The elder men frowned and exchanged vexed glances, some giving her the evil eye. But she ignored them, instead glaring intently at Dirk.
"I'm a wee bit larger than the last time you saw me," Dirk said, crossing his arms over his chest. Standing straight and tall, he towered over her. The first time he'd seen her, when he was around four or five, she'd dwarfed him and stared down at him as if he were a loathsome, mud-covered mongrel pup.
The last time he'd seen her, when he was fifteen, they had been of about the same height. But now, he was at least a foot taller than she.
"He looks like his father and his grandfather," Ranald, his father's sword-bearer, said.
"He looks nothing like my dear, departed Griff, God rest his soul," she said with deceptive piety. "And I never saw his grandfather so how would I know?"
"'Tis him, m'lady. He has the birthmark," Phelan said with calm confidence.
Dirk had always liked the man and his dramatic stories which glorified his father's battles and hunting expeditions.
"What birthmark?" Maighread demanded.
"On his back, Mother," Haldane said.
"Dirk never had a birthmark."
"You didn't give birth to Dirk nor were you a mother to him when he was a wee lad. How would you know whether he had a birthmark or not?" Uncle Conall asked.
"I… well." She sputtered for a moment.
"Open your eyes," Conall said. "You can clearly see 'tis Dirk."
"Were you not the one who said Dirk fell off a cliff and died?" Maighread demanded. "Did you lie?"
"Aye, someone tried to murder him," Conall said, his dark gaze boring into his sister-in-law. "I lied to protect him. He was several feet down the side of a cliff where someone had pushed him. Without doubt, a hired assassin. I threw a rope down to Dirk and pulled him back up. Then, I helped him slip away to another part of the Highlands so he would be safe until he was grown."
"I wonder…" Dirk said. "Why did the assassin say to me, 'Lady MacKay sends her regards,' right before he pushed me off the edge?"
Murmurs and grumbles moved through the great hall as two dozen or more clansmen looked on, taking in every word.
Maighread gasped, her face turning pale. "I have no inkling! But it proves naught. Anyone could say that to implicate me. But since you're not really Dirk, you made it up, of course."
"The assassin you hired, who murdered Will MacKay, thought those were the last words I would hear," Dirk said. "He wanted me to know who'd hired him, but he wanted me to take that information to my watery grave. It didn't work." Dirk gave a bitter but satisfied smile.
Her four brawny guards moved forward to stand beside her. At least two of them were from the Sutherland clan. He knew not the other two.
"This is a madman!" she accused, her gaze scanning the suddenly restless MacKay clan. "How can you possibly believe him? He's a lying imposter. And even if he were Dirk MacKay, lies are easy to make up. He's trying to steal the chieftainship from Aiden."
The clan's mutterings continued as they discussed the topic and speculated about Maighread's guilt. Dirk was happy to see so many of his agitated clansmen were on his side. He had not planned to confront her at first glance, but the time felt right.
"Chief Griff MacKay would be appalled at the behavior of this clan!" she said. "I have been with you more than twenty years. How can you doubt me or suspect me of such treachery? You should be ashamed of yourselves, believing every word this pretender says."
"What if he isn't a pretender? What if 'tis proven he is Dirk?" Conall asked.
"Well, then, he's lying about what the assassin said. 'Tis easy enough to make up such a story. And if he is Dirk, he's the one who murdered Will MacKay and then ran away so he wouldn't get caught."
"Why on earth would I murder my best friend?" Dirk asked. Surely anyone who believed such a thing would be foolish.
"And why on earth would I murder my stepson?"
"So that your son can inherit, of course," Dirk said. "'Tis what you've always wanted, is it not?"
Drawing herself up regally, she ran her haughty gaze over each face in the room until she noticed Isobel. Halting, Maighread frowned and moved toward her. "Isobel MacKenzie? What on earth are you doing here?"
Dirk narrowed his eyes. How long had it been since the two had seen each other? He didn't want Maighread anywhere near Isobel. She might try to hurt her, or she might fill Isobel's ears with lies, poisoning her mind against Dirk or the good people of the clan. He cringed, imagining Isobel being influenced in any small way by his witch of a stepmother.
Isobel talked low but Dirk understood her words. "I was caught out in a snowstorm with my maid and Laird MacKay helped us to safety."