My Brave Highlander

by Vonda Sinclair

  "Men think women are naught but animals for breeding purposes," Jessie said. "What we want matters not at all. I don't care if I never marry. Likely, I'd be happier staying here with my family."

  "Aye, 'tis true. My brother wouldn't allow me to stay home any longer. He's unfeeling and harsh at times, but protective of the clan."

  "When Dirk becomes chief, he'd best not try to make me marry some grouchy old bastard," Jessie said.

  Isobel snickered. "You are more like your brother than you realize."

  Jessie gave a sheepish grin. "I suppose so. Are you ready for the hearing? I hope Dirk will officially be appointed chief soon, but I fear Maighread will do something to stop him."

  ***

  "Well, look at you, chief," Rebbie said as soon as Dirk left his bedchamber and stepped into the corridor.

  "What?" Dirk asked, wondering if Rebbie had also been here when Isobel had exited a short while ago. He hoped not.

  "You look like a true Highlander now with that belted plaid and no trews to hide those hairy calves."

  "Kiss my arse." Dirk strode away, the two-handed Highland sword strapped to his back thumping against his hip.

  Rebbie snickered and caught up with him at the end of the corridor. "How are you feeling, by the way?"

  "Better." Dirk only had a mild headache this morn. Although not pleasant, it was tolerable.

  "I'd say you had one hell of a night," Rebbie said.

  "What are you talking about?" Dirk paused, hoping—nay, praying—Rebbie knew naught of what had happened between him and Isobel.

  When Rebbie gave a knowing chuckle, Dirk realized the truth of it.

  "Spying on me now?" Dirk demanded.

  Rebbie shook his head, hardly able to contain his amusement. At least he was trying to keep it low key so as not to draw attention. "I came to check on you earlier and I heard you two arguing."

  "Eavesdropping? That's low, even for you."

  "I couldn't hear what you were saying, despite a few yells." He snorted. "Besides, Erskine guarded your door all night. He knows Isobel never left your room until this morn."

  "Some guard he is if he can't even keep his mouth shut. I'm going to have a talk with him. Where is he now, by the way?"

  "He needed to go relieve himself, so I told him I'd guard you for a little while. He's new to it. And he figured you wouldn't mind if I knew about Isobel."

  "I do mind. I was injured and the healer gave me some kind of drugging potion. Most likely opium poppy. I was not myself and hardly remember it."

  "Och. 'Tis damned unfortunate. Because, of a certainty, you want to remember when you've…."

  Dirk sent him a cutting glare, warning him not to go too far. He would tolerate no crude remarks about Isobel. "Say naught of it. Maighread and her people cannot find out or Isobel could be in danger." That was the important thing. Of course, she probably already knew, if Haldane had anything to do with it.

  "I'll tell no one. You ken that. But I wish to congratulate you." Rebbie held out his hand for a shake.

  "What for?"

  "You're going to marry her, are you not?"

  Dirk's heart rate quickened at the thought, for he did want to marry her. But he didn't yet know how he'd accomplish that, given all the obstacles in his way. "Aye, of course. 'Tis the only honorable thing to do considering she was…." Dirk snapped his mouth closed.

  "Was what?" Rebbie's dark eyes widened with curiosity.

  "She's a lady," Dirk amended.

  "Forget honor. That woman will make you happy."

  "How do you know? You're no expert on marital bliss. Besides, the very thought of marriage terrifies you, does it not?"

  Rebbie shrugged. "This is not about me. You're different with her. And clearly, she cares about your health, considering how she warmed you up with her almost bare body last night. She's precisely what you need to get you out of your grumpy mood."

  "I'm not grumpy," Dirk muttered, distracted by the delightful memory of Isobel lying on his naked body the night before to share heat, naught but the thin smock between them. She'd warmed him up, for a certainty. His shaft had been awakened first, ready for action even before he could feel his numb toes.

  He adjusted his sporran, making sure the pouch concealed his burgeoning arousal at an awkward time. The kilt was one of his father's clean belted plaids. He thought it appropriate for the hearing with the MacKay clan. He also wore an ivory linen shirt and a gray doublet he'd brought with him.

  Continuing on, they passed a group of clansmen. Rebbie nodded to them and changed the subject. "And how is your head feeling this morn?" he asked Dirk. "There's still a nasty red mark on it and a bruise."

  Given that Rebbie had already asked about his health, he knew it was for show. "Better. It doesn't pain me as much."

  "Are you hungry?"

  "Nay. A servant brought me bannocks and eggs earlier."

  The great hall was a buzz of activity. Several clansmen fell silent when they noticed Dirk and Rebbie enter, then they came forward to inquire after Dirk's injury. He was glad to see most members of the clan were concerned about his well-being, and that they were also welcoming.

  All the elder male clan members and gentlemen of the clan, including Haldane, Uncle Conall and Keegan sat down around the tables in the great hall, as did Rebbie and Erskine, while Dirk and Aiden took seats at the high table. His father's ceann-cath or sword-bearer, his fear sporain or treasurer, and others who held official positions were also present. Maighread lurked in one darkened corner like a hungry spider. He ignored her poison scowl and glanced around.

  Isobel entered and stood on the opposite side of the room with Jessie, Seona, and several more women. Isobel's dark gaze always bewitched him, even now, at twenty paces. What power did she hold over him? He had to stop staring at her for she distracted him far too much.

  His father's senachie, Phelan, who was also one of the elder clansmen, rose from the bench. His long white beard gave him a wise and distinguished air. "This hearing is to determine who the rightful chief of the MacKay clan shall be. We want a strong leader who is also the son of our revered former chief, Griff MacKay, may God rest his soul." Phelan's rich voice rang out and everyone listened intently. The man was a gifted orator, and had been telling stories of their ancestors to the clan all Dirk's life, and long before.

  "I remember when Dirk MacKay was born." Phelan motioned toward Dirk. "I was standing right here in this hall when the proud Chief Griff MacKay came down the stairs carrying his firstborn son. The bairn was screaming to the top of his lungs, roaring like a wee lion cub. We could tell then he would be a fearsome warrior one day, just like his father and his grandfather before him. I ask that you all honor the memory of Griff MacKay by acknowledging his firstborn son, Dirk MacKay, as the rightful and current chief." Phelan resumed his seat.

  Another clansman stood, Dirk's great uncle, Hamish. "Aye, and when his da held him aloft without a stitch of clothes on, we all saw the wee birthmark on his left shoulder in the shape of a Highland dirk. All of you who were here when Dirk arrived a few nights ago saw that same mark on this man's shoulder." He pointed to Dirk.

  "You are mad, old man," Maighread growled from her corner.

  Hamish turned to glare at her. "You were nay here, old woman."

  She gasped and her mouth hung open.

  Dirk couldn't hold back the soft snort that escaped. 'Twas about time Maighread got some of her rudeness returned. He glanced aside at Aiden to find him holding back a grin as well.

  "Laird MacKay would turn in his grave if he knew you spoke to me that way," Maighread said, offense dripping from every word.

  "And, if he were here, Laird MacKay would know this man is his eldest son." Hamish pointed toward Dirk. Ignoring her, he addressed the rest of the clan. "If you see the evidence and hear the testimonies of everyone who knew Dirk when he was a lad—almost everyone here over the age of twenty—you will see that Dirk is the rightful chief of our clan. You but need to look at him to se
e he is the spitting image of his father. Clearly, he is also a strong, intelligent man, a well-trained soldier and will be a powerful leader for our clan."

  Reverend MacMahon and five more clansmen acknowledged that they knew without doubt Dirk was who he claimed to be.

  Aiden stood. "I agree with all of you."

  "Aiden, sit down!" Maighread ordered.

  "Nay, Mother. If you truly see me as the rightful chief, then let me speak the truth." He glared at her and when she remained silent, he went on to address the clan. "I remember Dirk well from when I was a lad. I looked up to him and admired him as a strong older brother and someone I wanted to be like. This man sitting beside me is my brother." He motioned to Dirk. "My father's eldest son. As such, it is his right to lead this clan as the chief. I am stepping aside, Dirk. What they say is true. You will make a powerful, strong and wise leader."

  Dirk stood, near overcome with humble gratitude for his beloved brother. He clasped his hand, then hugged him.

  "I'm proud of you, Aiden. You are the most honorable of men."

  "I thank you, brother."

  "This is lunacy!" Haldane leapt to his feet, his hands clenched in fists at his side. "Are you insane, Aiden? To simply hand over the inheritance that Da entrusted you with to this imposter?"

  "Sit down, Haldane," Aiden said in a calm but firm voice.

  "Nay! I will not sit down. Nor will I be the filthy rushes beneath this bastard's feet! You are daft to give up everything without a fight."

  "There is no need to fight. I know the truth. This is Da's oldest son."

  "You don't know that he is legitimate. Da may not have even been married to his mother. 'Haps she was only his whore and this man a bastard in truth."

  "You go too far, Haldane!" Dirk said, offended outrage rushing through him that the lad could insult his mother to such a degree. "Either sit down and remain silent or leave."

  With a snarl, his youngest brother stormed from the room and shoved the door back to bang against the stone wall. A gust of chilly wind whooshed in before the guard closed the door.

  Dirk ran his gaze over Maighread. Her eyes were narrowed, and she looked vindictive enough to charge him with a sword. But he knew she would never be so open about her revenge. She would retaliate in secret, under the cover of darkness. She would hire someone to do her dirty work while imagining she was keeping her hands spotlessly clean. He was certain she was even now making those plans. If he knew her, she would hire someone capable of getting the job done, someone as malicious as she was herself. But not McMurdo. He was in the dungeon.

  "I think we can all agree that Dirk MacKay is our rightful chief," Hamish announced. "All in favor say aye."

  A loud chorus of ayes went up.

  "All not in favor say nay."

  Everyone remained silent, even Maighread. But venom nearly shot from her eyes. He lifted a brow, daring her to take another shot at him.

  She stormed from the room. He hoped she was going to pack her baggage.

  Isobel caught his attention as she trailed his stepmother from the room. Why the devil was she always following that evil harpy about?

  The meeting was adjourned and the clansmen gathered 'round to shake his hand and pledge their loyalty to him. They informed him they would hold a traditional inauguration outside when the weather was better.

  Moments later, two guards burst in the front door and addressed Keegan. "The prisoner tried to escape. One of the guards was injured."

  Dirk strode across the great hall toward them. "What happened?"

  "Dirk MacKay is our new chief," Keegan told the two guards. Dirk had met them a few days earlier.

  Each of the men bowed. "Chief, three masked men barged into the dungeon and strove to overpower the two guards. One was stabbed with a sgian dubh but he lives. The other was knocked out. The intruders snatched the keys and opened the cell door but they didn't have the key to the manacles. They were trying to smash the chain or rip it from the wall when more guards arrived."

  "Did you capture them?"

  "Aye. They must be from McMurdo's band of thieves."

  "Damnation. I'm going to question them now."

  Moments later, Dirk descended the narrow stone steps into the dank dungeon with the two guards. Rebbie followed him, as did Erskine and Keegan. A large hammer lay in the corridor. He nudged it with his toe. "Is this what they used?"

  "Aye." One of the guards opened the door to McMurdo's cell. He was alone inside, and his fellow outlaws in separate cells.

  The murderer sat on the dirt floor, his hands manacled and chained to the wall. 'Twas the only way to keep the wily bastard imprisoned. Although part of the rock holding the chain was chipped away.

  Dirk held the lantern aloft, trying to get a clear view of McMurdo's face, especially his eyes. He could be a madman for all Dirk knew. He had a thousand questions for the bastard. Where should he start? Mainly, he wanted McMurdo to confess that Maighread had hired him to kill Dirk. He'd have to work his way up to that.

  "Why were you in the churchyard at midnight? Who were you waiting for?" Dirk asked.

  Remaining silent, McMurdo glared, his sinister black gaze spearing in its intensity but also puzzled. Was he trying to figure out how Dirk had survived?

  "Surprised I didn't die when you pushed me off that cliff twelve years ago?"

  "You're a lunatic. I know naught of this."

  Of course he would say that. Dirk expected him to lie. 'Twas what thieves and murderers did best. "Why did you attack my party just outside Durness?"

  "When?"

  Dirk gave a bitter chuckle. "Deny all you want. Everyone kens you've murdered at least eighteen people. Although I'm certain the number is higher, considering you also killed my cousin, Will."

  "You've mistaken me for someone else."

  "You were waiting for Lady MacKay in the churchyard last night. The reason is obvious. You botched up the job she hired you for. How much did she pay you twelve years ago to murder me?"

  McMurdo's nostrils flared and his gaze darted about the cell. "I ken naught about it."

  "How much did you pay for that fancy tomb in the new church?"

  The older man's eyes narrowed. "That was between me and your father… er… I mean Laird MacKay. He was a good man and a bright man."

  Dirk sent him a sly grin. The knave had just admitted that he knew who Dirk truly was with that your father comment. One of the few places he'd come face to face with McMurdo in the past was when the bastard had sought to kill him. So, of course, he'd recognized Dirk.

  "Either tell me the truth about everything I ask or your illustrious tomb is forfeit. I'm seizing it."

  "Nay, you cannot do that!"

  "What is stopping me? I'm the chief of this clan now."

  McMurdo licked his lips nervously and swallowed hard. "I paid a lot of money for that burial spot, a sacred and protected place within the church, and I even have a signed paper for it from Laird Griff MacKay."

  "That matters not," Dirk said with a careless shrug. "You're a murderer and a prisoner under arrest. All your property and possessions here in MacKay Country are forfeit. Since I am the baron who holds these lands now, your property falls to me."

  "'Tis my burial spot! I bought it legal, paid every last coin of silver I had on it!" he growled, jerking against the chains holding him securely to the wall.

  "How did you obtain that silver? Stolen, all of it. If you wish to keep the tomb, you must confess everything. All the murders, and attempted murders. All the thieving you've done during your life. If you'd prefer the minister present too, that can be arranged."

  "Nay. Damn you!" He yanked against the chains and looked about wild-eyed.

  "You don't want the minister to ken the depth of your depravity, do you? You want him to think you've repented of all your sins, including the many innocent people you've killed in cold blood, even defenseless women."

  "I've killed no one, you bastard!"

  "My father would not be pleased t
o hear you disparaging his first wife. I thought you respected the man."

  "Aye. I respected him. But not you. You are not Laird MacKay's son, but the devil's spawn instead!"

  Dirk snorted. "Keep lying. After you die in this bleak cell, the gravedigger will bury your sorry carcass out in the sheep pasture. Then, one night, some of your victims' family members will slip out into the field and dig up your moldering corpse and strew pieces of it thither and yon. 'Haps they'll even post your skull on a pike outside the village to warn other highwaymen what happens to thieves and murderers. Then, the carrion crows will pick your bones clean."

  "Go to hell!" McMurdo seethed and jerked against the chains, his body quaking.

  He might not confess today or tomorrow, but Dirk would keep questioning him. Once the knave realized no one was going to break him out of this cell, and that Dirk meant what he said, he'd confess. Apparently this tomb in the church was of vital importance to McMurdo, but he was willing to gamble a while longer.

  "I wasn't making an idle threat," Dirk said. "You'll be buried in the field beneath the sheep dung. Or mayhap I'll have your mangy remains flung into the bog. Or 'haps thrown off the cliff at Faraid Head for fish food. 'Twas what you aimed to do with me." Dirk left the cell. The door clanged shut and the guard locked it.

  Dirk glanced into the other cells. He didn't recognize any of the two-bit thieves from McMurdo's gang, but he'd question them later, after they'd grown weary of the dark, damp place. Their tongues might prove looser then. Obviously, someone had let them in through the postern gate. He had to find out which clansmen and guards he could trust and which were traitors.

  He climbed the steep narrow steps out of the dungeon, his friends following.

  Beneath the overhang, one of the guards stopped him. "Chief, one of the injured guards said Aiden and Lady MacKay visited McMurdo a couple of hours ago.

  "Why were they allowed inside?"

  The guard shrugged. "Aiden was still chief at the time. We are bound to do what the chief says, as you ken."

  Why would Aiden do this? Maighread had to be ordering him around and demanding he do whatever she wanted. "Does anyone know what happened?"