My Brave Highlander

by Vonda Sinclair

  "Be quiet," he murmured.

  Ignoring him, she went on, determined to speak her mind. "At least my first husband wanted to marry me. He didn't feel forced into it."

  "I want to marry you," Dirk confessed, his blue eyes piercing.

  She studied him, trying to discern the truth and what he might be feeling.

  "But 'twill not be an easy thing to accomplish," he said. "The MacLeod, the MacKenzie. The Murray problem."

  He certainly seemed less than enthusiastic about marrying her. "What Murray problem?" she asked.

  "The Murrays and my father signed a contract that their daughter, Lady Seona, was to marry the next chief of MacKay."

  "I know about that, but she won't marry you."

  "In truth?" His brows lifted a fraction.

  Isobel shook her head. "She knows about what happened between us. She and I are friends. Besides, she's smitten with someone else, although she will not admit it."

  "Who?" Dirk asked.

  "Keegan."

  "Hmm. I see."

  "Don't tell him," Isobel said in a stern tone.

  "I won't." Dirk almost grinned.

  He looked much too scrumptious at the moment with his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest and his blue eyes gleaming with a pleasant expression. She wanted to kiss him, but he'd probably see that as manipulation. "I must go," she said.

  "The MacLeods will be here soon. Haldane and the men he broke out of the dungeon went to them. Sent by Maighread."

  She hoped and prayed his clan wouldn't want to turn her over to them in order to avoid a battle. "I won't leave with them."

  "Of course not. I would never ask you to. They may try to storm the castle and drag you out bodily." His eyes narrowed. "I'll cut them all down if they even try it."

  An involuntary shiver raced over her at his vehemence and the glimpse of his passion. Maybe he did care for her, even if he couldn't voice the words yet. He was, after all, a warrior accustomed to hiding his true feelings.

  "I thank you for protecting me," she said.

  He gave a small nod, his eyes growing darker as he observed her intently. She knew that look and craved it. But she must not succumb again. He felt she was forcing him to marry her. 'Twas the last thing she wanted. He might also suspect, as Maighread had told him, that Isobel was using him to avoid marrying the MacLeod. Also untrue. She didn't wish to use Dirk for any purpose.

  "What will you say to Torrin MacLeod?" she asked.

  Dirk tensed and his frown deepened. He looked more fearsome than usual in his battle armor—the steel-studded leather and all his weapons. "I'll tell him he is a daft sheep for not protecting you from his knave of a brother."

  "I wish we could've sent my brother a missive." Mayhap Cyrus could straighten it all out since he was the one who had gotten her into this mess in the first place.

  "As do I, but there were too many risks."

  "I don't want you fighting a battle because of me. It would kill me if something happened to you. You rescued me and helped me. Now you and your whole clan will be in danger because of me." Tears stung her eyes.

  "There's naught to worry over. I happen to be good at fighting," he said in a light tone.

  "I ken it, but…" She shook her head, remorse weighting heavily upon her, and lowered her gaze to her nervous, fidgety fingers. "I told you that you should've left me where you found me. Now look. I've put you in danger."

  Dirk approached her where she stood by the door and lifted her chin. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing he wouldn't watch her cry. He stroked his thumb across her cheek, catching her tears. "Shh." He kissed her forehead, then her lips fleetingly. "We'll have the upper hand."

  "Don't go outside the walls. Promise me."

  He sent her a half grin. "I cannot promise you that, lass. I'll do what I have to do to protect you and everyone at Dunnakeil. If MacLeod attacks, we will fight back."

  ***

  After Dirk's bastard of a horse had thrown Haldane, he'd made two of his men ride together and taken one of their horses.

  "McMurdo," Haldane addressed the legendary gray-haired man who rode beside him.

  "Aye," he said in a gruff voice. Pockmarks, scars, and wrinkles marred the man's face but those blemishes simply gave him character. Haldane wished he could've seen all the adventures McMurdo had been a part of over the years.

  "I appreciate your help," Haldane said. "If I become chief of the MacKay clan, you can rest assured the burial place you paid Da for will remain yours." Although Haldane had no inkling why, the tough old bastard valued his tomb more than anything. Haldane had too much living to do to think of graves. But he'd do whatever necessary to get McMurdo to do what he wanted.

  The older man studied him with eyes sharp as a dark blade. "I thank you."

  This was one man Haldane did not wish to cross, and having him on his side was like having a secret weapon.

  "If Dirk remains chief," Haldane said. "I doubt he'll allow you to be buried there. He sees you as an outlaw, whereas I see you as a resourceful and clever man."

  "I'm willing to do what I can to oust him, but he is strong and cunning, and he has a lot of men backing him up." McMurdo's words were wise and well thought out. Haldane tried to slow down and do the same.

  "That he does. But if you'll kill him, as my mother paid you to do already, you'll get what you want. I'll make sure of it."

  "In that case, I'll kill him," McMurdo said in a deadly calm tone. Clearly, committing murder didn't ruffle his feathers.

  "When we arrive at Munrick, I'm certain the MacLeod will send a large force of men to reclaim his stolen bride," Haldane said. "That will get us into Dunnakeil, and if Dirk isn't killed by the MacLeods, you'll have a clear shot at him."

  "I can hardly wait. The bastard has threatened me for the last time."

  A half hour later, they spotted Munrick Castle in the distance on a small promontory in a loch. Haldane smiled, almost tasting victory. He would be the next MacKay chief, and Seona Murray would be his bride.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Once Dirk found the young maid, Anne MacFarlane, who had gone into Maighread's room the night before, he had her escorted into the library where the clan elders, along with Conall, Keegan and Dirk sat around the table. Considering the pasty color of her skin and her wide-eyed gaze darting this way and that, she was sufficiently scared. Dirk was glad, for he needed the truth.

  "Anne, did Lady MacKay give you a missive to take to her son, Haldane?" Dirk asked.

  It sounded as if Anne's breath stopped for a moment as she stared at her toes. He hoped she didn't faint.

  "If you don't answer truthfully, you'll be imprisoned in the dungeon." Dirk hated to frighten any woman, but the clan's safety depended on the information she would reveal.

  "Aye," Anne admitted. "She told me to tell no one. If she finds out I've told you, she'll release me from my position."

  "If you're loyal to me and the clan, I'll hire you. If you're a traitor, you'll be treated as such. Aside from that, Lady MacKay won't be needing any maids. She's under arrest and soon she'll be transported to Thurso for a trial."

  "Oh."

  "So you have naught to lose by telling us the truth. What did the missive say?"

  "I can't read, m'laird. But she said to let no one see the missive and to slip it to one of her guards. I was to tell him to take it outside the castle walls, find her son and give it to him."

  "And did you do this?"

  "Aye."

  Dirk wished she hadn't. "As you ken, this led to two MacKay guards' deaths."

  Anne's eyes filled with tears. "I am sorry. I didn't know what was in the missive or why she wished me to deliver it. She hired me to do her bidding and that's what I was doing."

  "If you want to stay out of the dungeon, you will tell us everything you know about Lady MacKay and her devious plots."

  "She said if Aiden didn't want to be chief, that Haldane would. She'd see to it."

  He should've guessed sh
e'd never give up. "Where did she send those men when they went south? Did she mention the MacLeods?"

  "I heard her whispering to Haldane a few days ago that if anything happened to her, to ride south to the MacLeods and tell them Isobel MacKenzie is being held hostage here."

  Dirk nodded. He'd suspected as much, but 'twas good to have confirmation.

  "And he was to tell them to bring a large force of men to help him take Dunnakeil from the imposter."

  "I see." Would MacLeod do as Haldane asked and help him take over Dunnakeil? Not if he was intelligent, but the man might be desperate to reclaim his beautiful bride. He'd no doubt bring every able-bodied MacLeod to help.

  Dirk had the maid locked in a separate room, where she could no longer come within reach of Maighread. Then, he stopped by Maighread's chamber.

  "Bring Lady MacKay to the library," he told her two guards. "Tie her hands in front of her first."

  "Aye, m'laird."

  A quarter hour later, they escorted her into the library.

  Dirk, Conall, Keegan and the clan elders sat around the table. They'd left one chair vacant for his stepmother, wearing widow's black. Her green-eyed glare was more venomous than usual, but her gray hair and increasing wrinkles reminded him she was but a mortal woman. Not some everlasting female demon who had tortured and endeavored to kill him from the time he was a lad.

  "How dare you imprison me in my own home?" she seethed at Dirk.

  Ignoring her question, he got right to the point. "Two more murders are on your head. Both MacKays. The guards."

  "I have murdered no one." She was less sanctimonious this time, and closer to boiling with rage.

  "I doubt Haldane is bright enough to do all this scheming, plus organizing a dungeon break."

  "You have no proof of anything," she sneered.

  He gave her a forced smile. "We have witnesses."

  "Who? Aiden? He is too naïve to know anything."

  "Nay, not Aiden. It matters not how we know. You sent Haldane and the other men to the MacLeods. 'Tis hard to believe you'd betray your friend's daughter in such a way."

  "Isobel MacKenzie is nothing like her mother. She's naught but a light-skirt whore."

  Fury clawed its way through Dirk's vitals, tensing his muscles, making him want to unsheathe his sword. "If you were a man, I'd strike you down for that," he growled.

  "I knew you were smitten with her—a woman who's all but married to another man. How dimwitted can you be? Now you'll have to answer to the MacLeod for kidnapping her."

  Dirk snorted. "The MacKay clan knows I didn't kidnap her. That's all that matters."

  The elders nodded, eying Maighread with suspicion.

  "Well, now that you've bedded her, 'tis doubtful the MacLeod will want her," Maighread said in a nasty tone.

  "Won't do him any good if he does. He's not getting her," Dirk said.

  "I hope they rain fire on this keep and burn it to the ground!" Maighread said. "Then at least an imposter won't get it."

  ***

  Nolan MacLeod sat in Munrick's great hall, eating venison stew with his brother, Torrin—the MacLeod chief—and their guests, the MacKenzies. Cyrus MacKenzie, Isobel's brother, reminded Nolan of a dark warlord who wouldn't mind taking off anyone's head, and Nolan didn't want to cross the bastard.

  Torrin had sent Cyrus a missive that Isobel had run madly out into a snowstorm and disappeared. Cyrus had been irate, demanding answers when he'd arrived with his brothers and several men the day before. Why wasn't his sister protected and taken care of while she'd been here? Where was she? Why hadn't the MacLeods searched for her? Torrin blamed himself, but he was at a loss as to what happened since he hadn't been here at the time.

  Nolan didn't know why Torrin had allowed the MacKenzies to gain entrance. If it had been Nolan's decision, he would've left them beyond the walls to freeze.

  At the moment, no one paid any attention to Nolan, and he was glad. He had to keep a low profile since the place was crawling with MacKenzies. Fortunately, no one else in the clan knew why Isobel had left. Nolan was the only one. He smiled inwardly. They would never know what happened. 'Twas a pity because of her lush beauty, but Isobel was probably dead. Her own fault for knocking him on the head, running away and facing the harsh elements.

  A guard rushed in and approached the center of the high table where the chief sat. "Ten men from the MacKay clan are at the gates, m'laird."

  "What do they want?" Torrin asked, putting down his ale cup.

  "To speak to you, the man betrothed to Isobel MacKenzie. They claim to know where she is."

  "Saints!" Isobel's brother shot from his chair, leapt from the dais and rounded the table. "Where is she?" he demanded.

  The guard backed up two steps. "I know not, Chief MacKenzie. Should we allow them inside the gates?" His gaze darted to Torrin.

  "I'm coming." Torrin stepped down from the dais, grabbed his wool mantle and followed Cyrus' swift trek across the great hall.

  They'd found Isobel? After donning his mantle, Nolan followed his brother. Dread twisted his gut into an aching knot. If she was alive and well, she might tell Torrin, Cyrus and everyone else what Nolan had tried to do to her. Damn her. Why couldn't she have frozen to death?

  It would be her word against his. Torrin would believe him, his own brother, over Isobel, surely.

  At the same time, excitement rushed through Nolan at the thought of seeing the dark-eyed lass again. She'd bewitched him with her seductive looks and curvy body. He couldn't get her out of his head. He still wanted her, even though he was tempted to strangle her for injuring him.

  If she told on him, he would, of a certainty, have to kill her.

  Outside in the bailey, sleet and rain hissed through the air as they made their way to the portcullis over the narrow arm of the loch. Guards held torches and lanterns.

  "Who are you?" Torrin asked the young, auburn-haired man at the forefront of the visitors beyond the iron bars.

  "Haldane MacKay, son of Chief Griff MacKay, may God rest his soul."

  "Griff MacKay is dead?" Cyrus asked.

  "Aye, just over a month ago."

  "I'm sorry to hear of it. You ken where my sister is?"

  "If Isobel MacKenzie is your sister, aye. Dirk MacKay took her hostage."

  Silence reigned for a moment as the men exchanged frowns.

  "Dirk MacKay is dead," Torrin said. "And has been for over a decade."

  "Aye," Haldane said. "This man is an imposter claiming to be Dirk MacKay. He's taken over the clan and castle and imprisoned my mother. And he has taken Lady Isobel hostage. He has used her ill and abused her."

  "This is an outrage!" Cyrus said. "Who is he in truth?"

  "We know not."

  "I'll kill the bastard, whoever he is," Torrin muttered.

  "And I'll help you," Cyrus said.

  Haldane gave a sly grin and Nolan wondered what he was up to. Was any of this true?

  One of the MacLeod guards spoke up. "A MacKay and a party of four passed through here a fortnight ago."

  "Who was with him?" Torrin demanded.

  "A woman he said was his wife, a man named MacInnis, and two servants. The MacKay man claimed his father was on his deathbed and he had to make haste."

  "That's him. His friend is MacInnis," Haldane said.

  Torrin muttered a string of curses, then asked the guard, "Did you get a look at the woman he said was his wife?"

  "Nay, 'twas snowing. Nasty weather, and she was shrouded in wool blankets to keep warm."

  "If that was Isobel, why would she say naught nor ask for the help of the MacLeod guards if she'd truly been taken hostage by MacKay?" Cyrus asked, narrowing his eyes at Torrin.

  "That's what I'd like to know, but I wasn't here," Torrin growled.

  "She fled Munrick for some reason. My sister is not daft. She would not have left here during a storm unless she felt her life was in danger. I want the truth from you and your clan," Cyrus demanded.

  Rigid wit
h suppressed rage, Torrin turned, his gaze landing on Nolan. "What happened while I was gone, brother? You were supposed to be watching over the clan and my betrothed."

  A second of icy fear sliced through Nolan. No one could suspect him. "Naught that I know of. She simply vanished one night. We thought she'd changed her mind about marrying you."

  "Nay, there had to be a reason," Cyrus said, his shrewd devil-dark eyes making Nolan squirm. "She agreed to marry Torrin. She would not simply change her mind. Something happened here."

  "What are you not telling us, Nolan?" Torrin demanded.

  "I've told you all I know." Stay calm, he told himself.

  The two chiefs glared at him several moments longer and sweat broke out over his whole body, despite the chill wind.

  Torrin turned back to Haldane. "Who do you have with you?"

  "My friends, MacKays mostly, and two of my mother's guards."

  "If you leave your weapons at the gate, you may stay the night," Torrin said. "We'll leave in the morn and rescue Lady Isobel."

  ***

  The sky was overcast and the frigid wind whipping at a steady rate at Dunnakeil two days later when the skirl of bagpipes playing a call to battle from the roof of the guard tower alerted the MacKays something was amiss.

  Dirk strode from the stables. The men knew what to do when the MacLeods arrived. He'd been training them for over a week. All wore armor and carried weapons as they gathered in the inner bailey.

  "Halt!" one of his guards yelled from the guard tower.

  Dirk hurried forward to see how many men had arrived and whether an attack was being launched.

  Once Dirk reached the gates, he only saw two well-armed men of about his own age, garbed in plaid, armor and wool mantles. He hadn't seen these two in over twelve years, but he recognized them. The dark-haired one was Isobel's brother, Cyrus MacKenzie, and the other, with lighter brown hair, was her betrothed, Torrin MacLeod.

  "We're here to see Dirk MacKay," Cyrus told the guard, then his gaze swung to Dirk. "What have you done to my sister, you blackguard?"

  Holding a targe before him—in case someone decided to shoot an arrow or fire a pistol—and carrying a broadsword, Dirk approached the gates, his bodyguards Erskine and Keegan joining him. "She's well and safe. Far safer than she was with the MacLeods." Dirk glared at Torrin.