My Brave Highlander (47 page)

"Chief MacKay is a good man," she said. "Protective, helpful, an honorable gentleman. And a strong, brave chief. Well-liked by… everyone."

Cyrus lifted a brow. "In truth?"

"Of course." How could he doubt her words? Obviously, he was testing her in some way.

Cyrus sat back, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Yesterday, he admitted he seduced you."

Her face burned. "I see." Did that cause Cyrus to disapprove of Dirk? They had seemed friends at both meals. "He's not to blame. It was mutual."

"You seduced him?" Cyrus asked, his voice loud and his eyes wide.

"Nay, not exactly," she quickly said, hoping her brother didn't think her whorish. Well, maybe she had seduced Dirk when she'd burst in on him in the bathtub… and last night in this room. "I find him… nice."

"Nice?" Her brother snorted.

"And handsome. I like Dirk a great deal."

"Ah. Now we're getting somewhere. So, you want to marry him, aye?"

"Of course. You didn't tell him he had to marry me, did you?" That had been her greatest fear.

"Nay. He asked for your hand. He finds you lovely and he cares for you. He appears to be a good man. That's enough. Finding you a suitable husband has been a nightmare, Isobel."

"I ken it. But you chose wrongly the first time." She had told him this before.

"I'm sorry for that, but it was to secure an important clan alliance. Besides that, an offer of marriage from an earl to a baron's daughter is naught to sneeze at, no matter his age."

"Very well. I did my duty for the clan." The past was the past and she wanted to forget it. Her first marriage could've been far more horrible than it was, and she was grateful to have gotten off easy.

"Now, you may have your blessed love match that you have blathered on about since you were fifteen summers," Cyrus muttered.

Love match.
Aye. She was falling in love with Dirk. Now, if only he would feel the same way. 'Haps he did, but he hadn't said so.

"For a certainty, you're smitten with the man," Cyrus said. "'Tis about time."

She shrugged, unable to help that she hadn't fallen in love with a man of the right rank years ago. She would have if Dirk had been around. "Someday you'll wish you had a love match," she told her brother.

"Hmph. I have no time or patience for such rubbish. Anyway, since you're in agreement about marrying Dirk, I'll see you wed afore I leave here."

Excitement and panic rushed through her. "I'm to wed him that soon?"

"Aye, tomorrow if possible."

"Surely you jest."

"Why not? We're all here, your brothers, except for Dermott, and part of your clan, the MacKays. I'll not give MacLeod an opportunity to steal you back."

"He has no interest in stealing me back." Nay, he had his eye on a certain flame-haired lass.

"Well, who the devil knows?" Cyrus said. "Some other bastard may come along and try to snatch you from under MacKay's nose. I don't want to have to go traipsing about the country again, worrying whether you're dead or alive. Once you're married to MacKay, he'll protect you well."

"That he will." Plus, once she was married to him, he was hers for life. Instead of sneaking about for stolen moments of passion, she could sleep in his bed every night. It was warm and big and she'd relished snuggling next to him the night she'd spent there. A giddy thrill spun through her, making her smile.

Cyrus observed her shrewdly, then frowned. "Indeed, you need to be married as soon as possible, lass. Make the preparations and I'll speak with Dirk." Cyrus strode out, leaving her to scramble from her chair and dash up the steps to her chamber. She burst in the door to find Beitris making her bed.

She gasped and spun around. "Heavens, lass! You scared the life out of me."

"Beitris! I'm getting married tomorrow!"

***

Isobel, Jessie and the servants spent the rest of the day preparing for a cool winter wedding. There was no time to make Isobel a new gown, nor did she wish to wear the one she'd planned to marry Torrin in. Jessie and Seona helped her assemble pieces from different outfits to create a completely unique wedding costume. It included a plaid her mother had worn at her wedding over thirty years ago.

"We could get married right here in the great hall," Dirk said to Isobel at supper that night.

"I'd prefer the kirk. Although 'tis too cold to hold the ceremony on the steps outside, as is traditional, the reverend said that since you're chief, it would be pleasing to everyone for us to be married inside. Since your father's tomb is there, I think he'd be honored."

Dirk nodded, his azure gaze turning slightly melancholy. "He will be with us in spirit, but I wish he could be here in truth."

"As do I, along with my parents. My mother always talked about attending my wedding." Tears pricked Isobel's eyes.

Dirk lifted her hand and kissed the back, staring into her eyes for a long moment. Abruptly, he turned to Aiden on his other side.

"Aiden, do you ken the ballad,
The Laird 'o Logie
?"

Aiden frowned. "Nay. I don't recall that one."

Isobel smiled at Dirk and swiped at the tears still blurring her vision. How sweet that he remembered she wanted that ballad played at their wedding feast. She wished to kiss him all over his precious, handsome face, but restrained herself and squeezed his hand instead. "'Tis a Lowland ballad," Isobel said to Aiden, remembering that one of the minstrels her father had employed when she was a lass had been from Falkirk.

"Mayhap Isobel could teach it to you," Dirk suggested. "'Tis her favorite. If you learn it in time, I'd love it if you'd play it at our wedding feast."

Aiden's eyes brightened. "Aye. I'd be honored."

"She can play it for you on her flute," Dirk said.

"I didn't know you played, Lady Isobel," Aiden said, his voice excited.

"Only a wee bit. You're exceedingly gifted, and I look forward to hearing
you
play it." Giddiness charged through her again. She could hardly wait for tomorrow, her wedding day, when she'd marry the man of her dreams. She wanted to jump up and down and embrace Dirk. Instead, she caught herself bouncing in her chair a bit and grinning like a fool.

Dirk observed her from the corner of his eye, amusement lighting his expression. He looked mischievous, like he wanted to kiss her, but he tore his gaze away and scanned the people in the hall instead. She knew he wouldn't engage in public displays of affection, but once they were in private, he would make up for it with delicious, bewitching kisses.

She sipped her wine as the dessert tarts were served. She wondered if he had told Cook to serve tarts every night since she loved them so much. Dirk's cupbearer had already sliced off the side of their tarts to sample them, making sure they were safe to eat.

A male servant appeared at Dirk's shoulder. "M'laird, Master Keegan would like to see you outside. Three of the outlaws have been captured and brought in."

"I'll be right back." Dirk kissed Isobel's hand again, rose from his chair and, taking his shaggy wool mantle, followed the servant out. Erskine, Rebbie, Cyrus and Torrin trailed after him.

She wondered which outlaws had been captured. She hoped one of them was Nolan. Trying to put the knave from her mind and think about pleasant things, like Dirk and their wedding day, Isobel bit into her tart with relish.
Mmm
. This one was blackberry, one of her favorites. Truth be told, she loved all types of tarts.

"I look forward to learning the new ballad. Will you play it here in the great hall for everyone?" Aiden asked, popping the last of his tart into his mouth.

"Oh, nay." Isobel shook her head emphatically. "I'm very much an amateur. I fear my skills are not good enough to perform, but I'll be glad to play it for you on my flute in private."

He nodded, glancing at Dirk's wooden trencher. "He's not going to eat this tart, you know."

Isobel shook her head. She still couldn't figure out how Dirk could resist sweets. "It shouldn't go to waste." She grinned, knowing how much Aiden enjoyed tarts.

"In truth, I'm already stuffed, but…" Aiden cut it in two pieces with his knife. "Half for you and half for me." He bit into his portion with much enthusiasm.

"I thank you. By the way, how long will it take for you to learn the ballad?" she asked.

"A couple of hours."

"Indeed? That fast?"

Aiden nodded.

He amazed her with his musical ability.

Someone across the hall called out to him. He waved a hand. "If you will excuse me, Lady Isobel, the bard wishes me to play a tune."

"Aye, go."

He leapt up from his chair and bounded across the great hall like a big pup.

After finishing her tart, she eyed the half still left on Dirk's trencher. If she kept eating sweets like this, she would grow plump. But, if she now carried Dirk's babe, she would grow plump anyway.

Glancing about to make certain no one was witnessing her gluttony, she took the half tart and bit into it.
Mmm.

Moments later, Aiden was playing a lovely but melancholy Gaelic ballad on the violin—
Griogal Cridhe
. Though no one was singing, she knew the words about a woman mourning the loss of her beloved Gregor of the great but maligned MacGregor Clan. That combined with the poignant and woeful tones brought tears to her eyes.

Suddenly overwarm and thirsty, Isobel guzzled her wine then turned her attention back to Aiden.

The music stopped and he grabbed onto the table next to him. Dropping the violin, he clutched onto his stomach and went down onto his knees.

"Oh heavens!" She leapt to her feet. What was wrong with Aiden? Men gathered around him, trying to help.

Isobel stepped down from the dais. She'd go fetch the healer. But it was as if a shadow passed over her vision, the candles suddenly dimming. She grabbed onto the back of a chair, turned her head and blinked her eyes, but her vision remained hazy and blurry.

Saints!
What was wrong with her? A shrill ringing assaulted her ears. She covered them trying to block out the horrid noise, but it wouldn't stop. Was the ringing inside her head? Nausea seized her stomach. She gagged, feeling as if someone had their hands around her throat, strangling her. She dropped to her knees.

***

Dirk was in the dungeon, questioning and locking up three members of Haldane's group of outlaws, when one of the servant lads burst in.

"M'laird, 'tis Lady Isobel and Master Aiden! They've fallen ill."

What the devil?
"Take care of things here," Dirk told Cyrus and Rebbie, then followed the young servant up the steps from the dungeon. "What happened?" he demanded, shouting against the icy wind that swirled through the bailey.

"We know not, m'laird. They've both been struck with some mysterious illness, their faces red, swollen and hot. They are frantic and can't stand."

"Saints!" The two people he loved most in the world. How could they both be sick at the same time? "Where is the healer?"

"Inside, trying to help them."

Dirk ran up the steps and into the keep. In the great hall, pandemonium reigned.

He plowed through the people crowding the large, noisy room. He spotted Isobel first, on the floor near the high table. She thrashed about, her face red. Jessie and a few other women knelt over her, attempting to help her.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, dropping to his knees and lifting Isobel into his arms. Her whole body radiated heat to an alarming degree.

"Nannag says poison," Jessie said in a strained voice, tears in her eyes as she was near hysterical.

Poison?

Fear lanced through Dirk. Maighread's visage popped into his mind. Could she have poisoned them from inside the prison of her bedchamber? He glanced across the room toward the people surrounding Aiden. Would she have poisoned her own son, the person she was willing to kill for? It didn't make sense.

"Where is Nannag?" he asked.

"There." Jessie pointed.

The healer approached with two more female servants carrying stoneware jugs.

"Make her drink this," Nannag said, handing one of the jugs to Jessie, while a maid set a wooden bucket on the floor.

"What is it?" Dirk asked.

"Vinegar and warm water. 'Twill make her vomit and expel the poison."

"Are you certain?" He didn't want to do anything to make her worse.

"Aye, somehow they got ahold of deadly nightshade," Nannag said.

Who else would use deadly nightshade but Maighread?
Damn her
. How had she poisoned Isobel and Aiden, of all people? Why would she poison her own son and her best friend's daughter? His cupbearer had not only tasted Dirk's food, but also Aiden's and Isobel's. Maybe he hadn't tasted the poison, or consumed enough to make him sick.