"Aye?"

"I love you." Her words and her wee smile lit up the dark corners of his heart.

Scarce able to breathe, he pulled her up into his arms. "And I love you," he whispered into her ear, but even those words seemed inadequate. "You are my life," he added, hoping to tell her how much she meant to him. "And you near scared the life out of me, Isobel."

"I'm sorry." Her arms went around him, holding him close.

He kissed her forehead, her eyes and her cheeks. Saints, how he cherished her.

She giggled and tears streamed from her eyes.

He pulled back a few inches. "Don't cry. What's wrong?"

"You love me," she breathed, her throat obviously constricted.

"Of course I do, but 'tis naught to cry over." He stroked her tears away with his thumb.

"I was afraid you wouldn't," she confessed.

He gave her an exaggerated frown. "How could I not? You bewitched me and stole my heart."

She grinned. "I wish we could get married today."

"As do I, but we might have to wait a day or two until you and Aiden are fully recovered."

"Oh, m'lady, you're awake!" Beitris rushed into the room. "Thank the heavens."

Dirk released Isobel and rose from the bed to pace about the room.

Beitris fussed around her for several moments, plumping her pillows, asking how she felt, and if she was hungry.

After Beitris hurried out in search of oat porridge, Isobel said, "I'm so glad you don't like tarts."

Dirk gazed into her dark eyes, knowing what she was thinking.

"If you did, you would have eaten double the poison I did and mayhap died." Tears glimmered in her eyes.

Seating himself on the bed again facing her, he kissed her forehead. "Shh. 'Tis over."

Wiping her eyes, she nodded, then gave a wry grin. "I'm thinking I won't like tarts as much in the future."

He doubted that, and she didn't have to worry. He was releasing anyone associated with Maighread from his employ. In addition, he was pressing charges against Levina for attempted murder.

"Maybe you should see how Aiden is while Beitris helps me bathe and brush my hair. I want to be more presentable," Isobel said, attempting to comb her fingers through the snarls of her dark brown hair. "I must look a fright."

"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.