Page 50 of My Brave Highlander

Her hand slipped around his elbow, and they moved toward Tulloch. "'Twill be my pleasure, kind sir."

Pleasure? Did she get as aroused as he did when they rode together? 'Twas not possible, surely.

Once they were mounted, Isobel astride behind him on the bedroll, Dirk finally felt normal. She grabbed onto the back of his woolen mantle.

"Give me your good hand." He reached back for it and tugged her arm around his waist.

She held on tight, then placed her other arm around him. His body stirred as it always did when she touched him, his blood flowing hotter while delicious carnal images formed in his mind. He could easily visualize trailing his fingertips over the bare silky skin of her curves.

Damnation! He had to stop.

He glanced aside and found Rebbie grinning like a coddled puppy. Dirk would no doubt have to endure more teasing later.

Refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response, Dirk urged the horse onto the trail through the village and toward the castle.

He could never think of her as his, or he'd never be able to give her up.

∞∞∞

The many whitewashed cottages of the village reminded Isobel of Dornie. She was tempted to ask Dirk when someone would escort her home, but with the wind gusting as it was he'd likely not hear her. Besides, knowing the danger he was in, she was in no hurry to go home.

Her arms underneath his wool mantle were warm but her hands were exposed. She had no gloves and would be unable to wear one on her injured hand anyway. Her layers of woven wool did not shield her from all the icy needles of wind that penetrated the fabric. She shivered, wishing she could crawl under the mantle with him. Naked. To feel his hot skin against hers would surely be bliss. She didn't understand herself. She'd never had such lustful thoughts about a man.

He placed his warm hand over hers where they rested at his waist. She almost sighed, appreciating his heat and lots more about his body, like how muscular and fit he was, unlike her late husband.

She'd been responsible for taking care of Jedwarth during his illness and before his death. He'd been sickly since the day she met him, which was the day she married him. She hadn't loved him, but she'd respected him for treating her well.

Rumors and speculations had abounded. Was she barren? Was the old earl impotent? Why had she not conceived him an heir?

'Twas difficult to conceive an heir when her husband could not perform his duties in the bedchamber. He had tried but it never happened.

She wondered what sharing a bed with Dirk would be like. Some part of her, deep inside, tingled. He was surely a virile man, young as he was, only a couple of years older than herself. Likely, he would perform like a stallion in the bedchamber.

She didn't know why she was thinking of this now when she should be focused on their safety. Glancing over the open moorland, she perceived no threat. A veil of snow partially covered the gray rocks and dull brownish-green heather. The brisk wind ensured most of the snow drifted farther south.

Since she'd been old enough to be interested in the lads, she'd dreamed of having a marriage like her parents. They'd shared a profound love, many times sitting together, talking and laughing at their own private jests. And a few times she'd found them kissing in some dark corner, much to her embarrassment.

Her mother had given her advice about men. Thus far, Isobel hadn't found the type of man she'd always wanted. Each time she saw Dirk, he seemed more and more like that type of man. But what of it? A mountain of obstacles stood between them, like the whole of the MacLeod clan. And her brother too.

The closer she, Dirk, and their party rode to Castle Dunnakeil on the shore, the stronger the wind buffeted them. Part of the time, she scrunched behind Dirk's big body, hoping it would shield her from the worst of the wind.

When they crested the hill, she leaned around him. The ancient castle on its prominent rock formation and the ocean beyond lay spread out before them as far as she could see in both directions. What an amazing sight it was with the moody, violet-gray sky and the pale orange glow of the sun behind the clouds in the western sky.

Though the icy wind stung her eyes, she could not look away. The gray stone castle was built with three towers, surrounded by a tall stone wall. Clearly it was a well-built, defensive fortification. Though she knew not why, she liked it instantly.

She only hoped Dirk's clan accepted him as the chief he was born to be.

∞∞∞

"Do you not see what he's doing?" Haldane asked loudly, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the dim great hall. The rest of the clan fell silent. "An imposter moving his friends in. He could be here to murder us in our sleep for all we know."

Dirk glared at his younger brother. You little bastard. He couldn't wait to send him away to live at Tongue.

"There is no need to be so dramatic," Aiden said. "I remember Dirk and this man is him."

Haldane rolled his eyes but refrained from arguing. Dirk was glad to see that at least Haldane was showing Aiden some respect.

"He's even brought his wife," Haldane announced, his gaze running over Isobel where she stood near the massive fireplace.