My Brave Highlander(91)

"How did you obtain that silver? Stolen, all of it. If you wish to keep the tomb, you must confess everything. All the murders, and attempted murders. All the thieving you've done during your life. If you'd prefer the minister present too, that can be arranged."

"Nay. Damn you!" He yanked against the chains and looked about wild-eyed.

"You don't want the minister to ken the depth of your depravity, do you? You want him to think you've repented of all your sins, including the many innocent people you've killed in cold blood, even defenseless women."

"I've killed no one, you bastard!"

"My father would not be pleased to hear you disparaging his first wife. I thought you respected the man."

"Aye. I respected him. But not you. You are not Laird MacKay's son, but the devil's spawn instead!"

Dirk snorted. "Keep lying. After you die in this bleak cell, the gravedigger will bury your sorry carcass out in the sheep pasture. Then, one night, some of your victims' family members will slip out into the field and dig up your moldering corpse and strew pieces of it thither and yon. 'Haps they'll even post your skull on a pike outside the village to warn other highwaymen what happens to thieves and murderers. Then, the carrion crows will pick your bones clean."

"Go to hell!" McMurdo seethed and jerked against the chains, his body quaking.

He might not confess today or tomorrow, but Dirk would keep questioning him. Once the knave realized no one was going to break him out of this cell, and that Dirk meant what he said, he'd confess. Apparently this tomb in the church was of vital importance to McMurdo, but he was willing to gamble a while longer.

"I wasn't making an idle threat," Dirk said. "You'll be buried in the field beneath the sheep dung. Or mayhap I'll have your mangy remains flung into the bog. Or 'haps thrown off the cliff at Faraid Head for fish food. 'Twas what you aimed to do with me." Dirk left the cell. The door clanged shut and the guard locked it.

Dirk glanced into the other cells. He didn't recognize any of the two-bit thieves from McMurdo's gang, but he'd question them later, after they'd grown weary of the dark, damp place. Their tongues might prove looser then. Obviously, someone had let them in through the postern gate. He had to find out which clansmen and guards he could trust and which were traitors.

He climbed the steep narrow steps out of the dungeon, his friends following.

Beneath the overhang, one of the guards stopped him. "Chief, one of the injured guards said Aiden and Lady MacKay visited McMurdo a couple of hours ago.

"Why were they allowed inside?"

The guard shrugged. "Aiden was still chief at the time. We are bound to do what the chief says, as you ken."

Why would Aiden do this? Maighread had to be ordering him around and demanding he do whatever she wanted. "Does anyone know what happened?"

"Nay, only that Aiden escorted his mother inside, then immediately went in search of his brother. But before they returned, Lady MacKay left."

Clearly McMurdo was depending on Maighread and her men to rescue him.

"I want double the men on guard duty from now on, at all times, day and night. No one is to go in and see McMurdo unless you ask me first. Something is afoot. No doubt someone else will try to break McMurdo out."





Chapter Nineteen





That afternoon, Dirk waited in the second floor corridor while Aiden insisted on immediately moving his belongings from the chief's bedchamber so that Dirk could move in.

Dirk was not overly eager to occupy the room that had always been his father's bedchamber. It didn't feel right. His father should be there. It made Dirk miss him all the more. But if the clan expected him to use this room, he would.

Maighread moved along the corridor like a graceful evil spirit. His muscles tensed with the need to choke the life from her bony body, but he restrained himself. Isobel followed along behind her. What the hell was she doing? He wanted to forbid Isobel from talking to her. Hadn't he told her not to trust the hag?

"What do you want?" Dirk asked his stepmother, fury gnawing at his insides.

"I'm here to talk to my sons," she said with a cultured innocence that was so patently false he almost laughed in her face. "You may have fooled everyone else, but you haven't fooled me. An imposter won't remain chief of this clan for long." Her glare said he might not be dead yet, but he soon would be.

"Don't threaten me," he warned. "You'll regret it."

"I'm not threatening anyone. I'm merely stating the truth. If you truly are Dirk, why did you not return when your father was alive?"

Regret speared him. That was the one thing he wished he had done. Of course, she'd said it because she knew it would cause him pain. He blanked his expression.