Page 63 of My Brave Highlander

"I thank you, Reverend. There will be a hearing in two days at the castle. The clan will decide who the rightful chief is. If you would be willing to testify that you remember me and know me to be Dirk MacKay, eldest son of Griff MacKay, that would be a great help to me."

"I'll be glad to. I bid you good evening."

Dirk bowed, and the minister retreated out the side door, likely headed to his nearby cottage.

A memorial plaque? Dirk had to see this.

He gave the new chapel one final glance and left by the front door, still feeling disturbed that it was built with a murderer's money. Why would his father allow such a thing… unless the clan was having financial difficulty? Had Maighread and her fancy manor house bled them dry? He'd have to talk to the steward soon after he was installed as chief.

Outside, Dirk meandered between the grass-covered graves with their old tombstones. The sun, having dropped behind the hills, stained the sky orange, pink and violet. The whole of the north wall faced the bay and Faraid Head beyond, depending on where an onlooker might stand. Halfway along, he noticed a carved gray stone plaque set into the wall. It measured about a foot in height. He moved forward to stand before it.

To honor the memory of Dirk MacKay, brave and noble son of Chief Griffin MacKay. Born 1591. Died 1606 Faraid Head. We miss you.

Of a sudden, he felt the finality of his death just as his father and clan did. It could have so easily been true.

A few feet away stood the grave marker for his cousin who truly had died that day, William MacKay.

His stepmother was a murderer in truth.

Something thumped behind him and he whirled, hand on his sword hilt, alert and ready to lash out.

The dark-clothed figure from the beach stood ten feet away.

Chapter Twelve

Isobel.

For Dirk, seeing her here in the cemetery was so unexpected, he was at a loss for words. And his body was still in high-alert defense and attack mode.

Removing his hand from his sword hilt, he felt daft for the sudden rush of alarm that had near made him strike before he saw who was behind him. His pulse thumped in his ears like a drum. This wasn't the first time it had happened. Expecting to be ambushed at any moment tended to do that to a man.

"Pray pardon. I didn't mean to startle you," Isobel said, frowning. "Are you well?"

He drew in a deep breath, then blew out the tension, forcing himself to relax. "Aye. What are you doing outside the gates? The highwayman could venture into these parts."

She frowned and glanced about. "I simply had to get outside while the weather was halfway pleasant. If it makes you feel any better, I have a dagger in my pouch."

It didn't, but he supposed that was better than nothing.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I was but admiring my memorial plaque," he said in a dry tone and motioned toward it.

She moved forward, her eyes scanning the carved stone. "Oh," she breathed. "Brave and noble. I agree with that."

Her words meant more than he could say. "I thank you," he murmured.

When her dark eyes found him again they were misty. "Your clan missed you."

"No more than I missed them."

"But you knew they were here. They thought you were gone… permanently."

"Aye, there is a difference," he admitted. He especially knew that to be true now that his father had passed. It touched him deeply that Da had such a fine plaque carved in his honor.

She glanced at the plaque again. "Faraid Head… where is that?"

"Over two miles that way." He pointed over the wall toward the massive stretch of land on the opposite side of Balnakeil Bay. "'Tis inhospitable with naught but sand dunes and sea cliffs."