My Brave Highlander (34 page)

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 see 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 to 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?"

"Nay, only that Aiden escorted his mother inside, then immediately went in search of his brother. But before they returned, Lady MacKay left."

Clearly McMurdo was depending on Maighread and her men to rescue him.

"I want double the men on guard duty from now on, at all times, day and night. No one is to go in and see McMurdo unless you ask me first. Something is afoot. No doubt someone else will try to break McMurdo out."

Chapter Nineteen

That afternoon, Dirk waited in the second floor corridor while Aiden insisted on immediately moving his belongings from the chief's bedchamber so that Dirk could move in.

Dirk was not overly eager to occupy the room that had always been his father's bedchamber. It didn't feel right. His father should be there. It made Dirk miss him all the more. But if the clan expected him to use this room, he would.

Maighread moved along the corridor like a graceful evil spirit. His muscles tensed with the need to choke the life from her bony body, but he restrained himself. Isobel followed along behind her. What the hell was she doing? He wanted to forbid Isobel from talking to her. Hadn't he told her not to trust the hag?

"What do you want?" Dirk asked his stepmother, fury gnawing at his insides.

"I'm here to talk to my sons," she said with a cultured innocence that was so patently false he almost laughed in her face. "You may have fooled everyone else, but you haven't fooled me. An imposter won't remain chief of this clan for long." Her glare said he might not be dead yet, but he soon would be.