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."
Haldane crossed his arms over his chest and frowned, his face turning red. "Are you saying my intelligence is lacking, Mother?"
"Nay. But we both ken you struggled with your studies. You refused to pay attention to the tutor during all the years he was here."
"I was bored. Not daft!"
"Nevertheless, my two sons will lead this clan together. It's a perfect arrangement since you each have different strengths and weaknesses."
"Aye, except Aiden is the chief and the laird, and what am I? The helper? The servant?"
"Don't be so selfish! You both had best be worrying about this imposter who's come along. Clearly, he wishes to steal your birthright."
"A hearing is set for the day after tomorrow. 'Haps you would like to attend," Haldane said.
"Indeed I shall attend."
"Then we'd best be traveling. The weather is fierce between Tongue and Durness."
"I'm well aware of the weather, Haldane."
"We'd best hurry. We need to leave before daylight in the morn. The elders were making all haste about putting Dirk in. From what Aiden said, I think he's willing to step aside and let Dirk take his place."
"Over my dead body!" Maighread said.
***
The next day, Dirk stood on the shore overlooking Balnakeil Bay. Although the icy wind was not as severe as it had been the day before, it still stung his eyes. He tugged the wool mantle tighter about his shoulders. The wide golden-sand beach spread out before him, and six fine wooden galleys of different sizes were moored near the shore. He didn't want to contemplate putting Isobel on one of those and taking her south. The kiss they'd shared the night before in the stables made him even more hesitant. But he would have to take her to her brother at some point.
Beyond the galleys in the bay, the sand dunes, held in place by marram grass, extended as far as he could see toward Faraid Head, the cliffs beneath them jutting two miles out into the sea. As a child, he'd loved playing with his cousins among those dunes. He could almost hear the echoes of mock battles with wooden swords. They'd climb to the top of the dunes and slide or roll down.
But there was also a more sinister side to Faraid Head—the three-hundred foot cliffs where he'd almost lost his life.
Now, the salty air smelled just as it had back then. He could not believe so much time had passed.
He glanced back at the castle, perched upon its gigantic black rock. He'd needed to get outside. Although crowded, the castle felt empty without his father's loud, jovial laugh.
Griff MacKay had been a tall, broad-shouldered man with more presence than anyone else in the clan. When he spoke, people listened. When he went to battle, his enemies' faces blanched with fear.
Although Dirk had loved, admired and respected Da above anyone, he had to admit his father had been rather naïve, trusting his second wife over everyone. And now she would probably arrive here in a matter of a day or two. He didn't think the cold or the wind would keep her away. She'd lived here on the north coast for over twenty years and was used to the weather.
Although he was wary of Maighread, he didn't fear her. He expected her to start with her scheming and plotting. She would try to discount him and his claim. But she wouldn't be able to argue with his father's senachie and the other elders who had been members of the clan far longer than either of them. Men his father's age and older, men who'd known Dirk from birth. They had sharp wits and sound minds.
Since Maighread couldn't do anything legally to prevent him from becoming chief, she'd again sink to underhanded deeds, as was her habit. She would try to murder him again; he had no illusions about it. He'd already talked to Rebbie, Conall and Keegan about this and security around the castle.
Since Maighread and Isobel's mother had been good friends, he didn't think Maighread would try to hurt Isobel. The only way she would think to use the lass to get her way would be if Maighread realized Dirk was intensely attracted to Isobel. For her safety, he would have to hide his interest in her.
Still, he needed to warn her of possible dangers from Maighread or Haldane. Once Dirk was chief and knew who he could trust, he could assign personal bodyguards for Isobel, himself and anyone who might be in the line of Maighread's revenge. Because once Aiden was no longer chief, she would definitely want revenge against him. She might use his friends or family members, anyone he cared about, to exact that revenge.
Waves crashed upon the rocky beach to his left, the water sliding quickly down over the sand. Downwind, a piper played a hymn, in the village perhaps.
A lone figure walking on the beach in the distance caught his attention, the dark clothing standing out against the gray ocean and white breaking waves. He could not tell if the figure was male or female, but they didn't appear to be searching for shellfish. The beach was pleasant in summer, but this late into autumn the beach was too chilly and windy to be truly enjoyable.
Dirk turned to view the orange and gold sunset that hung over the grassy hills. He ran his gaze along the kirk wall. Behind it was the cemetery and the new church—his father's final accomplishment.
Leaving the shore, Dirk strode toward the wall, opened the gate and entered the cemetery where many of his ancestors were buried. Conall had told him that his father had been interred within the church walls.
Upon entering the building, he paused in the silence and cold still air. The place smelled of fresh mortar and rock dust. Of a sudden, he missed the ancient chapel that had been here before he'd left. It was several hundred years old, but in poor condition. Walking up the aisle, he saw they had reused the colorful stained glass window. It had not been too many years since the whole of Durness had converted from Catholicism to Protestantism, and he was glad to see they'd recognized the value of the window.