Dirk spoke to the front gate guards. "Don't allow Haldane or his young friend Gil inside the gates. They are traitors who shot at me and then started up a skirmish in the byre. If you see them, capture them. Tell the rest of the guards."

One guard's brows lifted. "Aye, m'laird."

The dungeon contained plenty of cells with solid, well-maintained doors. Dirk made sure every last one of Haldane's party was locked in an isolated cell, because he didn't want them talking and hatching more plans. He wanted them to think long and hard about their traitorous actions, attacking their chief and his party. Men had been executed for less. Dirk didn't plan on doing anything so drastic, but he would never be able to trust the backstabbers. He was glad to be finding out exactly who in the clan he could trust.

Now he had to deal with his murderous stepmother.

Chapter Twenty-One

Maighread watched Dirk and his armed cohorts enter the great hall. Supper had been held until the chief returned… that alone made her grind her teeth.

She narrowed her eyes at the arrogant bastard. His hair windblown, he wore armor and carried his helm. Where was Haldane? Was he injured? Had he and his men bungled the ambush she'd so carefully set up? She knew Aiden had been listening when she'd told Haldane to meet the man at the tavern. In truth, there was no man and no meeting. Haldane and his men, along with one of her own guards, were to surprise Dirk and his friends and kill them. Or at least kill Dirk, but he was not even injured, nor were any of the men with him. Frustrated rage burned through her veins. What the devil had happened?

"Where is Haldane?" Maighread murmured to Aiden, who stood nearby.

"How would I know? I've been here all night."

"Don't be impertinent with me, young man."

"Pray pardon, Mother, but I don't ken where he is." He moved away from her. How could he be so rude and ungrateful? Did he not know she did all this for him?

Listening closely, she understood some of the men's words. They mentioned a failed ambush and that several prisoners had been taken to the dungeon.

Damn him. Had he thrown Haldane into the dungeon? She charged across the great hall, wishing she had a small dagger to slip between his ribs.

"Where is my son?" she demanded.

"Aiden is there." Dirk pointed. "I know not where Haldane is."

"Liar!" She clenched her fists so she wouldn't go flying at Dirk and claw his eyes out. Never had she hated another human being so much.

He smirked, which only deepened her loathing and fury.

"If you hurt my son, you will pay dearly for it."

"Why would I hurt my own brother? What would he do to provoke me? A dire task you sent him to do perhaps?"

The hall was silent, all eyes on her.

He was trying to con her into revealing her scheme. She was not as witless as he believed. "I did no such thing."

"Haldane first ordered one of his friends to fire an arrow at me. Then, Haldane charged me with a sword," Dirk said. "Trying to kill the chief makes him a traitor to the clan."

Maighread's breath froze in her chest. If he'd killed her son… "What did you do with him?"

"He ran away into the bush like the wee coward he is. He is not a man. Don't send him to do a man's job."

"You bastard," she hissed.

He gave her a sinister grin. "Take her to her chamber and do not allow her to leave it," he told one of the guards beside him.

"What? Are you mad?" Maighread demanded.

"Nay, I'm completely sane and very aware that you will stop at nothing to try to kill me." His eerie pale blue gaze was sharp as a dagger, stabbing toward her.

She hadn't been careful enough, and she'd underestimated him. "I would never try to kill you," she said in what she hoped was an innocent tone.

Dirk snorted.

She ached to slap his smug face like she used to when he was a lad. But he was so much taller now, his shoulders and arms like tree limbs.

"Nevertheless, you are under house arrest, Stepmother," he said. "Only Da's memory and Aiden keep me from tossing you into the dungeon with your minions where you belong."

Her whole body stiffened with the overpowering need to choke him, to bash his head in with a heavy object. The sheathed, foot-long dirk on his belt tempted her to grab it and stab him in the heart. 'Twould be fitting that he be killed with the weapon he had been named after.

But she could do naught. He was now twice her size and could easily crush her with his huge fist.

"M'lady," the guard motioned toward the stairwell. She had no choice but to do as they ordered now, but she was far from finished with Dirk. He would regret making a fool of her before the entire clan.

***

Hearing hushed voices echoing in the dim corridor, Isobel paused before rounding the corner. Since Dirk had imprisoned Maighread in her own bedchamber three nights ago, Isobel had kept an ear out for others who might be planning to help her escape or do something to hurt Dirk.

Peering silently around the corner, Isobel saw two young maids standing outside Dirk's bedchamber. No guard stood there. She'd noticed he was sometimes without his guards inside the castle since he'd confined Maighread to her room and Haldane was somewhere beyond the walls.

What in blazes were the two maids discussing?

"You do it," one servant said.

"Nay, you. I'm not going in there," the other lass said in a loud whisper.

"If he was wee Aiden, I wouldn't mind so much. But I'm afraid of him."

"You think I'm not?"

"He is the chief, you imbecilic hare. You can't disobey him."

"I ken it. But I'd rather be fired than raped."

Raped? Did they think Dirk would rape them? If so, they had seriously misjudged him.

Isobel stepped out of the shadows. "What are you arguing about?"

"Oh, m'lady." One of the maids covered her mouth, and the other's eyes near popped out of her head. "I didn't see you standing there."

"What is the disagreement about?"

Both remained tight-lipped.

"Chief Dirk MacKay?" she guessed.

One gave a sheepish nod. "We don't wish to lose our jobs, m'lady," she whispered, beseeching her with a pitiful expression.

"Why would you?"

"He is bathing and requires a maid to wash his back. And… well…" She compressed her lips tightly between her teeth.

"Ah. I see." An enticing image of his brawny muscular body sprawled in a wooden tub teased Isobel's imagination. "There is naught to fear from Dirk MacKay. He's a good man and a good chief. I'll wash his back."

"Oh. You will?" The maids' faces fairly glowed with relief.

"Aye. Don't be gossiping and telling anyone I volunteered for the task, and I won't tell Chief MacKay you were shirking your duties."

"Oh, nay, m'lady." They both shook their heads dramatically. "We'll not say a word."

"If I find out you did…" she warned.

"We promise. Our lips are sealed tight." They both trotted away as if hungry wolves chased at their heels.

Ninnies. Surely helping the chief bathe was a job best suited to a lady and a widow anyway. She'd helped her former husband bathe a few times. Dirk had kept himself busy for the past three days, and she'd hardly seen him. She was starting to wonder if he was avoiding her.

Isobel knocked at the door to the chief's chamber.

"Come." Dirk's deep voice sent a thrill through her.