"She said if Aiden didn't want to be chief, that Haldane would. She'd see to it."

He should've guessed she'd never give up. "Where did she send those men when they went south? Did she mention the MacLeods?"

"I heard her whispering to Haldane a few days ago that if anything happened to her, to ride south to the MacLeods and tell them Isobel MacKenzie is being held hostage here."

Dirk nodded. He'd suspected as much, but 'twas good to have confirmation.

"And he was to tell them to bring a large force of men to help him take Dunnakeil from the imposter."

"I see." Would MacLeod do as Haldane asked and help him take over Dunnakeil? Not if he was intelligent, but the man might be desperate to reclaim his beautiful bride. He'd no doubt bring every able-bodied MacLeod to help.

Dirk had the maid locked in a separate room, where she could no longer come within reach of Maighread. Then, he stopped by Maighread's chamber.

"Bring Lady MacKay to the library," he told her two guards. "Tie her hands in front of her first."

"Aye, m'laird."

A quarter hour later, they escorted her into the library.

Dirk, Conall, Keegan and the clan elders sat around the table. They'd left one chair vacant for his stepmother, wearing widow's black. Her green-eyed glare was more venomous than usual, but her gray hair and increasing wrinkles reminded him she was but a mortal woman. Not some everlasting female demon who had tortured and endeavored to kill him from the time he was a lad.

"How dare you imprison me in my own home?" she seethed at Dirk.

Ignoring her question, he got right to the point. "Two more murders are on your head. Both MacKays. The guards."

"I have murdered no one." She was less sanctimonious this time, and closer to boiling with rage.

"I doubt Haldane is bright enough to do all this scheming, plus organizing a dungeon break."

"You have no proof of anything," she sneered.

He gave her a forced smile. "We have witnesses."

"Who? Aiden? He is too naïve to know anything."

"Nay, not Aiden. It matters not how we know. You sent Haldane and the other men to the MacLeods. 'Tis hard to believe you'd betray your friend's daughter in such a way."

"Isobel MacKenzie is nothing like her mother. She's naught but a light-skirt whore."

Fury clawed its way through Dirk's vitals, tensing his muscles, making him want to unsheathe his sword. "If you were a man, I'd strike you down for that," he growled.

"I knew you were smitten with her—a woman who's all but married to another man. How dimwitted can you be? Now you'll have to answer to the MacLeod for kidnapping her."

Dirk snorted. "The MacKay clan knows I didn't kidnap her. That's all that matters."

The elders nodded, eying Maighread with suspicion.

"Well, now that you've bedded her, 'tis doubtful the MacLeod will want her," Maighread said in a nasty tone.

"Won't do him any good if he does. He's not getting her," Dirk said.

"I hope they rain fire on this keep and burn it to the ground!" Maighread said. "Then at least an imposter won't get it."

***

Nolan MacLeod sat in Munrick's great hall, eating venison stew with his brother, Torrin—the MacLeod chief—and their guests, the MacKenzies. Cyrus MacKenzie, Isobel's brother, reminded Nolan of a dark warlord who wouldn't mind taking off anyone's head, and Nolan didn't want to cross the bastard.

Torrin had sent Cyrus a missive that Isobel had run madly out into a snowstorm and disappeared. Cyrus had been irate, demanding answers when he'd arrived with his brothers and several men the day before. Why wasn't his sister protected and taken care of while she'd been here? Where was she? Why hadn't the MacLeods searched for her? Torrin blamed himself, but he was at a loss as to what happened since he hadn't been here at the time.

Nolan didn't know why Torrin had allowed the MacKenzies to gain entrance. If it had been Nolan's decision, he would've left them beyond the walls to freeze.

At the moment, no one paid any attention to Nolan, and he was glad. He had to keep a low profile since the place was crawling with MacKenzies. Fortunately, no one else in the clan knew why Isobel had left. Nolan was the only one. He smiled inwardly. They would never know what happened. 'Twas a pity because of her lush beauty, but Isobel was probably dead. Her own fault for knocking him on the head, running away and facing the harsh elements.

A guard rushed in and approached the center of the high table where the chief sat. "Ten men from the MacKay clan are at the gates, m'laird."

"What do they want?" Torrin asked, putting down his ale cup.

"To speak to you, the man betrothed to Isobel MacKenzie. They claim to know where she is."

"Saints!" Isobel's brother shot from his chair, leapt from the dais and rounded the table. "Where is she?" he demanded.

The guard backed up two steps. "I know not, Chief MacKenzie. Should we allow them inside the gates?" His gaze darted to Torrin.

"I'm coming." Torrin stepped down from the dais, grabbed his wool mantle and followed Cyrus' swift trek across the great hall.

They'd found Isobel? After donning his mantle, Nolan followed his brother. Dread twisted his gut into an aching knot. If she was alive and well, she might tell Torrin, Cyrus and everyone else what Nolan had tried to do to her. Damn her. Why couldn't she have frozen to death?

It would be her word against his. Torrin would believe him, his own brother, over Isobel, surely.

At the same time, excitement rushed through Nolan at the thought of seeing the dark-eyed lass again. She'd bewitched him with her seductive looks and curvy body. He couldn't get her out of his head. He still wanted her, even though he was tempted to strangle her for injuring him.

If she told on him, he would, of a certainty, have to kill her.

Outside in the bailey, sleet and rain hissed through the air as they made their way to the portcullis over the narrow arm of the loch. Guards held torches and lanterns.

"Who are you?" Torrin asked the young, auburn-haired man at the forefront of the visitors beyond the iron bars.

"Haldane MacKay, son of Chief Griff MacKay, may God rest his soul."

"Griff MacKay is dead?" Cyrus asked.

"Aye, just over a month ago."

"I'm sorry to hear of it. You ken where my sister is?"

"If Isobel MacKenzie is your sister, aye. Dirk MacKay took her hostage."

Silence reigned for a moment as the men exchanged frowns.

"Dirk MacKay is dead," Torrin said. "And has been for over a decade."

"Aye," Haldane said. "This man is an imposter claiming to be Dirk MacKay. He's taken over the clan and castle and imprisoned my mother. And he has taken Lady Isobel hostage. He has used her ill and abused her."

"This is an outrage!" Cyrus said. "Who is he in truth?"

"We know not."

"I'll kill the bastard, whoever he is," Torrin muttered.

"And I'll help you," Cyrus said.

Haldane gave a sly grin and Nolan wondered what he was up to. Was any of this true?

One of the MacLeod guards spoke up. "A MacKay and a party of four passed through here a fortnight ago."

"Who was with him?" Torrin demanded.

"A woman he said was his wife, a man named MacInnis, and two servants. The MacKay man claimed his father was on his deathbed and he had to make haste."