Page 65 of My Brave Highlander

He released her and continued up the hill at a slow pace, waiting for her to catch up. "Lady Isobel, I find I must apologize for what happened in the stable last night."

"For the kiss or for snapping at me afterward?"

"Both." His face burned despite the cold wind.

"Nonsense. I'm glad you're not angry with me. 'Haps I am the one who should apologize."

"Nay, there's no need of it."

"Good. Because I'm not sorry."

Did she have to be so damned honest and look so enticing at the same time?

"Glare at me all you wish." She smiled. "'Twas a bit of indulgence, aye?"

He focused forward again, determined not to get pulled in by her allure. "Aye. It won't happen again."

"A pity," she mumbled, but he heard her clearly despite the gust of wind that near shoved his breath back down his throat.

Damnation if she wasn't pursuing him. Was she mad? Or was she trying to avoid marriage to a MacLeod? If he stole her, there would be clan wars. He feared no one, but he wouldn't put the lives of his clansmen on the line because of his own lusts.

If she'd been unattached, he wouldn't have a problem dallying with a widow. In fact, young widows were his favorite to share bed-sport with. They were somewhat experienced and often deprived. Eager.

Isobel had kissed him eagerly last night. But he didn't indulge with young widows who were spoken for, even if they were near irresistible.

"Was that all you wished to talk about or was there something else?" she asked when they neared the open portcullis.

"There is more. We'll talk in the library."

∞∞∞

"This is the room my father always used to conduct official business," Dirk said, opening the ancient carved oak door.

Isobel entered but could see little in the dimness. Pausing inside the open door, she watched Dirk light a candle from the low-burning hearth fire. He used this to light two more candles in a candelabra sitting on the worn table. Two benches sat along each side of it, and chairs at either end. Old faded tapestries depicting galleys filled with warriors decorated two of the stone walls.

She wouldn't have called the room a library for, although there was one bookcase, it contained no books. Just some loose parchments and rolled documents. The window was tall and narrow with a splendid view of the bay in the gloaming.

"Have a seat." Dirk motioned toward a carved, regal-looking chair by the hearth where a peat fire burned.

"'Tis your chair. I cannot possibly—"

"Nay. 'Tis no one's chair at the moment."

She sat on the chair's worn blue velvet cushion and held her hands closer to the fire. "I'm certain they'll name you chief at the hearing." They were mad if they didn't. She had never met a man more suited to be a chief.

"I'm hoping they will. And I'm relieved that Aiden doesn't truly wish to be chief. If he did, this would be much harder." He turned one of the chairs at the table and carried it closer to the hearth for himself.

"I'm certain of it." She admired the close bond between Dirk and his younger brother and loved the thought that Dirk didn't wish to hurt the lad. "His gift is music rather than leadership."

"Indeed. As you know, Haldane went to retrieve his mother."

She nodded, remembering the young man's scathing response to her. She'd be happy if she never had to face him again. He was a menace.

"You know Maighread Gordon, of course," Dirk said.

"Aye. Since she and my mother were friends, she came to visit a few times when I was growing up. My mother thought highly of her."

"She can have a charming façade at times, but it hides one of the most cunning and evil minds I've yet seen."