Page 60 of My Brave Highlander

"After the weather breaks."

"That won't be until spring, I'm thinking, considering the north wind has been thrashing us since we arrived."

Dirk shrugged. "Whenever. The MacLeods don't know where she is, so she's safe."

"Aye, safe from them. But is she safe from you?" Rebbie asked in a teasing tone.

"I don't take advantage of women." He felt like belting his friend for even suggesting it.

"'Haps not. Come to think of it, I'm a wee bit worried she will take advantage of you."

"Ha. Now I ken it… you're mad enough for the asylum."

"We'll see." Rebbie wandered from the stable and into the courtyard.

Dirk frowned. Was Isobel planning to seduce him? And if so, why? To rescue her permanently from the MacLeods? Would she use him in that way? Hell, he could not allow himself to be dragged into this conflict between the MacLeods and the MacKenzies.

∞∞∞

"This man you speak of cannot be Dirk MacKay. He is dead," Maighread Gordon, Lady MacKay said to Haldane. "This is an imposter!" She eyed her youngest son across the Turkish carpet of her sitting room in the manor house at Tongue. Haldane appeared to be speaking the truth.

"I know not if 'tis truly him or not. I don't remember Dirk that well."

"It cannot be." Dirk MacKay died twelve years ago. Surely he did. How could he have survived a fall from a three-hundred foot cliff? A moment of guilt speared her chest as it always did when she thought of the hateful, little red-headed bastard. He made her think of those fabled changelings. Since he was a small child, he'd watched her with those eerie, piercing pale eyes as if he knew what she was thinking… as if he hated her. She had certainly hated him with equal fervor.

But the brat's father, Griff MacKay, had loved her. He'd told her so every day, and he'd built this warm manor house for her where she'd wanted it near Kyle of Tongue. She couldn't tolerate the bleak and drafty Castle Dunnakeil on the shear face of that windy shore.

She would've had no reason to marry Griff MacKay two-and-twenty years ago if not to bear him an heir. She was the daughter of an earl and had expected to marry equally well. But that hadn't happened. Griff was only a baron and a chief. It had been enough, she supposed, given how much land came with the title. But she'd be damned if she let a little flame-haired hellion of a boy have that title when it could just as easily go to her oldest son.

"All the elders say 'tis him," Haldane said. "And Uncle Conall says Dirk's body was never found because he didn't die."

Conall? Was he in on this scheme? She'd never trusted her husband's youngest brother. "What does this Dirk look like?"

"A tall, hardened warrior. Ginger hair, blue eyes."

Maighread's eyes narrowed. The description fit to an extent.

"How tall?"

Haldane lifted his hand to about six inches over his own head. Six and a half feet? Could that scrawny lad have grown so much?

"What does Aiden say?" she asked.

"He believes the man truly is Dirk."

"In truth?" Her oldest son had been nine summers when Dirk died. Surely he would know whether the man was Dirk or not.

"Aye, but Aiden is easily fooled. He simply wants his brother back, no matter who is playing the part. He allowed him to move into the keep, bringing his friends and his whore."

"What an outrage. I must go see for myself. I'm certain he is an imposter. But if 'tis truly Dirk MacKay, something will have to be done about him. He'll not be robbing my sons of their birthright."

Haldane's eyes widened, then he smiled, his hand flexing on his sword hilt. "I'd like to do something about him."

"You'll refrain from doing anything stupid and rash. You'll get yourself killed. I need you and the clan needs you. If Aiden cannot lead the clan alone, you will help him."

"Help him?" Haldane glowered.

"Aye. You'll help him with the difficult decisions and lead the men during battles. 'Tis clear Aiden is not built for warfare, as you are. But Aiden has a keen intelligence. He kens well how to lead the clan, but physically he is a bit weaker."