"Step aside, sister," he growled then stormed into the room.
"What is…?" His eyes ran over Isobel in bed beside Dirk. "What the hell is going on here? Is this a jest?"
"He was almost frozen to death. I was but warming him with my body heat."
He gave a nasty laugh. "Aye. I'm certain."
"What do you want?" Dirk growled low.
"Stay away from Aiden. You almost got him killed. And release McMurdo from the dungeon. He's done naught."
Dirk grunted. "You're daft if you're thinking I'll do either."
"You're not chief! You can't order that anyone be held."
"Get out, Haldane. And not a word to anyone." Jessie tried to shove him toward the door, but, being much larger, he hardly budged.
Oh blast! Haldane would tell his mother. And then she'd think Isobel and Dirk were having a tryst. Maighread might not trust Isobel as much after that. Or she might send someone to tell the MacLeod that Dirk had stolen his bride. Isobel would have to talk to her and assure her she was saving a man's life, not seducing him.
With a muttered curse, Haldane finally stomped from the room and Rebbie left too, giving Isobel the privacy she craved. Although Nannag still sat hunched before the hearth, she was focused on her healing herbs and making a tisane.
Isobel slipped out of bed and quickly draped the arisaid around her like a blanket, trying to avoid looking at Dirk. She couldn't believe he was aroused, considering he was injured and near frozen. Did naught keep a virile man down? That gave her a different sort of heated shivers.
Nannag washed the blood from Dirk's head to better examine his wound. "It bled a plenty, but 'tis only a wee cut and won't need stitching."
Isobel was glad to hear this, but she noticed the area around the tiny cut was turning a reddish-violet color.
A moment later, the healer brought the wooden cup forward. "Here, sir. Drink this." Despite her advanced age, she was a lively little woman with a strong voice.
Isobel helped Dirk raise his head off the pillow while he drank several sips.
"There now. That's good." Nannag took the cup away.
"What is in that?" Isobel asked, realizing too late that she didn't know if the healer was trustworthy.
"'Tis a secret blend for head injuries."
Isobel frowned. Herbs could heal or they could kill. Could Nannag be a pawn of Maighread? The blood in Isobel's veins chilled.
"Never fear, my dear. The recipe was passed down through many generations of my family and has healed many a warrior and removed the pain of wounds."
Isobel nodded, still unsure if the woman could have underhanded motives. "I thank you for helping him."
"I remember this man's great-grandfather." She smiled proudly. "My first responsibility is always to the chief of the MacKays and their sons. What about you?"
Although glad Nannag appeared loyal, Isobel frowned, wondering what the woman meant by her question. "What about me?"
"Why are you helping him so much, lass?" Her brows lifted in a quizzical manner, deepening the wrinkles in her forehead.
"Because he helped me. If he hadn't rescued me in that snowstorm, I might not be alive now." Of course, that wasn't the only reason, but it was the only one she was willing to give. No one need know how much she cared about him.
The elderly healer sent her an impish smile. "Well then, dear lass, you're lucky he found you." She gathered her things and waddled out the door, meeting Aiden and Erskine in the doorway.
They entered and approached the bed. "How are you feeling, brother?" Aiden asked.
Dirk opened his eyes. "I'm well, lads. Tell Keegan and the rest of the men that I'll live."
"I'll be guarding from the hallway if you should need anything," Erskine said.