Текст книги "My brave highlander"

Автор книги: Vonda Sinclair

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Dirk's thoughts wandered to the task ahead, telling his brothers and the rest of the clan that he did indeed still live and that he was here to take his place as leader of the clan. He would no doubt meet a considerable amount of opposition.

Chapter Eight

Dirk didn't know what to expect at Castle Dunnakeil, but he thought it safest for Isobel and her maid to stay with Aunt Effie until he, Conall, and Rebbie rode to the castle and met with his brother, Aiden, and the rest of the clan.

The wind had calmed a bit with the gloaming, but it was still far more blustery here than further south. By the time Castle Dunnakeil came into view on the horizon with the darkened bay as a backdrop, night was upon them. Torches provided enough light around the castle and inside the high stone walls of the bailey for Dirk to see the castle had changed little in the past twelve years. The three round towers of Dunnakeil had each been built in a different century by his ancestors as had the keep and the east wing.

Although his home appeared unchanged on the outside, he knew things inside would be vastly different because his father was no longer there. Approaching Dunnakeil, he could hardly believe he would never get to see Da again. A dark, sinking feeling settled into his stomach.

"Like I said, Keegan is over the guards," Uncle Conall said as they neared the gatehouse. "If there is any trouble he will be of great help."

Dirk hoped and prayed there was no trouble. He didn't want to fight his own clansmen and kin.

At the gatehouse, two obscure figures inside watched them in the torchlight.

"Who is that with you, Conall?" one of the guards asked.

"Dirk?" the other figure inside the small guard house asked in a shocked but familiar voice.

"Aye," Dirk said. "Keegan, is that you?"

"Indeed." Conall's eldest son emerged while the other guard raised the portcullis.

They proceeded into the stone-paved bailey and toward the stables where they dismounted. Two lanky stable lads of around fifteen took the horses.

Dirk turned toward his cousin. "Keegan, 'tis good to see you."

His sandy-brown hair was pulled back in a queue. The boyish face Dirk remembered had matured into a man's with a strong jaw and chin. Underneath a woolen mantle, he wore metal studded leather armor with his belted plaid.

Keegan clasped his hand and slapped his shoulder in a warrior's welcome. "I wondered if you'd ever come home." Smiling, he turned to Conall. "Why did you not send word earlier that he was here, Da?"

"He only arrived an hour ago, and I thought you'd enjoy the surprise."

Dirk introduced Rebbie and they shook hands.

"Am I ever glad you're here, cousin," Keegan said.

Dirk was glad to be here too, but he wondered what his cousin's cryptic words meant. "Why?"

"There are murmurings that the clan will soon be divided over who will be the best chief—Aiden or Haldane."

"I suppose I'll cause even louder murmurs then," Dirk said, looking forward to seeing the faces of those who'd thought him dead for twelve years. Some of them would be happy to see him. Others not.

Keegan grinned. "Just what we need to stir things up a wee bit more."

As the four of them proceeded toward the portal, both excitement and dread coalesced inside Dirk.

When they entered the great hall with its long tables cluttered with the remains of supper, the clansmen and servants milling about stopped to stare at the newcomers. Scents of bread, venison and ale perfumed the air, taking Dirk back many years. The high table sat crosswise at the far end of the room, near the fireplace. Dirk's gaze fell upon his half-brother occupying the central chief's chair.

Six years younger than Dirk, Aiden had only been nine when he'd last seen him. He didn't look much older than that now. Of course, he was taller, but he appeared frail and thin. Dirk frowned, hoping his brother wasn't ill. Aiden used to follow him around like a wee deerhound, and they'd always been close.

Aiden's face blanched white as his eyes locked to Dirk's. He shoved to his feet.

The brawny young man beside him rose as well, his hand going to rest on his sword hilt, his glare fixed on Dirk. "Who the hell is that?" he growled.

Could he be Haldane, Dirk's youngest half-brother? He had not seen the lad since he was seven summers old. Aye, he resembled Da and Dirk, as well, with ginger hair. Though Haldane had not yet filled out into a man, he was tall and broad-shouldered.

"I'm Dirk MacKay," he said in a strong voice so everyone in the large room would be sure to hear. He was surprised he had to state the obvious, but a lot of time had passed and his brothers had been children when he'd left.

Gasps echoed in the silence of the hall. Dirk quickly scanned faces in the room, most of them familiar.

"Do you not remember your eldest brother?" Conall asked Haldane.

"Dirk died. I remember that much," Haldane said in a harsh tone.

"Nay, he is alive and well, as you can see," Conall said.

Aiden remained transfixed, braced against the table, his wide-eyed gaze searching Dirk's face.

"Aiden, 'tis good to see you again, lad." Dirk gave a slight grin, hoping to put everyone at ease.

"Is it really you, brother?" he asked in an awed tone.

"Aye." Dirk moved forward and extended his hand.

His brother studied his face intently, clasped his hand, then embraced him.

"But how can this be? We thought you dead, fallen from a cliff at Faraid Head."

"I'm not so easy to kill." Dirk's gaze slid over Haldane, his expression clearly hostile. "Haldane, you've grown," Dirk said by way of greeting.

His youngest brother merely glared in response.

Both young men had the green eyes of their mother. Dirk scanned the room, wondering where the murderous hag might be and who else here was unfriendly. He expected hostilities, of course. But the person who stood to lose the most, Aiden, was the one who'd welcomed him with the greatest warmth.

Dirk had not come to greedily take over. Hell, he did not even want the responsibility. But it was his birthright, and his father had groomed him to be the next chief from the time he was a babe.

In their youth, Aiden had not been trained the same way. His mother had pushed him toward the training, but his father had ignored her. Nor had Aiden held any interest in fighting or leading. He was fascinated by music and took to playing the pipes early, as well as other instruments.

Dirk had a feeling Haldane was far different. He had a militant MacKay look about him that was only intensified by his mother's Gordon blood.

Dirk turned to the elders, including two of his great uncles, who entered the room and shook their hands. They all murmured in amazement and welcomed him.

"He's an imposter," Haldane shouted, his face red.

"Nay, lad," Conall said, his bushy gray brows lowered.

"He fell from a cliff onto the rocks below and died."

"You were not there and did not see this. Besides, you were naught more than a bairn of seven summers," Conall growled. "His body was never recovered, was it?" he asked the group at large.

Several, including the elders, shook their heads.

"Dirk did not fall onto the rocks below," Conall proclaimed, his voice echoing off the high ceiling. "Someone pushed him—the same man who killed Will MacKay! But Dirk fell a short distance down the cliff face and caught on a small outcropping of rocks. I know this because I threw a rope down and pulled him back up."

Dirk nodded, the icy, dark claws of fear raking through him once again. For years, he had nightmares about hanging off the side of a cliff, grieving the loss of his best friend, knowing he would be next if the rock gave way.

"You did?" Aiden asked, his eyes wide. "Why did you not tell us he survived? Why did you let us believe the worst… including Da? It near killed him when he thought Dirk died."

"Because someone wanted him dead!" Conall smashed a beefy fist down onto the wide-planked table. "He was a lad of but fifteen summers. He was well-trained for his age, but he was not yet experienced enough to defend himself against someone intent upon murder."

"Who would want to murder him?" Haldane asked. "An enemy clan?"

"Nay. A traitorous member of the MacKay clan," Conall said.

The murmurs of the clan around them grew louder.

"Who?" Haldane demanded.

Conall hesitated, his fierce blue eyes scanning the room. Did he dare blurt out the truth, Dirk wondered.

"I have no proof as to the murderer's identity," Conall finally admitted.

"You know naught, then." Haldane smirked. "If this is truly Dirk MacKay, where has he been all these years?"

"Many places," Dirk said.

"You are not my father's son."

Dirk snorted and narrowed his eyes. Who did this lad think he was? Dirk was just the man to teach this wee bastard a few things.

Two male clan elders gathered close, visually inspecting Dirk.

"Aye, 'tis Dirk MacKay, as sure as I'm standing here," Ranald, his father's sword-bearer said. "He is the image of his father at that age. He has the look of our Northman ancestors."

"He has a red birthmark in the shape of a dirk on his back. I saw it the day he was born. To Chief Griff, this was a sign he should be called Dirk. That will surely prove who he is," his great uncle Hamish said. Though he had a thick white beard, he appeared hale and hearty.

"You jest!" Haldane said. "A mark upon his back means naught."

The half dozen clan elders ignored him and gathered to talk low in a corner with their heads together.

Dirk had forgotten about the birthmark since it was on the back part of his shoulder. But he was glad the clan might use it to prove his identity.

The elders mumbled for a few moments then faced them again. "Aye, we must see the birthmark and then there will be no more question about his identity," Uncle Hamish said.

"Very well." Dirk removed his outer clothing, his doublet and his shirt until he was bare from the waist up.

"Aye, there 'tis!" Uncle Hamish said to his fellow clansmen and poked the back of Dirk's left shoulder. "You see, 'tis reddish in color and the shape of a Highland dirk, the MacKay's symbol." The other elders murmured their agreement behind him. "Turn and allow the whole clan to see, lad."

Dirk did as he asked, then the clan elders gathered in the corner again to discuss things.

"I will not allow him to take what is rightfully my brother's," Haldane seethed.

His brother's? Dirk's gaze darted back and forth between Aiden's meek, confused frown and Haldane's malicious one.

"Shut your mouth, you upstart lad," Uncle Conall snapped.

"I'm far more than a lad. I, along with my men, lifted a dozen cattle from the Gunns but last month. They feared us so much they let us do it."

Putting his shirt on again, Dirk glared at his brother. Was that how he proved that he was a man? Stealing from and provoking neighboring clans. Aye, it was a time-honored Highland tradition, but this would do naught but cause future strife. Too many were killed in clan feuds as it was.

"You have men?" Dirk asked.

"The men of the MacKay clan. Aiden authorized the raid. 'Tis what we do to prove our manhood here, something I'm sure you've never done."

"Never needed to. 'Tis obvious I'm a man." Dirk forced himself not to smirk. "Besides I was at university when I was your age."

"University?" Haldane snorted. "Of what use is that? It only makes you more like the Sassenachs."

"All chiefs are required by the king to send their eldest sons."

Haldane shrugged. "Ma brought in tutors. I wager we know as much as you do."

The six clan elders disbanded from their private conference. "We will have a hearing to decide whether Dirk MacKay, eldest son and legal heir of Griff MacKay, will become chief," Hamish said in a loud voice. "This meeting will be held three days hence."

Dirk gave a bow of respect to them. "I thank you."

Much mumbling and chatter ensued. Dirk glanced around the room and his gaze landed on a familiar female face. His wee sister?

"Is that Jessie?" he asked Conall.

"Aye and hasn't she turned into a bonny lass?"

The tall young woman with flaming red hair and blue eyes descended the steps. With a wide smile, she threw herself onto him for a massive hug. "I cannot believe you're alive, brother. After all these years."

"Aye, 'tis good to see you again, lass."

He and Jessie had been close for a few years when they were young children, but when Jessie was seven summers, they'd sent her to foster with the Keiths. Mainly because their stepmother hadn't wanted her underfoot. Jessie had been a wee hellion at the time, following the lads around and engaging them in mock battles with wooden swords. He'd only seen her a few times since. He'd missed her greatly since she was his only full sibling.

She was three-and-twenty, and he couldn't believe Da hadn't married her off before now.

Jessie stepped back to beam up at him. "I'm so happy you're alive and have come home."

"I'm glad to be home. But I'm sorry I didn't make it in time to see Da one last time."

"Aye, he would've been beside himself with joy to know you are indeed alive."

Her words only made Dirk regret his decision to stay away even more. He'd always known his father loved him, but twelve years ago, it seemed Da had loved and trusted Maighread far more. At times, Dirk had been angry at his father for not believing him and ignoring his concerns.

"Will you be staying tonight?" his sister asked. "I can have a room prepared."

"Is our adoring stepmother here?" he asked.

Jessie grinned. "Nay, she is at Tongue."

Conall drew him aside and said in a low voice, "It might be best if we stay at the cottage tonight."

Dirk knew what his uncle was hinting at—his safety. In truth he wasn't sure he wanted to turn his back on Haldane long enough to exit the room, much less sleep under the same roof. The lad had violence in his eyes. Aiden came forward, approaching Dirk.

"Won't you stay the night here, brother?" he asked.

Dirk frowned, trying to decipher Aiden's frame of mind and motives. He had not changed a lot since the last time he'd seen him. He was taller, of course, but he was still thin. He certainly didn't appear old enough or fearsome enough to be a chief.

"I'd like it if you would," Aiden went on. "It has been many years. I'd like to talk and catch up."

Dirk gave a brief nod. He'd make sure to sleep far from Haldane and bar the door. "Do you have room for my friend, the Earl of Rebbinglen, as well?"

"Earl?" Aiden's wide eyes traveled to Rebbie, who gave a slight bow. "Of course. We'd be honored."

Haldane, a few inches taller than Aiden and broader of shoulder, sidled up to him. "They're not staying here, Aiden."

"Aye, I've invited them. Dirk is our brother and his friend is an earl."

"I don't care who the blazes they say they are. We have no proof this truly is Dirk. And anyone can say they're an earl. Doesn't make it so."

Rebbie smirked. Dirk knew he had no need to prove himself. One had only to look at him, his possessions, and his clothing to know he was of the nobility. But Dirk's youngest brother was not very wise or observant.

"Stand down, Haldane. I've already decided," Aiden said.

"Haldane, you dimwit. Of course he's Dirk," Jessie put in for good measure.

"Shut your mouth, Jessie." Haldane passed his glare over all of them before snarling words under his breath and stamping away.

Jessie turned, directing servants to prepare extra bedchambers.

"Could we talk for a few minutes in the library?" Aiden asked Dirk.

"Aye, of course."

Carrying a candle, Aiden led the way from the expansive great hall, down a tight corridor and into the smaller room his father had used for official business. The room looked deserted now without his father occupying the massive desk in the corner or sitting in one of the chairs at the table where small meetings were held or maps were spread out. Rolled documents and papers still filled some of the shelves along one wall.

They took seats before the hearth where a small fire smoldered. Aiden added a brick of peat to the fire, then turned to Dirk. "You left because someone tried to murder you?"

"Aye." Dirk could see how the information Conall revealed in the great hall would be a shock to Aiden. He'd been too young back then to be involved. Had any of them suspected murder or did they think he and Will had simply had an accident and both fallen off the cliff?

"Who did this? Who killed Cousin Will?"

Dirk was unsure whether he should tell Aiden his mother was the guilty party. "I have no proof as of yet, Aiden. I hope to expose them."

"But you suspect someone."

"Aye, but I'd rather not say yet. I'm certain it will all come to light now that I'm back. Tell me of Da's last few days."

Aiden's green eyes dimmed. "He did not say much. He lay abed. Sometimes he would call me into his chamber and we'd discuss the clan. He reminded me again of things he'd told me a thousand times. I ken he feared I would not make a good chief. I have the same fear." Aiden stared dejectedly into the glowing coals, his expression proclaiming he felt unsure of himself, but also guilty for not being what his father expected. It wasn't his fault he was born with musical talent instead of leadership ability. He lifted a hopeful gaze to Dirk. "Are you here to take your rightful place?"

Dirk was stunned silent for a moment. Aiden wanted to give up the title and responsibility to him. "If that is what the clan wants." Dirk released a long breath, a small measure of relief flowing through him. Most of all, he hadn't wanted to hurt his beloved brother. "Aiden, I didn't come back here to oust you. I hoped father would still be alive."

"Do not fash yourself. Ever since I can remember, you were supposed to be the next chief. Naught has been right since you disappeared. Everything was off kilter. Da made me train with a sword, targe and dirk." He shook his head. "I disappointed him. He tried to reshape me into you, but nothing could make it so."

"I'm certain he was proud of you, anyway."

Aiden gave a short bleak laugh. "Nay, I fear the training did me no good. I'm a piper, not a soldier. If Da were alive, he'd be overjoyed to see you, and to know that you would be the next chief… 'tis what he'd want. You have the training and the natural skills for it."

"I'm grateful you feel this way. You are the same Aiden I remember… generous, intelligent and understanding."

"I thank you. But apparently it takes far more than that to be an effective chief."

That was true. A chief needed to be a warrior and a soldier first, and be willing to command many men and lead them into battle when necessary. A chief had to always consider the clan and their safety, as well as being harsh at other times.

"How is your mother?" Dirk asked, trying to hide his loathing of her.

"She is well and bossy as always." Aiden grinned. "She stays in the manor house at Tongue most of the time because it's warmer there."

"And she's there now?"

"Aye."

That was good. If she decided to come here, he'd have at least a few days to bring the clan to his side. Tongue was twenty or thirty miles away and a full day's ride through mountainous terrain. With the bad weather, it might take even longer. She would be as hostile as Haldane, except ten times worse.

"Have there been any clan feuds since I was last here?" Dirk asked.

"Nothing of importance. There's some cattle reeving now and again but no loss of life over it. I think 'tis a game to them, and Haldane relishes it."

"What about dealings with the MacLeods?"

Aiden shook his head. "I don't recall any for several years."

"They are still our allies, then?"

"Aye."

That was a good thing. Still, if they viewed his rescue of Isobel as stealing the chief's bride or taking a hostage, it could spark a clan war.

"What of marriages or new clan alliances?" Dirk asked.

Aiden's pale skin suddenly flushed in the candlelight. "Ma convinced Da that I should marry a lass from the Murray clan."

Dirk was surprised because he simply couldn't imagine Aiden married, young as he appeared. "Did you?"

"Nay. We are not even betrothed yet. I don't feel ready to marry. But Ma says now that I'm chief, I must. The lass and her aunt arrived right after Da's funeral and are now staying at Tongue with Ma. They stayed here for a few weeks so Seona and I could get to know one another. But if you become chief, I won't have to marry now. I can wait until I find a lass to my liking." Aiden gave a relieved smile.

"You don't like the Murray lass?"

Aiden shrugged. "She's bonny enough, but we have little to talk about. She has no talent for music or singing."

"I see." And he obviously wasn't attracted to her either or the music wouldn't have mattered.

"Haldane said he would marry her if I didn't want to. I believe he is smitten with her, but she ignores him as if he were a bothersome pup."

"Does he have his sights set on becoming chief?" Likely he did, but Dirk needed to know for a certainty. Haldane could become a great stumbling block.

Aiden shrugged. "He's never said so, but I do get the feeling 'tis what he wants. And I ken some of the clan members say he would make a better chief than I. They may be right about that. But you would make a far better chief than either of us."

Dirk felt humbled of a sudden and grateful for his forthright and caring brother. "I thank you for your confidence in me, Aiden."

"Haldane is too young and rash. He speaks or acts before he thinks. And he often provokes people's anger. We would have nothing but conflict with other clans if Haldane is chief. You are more diplomatic."

They talked for more than an hour about what had happened since Dirk had left. And Dirk filled him in on some of his exploits.

That night, Dirk insisted on barring the bedchamber door in the event Haldane did something impulsive, and he warned Rebbie to do the same in his chamber. Dirk neither understood nor trusted the lad as of yet, nor did he know what he was capable of. Terrible things, if his mother had tutored him.

Dirk was grateful that Haldane was still abed early the next morn while the rest of the men broke their fast. The last thing he wanted to do was argue during a meal.

Afterward, Dirk spoke privately with Aiden. "I thank you for your hospitality. You are most kind."

"'Tis the least I can do for my brother who's back from the dead. I hope you'll stay here until the hearing." He lowered his voice. "And after, of course, because by then you'll be chief."

"I thank you." Dirk hoped Aiden was right for he definitely wanted to make this his home once again.

He considered how to broach the subject of Isobel. She could not stay at Uncle Conall's home much longer, for his large family was already squeezed tightly into the cottage. "On our way here, we came across a lady from the MacKenzie clan and her maid. They would've frozen out in the snowstorm if we hadn't helped them. Do you have an extra chamber here where they might stay until I can return them to their home?"

"Of course. This old castle has many rooms. We'll find a place. Mother's bedchamber is not being used at the moment."

Dirk shook his head. "That's probably not a good idea. That chamber is for the chief's wife or mother. I wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong impression about Lady Isobel."

Aiden eyed him with speculation. "Ah. Lady Isobel MacKenzie, aye?"

A slight shock went through Dirk. "You know her?"

"I remember her from when I was a lad." Aiden smiled. "And I recall how you and your friends could not take your eyes off her when we visited her clan. Is she still as lovely as she was?"

Dirk shrugged, hoping to hide his true thoughts. "Aye, I suppose." If one considered seductive dark eyes, long lashes, lush rosy lips and voluptuous curves to be lovely. Which he sure as hell did. His body quickened when he imagined her the way she'd been two nights before, wearing naught but a thin smock as he carried her back to the bed. He drew in a deep cooling breath, hoping he could resist her once he brought her here to the castle.