"Don't fash yourself over it. I simply wanted to find you safe, and thanks to MacKay, you are. Now, I want to know what this Nolan MacLeod did," Cyrus said.

Isobel gave him the same details she'd given Dirk on their journey here about the attempted rape and how they'd fought. The knave had broken her finger and she'd knocked him on the head with a stoneware jug.

"Good for you, sister. I cannot believe I trusted those bastards." Cyrus sat back in his chair.

"I cannot marry Torrin MacLeod now. You must know that."

"Aye, of course not. As long as his brother lives, he would be a danger to you."

A surge of relief rushed through Dirk. Now, he but had to get Cyrus's permission to marry Isobel. Would he agree to the arrangement?

"I thank you for understanding," Isobel said.

"Let me see your broken finger."

She held it out to Cyrus. She'd put the splint on again, Dirk noticed, after he'd fussed at her about not wearing it when she was bathing him. Och. He had to put that experience from his mind or he'd end up getting aroused at a very bad time.

"Who set it?" Cyrus asked.

"Laird MacKay and his friend, Laird Rebbinglen, did a splendid job on it. It is healing well." Isobel glanced at Dirk, her eyes dark and tempting as a siren. Though it had been hellishly difficult, he'd stayed away from her as much as possible over the last several days. He needed to make sure she was his and no one else's before they indulged too many times betwixt the sheets. 'Twas far too easy to become addicted to her and want her five times a day.

"Were you hurt in any other way?" her brother asked.

"I had a bruise on my face and a knot on the back of my head from the scuffle with Nolan, but it was not terribly painful."

"The bastard," Cyrus muttered under his breath, then turned to Dirk. "I thank you, Chief MacKay, for helping my sister." He held his hand out and Dirk shook it.

"My pleasure. And please, call me Dirk." He faced Isobel. "If you would give us a moment in private, Lady Isobel."

She sent him a suspicious and curious narrow-eyed look. "Very well." She exited, closing the door behind her.

Would she eavesdrop outside the door again as she had when he and Conall had talked? Dirk slipped to the door and opened it, finding her a few feet away, along with Erskine, guarding him. He gave Isobel a pointed look. She rolled her eyes and disappeared down the short corridor toward the great hall.

"Don't let her near the door," he murmured to Erskine. "I don't want her eavesdropping."

"Aye, chief."

Dirk closed the door and joined Cyrus at the table. "I need to ask something of you," Dirk said, sudden nerves seizing him. He had never done this before, nor had he witnessed anyone else making such a grand request. He hoped he would do it right.

"Aye, what is it?"

"I ask you…" Dirk cleared his throat. "I request Lady Isobel's hand in marriage."

Chapter Twenty-Four

"What?" Cyrus's dark brows lowered, giving him the look of a thunderous warlord. "You want to marry Isobel?"

"Aye," Dirk said, feeling the restless urge to spring from his chair and pace the library. "If her betrothal to MacLeod is off, I would like to marry her."

"Why?" her brother asked in a hard tone.

"Well… many reasons." Dirk's stomach knotted and he hoped he didn't get tongue-tied. "She is the loveliest lass I've yet laid eyes on. I'm newly a chief, and the clan elders are already dogging me about finding a bride." Those were two valid reasons—the least important ones he could think of, but he couldn't simply blurt out that he'd already bedded Isobel and that he was falling in love with her. Or, worst of all, that she might already be carrying his bairn. No brother would want to hear that.

Cyrus eyed him shrewdly. "I ken she's a widow, but have you compromised her?"

Hell, was it that obvious? "In truth, I have," Dirk admitted, shamed that he had little around Isobel, but at the same time, not truly regretting their astounding intimate encounters. "I hope you will not hold it against me."

The MacKenzie's jaw clenched and his face hardened. "Damned if having a beautiful sister isn't hell on earth," he grumbled.

"I apologize for my lack of restraint. But I do care for her… a great deal."

"I can see that. And you protected her well." Cyrus studied him. "You know, this younger brother of yours—Haldane—claimed you're an imposter. I remember hearing that you had an accident and died many years ago. But you are the Dirk I remember. What happened?"

Dirk explained how he'd had to leave Durness twelve years ago and why.

"Your stepmother is still trying to kill you?"

"Aye. I assume that's why she sent her son to the MacLeods. Hoping they'd come down hard on me for rescuing Lady Isobel, claiming I'd stolen her or taken her hostage."

"The MacLeods had best not say a word to you or they'll have me to answer to," Cyrus growled. "I still may skewer that Nolan worm. Any man who injures a woman, or tries to force her, is lower than the sod beneath my feet."

"We're in agreement on that."

"I think we agree on a lot of things. I'll consider it an honor to be your brother-in-law." Cyrus offered his hand for a hearty shake.

Dirk was pleased beyond measure. "I thank you, and likewise. I'll take care of your sister and protect her with my life."

"Och. You're a good man, MacKay." Cyrus shook his head. "She'll need your protection. The lass gets into more scrapes than the dirty-faced village lads."

Dirk grinned.

"I'd like to talk to Isobel for a moment to see if she's in agreement," Cyrus said. "I'm sure she will be, considering that doe-eyed look she gave you. And then I'll have to deal with the MacLeods."

Dirk nodded. "I'll send her in." He opened the door and proceeded into the corridor.

"Chief," Erskine said. "The MacLeod is demanding entrance. He wishes to talk to you and Chief MacKenzie right away about his brother."

***

"Would you and your men be willing to help me capture our escaped prisoners, including Haldane and McMurdo?" Dirk asked Cyrus as they proceeded across the bailey. "They're murderers and horse thieves, the lot of them."

"Aye, I'll be glad to, and Nolan MacLeod can be among them for all I care."

"I'd prefer to strangle the bastard," Dirk muttered, once again envisioning Isobel's broken finger, the bruise on her face and how much pain she'd been in.

"I'll help." Cyrus gave an evil grin. "But first we need to see what Torrin MacLeod wishes to speak to us about and find out what he's going to do about his brother."

Approaching the portcullis, Dirk saw that Torrin MacLeod waited there alone, a grim scowl on his face, his shoulders tense.

"Aye. What did you want to tell us?" Dirk asked.

"I spoke to Nolan."

"What did the coward say?" Cyrus asked.

"He said he didn't touch Lady Isobel and claims he's insulted that I'd accuse him of such."

"He's lying," Dirk said.

Torrin glared at him.

"I ken he's your brother, but he's a liar and a snake in the grass. He broke Isobel's finger and put a bruise on her face. These I saw with my own eyes, as did my friend, Rebbinglen, and two servants. We had to set her broken finger. If she hadn't knocked Nolan out with that stoneware jug, he would've raped her."