; he rescued her.
"But if not for that?"
"It matters not, because she's betrothed. Naught will change that fact," Dirk said in a hard tone, as much to himself as to his friend. Wishes and fantasies were for silly, frivolous lasses and held no purpose. Dirk lived in the real world.
"And yet, true love always finds a way," Rebbie mused.
Love? Had Rebbie gone daft of a sudden? Love and lust were many miles apart.
"Hmph. What are you, a poet? A bard?" Dirk asked.
"'Haps I should be. The ladies would love it, I'm thinking."
"I'm certain," Dirk muttered dryly. Anything Rebbie did, the ladies loved.
"Except for Lady Isobel and Lady Jessie, Dunnakeil is near bereft of lovely ladies, though, is it not? 'Twould be nice to have a buxom lass to warm my bed at night."
Dirk frowned. "You're not thinking of seducing my sister," he said in a warning tone.
"Nay, strangely, she's too much like a female version of you. 'Tis a bit bizarre."
"She's not the least bit mannish."
"Nay, she's utterly feminine and beautiful, but the look in her eyes. 'Tis almost like looking at your eyes."
Dirk believed he understood what his friend meant. He and Jessie resembled each other a great deal, including having eyes like their father. Anyway, he was glad Rebbie wasn't attracted to her. One less thing to worry about. "And you're not thinking of seducing Isobel either." Dirk knew his words came out like an order, but he couldn't help it.
"Nay, not Isobel either. Obviously, she is spoken for twice over."
"Not because of me. Because of the MacLeods." Dirk knew it was a half lie, but the words should have been true. The real reason neither of them could touch Isobel was the MacLeods. But if Rebbie were to seduce her, that might be the one thing to destroy their friendship. Imagining that lashed him, as well. He and Rebbie had been friends for a decade. That a woman might threaten their friendship sent icy warning through his bloodstream.
What the hell was he thinking? Had he gone mad? He could not become attached to Isobel.
"Indeed, the MacLeods," Rebbie said in a doubtful tone.
"Aye. I'm taking her to her brother. He can deal with the MacLeods. I'm staying out of it."
"Won't be the same around here without her."
Dirk hadn't thought of it, but Rebbie was right. "Cannot be helped. She must go home sometime."
"But not now."
"After the weather breaks."
"That won't be until spring, I'm thinking, considering the north wind has been thrashing us since we arrived."
Dirk shrugged. "Whenever. The MacLeods don't know where she is, so she's safe."
"Aye, safe from them. But is she safe from you?" Rebbie asked in a teasing tone.
"I don't take advantage of women." He felt like belting his friend for even suggesting it.
"'Haps not. Come to think of it, I'm a wee bit worried she will take advantage of you."
"Ha. Now I ken it… you're mad enough for the asylum."
"We'll see." Rebbie wandered from the stable and into the courtyard.
Dirk frowned. Was Isobel planning to seduce him? And if so, why? To rescue her permanently from the MacLeods? Would she use him in that way? Hell, he could not allow himself to be dragged into this conflict between the MacLeods and the MacKenzies.
***
"This man you speak of cannot be Dirk MacKay. He is dead," Maighread Gordon, Lady MacKay said to Haldane. "This is an imposter!" She eyed her youngest son across the Turkish carpet of her sitting room in the manor house at Tongue. Haldane appeared to be speaking the truth.
"I know not if 'tis truly him or not. I don't remember Dirk that well."
"It cannot be." Dirk MacKay died twelve years ago. Surely he did. How could he have survived a fall from a three-hundred foot cliff? A moment of guilt speared her chest as it always did when she thought of the hateful, little red-headed bastard. He made her think of those fabled changelings. Since he was a small child, he'd watched her with those eerie, piercing pale eyes as if he knew what she was thinking… as if he hated her. She had certainly hated him with equal fervor.