"Guard?" She knocked on the door. "Guard! I want to speak with my son, Aiden. Send him to me."

Her request was met with silence. Bastards! She had never been treated so horribly in all her days. Dirk would pay dearly for this!

"Do you hear me?" She yelled, beating on the door. "Send Aiden to me now!"

Loud music from the great hall vibrated the wooden floor of her chamber. Instead of a battle, the damnable clans were having a céilidh. She ground her teeth. How dare they celebrate while she was a prisoner in her own home? Well, not hers, but Aiden's home. Her home was at Tongue, and she missed the warm manor house terribly.

Despite the fire, she had to wear several layers of wool to stay warm in this chamber. Not only was she freezing, but she had to tend to the fire herself. That horse's arse Dirk hadn't even allowed her a maid to stoke it for her.

If only she could contact Clan Gordon, Dirk and his followers would be sorry indeed. Her nephew would rain down hell on these traitors.

Pounding her fist on the door again, she yelled, "Open the door!"

She could die here and no one would know it, not even her sons. Tears flooded her eyes.

Familiar music drifted from the great hall. That was Aiden playing! She couldn't believe her own son had turned his back on her. Could he not understand she did all of this for him? So he'd have an inheritance. Now he had naught except what Dirk decided to give him. Instead of being chief, Aiden would be little more than a servant. When she imagined her son's dismal future, her stomach ached.

And what about Haldane? Where was he? She prayed he wasn't in the dungeon. He was tougher than Aiden and she knew he could handle it, but Dirk had no right to imprison either of her sons. Haldane would be the new chief. He was the grandson of an earl. He deserved it. She had to get a message to him. Surely he could help her escape this prison.

She scribed a missive on a small piece of paper she found in her old desk. Thank goodness she'd had the tutor teach him to read, despite much opposition and laziness on his part. She didn't know when she would get the note to him, but she crammed it into the pouch at her waist.

Maighread fell asleep in the chair before the hearth. The room was dark when faint, quick tapping on the door woke her. She arose, her stiff joints aching, and ambled toward the door. All was quiet, no music from the great hall. It was obviously past midnight.

"Aye?" she asked at the door.

"M'lady." It was no more than a loud whisper.

"Is that you, Una?" Thank goodness she'd had the foresight to bring two maids with her from Tongue, for Anne had disappeared or abandoned her.

"Aye," the maid replied.

"Where are the guards?"

"There is only one here and he's asleep."

Elation rushed through Maighread. "Take the keys off him and unlock the door."

After a long moment Una said, "I don't see any keys. If I search him, he's sure to wake."

Maighread muttered a curse she'd heard her husband say a thousand times. "Where is Haldane? Have you seen him?"

"Nay, but the men were laughing about how he'd run away like a coward with some of the others they call outlaws."

Damn them all. Her son was no coward, nor was he an outlaw.

"What of the MacLeods?" Maighread asked. "Are they angry with Dirk for taking Lady Isobel hostage?"

"Nay. They all seemed the best of friends, laughing, dining and drinking together. During supper, Chief MacKenzie announced that Dirk and Lady Isobel would be getting married."

"Dear heavens! And the MacLeods were fine with this?"

"Aye."

Chief MacKenzie must have smoothed everything over and appeased the MacLeod somehow, destroying her plans.

"I need for you to slip a missive to Haldane. Can you do that for me?"

"Aye, m'lady, if I see him."

"You must go out and find him. Our very lives depend upon it. Yours too." Maighread slid the folded piece of paper underneath the door. "Here it is. Take this to Haldane. Do you know Levina, the kitchen servant?"

"Aye."

"I want you to give her a message for me. Tell her I said to take the measures we discussed several days ago."

"Very well. Is that all m'lady?"

"Aye."

She hadn't wanted the situation to lead to this, but she had no choice. Dirk had forced her hand.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The next morn, after breaking their fast, Cyrus told Isobel he'd like to talk to her in the library. She glanced at Dirk, wondering why he wasn't invited. He gave her a little smile that made her recall their steamy encounter in the library the evening before. Then, they'd been summoned to share a dance in the great hall with their clans. Though Dirk had said he didn't like to dance, he'd done wonderfully.

Inside the library now, both Isobel and Cyrus took seats at the table.

"What do you think of Dirk MacKay?" Cyrus asked.

Why was he asking her this? The arrangement was already signed and sealed. She knew how her brother was—bossy and domineering. It wouldn't have mattered if she'd protested. Of course, she wasn't going to protest a marriage to Dirk. Quite the opposite. She could hardly wait to marry him.

She forced herself to be reserved, considering which words her brother would take seriously. She didn't want him to see her as a giddy young lass, though that's exactly how she'd felt since last night when Dirk proposed and then made love to her. Whew. She had a sudden urge to fan herself.

"Chief MacKay is a good man," she said. "Protective, helpful, an honorable gentleman. And a strong, brave chief. Well-liked by… everyone."

Cyrus lifted a brow. "In truth?"

"Of course." How could he doubt her words? Obviously, he was testing her in some way.

Cyrus sat back, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Yesterday, he admitted he seduced you."

Her face burned. "I see." Did that cause Cyrus to disapprove of Dirk? They had seemed friends at both meals. "He's not to blame. It was mutual."

"You seduced him?" Cyrus asked, his voice loud and his eyes wide.

"Nay, not exactly," she quickly said, hoping her brother didn't think her whorish. Well, maybe she had seduced Dirk when she'd burst in on him in the bathtub… and last night in this room. "I find him… nice."

"Nice?" Her brother snorted.

"And handsome. I like Dirk a great deal."

"Ah. Now we're getting somewhere. So, you want to marry him, aye?"

"Of course. You didn't tell him he had to marry me, did you?" That had been her greatest fear.

"Nay. He asked for your hand. He finds you lovely and he cares for you. He appears to be a good man. That's enough. Finding you a suitable husband has been a nightmare, Isobel."

"I ken it. But you chose wrongly the first time." She had told him this before.

"I'm sorry for that, but it was to secure an important clan alliance. Besides that, an offer of marriage from an earl to a baron's daughter is naught to sneeze at, no matter his age."

"Very well. I did my duty for the clan." The past was the past and she wanted to forget it. Her first marriage could've been far more horrible than it was, and she was grateful to have gotten off easy.

"Now, you may have your blessed love match that you have blathered on about since you were fifteen summers," Cyrus muttered.

Love match. Aye. She was falling in love with Dirk. Now, if only he would feel the same way. 'Haps he did, but he hadn't said so.