Page 55 of My Brave Highlander

He entered the stables, glad to discover the wind didn't reach this warmer, protected corner. He approached Tulloch's stall. The animal nickered, which helped Dirk find the black horse in the dimness. Dirk stroked his muzzle. Aye, for the most part, he got along with horses better than people. Although he was thankful for friends like Rebbie, the rogue was trying his patience with the way he'd been flirting with Isobel.

Dirk focused on the person who had followed him. Faint quick footsteps slapped against the icy stones.

The person who paused at the stable entrance was small and slight. Female.

Isobel?

She was the last person he expected to trail him into the winter wind. Her head was covered in her dark plaid. A mantle wrapped her slender frame.

"Dirk?" Her breath fogged. "Are you well?"

The familiar way she spoke his name sent an odd longing through him. Standing in the darkest portion of the stable, he was near struck immobile to see her here. He'd expected a confrontation from some long lost enemy. Or some teasing from Rebbie. But not her.

"Aye. What are you doing out here in the cold, Lady Isobel?"

"I could ask you the same question." She moved forward, closer to him.

"I don't care for noisy crowds."

"Nor do I."

He snorted, remembering how she'd joined in the revelry, dancing for all she was worth. "Not certain I believe that."

"Why? Because I enjoy a dance now and then?"

He shrugged, though he was almost certain she couldn't see this. There was naught wrong with enjoying a dance. In fact, he wished he could do the same, but he didn't feel comfortable doing so.

"You should've asked me to dance," she said in a flirtatious tone that riveted his attention.

Saints! What could he say except the truth? "I'm not much for dancing."

"Hmm. What do you like to do?"

Did she really expect him to answer that? He didn't think she'd appreciate swiving as an answer. Hell, he could think of naught intelligent to say. Nothing witty or teasing like Rebbie might convey. He felt daft at the moment, then he realized why. He rarely talked to women. For a certainty, he'd indulged in bed sport with plenty of females, but he didn't carry on conversations with them.

"So… you're not much for dancing, or talking," Isobel said. "Nor do you like eating, judging by the things you left on your trencher. Let me guess. You enjoy riding, fighting, hunting. Swordplay. Rescuing helpless females."

Heat rushed over him. Not simply embarrassment, but also sexual awareness. "You are no helpless female."

"I was basically… when you found me."

"'Haps." He stroked the horse's muzzle, his mind struggling for a response. But he was in no mood for a conversation. All he could think about was Isobel's lushness. The memory of carrying her back to bed was imprinted on his mind and body. He recalled exactly how her light weight and curves felt in his arms, and the tingle of excitement that raced over him when she'd kissed his neck.

"Did I thank you?" she asked.

"Aye. And you're most welcome."

"This is Tulloch, is it not?"

"Aye."

She lifted her hand as if to pet the warhorse, which was far taller than she. "Will he bite me?"

"I hope not."

"That's reassuring," she said dryly.

Dirk snickered, not realizing until this moment that talking to a woman could be entertaining.