"I'm proud of you, Aiden. You are the most honorable of men."
"I thank you, brother."
"This is lunacy!" Haldane leapt to his feet, his hands clenched in fists at his side. "Are you insane, Aiden? To simply hand over the inheritance that Da entrusted you with to this imposter?"
"Sit down, Haldane," Aiden said in a calm but firm voice.
"Nay! I will not sit down. Nor will I be the filthy rushes beneath this bastard's feet! You are daft to give up everything without a fight."
"There is no need to fight. I know the truth. This is Da's oldest son."
"You don't know that he is legitimate. Da may not have even been married to his mother. 'Haps she was only his whore and this man a bastard in truth."
"You go too far, Haldane!" Dirk said, offended outrage rushing through him that the lad could insult his mother to such a degree. "Either sit down and remain silent or leave."
With a snarl, his youngest brother stormed from the room and shoved the door back to bang against the stone wall. A gust of chilly wind whooshed in before the guard closed the door.
Dirk ran his gaze over Maighread. Her eyes were narrowed, and she looked vindictive enough to charge him with a sword. But he knew she would never be so open about her revenge. She would retaliate in secret, under the cover of darkness. She would hire someone to do her dirty work while imagining she was keeping her hands spotlessly clean. He was certain she was even now making those plans. If he knew her, she would hire someone capable of getting the job done, someone as malicious as she was herself. But not McMurdo. He was in the dungeon.
"I think we can all agree that Dirk MacKay is our rightful chief," Hamish announced. "All in favor say aye."
A loud chorus of ayes went up.
"All not in favor say nay."
Everyone remained silent, even Maighread. But venom nearly shot from her eyes. He lifted a brow, daring her to take another shot at him.
She stormed from the room. He hoped she was going to pack her baggage.
Isobel caught his attention as she trailed his stepmother from the room. Why the devil was she always following that evil harpy about?
The meeting was adjourned and the clansmen gathered 'round to shake his hand and pledge their loyalty to him. They informed him they would hold a traditional inauguration outside when the weather was better.
Moments later, two guards burst in the front door and addressed Keegan. "The prisoner tried to escape. One of the guards was injured."
Dirk strode across the great hall toward them. "What happened?"
"Dirk MacKay is our new chief," Keegan told the two guards. Dirk had met them a few days earlier.
Each of the men bowed. "Chief, three masked men barged into the dungeon and strove to overpower the two guards. One was stabbed with a sgian dubh but he lives. The other was knocked out. The intruders snatched the keys and opened the cell door but they didn't have the key to the manacles. They were trying to smash the chain or rip it from the wall when more guards arrived."
"Did you capture them?"
"Aye. They must be from McMurdo's band of thieves."
"Damnation. I'm going to question them now."
Moments later, Dirk descended the narrow stone steps into the dank dungeon with the two guards. Rebbie followed him, as did Erskine and Keegan. A large hammer lay in the corridor. He nudged it with his toe. "Is this what they used?"
"Aye." One of the guards opened the door to McMurdo's cell. He was alone inside, and his fellow outlaws in separate cells.
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, especially his eyes. 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 churchyard 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."