"Surely you don't believe her." Isobel grasped his hand and peered up into his face. He avoided her eyes. "You were the one who told me she lies and she is untrustworthy."

"Aye," he admitted.

"Haldane probably told her he walked in when I was warming you last night. Besides, she's obviously realized I'm fond of you."

Fond of him? He detested the way his heart sped up with hope. He even longed for something beyond fondness.

"Dirk?" Isobel touched his face, her cool hand against his skin, stroking the scratchy roughness of his beard stubble, her midnight eyes gazing into his with a plaintive expression, silently begging him to believe her.

Everything deep inside compelled him to trust her, but the rational part of his mind fought against it. All he could think of was how easily Maighread had fooled his father, perhaps much like this. But he didn't know.

He took Isobel's hand into his own. He wanted to kiss it, but refrained. He stroked her palm, then released her. He didn't know….

He didn't understand the many nuances of emotion he saw in her eyes, nor the intensity she made him feel. Could he trust her, or himself?

After having just been named chief of the clan that morn, he didn't ken who he was anymore. His own view of himself had shifted drastically. Somehow he felt validated, more worthy than he had in years. At the same time, he wondered if it was too good to be true. Would it last? Could he successfully lead the clan?

Aye, he could. He had to. It was his legacy and what his father expected of him.

"Chief," someone said behind him. It took Dirk a moment to realize they were talking to him.

Abruptly, he turned. One of the clansmen stood there, staring at him. "Aye?" Dirk asked.

"The clan elders would like to meet with you now."

What could they possibly want this soon? It must be of vital importance. "I'll be right there."

Once the man had disappeared down the spiral stair, Dirk turned back to Isobel. "Just stay away from her. And watch your back. None of us ken who we can trust yet."

She nodded, sadness lingering in her eyes. He wished he could say more, comfort her, but he needed to think about everything that was happening so fast and figure out how he felt about it.

He descended the stairs to find the clansman waiting at the bottom. "They await you in the library, m'laird."

Laird. That title made his pulse shoot skyward. Several of his friends were lairds, but he was unsure if he could get accustomed to the title.

He entered the library to find Uncle Conall and five clan elders awaiting him.

"Have a seat, lad," Conall said, waving to the head of the table.

"What is this about?" Dirk took the seat indicated.

"Well… now that you're chief, 'tis time for you to be thinking of marriage," Conall said.

A laugh burst from Dirk's mouth before he could prevent it. A brief, disbelieving laugh. "I've been chief for a few hours, and already you want me to marry?"

"Nay. I don't," Conall said, glancing nervously at the elders. "But there is the matter of an agreement the clan elders, your father and Lady MacKay made with Clan Murray while you were away. Almost five years ago, in fact. I couldn't prevent it without revealing to everyone that you still lived."

"What agreement?" Dirk asked with dread.

"The chief of the Murray clan signed a contract that his eldest daughter would marry the chief of Clan MacKay," his great uncle Hamish said.

"Surely you mean she is to marry Aiden." His brother had already said he was supposed to marry a Murray lass.

"'Haps, but in the event Aiden wasn't able to be chief, because of his health, Haldane would step in. That's why we all decided the contract should say the chief, rather than a specific son of Griff. But now this applies to neither of them. You are the chief."

Annoyance twisted through Dirk's vitals. "I made no agreement to marry anyone."

"Nay. But your father did, and as you ken, chiefs arrange the marriages of their children, especially a first born son. The contract specifies she is to marry the MacKay chief who follows Griff in line."

"Aiden followed my father. He was chief for a month or so."

The elders grinned as if he were naïve and shook their heads. "That doesn't count. He was not truly chief because you were still alive. And now you are chief. It's as if he was never the chief. Besides that, Laird Murray would not go along with it. He'd want his daughter to marry the current chief. To rile him is dangerous."

"This is madness," Dirk growled. "I was not even here when the agreement was made. My father thought I was dead. He would've never intended for me to marry the Murray woman. He intended it for Aiden or Haldane."

"Aye. But his intentions mean naught now. All that will stand is the contract, the written word. You must honor your father's contract," Hamish said.

"And if I don't?" he challenged.

The elders squirmed, mumbled and rubbed their grizzled beards.

"It could mean war, lad. You don't want to provoke the Murray chief," Phelan said.

"Aiden had planned to marry her. He told me so," Dirk said. "He still can. He's second in line to inherit now, which means he's tanist. No small position."

"But he's no longer chief. That won't suffice. The Murray chief will not hear of it."

Dirk leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "What is a chief's purpose?" he asked them.

They exchanged confused and concerned looks with each other. "To lead the clan and protect them as a father does his children. Surely you ken this."

Dirk nodded. Of course he knew, but did they? "Does the chief make decisions?"

"Aye," Hamish said hesitantly.

"Is the chief's word final?"

They shrugged, then grudgingly said, "Aye."

"Well then, I'm making a decision and my word is final. Nay." He rose and left the room, slamming the door behind him. After crossing the great hall, he strode outside. Damnation, he would not be pushed around and dictated to by his own clan, especially not when he was supposed to be leading them. He didn't care if the elders held seniority.

Dirk hadn't been around when this damned contract was created, nor did they have him in mind, and he refused to be bound by it. He would talk to the Murray chief and negotiate with him. He had not even spoken to the Murray lass and had only seen her a couple of times. Isobel, on the other hand, might already be carrying his heir. Such a chaos of powerful emotions surged through him when he thought of her, he didn't know what he was feeling. His heart pounded like a war drum, and he tried to put it from his mind.

Erskine followed at a distance across the bailey. Dirk was glad he took his body-guarding position seriously. Although Dirk was not yet used to the idea of being followed around at all times by an armed warrior. He'd taken care of himself for years. But all chiefs were heavily guarded, so he'd best get accustomed to it.

The bracing cold air and bright sunlight helped clear his head.

Damn, how the elders irked him. They couldn't make him their leader one moment, and then order him around the next. Either he was chief or he wasn't, but he wouldn't be somewhere in between. Nor would he have someone else telling him who he would marry.

There was naught wrong with the Murray lass. She was bonny enough. But she wasn't Isobel.

He'd compromised Isobel, but he knew not how he could marry her without setting off a war. The MacLeods and the Murrays would be coming down hard on them for breaking all sorts of contracts.