Keegan rowed and they quickly arrived at the boat landing. Once in the outer cave, Dirk guided Aiden, quaking with cold, toward the small fire at the back of the cave. The men had built it up and added more dried driftwood.

"What the hell happened? You took a swim?" Rebbie asked.

"Aye, that bastard knocked Aiden overboard and I went in to help him."

"He's a good brother," Aiden said, his teeth chattering.

Rebbie nodded. "You two best get dried off before we head outside into the wind."

The cave was in a protected location, tucked between two cliff walls. And the heat of the fire had warmed the walls of rock here in the back of the cave. It would take some time to dry all their clothes. The lick on the head smarted and Dirk felt somewhat dizzy. Everything grew black and he felt himself falling over but could do naught about it.

"Dirk?" Someone pried his eye open. He frowned, focusing on Rebbie's blurry face above him.

"You had a serious injury, my friend. That gash on your head is bleeding badly."

"We have to get him to the castle where the healer is," Keegan said. At least Dirk thought it was Keegan. His thinking wasn't too clear at the moment.

"His clothes are still too wet to leave the cave," Rebbie said. "And so are yours, Aiden."

"Nay, my plaid is always wet in winter. The wool is warmer when wet."

"I'm thinking his trews are not wool, but a thick linen instead."

"We'll pull them off him then."

"No one is touching my trews," Dirk growled. "I'm well." He shoved to his feet, gritting his teeth against the pain in his head and fighting the dizziness. He refused to show weakness before the men. What kind of chief would he be if he was so easily brought to his knees? He'd fought in far more grisly battles. Rebbie and someone else caught him before he realized he'd staggered.

"McMurdo?" he asked.

"Tied up," Keegan said.

"What are we waiting for?" Dirk demanded. "Let's get him to the dungeon."

"We're waiting for your trews to dry, brother," Aiden said.

"My trews are fine just as they are." He headed toward the cave opening, pretending to ignore how the cold air chilled his wet hair and scalp. He pulled his wool mantle's cowl over his head. That was much warmer, but he was still dizzy and his head ached so strongly he couldn't think clearly. He hoped he could make it up the narrow path that led to the top of the cliffs.

He struggled up the pathway, agonizingly placing one foot in front of the other. Once at the top, the splitting ache in his head increased to near unbearable. Must have been the exertion of the climb. The wind pounded against him strongly, the temperature like ice. It plastered his wet trews to his legs. Surely they would freeze solid in a matter of minutes. Though he could hardly feel his legs, he moved forward, felt himself falling and all went black.

Chapter Sixteen

Isobel couldn't sleep after Dirk and his men had gone to find McMurdo. Who knew what the murdering highwayman would do? She lurked in a dark nook beneath a stairwell. What if Dirk never returned? Nay, she couldn't think of that. He meant too much to her to even contemplate something terrible happening to him.

At one point, Haldane and Maighread had come rushing back from outside and up the stairs, arguing in low tones. She only heard a word here or there and it made no sense. Apparently, they knew the men were onto them.

Praying Dirk would return safely, she waited. A long while later, loud voices of several men echoed from the great hall.

Isobel rushed from her hiding place. When she arrived in the dimly lit hall, she froze at the scene before her. Two men helped Dirk shuffle across the floor, one under each arm. His eyes were closed more than open. The side of his face and his hair were bloody.

She hurried toward them. "What's happened? He's bleeding terribly, and he's drenched."

"The highwayman kicked me off the boat as we were crossing through the cave," Aiden said, his thin body shivering and his teeth chattering as he stood before the fireplace. "Dirk jumped in and saved my life, then the bastard grabbed an oar and hit Dirk on the head."

Bastard was right. She'd like to take that oar to McMurdo's head. Dirk looked terrible, his skin pale and his lips a faint blue.

"He's freezing! Let's get him out of those wet clothes and he'll warm up," she said.

"I'm fine," Dirk growled between clenched teeth, his body starting to shiver and shake. "I'll… my chamber."

He staggered toward the steps. Clearly he was more injured than he would admit.

"Bring some hot water and whisky," she directed one of the male servants who had been sleeping in the hall. "Where is the healer?" His wound would need cleaning and a healing balm applied.

"I'll fetch her," Aiden said.

"Your clothes are wet too, Aiden."

"Aye. I'll change," he called as he trotted away.

Dirk moved under his own power slowly up the narrow turnpike stair. Two of his clansmen followed and Isobel brought up the rear. How long had he been out in the freezing wind, drenched as he was? He was sure to catch an ague. Once in his chamber, he fell onto his bed.

"Help me get him out of those icy wet clothes," she said to the two men.

"Wool is warmer when it's wet," Keegan said.

"Well then, why are his lips turning blue?"

The man frowned.

"Stoke the fire. I'll do this." She removed Dirk's mantle then the layers of wool tartan frozen in icicles. His linen shirt stuck to his skin. Saints! She untied his trews and yanked at them. Erskine helped her turn him over and slip the clothing from his back.

"Leave me be," Dirk grumbled.

"Nay. Do you want to die?" she asked.

She threw a dry wool blanket over him and tugged his trews off.

"What happened?" asked a shrunken ancient woman from the doorway.

"Are you the healer?" Isobel asked.

"Aye. I'm Nannag."

"Thank goodness you're here. Someone hit him on the head with a wooden oar. He's bleeding badly and near frozen."

Once all Dirk's wet clothes were piled in a heap on the floor, she covered him with another woolen blanket.

The two men left and the healer examined the gash on Dirk's forehead. "It has stopped bleeding. We'll wash the blood away and see if the wound needs stitching. I'll fetch the necessary herbs for a tea." She disappeared out the door.

Dirk's skin retained the unhealthy bluish pallor and powerful shivers racked his body. He needed warmth immediately and the heat from the small fireplace would not reach the bed for a long while.

Isobel unclasped her belt and lowered her arisaid to the floor. Removing everything excerpt her thin linen smock, she crawled beneath the blankets and lay on top of him. Heavens, his whole body was like a solid block of ice.

He sucked in a sharp breath and his cold hands clasped her waist, giving her a chill. He mumbled words Isobel couldn't decipher. His breath smelled of whisky. Perhaps one of the men had given him some to help warm his veins.

"Shh. Just rest. I'll get you warm again." She kissed his neck, thankful he had returned to her. His skin was so cold she worried he might have frostbite.

His body quaked with another severe bout of shivers. Hopefully he was gradually warming, for he had not even been shivering when he'd first arrived at the castle.

"Oh, Lady Isobel! What are you doing?" Jessie asked in a surprised whisper.