My Brave Highlander (35 page)

"Don't threaten me," he warned. "You'll regret it."

"I'm not threatening anyone. I'm merely stating the truth. If you truly are Dirk, why did you not return when your father was alive?"

Regret speared him. That was the one thing he wished he had done. Of course, she'd said it because she knew it would cause him pain. He blanked his expression.

"I know why," Maighread continued in her self-righteous tone, pointing her finger at his chest. "Because he would've seen through your lies. He would've known you are not his son."

She was full of horse dung.

"The clan kens who I am," Dirk said. "And Aiden kens who I am. That's all that matters now. Your opinion means naught. I'm no longer a wee lad that you can slap to the ground as you did in the past."

Isobel gasped. Standing to the side, she studied Maighread with a critical eye.

"Don't believe his lies," his stepmother said, never taking her hate-filled green gaze off him. Her mouth wiggled as if she were holding back another smirk. "I've never slapped a child."

Dirk snorted. "We both ken that is a lie." He remembered the first time she'd struck him. Not long after Aiden was born, Dirk, no more than six summers, had been standing over the cradle, the wee Aiden grasping his finger. He had been amazed at the strength in the babe's tiny hand. Maighread entered the room yelling, ordering him to get away from her babe. Icy fear rushing through him, he'd stepped back but it had been too late. Maighread's hand had smashed into the side of his head and he'd gone tumbling into the corner. He'd narrowly missed whacking his head against the stone wall. His ear had rung for the rest of the day.

She'd struck him at least a dozen times, maybe more. He'd lost count. Her abuse always came when he had the misfortune of finding himself alone with her. He'd stuck as close to his father or his uncle as he could. She'd always acted like a saint in their presence.

Once he'd grown taller and started training with a sword, the physical abuse had stopped. He noticed, by the wary look in her eye, that she feared him a little. But that was when she'd shoved him down the stairs. She was done torturing him; she simply wanted him dead.

As she stood before him now, he smirked and lifted a brow, returning her favorite spiteful but confident expression. Oh, he knew she could hire someone to do a lot of damage, but he didn't fear her.

He had two trustworthy guards. He would also choose two guards for Isobel while she remained here. He didn't think Maighread would try to harm her, but if she discovered Dirk liked Isobel more than he should, she might seek revenge another way. He wouldn't underestimate her again.

"You can return to Tongue anytime you wish," Dirk said.

"You can't throw me out of my own home."

"This isn't your home. 'Tis mine. Everyone kens you prefer the new manor house at Tongue over this drafty old castle. Although the house is on my lands, I will allow you to live there."

"Hmph. That house and the lands around it were a gift to me from Laird Griff. You don't own the land or the house."

"We'll see." He shrugged, knowing she was wrong. "If you stay at Tongue, we'll get along fine." He was being more then generous, for his father's and Aiden's sakes. If not for them, he'd escort her to the dungeons. If only he had solid proof or a witness that she'd murdered his cousin, Will, and tried to kill Dirk. If McMurdo would confess… but without proof, if he imprisoned her, he risked the wrath of the powerful Gordon clan. Once she attempted to murder him again, though, he'd catch whoever she hired and get the truth out of him.

"You'll not be telling me what to do. I'll stay here as long as I wish," Maighread said.

"Is that what you think?"

"Indeed."

Dirk sent her a forbidding grin. How he would enjoy tossing his stepmother out on her arse.

"Laird MacKay would roll in his grave if he knew an imposter was treating me this way."

"You had sacks of wool pulled over Da's eyes. He thought you were a bonny angel, and he could see naught past that. He was blind to the truth about you and your conniving ways."

"An imposter lecturing me about truth?" She turned on her heel, moved to the chief's bedchamber door and stepped inside. "I want to have a word with you two," she said to her sons.

Dirk hoped Aiden would stay at Dunnakeil, but he couldn't wait for Maighread and Haldane to vacate the premises.

"What are you doing spending so much time with her?" he asked low, for Isobel's ears only.

Frowning, she pursed her lips into a silent
shh
.

"If she and Haldane don't leave in the morn of their own free will, I'll have them forcefully removed," he said.

Isobel gave a quick nod, but looked uncertain of his decision. "Might it not be better to keep them close at hand so you can see what they're up to?" she whispered. "The devil you know… and all that?"

"I don't trust her anywhere near me… or you. I wish you wouldn't spend so much time with her."

Isobel shrugged, glanced back at the door, then faced him again. "I must congratulate you on becoming chief," she whispered, a triumphant look in her eye.

"I thank you, but the troubles are only beginning. Unfortunately." He glared at the bedchamber door, knowing Maighread would redouble her plotting efforts.

"Are the injured guards recovering?"

"Aye, one had a shallow flesh wound. The other awoke with a headache."

A moment later, Maighread stepped out of the chief's chamber and moved toward them. "I've heard rumors about the two of you in bed together." She grimaced, making Dirk want to smash the woman's face in. "I find this hard to believe, Isobel, after you told me you couldn't stand to be in the same room with him. That you found him to be a disgusting brute," Maighread said.

Had she truly said that? Dirk stared hard at Isobel, trying to discern the truth. 'Haps he had been a brute in bed last night, but he'd not been himself.

Isobel's mouth hung open. "I didn't say that!"

"Are you calling me a liar? I understand your game now. You think if you pretend you're interested in him that he will protect you from the MacLeods. You want to use him."

"Nay, none of this is true! I'm not using anyone. I'm simply trying to get home." Isobel's face reddened and her eyes gleamed with ire.

"I'm not daft, lassie. Your mother and father would be so disappointed in you. No good man will have you after you've aligned yourself with an imposter who stole a title and land; that's a certainty."

"Enough!" Dirk said. "Go!" he told his stepmother and pointed down the corridor.

She clenched her teeth, giving a slight snarling appearance. But she turned to leave.

Tears glistened in Isobel's eyes as she glared after Maighread. "You're wrong… about all of it!"

"Keep lying, little one," Maighread called back, then followed her sons as they exited the chief's bedchamber, carrying a trunkful of Aiden's clothing down the corridor to a smaller room.

Dirk studied Isobel, trying to discern the truth, but at the same time wanting to choke his stepmother for making Isobel cry. Even if they were angry tears.

Though he knew Maighread was a liar, he hated her all the more because she'd planted a seed of doubt in his mind. Did Isobel find him disgusting and brutish? Considering what happened last night, it was possible. He couldn't remember if he'd been too rough with her. He hoped not. The last thing he'd want to do was hurt her.

"That woman is truly mad," Isobel whispered, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I said none of those things."

He wanted to believe her. But a doubt lingered in his mind. Was she using him simply to escape the MacLeods? Or was her attraction to him genuine? Had she drugged him last night so he'd give in to his desires for her… so he'd be forced to marry her? Women were fond of manipulation to get what they wanted. What if he became like his father, allowing attraction and lust to blind him to a woman's cunning ways? He shook his head and forced himself not to look at Isobel, for he couldn't think logically when he did.

"Surely you don't believe her." Isobel grasped his hand and peered up into his face. He avoided her eyes. "You were the one who told me she lies and she is untrustworthy."

"Aye," he admitted.

"Haldane probably told her he walked in when I was warming you last night. Besides, she's obviously realized I'm fond of you."

Fond of him?
He detested the way his heart sped up with hope. He even longed for something beyond fondness.

"Dirk?" Isobel touched his face, her cool hand against his skin, stroking the scratchy roughness of his beard stubble, her midnight eyes gazing into his with a plaintive expression, silently begging him to believe her.

Everything deep inside compelled him to trust her, but the rational part of his mind fought against it. All he could think of was how easily Maighread had fooled his father, perhaps much like this. But he didn't know.

He took Isobel's hand into his own. He wanted to kiss it, but refrained. He stroked her palm, then released her. He didn't know….

He didn't understand the many nuances of emotion he saw in her eyes, nor the intensity she made him feel. Could he trust her, or himself?

After having just been named chief of the clan that morn, he didn't ken who he was anymore. His own view of himself had shifted drastically. Somehow he felt validated, more worthy than he had in years. At the same time, he wondered if it was too good to be true. Would it last? Could he successfully lead the clan?

Aye, he could. He had to. It was his legacy and what his father expected of him.

"Chief," someone said behind him. It took Dirk a moment to realize they were talking to him.

Abruptly, he turned. One of the clansmen stood there, staring at him. "Aye?" Dirk asked.

"The clan elders would like to meet with you now."

What could they possibly want this soon? It must be of vital importance. "I'll be right there."

Once the man had disappeared down the spiral stair, Dirk turned back to Isobel. "Just stay away from her. And watch your back. None of us ken who we can trust yet."

She nodded, sadness lingering in her eyes. He wished he could say more, comfort her, but he needed to think about everything that was happening so fast and figure out how he felt about it.

He descended the stairs to find the clansman waiting at the bottom. "They await you in the library, m'laird."

Laird.
That title made his pulse shoot skyward. Several of his friends were lairds, but he was unsure if he could get accustomed to the title.

He entered the library to find Uncle Conall and five clan elders awaiting him.

"Have a seat, lad," Conall said, waving to the head of the table.

"What is this about?" Dirk took the seat indicated.

"Well… now that you're chief, 'tis time for you to be thinking of marriage," Conall said.

A laugh burst from Dirk's mouth before he could prevent it. A brief, disbelieving laugh. "I've been chief for a few hours, and already you want me to marry?"

"Nay. I don't," Conall said, glancing nervously at the elders. "But there is the matter of an agreement the clan elders, your father and Lady MacKay made with Clan Murray while you were away. Almost five years ago, in fact. I couldn't prevent it without revealing to everyone that you still lived."

"What agreement?" Dirk asked with dread.

"The chief of the Murray clan signed a contract that his eldest daughter would marry the chief of Clan MacKay," his great uncle Hamish said.

"Surely you mean she is to marry Aiden." His brother had already said he was supposed to marry a Murray lass.

"'Haps, but in the event Aiden wasn't able to be chief, because of his health, Haldane would step in. That's why we all decided the contract should say
the chief
, rather than a specific son of Griff. But now this applies to neither of them.
You
are the chief."

Annoyance twisted through Dirk's vitals. "I made no agreement to marry anyone."

"Nay. But your father did, and as you ken, chiefs arrange the marriages of their children, especially a first born son. The contract specifies she is to marry the MacKay chief who follows Griff in line."

"Aiden followed my father. He was chief for a month or so."

The elders grinned as if he were naïve and shook their heads. "That doesn't count. He was not truly chief because you were still alive. And now you are chief. It's as if he was never the chief. Besides that, Laird Murray would not go along with it. He'd want his daughter to marry the current chief. To rile him is dangerous."

"This is madness," Dirk growled. "I was not even here when the agreement was made. My father thought I was dead. He would've never intended for me to marry the Murray woman. He intended it for Aiden or Haldane."

"Aye. But his intentions mean naught now. All that will stand is the contract, the written word. You must honor your father's contract," Hamish said.

"And if I don't?" he challenged.