Page 99 of My Brave Highlander

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. 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 church yard 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.