Chapter Five #4
She wasn't sure whether that was a lie or not.
They indeed had not been married six months.
She was unaccustomed to lying and unsure if she could keep up the farce.
But perhaps pretending marriage to Dirk would be good practice.
Where had that thought come from? Did that mean she wanted to be married to Dirk?
"Well, lad, you got yourself a beauty," Lewis proclaimed, eying her. He quirked a brow. "Is that a bruise on her face?"
"I fell from my husband's monstrous horse," she blurted. "And broke a finger in the process." She held up her hand to show him, hoping he believed her poorly thought out story.
"Och. You will have to be more careful. Which clan are you from?"
"MacDonald of Glencoe," Dirk said. "And this is my good friend, Robert MacInnis, Earl of Rebbinglen."
Lewis's eyes widened and he bowed. "'Tis my great honor to meet you, m'laird. I did not ken I had the privilege of hosting a man of such elevated rank."
"The pleasure is all mine. And I thank you for your generous hospitality."
The older man waved a hand through the air. "I only hope you are able to eat our humble food. I must say though, Mattie's Highland pie is tasty."
"I'm certain 'tis far better than the day old bannocks we've been eating."
"'Haps."
Isobel's stomach growled loudly in the moment of silence. She placed her hand against it, cringing.
"I'm thinking the lass is famished. Have you not been feeding her, lad?"
"Aye, when she's willing to eat," Dirk said, his face a bit flushed.
Was he blushing? Isobel could not imagine it.
Lewis laughed and motioned them toward a separate dining room. "I smell those Highland pies."
Isobel did too. The combined scents of baked venison, onions and other vegetables made her mouth water.
"Seat yourselves at the table and Mattie will bring out some food."
"Have you had word of my father?" Dirk asked, pulling out a chair for Isobel.
"Nay," Lewis said. "Only that he has been ill. I've seen no one from Durness in a month or more."
"I hope he still lives." Dirk seated himself beside Isobel.
"As do I, lad," the older man said. "Your da is a good man, one of the best in these parts."
Dirk nodded. The sadness in his eyes compelled Isobel to clasp his hand. She wanted to do more, perhaps pull him into her arms, and tell him she understood. Losing her own father had near killed her.
Staring down at her hand, Dirk gently squeezed her fingers for a moment, then released her. She pulled her hand away, feeling bereft, missing his warm strong hand. His touch was comforting, but also exciting.
"Why did I hear you'd died?" Lewis asked him.
Dirk sent a sharp glance her way. "'Twas a rumor that went 'round when I left."
"Gossips," the man grumbled.
Why had Dirk given her such a look?
Moments later, a gray-haired woman wearing a red kerch and a much younger one with brown hair and a sweet, angelic face served the steaming Highland pies. She assumed the older woman was Mattie, the cook Lewis had raved about.
The savory, baked onion scent made Isobel's stomach ache and grumble. The dish consisted of meat, onions, carrots and turnips in a flaky crust, served on a wooden trencher. Sliced oat bread was provided in the center of the table, and each person was provided a tankard of ale.
After Lewis said grace, he encouraged them all to eat-up.
Isobel didn't have to be told twice. After cutting the individually portioned pie apart and letting it cool for a few seconds, she devoured a large bite. "Delicious," she commented, tempted to moan in delight.
"Indeed," Dirk said.
Moments later, she glanced up to find Dirk watching her, questions in his eyes, before he focused again on eating.
What was going through his mind? When she got him alone, she'd ask him why he was watching her with a strange, pointed look.
Surely he didn't think she'd started the rumors about him dying.
"'Tis the best meal I've had in ages," Rebbie said once they'd finished.
Dirk and Isobel agreed.
After consuming more than she should have, she stood, proceeding from the room in front of the men. Beitris had eaten the same fare in the kitchen with the other servants.
"I have a small cottage next door," Lewis said. "My daughter and her family stay in it when they visit in summer, but 'tis empty now. Dirk, you and your bride can stay there tonight. I've had my manservant build a fire in the hearth. The cottage should be warm by now."
Heavens! Lewis MacLeod could not be serious. He expected her and Dirk to sleep in the same bed? Or were there two beds in the cottage?
"That isn't necessary," Dirk said. "I'm fine with sleeping here on the floor."
"Nonsense, man. With the beds here in this cottage and the one next door, there is plenty of room for everyone to have a soft, comfortable bed, even your servants."
"Sounds like a grand plan," Rebbie said. Though he held back a grin, humor danced in his devilish eyes.
Dirk shot a lethal glare at his friend, then his troubled gaze ran over Isobel. He turned back to Lewis. "Very well, then. I thank you for your generosity."
The older man gave a brief bow and headed toward the door. "I'll show you to the cottage, m'lady."