"The assassin you hired, who murdered Will MacKay, thought those were the last words I would hear," Dirk said. "He wanted me to know who'd hired him, but he wanted me to take that information to my watery grave. It didn't work." Dirk gave a bitter but satisfied smile.

Her four brawny guards moved forward to stand beside her. At least two of them were from the Sutherland clan. He knew not the other two.

"This is a madman!" she accused, her gaze scanning the suddenly restless MacKay clan. "How can you possibly believe him? He's a lying imposter. And even if he were Dirk MacKay, lies are easy to make up. He's trying to steal the chieftainship from Aiden."

The clan's mutterings continued as they discussed the topic and speculated about Maighread's guilt. Dirk was happy to see so many of his agitated clansmen were on his side. He had not planned to confront her at first glance, but the time felt right.

"Chief Griff MacKay would be appalled at the behavior of this clan!" she said. "I have been with you more than twenty years. How can you doubt me or suspect me of such treachery? You should be ashamed of yourselves, believing every word this pretender says."

"What if he isn't a pretender? What if 'tis proven he is Dirk?" Conall asked.

"Well, then, he's lying about what the assassin said. 'Tis easy enough to make up such a story. And if he is Dirk, he's the one who murdered Will MacKay and then ran away so he wouldn't get caught."

"Why on earth would I murder my best friend?" Dirk asked. Surely anyone who believed such a thing would be foolish.

"And why on earth would I murder my stepson?"

"So that your son can inherit, of course," Dirk said. "'Tis what you've always wanted, is it not?"

Drawing herself up regally, she ran her haughty gaze over each face in the room until she noticed Isobel. Halting, Maighread frowned and moved toward her. "Isobel MacKenzie? What on earth are you doing here?"

Dirk narrowed his eyes. How long had it been since the two had seen each other? He didn't want Maighread anywhere near Isobel. She might try to hurt her, or she might fill Isobel's ears with lies, poisoning her mind against Dirk or the good people of the clan. He cringed, imagining Isobel being influenced in any small way by his witch of a stepmother.

Isobel talked low but Dirk understood her words. "I was caught out in a snowstorm with my maid and Laird MacKay helped us to safety."

Isobel had never called him Laird MacKay. Why was she doing so now? To test Maighread and see how riled she'd become? Dirk almost smiled at the bold move.

"Laird MacKay?" Maighread demanded.

"Aye. Dirk. Your stepson," Isobel said in a guileless tone, her eyes wide and naïve. What a wee actress.

Maighread lifted a brow and glared back at Dirk. "My dear girl, he is not Laird MacKay, nor is he my stepson, of that I'm certain."

Isobel's dark gaze met his, communicating sympathy and cleverness, then she gave a covert shrug. He'd already told her Maighread would try to discredit him. Dirk knew the hag only too well. But would Isobel start believing Maighread over him?

"Come, we must talk, Lady Isobel… or should I call you Lady Jedwarth?"

Jedwarth? Dirk had neglected to ask Isobel what her first husband's name had been. Saints! He hadn't imagined he'd been the widely-known Earl of Jedwarth. She was a countess. Surely that made her even more sought after as a wife, aside from her beauty. Not that it mattered to him, but it probably did to the MacLeod.

Maighread turned back to the men. "We will sort this out later." Her eyes scanned the room. When they landed on Jessie, she said, "Have the servants bring food and drink to the solar." She then motioned to the two women who had traveled with her. "Come, ladies."

Jessie glared with great venom after their stepmother. Apparently, she liked her about as much as Dirk did. Muttering words Dirk couldn't hear, Jessie turned and stomped away toward the kitchen.

Isobel and Maighread being together did not set well with Dirk. He worried Maighread would hurt Isobel, especially if she disagreed with her. Since the two other ladies were with them, surely Maighread wouldn't become violent.

But, with her lies, she might also turn Isobel against him.

Dirk approached Rebbie where he stood by the massive fireplace. "I need a word with you," he said in a low tone, then led the way to the library. Once Rebbie was inside, Dirk closed the door.

"That woman knows who I am, and she knows the clan recognizes me," Dirk said. "Without doubt she will keep saying I'm not Dirk, but she knows the clan will pay her no heed. Her only recourse will be to try to murder me again. I'll need for you to watch my back."

"Of course. But 'haps you also need a couple of personal bodyguards," Rebbie said, his dark brown eyes far more serious than usual.

"As of yet, I know not who I can trust completely within the clan, aside from Conall and Keegan."

"But Keegan is what, third or fourth in line after you to inherit, correct?"

"Indeed, but we've always been close. I wouldn't suspect him of treachery. Nor Conall. He's in line to inherit too but he's always helped me, even more than my father did. They are loyal to the core."

"In my opinion, Keegan would make a good bodyguard. Mayhap he would do it as a favor to you."

"Aye, and once I'm chief, I'll make sure Keegan has a higher-ranking position." Dirk thought of the group of lads he spent much of his time with as a youth. Erskine had been a good friend. He was the son of his father's sword-bearer, and he'd always been destined to be Dirk's sword-bearer, a hereditary position passed down through the clan. Was he already Aiden's sword-bearer? He hadn't thought to ask, but it might not matter. If Aiden was loyal to Dirk, likely Erskine would be too.

"Erskine is another possibility. Wait here and I'll see if he is about." Dirk returned to the great hall and scanned the two dozen or so present. Erskine talked with Keegan near the entrance. While Keegan resembled Dirk a great deal, aside from his sandy hair, Erskine was smaller of frame with dark brown hair and brown eyes. Still, he had a wiry strength and Dirk had seen him best larger opponents when they were younger.

Dirk approached them. "Could I have a word with both of you in the library?"

"Aye," they responded with great interest and followed him.

Once inside the more private room, he closed the door. "Have a seat." Dirk motioned toward the chairs and benches surrounding the table, then took one himself beside Rebbie. "I'm not chief yet, of course, but if all the elders and the majority of the clan decide in my favor at the hearing, I will be. I hold no ill will toward Aiden. He is my beloved brother, but most everyone can agree he isn't suited to be a chief."

Keegan and Erskine murmured their agreements.

"Are you Aiden's sword-bearer?" Dirk asked Erskine.

"Aye. I'm glad to be sword-bearer for either you or Aiden." His dark eyes narrowed. "But not Haldane. If he ever becomes chief, my family and I are leaving."

Dirk nodded. He sounded loyal. "I thank you. You've always been a good friend, Erskine. Aiden knows who I am and I believe he will resign. He's already told me he'd rather I be chief. If that happens, my stepmother may try to have me murdered again."

"I was surprised to hear she was the one behind your disappearance. But it all makes sense now. I can't believe no one told me." Erskine sent a baffled glance at Keegan.