"You are beautiful." Truly she was. Never had there been a more appealing sight than her smile, which she now gifted him with.
"I thank you for staying by my side and helping me so much during the night."
"You remember that?" he asked.
"Of course, I do. You were very gentle and comforting."
Dirk hated when his face heated.
"Are you blushing again?" she asked with an impish grin.
"Nay. Are you cold?" He rose and paced the fireplace. Taking the poker, he stirred at the glowing coals, then added a brick of peat.
"Though no one would guess it, you are the sweetest man I know."
"Hmph. No one else needs to know that, especially not Rebbie." Propping the poker to the side of the hearth, he paced to the window but couldn't help glancing her way. She gave him a bright smile and he relished it.
When Beitris returned with a steaming bowl of watery oat porridge, Dirk knew that was his prompt to leave the room while Isobel ate, bathed, and had her hair brushed. He wanted very badly to kiss her before walking out, but decided Beitris might be shocked senseless and overturn the porridge.
Determined that he'd return in a half hour, Dirk strode to Aiden's room. He was only now awakening. The sound of the door squeaking open must have startled him.
Dirk nodded to Uncle Conall who sat by his bedside. "How do you feel, brother?" Dirk asked, taking the other chair.
Aiden swiped his hair out of his eyes. "Better than last night. What the devil happened?"
"Do you remember the tart you shared with Isobel? My tart?"
Aiden nodded.
"Well… your mother ordered the baker to poison it in an attempt to kill me again."
"Saints! How could she do such a vile thing?" Wild-eyed, Aiden looked from Dirk to Conall and back again. "I must speak to her." He shoved the covers back.
"Aiden." Dirk shook his head. "Your mother is dead."
The lad's eyes widened and his jaw went slack, reminding Dirk of how he'd looked as a child. "What? How?" he asked softly.
"She charged me with a dagger last night when I confronted her about the poisoning." Dirk hated to tell his brother the news. Even though Aiden knew she was a murderer, he still loved her. "For your sake, I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you."
"I'm not sorry," Aiden said with a troubled frown. "As long as she lived, she would've never given up on killing you. You did what you had to."
Dirk nodded. "I thank you for understanding."
"How is Lady Isobel? Was she as sick as I was?"
"Aye. If either you or Isobel had eaten the entire tart, that person would likely be dead. I truly can't imagine losing either one of you." Dirk was grateful for both his brother and the woman who would be his wife.
"You are the best of brothers, and even though it made both of us sick, I'm glad Isobel and I ate the tart instead of you. It might have killed you."
That sentiment warmed Dirk's heart. 'Twas good to be with family again. "I wish no one had eaten the tart."
"Aye. Mother was mad," Aiden said. "Just because she loved me was no reason to kill people for my benefit. I certainly didn't want her to do any of it."
"I know."
"Does Haldane know of her death yet?"
Dirk shook his head. "None of us have seen Haldane in days. The outlaws who were brought in were three of his friends, captured when they'd gone back to their parents' cottages for supplies."
"I fear that he'll keep trying to kill you, brother, imagining that he can take over as chief. He may even want revenge for Mother's death."
***
Three days later, the tables in the great hall had been pushed against the walls and the massive fireplace decorated with dried heather, ribbons and evergreen boughs… at least Jessie told Isobel they had been. She had not been down to the great hall yet this morn since it was her wedding day.
A winter snowstorm was blasting Durness—all was white and blustery outside the windows—and they'd decided against holding the wedding in the church. Although Isobel and Aiden had recovered almost fully, Dirk refused to allow either of them to go outside until the weather improved.
Wearing her wedding attire, Isobel could not wait for the cue to descend the stairs. The boisterous laughter and revelry told her the clans were enjoying starting the celebration early.
Hearing footsteps, she glanced out the door to see her brother, wearing a nice belted plaid of dark blue, white and green, making his way down the corridor. Jessie and Beitris adjusted her veil and her plaid sash, then Jessie handed Isobel a small bouquet of dried heather and greenery.
"Are you ready for your wedding, sister?" Cyrus asked.
"Aye, more than ready." She'd been tempted all morning to make a mad dash down the stairs to find Dirk. She hadn't been allowed to see him all day.
Cyrus grinned and offered his elbow. "I wish Mother and Father could be here today," he said as they moved along the corridor. "They would be so happy for you, because you've found what they had."
"Aye. Cease or you'll make me cry." Tears already burned her eyes and Dirk hated to see her crying.
Cyrus chuckled. "Very well. Today is for happiness only."
"Indeed."
Once they'd descended the turnpike stair, single-file, she took his elbow again and they proceeded into the great hall. Aiden played a lovely ballad on his flute while they walked down an aisle in the middle of the dozens in attendance from all three clans.
Where he waited before the massive fireplace with the reverend, Dirk smiled, looking so handsome in his blue and black belted plaid, a fancy black doublet and all the finishing touches. Seeing how happy he looked, she wanted to run to him and fling herself into his arms. Instead, she marched sedately beside her brother, her smile so broad her cheeks ached. Tears of joy threatened but she kept them under control.
Rebbie, standing beside Dirk, briefly elbowed him in the ribs, but she was glad to see that Dirk wouldn't take his eyes off her. Instead, he smiled wider.
Once Cyrus handed her off to Dirk, he grasped her hand and kissed it.
Dirk distracted her so much, 'twas difficult to pay attention to the reverend's words. She only knew she wanted to be his wife and cherish him always. Once they finished their vows and Reverend MacMahon announced they were man and wife, Dirk drew her to him and kissed her in a lingering and delicious way that enslaved her senses. Could she drag him to his bed now?
She wrapped her arms around his neck and, between kisses, whispered, "I love you."
"I love you too, lass," he murmured against her ear, lifted her and swung her around, making her even dizzier. She laughed.
A boisterous cheer went up, along with several bawdy whistles from the crowd. Aiden played a lively, joyful tune on his violin. Everyone congratulated them, shaking hands and embracing them.
A short time later, Jessie pointed them toward the decorated high table. The rest of the tables in the hall were assembled and moved into place so the feast could begin.
Reverend MacMahon said grace and then the first course of food was served. Aiden began playing The Laird o' Logie. She grasped Dirk's hand, tears coming to her eyes.
He leaned to whisper in her ear. "Shh, lass. Don't cry."
"You are my dream come true," she whispered back.
He kissed her, but that only made her cry harder because she was so happy.
Epilogue