My Brave Highlander(3)

"Out with it, man," Rebbie said, dropping into one of the cushioned leather chairs. "We want to know what the missive said."

"You are demanding of a sudden," Dirk muttered, pacing before the cold hearth. He could hardly bring himself to voice the words he needed to say, but stalling was doing naught but wasting precious time. He cleared his throat, trying to relieve the slight ache. "My father is ill. My uncle does not expect him to live long." Speaking the facts aloud was almost like an arrow piercing his chest for he had always been close to his beloved father.

"Nay." Rebbie frowned, his eyes troubled.

An unexpected illness of some sort had taken hold of his father. Dirk should've returned to Durness months ago, but he hadn't known his father would become sick.

"I'm saddened to hear of it," Lachlan said in a comforting tone. "When did you last see him?"

Dirk was ashamed to admit how many years it had been. "When I was fifteen summers."

A weighty silence filled the room. Dirk stared into the black coals of the hearth rather than his friends' curious eyes. He knew what they must be thinking. Why so long?

"Was there some sort of rift?" Rebbie asked.

"You could say that." His friends needed to know the whole truth. A truth Dirk hadn't spoken of for twelve years. It seemed like forever. He was closer to these two men than he was to anyone, even his own family. If he couldn't trust them, who could he trust?

He inhaled a deep breath and released it. "When I was a wee lad, my mother died giving birth to my sister. My father remarried a year or two later and had two more sons. My stepmother, Maighread Gordon, wanted her oldest son to inherit. So… she tried to kill me—or have me killed—more than once."

"'Slud!" Lachlan rasped, his amber-brown eyes darkening and his face turning into a warrior's mask. "When you were but a bairn?"

"Aye. The last time, when I was fifteen, a man attempted to push me off a cliff onto the rocks far below in the sea. My cousin, a good friend, was with me. He died but I, by some miracle, managed to land on a wee ledge about fifteen feet down. The next morn, my uncle came to my rescue. My father thinks I'm dead, as does the rest of the clan. The only people who know I still live are my uncle, aunt, and two cousins."

"Saints," Rebbie hissed. "What a witch. Is she still alive?"

"Last I heard. Anyway, my uncle told everyone I died and took me to live with my mother's clan in Strathspey. I went to university a couple of years later." That was where he'd met Lachlan and Rebbie. "I've kept my identity secret for the past twelve years."

"What is your true name?" Rebbie asked.

"Dirk MacKay."

"You're not a MacLerie? Why did you not tell us?" Lachlan asked.

"My mother was a MacLerie. And… well, it was simply easier and safer that everyone think my name MacLerie. My uncle ordered me to tell no one, for my stepmother comes from a powerful clan with a far reach."

"I see. Your father holds a title and property, then?" Rebbie asked.

"Aye, but nothing so remarkable as yours. He's a baron and a chief. MacKay lands are vast but contain little arable land. The holdings include a keep called Castle Dunnakeil, a manor house about twenty miles away and several hundred clansmen scattered over MacKay Country along the north coast."

"'Tis impressive," Lachlan said. "You will one day inherit, then?"

Dirk shrugged. "'Tis my duty and responsibility to lead and guide the clan when my father is no longer able. He trained me for this from as far back as I remember."

One of his first memories was riding a large horse with his father. Dirk must have been three or four at the time. One day this will be yours, Da had said. When I'm gone, I want you to take care of the clan as if they are your children. Do you understand? Dirk recalled looking up into his father's proud and noble face, with his russet beard and blue eyes. Dirk had nodded, even though he truly didn't understand. But his father had known that someday Dirk would remember and know what he'd meant.

Now, he didn't even know whether he'd see his father again. His throat ached.

"Did you get on well?" Rebbie asked.

Dirk nodded. "As well as could be expected. But Da was smitten with Maighread. Back then, he thought her the most beautiful creature on earth. He didn't believe me when I told him she was trying to kill me. He accused me of having too vivid an imagination."

"How did you ken 'twas her?" Lachlan asked.

"She threatened me from the first time she laid eyes on me, and took great joy in slapping me every chance she got, when no one was looking. She was not careful in what she said to me because she thought no one would believe me. She was wrong. My uncle believed me even if Da did not."