Dirk nodded. That gave him some peace, that his stepmother wouldn't have wanted his Da dead as she did him. Apparently he was the only one she had it in for.

"Griff was ne'er the same after he believed you died," Conall said. "You see, he wouldn't believe you had truly died for weeks because your body wasn't found washed up on shore. Finally, he accepted that you must be dead, then he blamed himself."

Dirk felt as if a boulder crushed his chest. The last thing he'd meant to do was hurt his father. "Did you tell him who you suspected of killing Cousin Will?" Will was the son of his father's middle brother, and Dirk's best friend during his youth. They were near inseparable, until Maighread's man had shoved him from the cliff.

"I hinted." Conall nodded. "But I couldn't outright accuse her without proof. Besides, I suspect she has several clan members working for her."

"Well, as you ken, she tried to kill me twice before that and he never believed me." In a way, he'd felt betrayed by his father because he'd trusted his wife over his own son.

"'Tis beyond my ken what he saw in the woman," Conall muttered. "He loved her to distraction. And though his heart wasn't in it, he had the men begin training your two younger brothers to follow in his footsteps."

"Both of them?"

"Aye, as you know, Aiden is the eldest but he was e'er a timid child. Your father was unsure of his ability to lead the clan. Haldane is younger but he has a much more forceful nature. 'Tis clear to me he wants to be chief despite being only nineteen summers. About half of the clan would support him if he should decide to oust Aiden, but he holds a fondness for his older brother. I don't believe he wants to hurt him. If Aiden were to relinquish the position, Haldane would take it. But you see, most of the clan elders support Aiden as the oldest son, the most canny and level-headed. And now that you are here…" His uncle shrugged.

"Aye. Now that I'm here… I know not if they will even believe 'tis truly me."

"How can they doubt it? Now that you're grown, I see much of your father in you."

Dirk was glad for that. He'd always been proud that he resembled his father. But he wasn't sure what kind of reception he'd get from the clan, resemblance or no.

"There's still a bit of time to think on it. Are you hungry?"

"Aye." His stomach ached, though he wasn't sure whether from hunger or anxiety.

"Let's go inside."

Dirk preceded him into the cottage that had not changed since the last time he was here. Two of Conall's younger sons and three of his daughters greeted Dirk as he entered. Saints! They'd all been wee bairns the last time he saw them.

"You've all grown up. Where is Keegan?" Conall's eldest son had always been a good friend to Dirk.

"He's head of the guards at the castle."

"I see." That was an impressive position, and Dirk was glad someone he trusted held it.

Squeezing his large frame between Rebbie and another male cousin, he sat across from Isobel. She had removed the cowl covering her rich sable hair, which was down loose on her shoulders. Her bewitching eyes met his in the candlelight and a startling sensation shot through him from his chest to his groin.

What in blazes was wrong with him? He lowered his gaze to the trencher heaped with food that Aunt Effie set before him. "I thank you," he mumbled.

"Eat up. You're a growing lad and you need your strength."

"Growing? I hope not." Only his aunt would say such a thing. Warmth filled his chest at being back amongst his family again. "I'm fair certain I've grown enough."

Rebbie snorted. "You have the right of it."

"No comments are needed from you," Dirk said to Rebbie, his gaze drawn to Isobel again.

She held back a grin, humor lighting her eyes. Damnation, but she was lovely. He could scarce look away, but forced himself to concentrate on the food.

Dirk's thoughts wandered to the task ahead, telling his brothers and the rest of the clan that he did indeed still live and that he was here to take his place as leader of the clan. He would no doubt meet a considerable amount of opposition.

Chapter Eight

Dirk didn't know what to expect at Castle Dunnakeil, but he thought it safest for Isobel and her maid to stay with Aunt Effie until he, Conall, and Rebbie rode to the castle and met with his brother, Aiden, and the rest of the clan.

The wind had calmed a bit with the gloaming, but it was still far more blustery here than further south. By the time Castle Dunnakeil came into view on the horizon with the darkened bay as a backdrop, night was upon them. Torches provided enough light around the castle and inside the high stone walls of the bailey for Dirk to see the castle had changed little in the past twelve years. The three round towers of Dunnakeil had each been built in a different century by his ancestors as had the keep and the east wing.

Although his home appeared unchanged on the outside, he knew things inside would be vastly different because his father was no longer there. Approaching Dunnakeil, he could hardly believe he would never get to see Da again. A dark, sinking feeling settled into his stomach.

"Like I said, Keegan is over the guards," Uncle Conall said as they neared the gatehouse. "If there is any trouble he will be of great help."

Dirk hoped and prayed there was no trouble. He didn't want to fight his own clansmen and kin.

At the gatehouse, two obscure figures inside watched them in the torchlight.

"Who is that with you, Conall?" one of the guards asked.

"Dirk?" the other figure inside the small guard house asked in a shocked but familiar voice.

"Aye," Dirk said. "Keegan, is that you?"

"Indeed." Conall's eldest son emerged while the other guard raised the portcullis.

They proceeded into the stone-paved bailey and toward the stables where they dismounted. Two lanky stable lads of around fifteen took the horses.

Dirk turned toward his cousin. "Keegan, 'tis good to see you."

His sandy-brown hair was pulled back in a queue. The boyish face Dirk remembered had matured into a man's with a strong jaw and chin. Underneath a woolen mantle, he wore metal studded leather armor with his belted plaid.

Keegan clasped his hand and slapped his shoulder in a warrior's welcome. "I wondered if you'd ever come home." Smiling, he turned to Conall. "Why did you not send word earlier that he was here, Da?"

"He only arrived an hour ago, and I thought you'd enjoy the surprise."

Dirk introduced Rebbie and they shook hands.

"Am I ever glad you're here, cousin," Keegan said.

Dirk was glad to be here too, but he wondered what his cousin's cryptic words meant. "Why?"

"There are murmurings that the clan will soon be divided over who will be the best chief—Aiden or Haldane."

"I suppose I'll cause even louder murmurs then," Dirk said, looking forward to seeing the faces of those who'd thought him dead for twelve years. Some of them would be happy to see him. Others not.

Keegan grinned. "Just what we need to stir things up a wee bit more."

As the four of them proceeded toward the portal, both excitement and dread coalesced inside Dirk.

When they entered the great hall with its long tables cluttered with the remains of supper, the clansmen and servants milling about stopped to stare at the newcomers. Scents of bread, venison and ale perfumed the air, taking Dirk back many years. The high table sat crosswise at the far end of the room, near the fireplace. Dirk's gaze fell upon his half-brother occupying the central chief's chair.