Page 96 of My Brave Highlander

"He found another lass more to his liking. They are now in a temporary marriage. He'll probably tire of her in a few months. Men are fickle."

"I hope not all men are." Indeed, what if Dirk tired of her? But what did it matter, since they weren't in any sort of marriage, temporary or otherwise?

"I haven't been around my brother much since we were bairns so I couldn't say if he is fickle or not. If he is canny, he will marry you."

A thrill raced through Isobel at the thought. "I would like that, but I don't want a man who is forced to marry me. He should do it because he wants to. The bigger problem is I'm already betrothed to someone else."

Jessie nodded and sat down on a stool near the hearth. "I ken it. What is he like?"

"Torrin MacLeod is a nice enough looking man—brown hair, green eyes, almost thirty summers. But he is in love with a village lass, 'haps the daughter of a crofter, and has children with her. At least that's what his knave of a brother told me. The clan will not allow him to marry her. He but wanted to marry me for the three hundred acres in my dowry. And 'haps for an heir."

"What a horse's arse," Jessie grumbled.

"His brother is even worse." She'd already told Jessie about the incident at Munrick and how she'd near bashed in Nolan's head.

"Men think women are naught but animals for breeding purposes," Jessie said. "What we want matters not at all. I don't care if I never marry. Likely, I'd be happier staying here with my family."

"Aye, 'tis true. My brother wouldn't allow me to stay home any longer. He's unfeeling and harsh at times, but protective of the clan."

"When Dirk becomes chief, he'd best not try to make me marry some grouchy old bastard," Jessie said.

Isobel snickered. "You are more like your brother than you realize."

Jessie gave a sheepish grin. "I suppose so. Are you ready for the hearing? I hope Dirk will officially be appointed chief soon, but I fear Maighread will do something to stop him."

∞∞∞

"Well, look at you, chief," Rebbie said as soon as Dirk left his bedchamber and stepped into the corridor.

"What?" Dirk asked, wondering if Rebbie had also been here when Isobel had exited a short while ago. He hoped not.

"You look like a true Highlander now with that belted plaid and no trews to hide those hairy calves."

"Kiss my arse." Dirk strode away, the two-handed Highland sword strapped to his back thumping against his hip.

Rebbie snickered and caught up with him at the end of the corridor. "How are you feeling, by the way?"

"Better." Dirk only had a mild headache this morn. Although not pleasant, it was tolerable.

"I'd say you had one hell of a night," Rebbie said.

"What are you talking about?" Dirk paused, hoping—nay, praying—Rebbie knew naught of what had happened between him and Isobel.

When Rebbie gave a knowing chuckle, Dirk realized the truth of it.

"Spying on me now?" Dirk demanded.

Rebbie shook his head, hardly able to contain his amusement. At least he was trying to keep it low key so as not to draw attention. "I came to check on you earlier and I heard you two arguing."

"Eavesdropping? That's low, even for you."

"I couldn't hear what you were saying, despite a few yells." He snorted. "Besides, Erskine guarded your door all night. He knows Isobel never left your room until this morn."

"Some guard he is if he can't even keep his mouth shut. I'm going to have a talk with him. Where is he now, by the way?"

"He needed to go relieve himself, so I told him I'd guard you for a little while. He's new to it. And he figured you wouldn't mind if I knew about Isobel."

"I do mind. I was injured and the healer gave me some kind of drugging potion. Most likely opium poppy. I was not myself and hardly remember it."