Page 23 of My Brave Highlander

Realizing he was hungry, Dirk devoured the food. He wished Isobel had eaten before she'd fallen asleep, but at least she had eaten the two bannocks earlier.

"Where is George?" Dirk asked.

"Keeping the first watch."

Dirk spread out his bedroll just as George trotted into the small room. "Someone is coming, two or three riders," he said.

Chapter Five

Who the devil would be outside the cottage and why?

"Damnation," Dirk muttered, drew on his wool mantle and grabbed his broadsword. Rebbie did the same. The approaching riders had to be MacLeods. 'Haps someone from the village who'd gotten suspicious of George and tracked him back here. Although the wind and snow should've covered his tracks by now. Maybe they smelled the smoke of their fire and followed it.

"Oh heavens." Beitris sat bolt upright on her blanket, but Isobel didn't wake.

"Watch her," Dirk said. "Both of you stay here."

Beitris nodded, her eyes wide. "Aye, sir."

He sheathed his sword and the Highland dirk he was named after so as not to appear too aggressive, then followed George and Rebbie out into the blowing snow. If the riders weren't from the village, then the villagers must have alerted the MacLeods at Munrick that strangers were in the vicinity. Better not be Nolan MacLeod, or Dirk didn't know if he'd be able to control his battle-lust. Especially if Nolan grew insolent and tried to force his way into the cottage. Dirk wouldn't let Nolan anywhere near Isobel, regardless.

The two men, one carrying a torch, dismounted a few yards away. Squinting through the blowing snow stinging his eyes, Dirk tried to identify them. Both wore plaids, trews and shaggy wool mantles. The second man unsheathed his broadsword.

"Saints," Dirk muttered, drawing his own weapon. Rebbie did the same, then set down the lantern. One could never tell when things would turn bloody.

"Who are you and what are you doing here on MacLeod land?" one of the men called out in Gaelic. "You're trespassing."

"I'm a MacKay, returning to Dunnakeil in Durness. We simply needed a place to stay for the night, out of the storm."

One man, wearing a metal-studded leather hauberk over his layers of wool plaid brought the torch closer, eying Dirk. Surely they saw his resemblance to many of the MacKays. The men, with their long brown hair and lean, lanky frames, certainly resembled the MacLeods.

"And who is he?" the man nodded to Rebbie.

"My friend, Robert MacInnis. The MacKays and MacLeods have ever been allies," Dirk reminded the men who, by the looks of their clothing, were men-at-arms.

"Indeed. Why did you not ask for lodgings at Munrick?"

"We would have, but it was late and the weather growing more severe. We saw this cottage and decided to put it to use." Dirk shrugged. He hoped they believed the lie. "We will be leaving and going on to Durness in the morn."

"Did you happen to run into a lady and her maid on your way here?"

"Nay. Why?" Dirk asked without hesitation. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

"The chief's future bride ran out into the snowstorm. She's a wee bit daft, I'm thinking." He spat on the ground.

"Why in blazes would she do that?" Dirk asked, feigning surprise, while in truth he wanted to belt the man for calling Isobel daft.

"We know not." The man's gaze drifted toward the cottage door.

Dirk tensed. The bastard had best not even consider it.

"Who is traveling with you?"

"My servants," Rebbie said.

"Then you won't mind if we search inside the cottage for the missing lady." He moved forward.

Alarm driving through him, Dirk stepped in front of the door, blocking it. "Nay. I wouldn't do that."