My Brave Highlander(37)

Dirk's thoughts wandered to the task ahead, telling his brothers and the rest of the clan that he did indeed still live and that he was here to take his place as leader of the clan. He would no doubt meet a considerable amount of opposition.





Chapter Eight





Dirk didn't know what to expect at Castle Dunnakeil, but he thought it safest for Isobel and her maid to stay with Aunt Effie until he, Conall, and Rebbie rode to the castle and met with his brother, Aiden, and the rest of the clan.

The wind had calmed a bit with the gloaming, but it was still far more blustery here than further south. By the time Castle Dunnakeil came into view on the horizon with the darkened bay as a backdrop, night was upon them. Torches provided enough light around the castle and inside the high stone walls of the bailey for Dirk to see the castle had changed little in the past twelve years. The three round towers of Dunnakeil had each been built in a different century by his ancestors as had the keep and the east wing.

Although his home appeared unchanged on the outside, he knew things inside would be vastly different because his father was no longer there. Approaching Dunnakeil, he could hardly believe he would never get to see Da again. A dark, sinking feeling settled into his stomach.

"Like I said, Keegan is over the guards," Uncle Conall said as they neared the gatehouse. "If there is any trouble he will be of great help."

Dirk hoped and prayed there was no trouble. He didn't want to fight his own clansmen and kin.

At the gatehouse, two obscure figures inside watched them in the torchlight.

"Who is that with you, Conall?" one of the guards asked.

"Dirk?" the other figure inside the small guard house asked in a shocked but familiar voice.

"Aye," Dirk said. "Keegan, is that you?"

"Indeed." Conall's eldest son emerged while the other guard raised the portcullis.

They proceeded into the stone-paved bailey and toward the stables where they dismounted. Two lanky stable lads of around fifteen took the horses.

Dirk turned toward his cousin. "Keegan, 'tis good to see you."

His sandy-brown hair was pulled back in a queue. The boyish face Dirk remembered had matured into a man's with a strong jaw and chin. Underneath a woolen mantle, he wore metal studded leather armor with his belted plaid.

Keegan clasped his hand and slapped his shoulder in a warrior's welcome. "I wondered if you'd ever come home." Smiling, he turned to Conall. "Why did you not send word earlier that he was here, Da?"

"He only arrived an hour ago, and I thought you'd enjoy the surprise."

Dirk introduced Rebbie and they shook hands.

"Am I ever glad you're here, cousin," Keegan said.

Dirk was glad to be here too, but he wondered what his cousin's cryptic words meant. "Why?"

"There are murmurings that the clan will soon be divided over who will be the best chief—Aiden or Haldane."

"I suppose I'll cause even louder murmurs then," Dirk said, looking forward to seeing the faces of those who'd thought him dead for twelve years. Some of them would be happy to see him. Others not.

Keegan grinned. "Just what we need to stir things up a wee bit more."

As the four of them proceeded toward the portal, both excitement and dread coalesced inside Dirk.

When they entered the great hall with its long tables cluttered with the remains of supper, the clansmen and servants milling about stopped to stare at the newcomers. Scents of bread, venison and ale perfumed the air, taking Dirk back many years. The high table sat crosswise at the far end of the room, near the fireplace. Dirk's gaze fell upon his half-brother occupying the central chief's chair.

Six years younger than Dirk, Aiden had only been nine when he'd last seen him. He didn't look much older than that now. Of course, he was taller, but he appeared frail and thin. Dirk frowned, hoping his brother wasn't ill. Aiden used to follow him around like a wee deerhound, and they'd always been close.

Aiden's face blanched white as his eyes locked to Dirk's. He shoved to his feet.

The brawny young man beside him rose as well, his hand going to rest on his sword hilt, his glare fixed on Dirk. "Who the hell is that?" he growled.

Could he be Haldane, Dirk's youngest half-brother? He had not seen the lad since he was seven summers old. Aye, he resembled Da and Dirk, as well, with ginger hair. Though Haldane had not yet filled out into a man, he was tall and broad-shouldered.

"I'm Dirk MacKay," he said in a strong voice so everyone in the large room would be sure to hear. He was surprised he had to state the obvious, but a lot of time had passed and his brothers had been children when he'd left.

Gasps echoed in the silence of the hall. Dirk quickly scanned faces in the room, most of them familiar.