***
The sky was overcast and the frigid wind whipping at a steady rate at Dunnakeil two days later when the skirl of bagpipes playing a call to battle from the roof of the guard tower alerted the MacKays something was amiss.
Dirk strode from the stables. The men knew what to do when the MacLeods arrived. He'd been training them for over a week. All wore armor and carried weapons as they gathered in the inner bailey.
"Halt!" one of his guards yelled from the guard tower.
Dirk hurried forward to see how many men had arrived and whether an attack was being launched.
Once Dirk reached the gates, he only saw two well-armed men of about his own age, garbed in plaid, armor and wool mantles. He hadn't seen these two in over twelve years, but he recognized them. The dark-haired one was Isobel's brother, Cyrus MacKenzie, and the other, with lighter brown hair, was her betrothed, Torrin MacLeod.
"We're here to see Dirk MacKay," Cyrus told the guard, then his gaze swung to Dirk. "What have you done to my sister, you blackguard?"
Holding a targe before him—in case someone decided to shoot an arrow or fire a pistol—and carrying a broadsword, Dirk approached the gates, his bodyguards Erskine and Keegan joining him. "She's well and safe. Far safer than she was with the MacLeods." Dirk glared at Torrin.
"What do you mean?" Cyrus demanded.
"Ask his brother, Nolan MacLeod."
"What about Nolan?" Torrin asked.
"He tried to rape Isobel," Dirk said.
"Why, that bastard," Cyrus growled and looked as if he might slay Torrin on the spot in his brother's stead. "How could you let this happen? I trusted you to take care of my sister."
"I knew naught of this." Torrin turned and narrowed his eyes at Dirk. "How did you find out?"
"Did Nolan not tell you she left Munrick in a snowstorm?" Dirk asked.
"Aye, but he said he didn't know why."
Dirk snorted. "Well, of course, he doesn't want you to ken he aimed to rape your future wife."
Torrin frowned, looking mightily troubled and glaring back toward where his men were gathered.
"Did you bring Nolan with you?" Dirk asked.
"Aye, the bastard is there, waiting with the others," Cyrus said through clenched teeth. "And I'm going to kill him."
"Remain calm," Torrin snapped. "We have no proof of this."
"I don't need proof! If my sister says 'tis so, then it is."
"We haven't yet had the chance to ask her. Question is… how did MacKay know of all this?" Torrin asked with suspicion, his green eyes narrowed at Dirk.
"I was traveling through Assynt with a friend to return home. That's when we found Lady Isobel and her maid on the trail. Snow was pouring down hard and the wind was cold. We helped them find shelter for the night, then brought them here to keep them safe until the sea was right for sailing. My plan was to bring her south to you, MacKenzie, on a galley so as to keep her away from Nolan MacLeod." Dirk scowled at Torrin.
"I'm going to talk to that knave now," Cyrus said, drawing his sword and starting back the way he'd come.
"I will," Torrin said, following Cyrus. "He's my brother. I'll deal with him." Torrin strode quickly toward the field where two dozen men waited, about half of them the MacKay prisoners who'd escaped, with Haldane in front. All on stolen horses.
"Hmph." Cyrus returned to stand before the portcullis but glared after Torrin. "If he lets that bastard go…" he said through clenched teeth.
"Would you care to come inside and talk?" Dirk asked, glad he could speak with Cyrus without Torrin about. "You can see your sister and verify for yourself she is well."
"I'd like that." Cyrus sheathed his sword.
"Open the gates for Chief MacKenzie only," Dirk ordered. "No one else."
He even allowed the MacKenzie to keep his weapons. Surely he wouldn't try anything, outnumbered several dozen to one.
Upon entering the great hall, they came face to face with Isobel. Seeing her always gave Dirk a jolt of need.
"Isobel. Saints!" Cyrus pulled her to him for a rough hug, then clasping her shoulders, held her at arms' length and gave her a hard look. "You gave me a fright, disappearing like that. Are you hurt?"
"Nay, not now. I thank you, brother." Isobel smiled.
"Not now? What does that mean?" Cyrus demanded. "Were you injured?"
"Only my finger. Did Chief MacKay tell you what happened?" Isobel's bewitching gaze darted to Dirk and sent his thoughts scattering. He hadn't touched her in several days, and he craved her more each day.
"Aye, some of it. I want to talk to you both in private. I want to know every detail. This Nolan MacLeod is a whoreson knave."