To Wed A Highlander

On his ride back to Lochlen, Colin considered having Brodie or Gorten escort Makenna to the burial site. It had been hell not seeing her these past few days. An unanticipated hell. Not once during his marriage to Deirdre had he yearned for her like he was craving Makenna. It made no sense. The woman had plagued him for two years, but in just the span of a few days had turned his world inside and out. Control that had come so easily to him was now harder and harder to find. If she had come near him even once, he would have caved to his burning need for her. He would not have been able to stop with one kiss. No one was going to take advantage of her weakened emotional state, including himself. Consequently, all he allowed himself were those few brief moments early in the morning watching her sleep.

Today, however, Colin needed Makenna beside him. He did not think he could take another round of accusations without her by his side. He would need her presence to control the rage these men had no idea he was capable of.

Makenna was still staring out the window when she heard a single knock followed by the sound of the door opening. There was only one person who would enter without her permission. Colin.

Makenna spun around. She watched the play of emotions on his face. He was studying her, unsure of what he might find. Makenna couldn’t believe that at one time she found him impossible to read. Camus had been right. He did need her.

Colin drank her in. She was wearing his colors. Instead of the usual single braid down her back, she had let her hair remain loose. Dunlop was right. Makenna had always been beautiful; he had just been too blind to see it.

Makenna dashed across the floor and threw herself into his arms, gathering him close. All her fears vanished. He held her tight, not ever wanting to let her go.

For several minutes, they clung to each other, drinking in each other’s presence as if the other were the only possible food for their starving souls. Finally, Colin kissed her hair and gradually released his hold.

Makenna eased her grasp but refused to let go completely. She placed her cheek on his chest, relishing the steady rhythm of his heart. For the first time in days, she felt safe, and secure, and not alone.

“I’m glad I make you feel that way,” Colin replied in a low voice, soft and clear.

Makenna squeezed her eyes shut. Once again, she had expressed her private thoughts. “I meant…”

Colin raised her chin and tucked her hair behind her ears. “I know what you said, and I know what you meant. And in return for your confession, I will give you one of my own. I, too, have felt very alone these past few days.”

“Oh, Colin, I have heard about the talks.” She saw his head swivel to look at the closed door. “No, not Brodie or Gorten, they would plunge a knife into their chests before betraying you. It was one of the servants bringing my meals. They told me a great deal, so much of it I wanted not to believe.”

He let her go and walked over to the poster bed and stood in the same place he watched her each morning. He stared at the pillow. “Are you also ashamed that I have not called out MacCuaig or any of the others?” he asked quietly without inflection.

She moved beside him and placed a hand on his arm. “Nay, it is not shame I feel. It’s pride. Pride in a man who only pulls arms against his fellow Scots when needed, not when goaded. Give them time, Colin. They will understand what you bring.”

“And what do I bring, Makenna?”

“Honor. Guidance. Security. You bring the chance that our children will grow up not knowing strife. You bring the knowledge that if battle was to come, our men will be skilled and able to return safe. They don’t understand your ways, but they will.”

“If you agree with my ways so much, why did you fight me so hard for two years?”

She smiled at his lighthearted tease and replied, “Oh, I have always thought you to be a fine leader of men, I just thought you a terrible brother-in-law.”

“And what about husband?” he asked, his voice full of entreaty.

Makenna intuitively knew her answer was very important. She looked at his chest and played with the string on his leine. “I am just beginning to learn what he is like. So far, he is the most kind, generous, and understanding man I have ever met. I only hope to someday be as good of a wife my sister was to him.”

“Makenna, never doubt your worth to me. I loved Deirdre, but she is gone now. I am with you now, and you will never know how grateful I am that you married me.”

Then, powered by a need to prove his sincerity, Colin caught Makenna’s face between his hands and brought his mouth down to meet hers. He let his tongue probe her passionate and welcoming warmth as he slid his hands slowly up her spine. He felt her arms stole softly around his neck as she kissed him back with a low, inviting fervor that took his breath away.

A knock came at the door, followed by another. Colin knew he should break off the kiss. Yet each time he tried, there was an even greater urge to brush his mouth lightly, possessively across hers one more time.

The knocks became louder and of greater numbers. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the female voices of Ula and Rona ordering Brodie and Gorten to open the door. When he finally released her, Makenna’s vivid eyes were luminous with promise.

Tonight he would not sleep alone.

Chapter Six

Makenna sat in front of the hall’s hearth and soaked up the heat from the fire and the hot wine. She stared at the hypnotic flames lapping up the stone wall, barely aware of the conversations taking place around her. The weather seemed to know a great man had been buried earlier that day. The light drizzle had been accompanied by a cool breeze, making it feel more like late fall than midsummer. Normally, Makenna enjoyed the brisk warning of the imminent change in seasons. Today, it had chilled her to the bone.

She had believed herself to be ready to see her father and say good-bye. But when she laid his bound sword next to his side, it took all her strength not to crumple on the ground. As if knowing the exact time she most needed his strength, Colin had reached out and held her hand tightly in his own.

Makenna took another sip of wine and glanced around for Colin. He was still seated at the main table located at the end of the hall. He was in deep discussion with many of the same men she had seen the night of her wedding. Several lairds, however, had elected to congregate at a different table. They were the same ones who had vehemently objected to Colin’s insistence that Alexander be buried with the Highlander rite, “earth laid upon a corpse.” They believed her father should have been buried only with the Dunstan sword.

Keeping with tradition, Colin held a wooden plate and placed dirt and salt in its center. The soil represented the body becoming one with the earth, while the salt represented Alexander’s soul, which would never decay. Makenna thought the symbol fitting, but when Colin proceeded to the grave and placed the plate on her father’s chest, inappropriate objections rang out from the crowd. All knew they originated with MacCuaig.

Makenna sensed the tension rise in Colin and knew he was near the end of his tolerance. Startling all those present, she moved to stand alongside Colin and proclaimed loudly, “Alexander Dunstan was my father. He chose Colin McTiernay to be my husband and your laird. My father will have his sword.” She paused, lifting the sword high for all to see before placing it alongside the still body empty of life. “And he will be buried with the Highland rite of respect. He loved Colin like a son, and I know he would have appreciated the honor.”

Her words silenced the crowd. Immediately those who objected to the custom yielded, allowing Colin to finish without further interruption. They might have acquiesced to her request, but anger and resentment still stirred in their hearts.

Makenna resumed her concentration on the flickering flames. They seemed to dance in time to “Ex Te Lux Oritur,” one of her father’s favorite clarsach tunes. The sounds of the lone harp echoing in the valley repeated in her head as did the images of her father being lowered into his grave.

Makenna was about to retire, when a loud bellow came from across the room. Immediately all eyes swiveled to its source. Leon MacCuaig.

“And if the English return, will the Dunstan clan continue to cower, refusing once again to fight?”

Makenna jumped to her feet and marched to the center of the room. The challenge issued was not a mere slight, but a huge insult, not only to Colin but also to every Dunstan present. More than that, it was unfair.

Under Alexander’s rule, the Dunstan clan had been loyal followers of William Wallace. When Wallace had defeated the English army at Stirling Bridge in 1297, almost every able-bodied Dunstan left to fight alongside him. Many of the men died at Falkirk, and those who didn’t, did so later in the continuous hit-and-run raids against Edward’s men. The few who had survived, including Dunlop and Drake, returned home only after Wallace’s capture and execution in 1305. In the following two years, Robert the Bruce began his rally for freedom. Alexander Dunstan had less than a handful of men left to protect his keep and was unable to send any to support Bruce’s campaign.

Everyone knew all that had been left of the Dunstan army were young men naïve to the horrors of battle, or worse, untrained farmers who had fought with Wallace and barely escaped with their lives. Colin had been working hard to rebuild the Dunstan army. Those who had spied on the training camps knew their numbers were now close to a hundred strong. Their force would continue to grow as more and more men flocked to Colin’s training and leadership.

Colin’s eyes locked on to hers. They gleamed the darkest of blues, and Makenna knew his anger had been ignited. He didn’t say a word, but she knew he wanted her to remain silent.

Earlier that day, the proud hellion of the Dunstan clan had managed to shake his core. During her father’s funeral, she again made her loyalty clear. Deirdre had refused to be confrontational with anyone. He had accepted her choice, not realizing how much he longed for the woman he loved to stand alongside him, openly declaring her devotion. Twice Makenna had risen to support him publicly. Tonight, he would stand up for her and her people.

Severing the brief connection with Makenna, Colin turned his attention to MacCuaig. “When the English return, the Dunstan clan will be ready. You have a McTiernay’s word on it.”

Colin’s cool, penetrating words sliced through the room. No one said a word. The time for discussions was over. These men either believed he was capable of his claim, or they didn’t.

Everyone watched in silence as Colin and MacCuaig remained standing. Minutes passed. To Makenna, Colin seemed to be growing larger, even more commanding, while Leon was beginning to sweat profusely.

Then the scraping of a chair filled the room. It came from Laird Boyd. “My father, Duncan Boyd, died fighting for Robert. And your brother, Conor, saved my life at the Loudoun Hill. The Boyds will stand behind the Dunstan clan as long as a McTiernay leads them.”

A second later, a wide, muscular laird stood. “As will the Crawfords. The English ready themselves even now to attack again.” He paused and then shouted with force, “Tutum te robore reddam!” Then, with deliberate calculation, he forcefully smacked his quaich down so that its contents sloshed onto the wooden table. “I will give you safety by strength,” he said, repeating his clan’s motto. “If McTiernay remains the Dunstan laird,” he added forcefully.

Crawford’s echoes were still bouncing off the walls when Laird Moncreiffe stood and added his vow of solidarity. One by one the men of the lead table pledged their support, each making it clear he supported Colin, not the Dunstans.

The few Dunstans present listened as each laird stood and spoke of the English’s impending retaliation against Robert, the new Scottish king. They needed protection. And for the first time, many realized that whether they liked the Highlander or not—they needed him and his allies.

MacCuaig stared at Makenna still standing in the middle of the room. Tonight had not gone according to plan, but then again, it had not been entirely unsuccessful. Several clans might have pledged their support to the new Highland laird, but many did not. Feeling the unstated backing of those seated around him, MacCuaig felt a sudden surge of power. Makenna might be married, but she was not forever lost to him.

“Can you all be so blind? You”—MacCuaig pointed at those around Colin—“so easily forget the old alliances, the long-standing promises. Makenna was supposed to be mine. The MacCuaigs will never support this Highlander, despite who is allied to him.”

Makenna watched as Leon turned to address the room with a semicrazed expression. “Did you not witness how he flouted our traditions with the burying of your laird? Today he pollutes our most sacred of rituals. What will he corrupt next? I tell you we can protect our own without the Highlander.”

Hearing enough, Dunlop interjected, “We stand behind our new laird. Don’t we, men?” Sounds from falling chairs and benches erupted and filled the hall as every Dunstan soldier present jumped to his feet. A deafening “Aye” was shouted from the crowd as each man leveled his attention upon the Lowlander who dared to insult their chief.

Makenna stood speechless, frozen as MacCuaig dissolved under their stares. Spinning around, he faced Colin and whispered something she could not hear. When done he headed toward the door, but stopped when he got to her side. His eyes slid down her thin frame. Then, loud enough for the room to hear, he said, “Take care, Makenna. The MacCuaigs will not help your clan in their hour of need.” He pointed across the room, but his eyes never left her. “Crawford, Moncreiffe, Boyd, and the others may back your husband, but their support is many days’ ride away. Only I will be able to save you.”

Colin saw red as sheer fury poured through him. “Leave now, MacCuaig, while you still can. One more word and I will consider it a challenge to be met here and now.”

For the first time since his arrival, MacCuaig felt satisfaction. Nothing had worked. He had challenged McTiernay’s honor, his clan, his Highlands. Makenna was his weakness. Ah, the joy he would get when he stripped her from Colin’s grasp and made Makenna his own.

Unfortunately, now was not the time. The Highlander was more skilled than most with a sword and currently surrounded by his newly established allies. Leon needed an edge, one that he didn’t have now. Soon, though, he would have everything owed to him. He just needed to be patient.

Makenna stared in shocked silence as MacCuaig bowed his head toward her and then to his table of potential comrades. She held her breath as he stormed out of the hall and ordered his men to prepare for immediate departure.

Exhaling, she felt relieved, but the sensation only lasted for a moment. Her eyes searched for Colin and widened the moment they locked with his. His gaze was blazing with fury and anger, and it was aimed not at the departed Leon MacCuaig, but at her.

Makenna had thought she had witnessed Colin’s anger many times since his arrival at Lochlen. She had been wrong. Never had she seen Colin truly mad.

Immediately following MacCuaig’s departure, Colin had ordered Brodie and Gorten to escort her to the Black Tower and wait for him in his chambers. Makenna had presumed Colin intended to make her stew for hours, but no more than ten minutes had passed when he charged through the door.

Makenna usually could disregard Colin’s imposing stature, but the raw fury roaring through him made her wish she were anything but its target.

She felt herself swallow heavily and shrink in fear. But just as she was about to retreat a few steps away from the path of his furious pacing, her inner voice called her a coward. “I have no reason to cower to you, Colin McTiernay. I have done nothing wrong,” she said to herself, this time making sure her mouth was closed.

Donning a mask of calm indifference, Makenna sauntered over to the basin and splashed some water on her face. The action was a deliberate show of ease, that she was not one of the Lowland lairds easily intimidated by his commanding presence. She patted her face dry and then faced him, arching a single brow.

Colin watched with incredulity as Makenna straightened her back, briefly assessed him, and then marched to the table acting as if he were not even there, let alone furious. He had no doubt that she was fully aware he was seething. Still, she offered no apologies, no requests for leniency, and no entreaties for forgiveness. The woman practically challenged his right to be angry.

“When were you going to tell me?” he roared.

“Colin, stop yelling at me.”

“I am not yelling. Whenever I do yell, there will be no mistaking it.” He had lowered his voice by several decibels, but it was definitely still loud.

Makenna watched as Colin resumed his pacing in front of the cold hearth. She had been about to light a fire when she had heard him order Brodie and Gorten and everyone else out of the tower just before he had stormed through the door.

Over the past few years, she had witnessed him in several moods, but never one like this. And all because of MacCuaig’s distorted sense of their relationship. Makenna decided to treat this argument with the level of intensity it deserved. None.

She leaned casually against the table and gripped the sides loosely. “Fine, then stop growling. It is most upsetting.”

Her relaxed demeanor both floored and inflamed him. “Your indifference to my anger shows that you have no regard to how I felt when MacCuaig told me of your trysts in the woods. Were you ever going to tell me?”

“So that’s what he whispered to you,” Makenna mused aloud. Hearing Colin grunt, she crossed her arms and shrugged nonchalantly. “Honestly? I don’t think I ever was going to mention it. It meant nothing. Those meetings, if you can even call them that, occurred long ago, well before you came to Lochlen. Leon didn’t care that I wasn’t like all the other girls. Every once in a while, he would be in the woods at the same time as I and join me in my hunts. He would praise my skills. It was very flattering, but I never thought his proposal of marriage was serious. Then or now. I remember him laughing when I turned him down.”

Colin stopped his pacing and stood between two of the hearth chairs. He clenched the back of each chair and leaned forward. “Trust me, Makenna. Leon MacCuaig was not laughing. Then or now.”

Makenna quashed a shiver caused by the dangerous softness in his voice. Rallying, she replied, “See, I knew you would not understand. It was just a few innocent kisses. Flirtations to pass the time.”

“That man was at our wedding!”

Colin could still remember seeing the tense look in MacCuaig’s eyes when Makenna entered the chapel. At the time, he had dismissed it, deciding instead to focus on the vision coming to accept his hand. He should have confronted MacCuaig that very night, at the celebration when the man openly displayed his jealousy and lust. Instead, he had fought his instincts to call the man out, thinking that he was being irrational, seeing something where there was nothing.

But his instincts had been completely accurate. Makenna and MacCuaig did have a past, and it was enough of one to make Leon believe that she somehow belonged to him. The idea of Makenna with another man shot through Colin’s mind, and he felt a new bout of possessive fury building within him.

Makenna furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if Colin’s anger stemmed from a type of jealousy. She dismissed the idea. Jealousy would imply a level of emotional attachment, and Makenna knew she was too vulnerable to hope Colin was developing a tenderness for her. It was best to remain indifferent. “So he was at our wedding. I promise you Leon MacCuaig has no interest in me, why would he? The only reason he said any of those things tonight was to goad you into a response. He tried all other tactics. He was just grasping at anything to get you to react to his taunts. What I find hard to believe is that you allowed him to do so.”

Colin looked at her with appalled silence. Was the woman completely unaware of her own allure? Could she truly be that naïve of how powerful her unconventional beauty was? The question suddenly brought back the conversation he’d had with Dunlop less than a week ago. He had failed to see Makenna as a beautiful, desirable woman. Could she also be incapable of seeing herself as others did?

“The man wants you, but you belong to me, Makenna,” Colin muttered darkly, walking toward her.

She raised her chin, her green eyes glittering with pride. “Belong to you? I belong to no one, Colin McTiernay.”

He reached out and pulled her fiercely against him. “Wrong, Makenna, you belong to me.”

Makenna felt her temper start to flare and wrenched free from his grasp, moving backward until she bumped into the stone barrier. “Deirdre might have belonged to you, but I never will.”

Colin placed his two hands on either side of her head and pinned her between his body and the wall. “That is where you are wrong again. Deirdre never belonged to me the way you do.”

Colin’s mouth came down with a fierce possessiveness, cutting off any attempt at a rejoinder. His lips moved against hers hard and deliberately, letting her feel the frustration and temper she had aroused in him. “Ah, Makenna, what you do to me,” he murmured against her lips before plunging inside her mouth once more, tasting, teasing, voraciously consuming her very essence.

Stunned by the near violence of his embrace, Makenna instinctively stiffened only to find herself weaken and melt moments later. Desperately she tried to find some scrap of will to push him away and argue that she was not his, that she was her own person whom no one laid claim to.

The sensation of being so powerless to anyone, especially Colin, frightened her. But even more frightening was her unfailing reaction to his touch. Even when angry, the man created an instantaneous effect on her senses.

Makenna relaxed, and Colin’s body came ablaze with desire. No matter how much she challenged him or angered him, she still came alive with passion when she was in his arms. Her fingers dove into his hair, pulling him tighter, pleading with him to deepen the embrace. His heart jolted and a sense of urgency drove him to comply with her wishes. The world was closing in, and he realized he needed to breathe. Inhaling, her elusive, womanly scent aroused him even further.

Not daring to raise his mouth completely from hers for fear that he might somehow lose her, he quickly removed her bliaut and then her chemise. Not until he heard the sound of his own leine ripping did he realize she, too, was undressing him. The feel of her naked flesh pressing against his, the sensation of her light and numerous kisses all over his chest, the knowledge that she truly wanted him after all that had happened, caused his blood to boil, driving him beyond the edge of his control. In one motion, he swept her into his arms and then down on his bed.

Gone was the gentle man of her wedding night. Colin’s mouth was everywhere, hot, and sensual—branding him on her skin. Never would she be able to look at a man without thinking of Colin. Makenna needed him to feel the same about her.

Sliding her palm down his chest, past his abdomen, she closed her fingers around his masculine appendage. Feeling him large and hard in her hands, she wondered how her body could accommodate, let alone enjoy, their lovemaking. Slowly she rubbed the loose flesh up and down while using her thumb to massage the moistened tip.

“God, Makenna…” he moaned and arched his back away from the sensitive contact.

Emboldened by his reaction, Makenna pulled him back down with her free hand and captured his earlobe lightly between her teeth. “Aye, Colin. Do you wish me to stop? Or perhaps I should leave?” she teased, knowing that regardless of his answer she would do neither.

“You’re killing me, but never has death looked sweeter,” came a breathy, tight reply.

Makenna smiled and then heard herself gasp as he gently caught one hard nipple between his lips, laving it with his tongue. Makenna shuddered and squeezed the flesh in her grasp.

“Easy, I still need that,” Colin murmured, gently removing her hand. But, instead of moving it to his chest as he expected, Makenna moved her palm even lower.

Her fingertips found his warm sacks and began to knead them in a blissful and torturous way. All he could do was bury his face in her throat and fight for breath. As he’d never desired to bed loose women, only in his dreams had a woman touched him thus. Her fingers were creating a magical sensation he knew he could not endure for any length of time.

On the verge of losing his seed before ever entering her, Colin seized her torturous hand in his own. “Now it is my turn. I shall drive you mad with desire. I want to feel you writhing in my arms, needing me as much as I need you.”

Makenna was about to say that she was already insane with want of him, that she did need him—more than she thought humanly possible—but she didn’t have the chance. He cut off her words with another seductive, mind-numbing kiss.

Collecting both her hands in his left, he stretched them above her head. He wanted all her attention on his every touch, every caress. His right hand then started along the side of her thigh, gliding lightly over her silken skin. Just before he reached the heart of her own fire, he moved down the inside of her thigh. Bringing his hand up her leg again, he paused until he was inches from the hot, damp core of her. Lightly he moved his fingers through her already moist hair, refraining from actually touching her.

Makenna felt herself arch in search of his fingers. Colin used his lower body to keep hers still as he tormented her senses with his caresses. At the same time, he continued his exploration of her mouth with his tongue. No mortal being could withstand the whirlwind of sensations he was creating.

Finally, his mouth broke free of hers to nibble at her earlobe and then neck. She cried out, “Colin!”

“Aye, wife?” he replied, kissing the quick pulse at the base of her throat.

“Please, I can take no more.”

“Please what?” he asked, knowing exactly what she craved.

“Please touch me. Please,” she pleaded.

“I am,” he assured her as he lowered his mouth to her breast.

A powerful shudder reverberated through her. He wanted to drive her mad, and he was succeeding. “Colin, I need you to be inside me.”

Colin knew she was on the brink, but she had driven him even closer. He stopped his onslaught, balanced himself on his elbows, and peered into emerald pools swirling with passion. “Say it.”

Makenna licked her lips. The sudden cessation of his caress was almost as torturous as his touch. “Say what?”

He moved his lips right next to her ear. “Say it,” he whispered.

“You’re arrogant, overbearing, and a bully.”

He just stared at her with a small knowing grin. It mattered not that he was in agony with pent-up sexual tension. Colin would stay there forever waiting for her to admit that she was his. He knew it, and she knew it.

“I belong to you, Colin,” she said softly, knowing that despite everything, it was the truth.

Her avowal was like balm to his soul. Not until the words washed over him did he understand exactly how much he needed her to say them aloud. No amount of sexual torment could have forced her to make such a declaration if she did not believe it.

“Aye, Makenna, you do. And while I may be arrogant, overbearing, and a bully, I am also selfish. I will never share you with another soul. You are mine.”

Then he kissed her, this time slowly, taking his time, letting her feel the endless need for her he had inside him. Without removing his lips, he moved so that he lay on his side, giving his fingers access to the dark red curls that concealed her most intimate of secrets.

Makenna closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe. His hand seemed to take an eternity. When she felt Colin enter her softness, she felt the world begin to spin. Slowly he began to stroke her, parting her with his fingers, opening her to his caress. She heard someone cry out.

Feeling her writhe with need for even more, Colin began to draw a pattern along the sensitive flesh just below her soft, wet channel. The delicate design nearly drove Makenna over the edge. He edged two fingers deeper, exploring her with a deliberate possessiveness that caused Makenna to shriek in surprise as throes of climax consumed her.

Colin felt her honeyed flood dampen his hand and moved to straddle her hips. He stared down at her body. Her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. Settling himself between her legs, he hesitated. “Makenna, you feel so good. I…I am afraid I might lose control and hurt you,” he warned, his voice thick and unsteady.

“You won’t, Colin. Let go. Let go and join me. I need you as I need air, and I want it all. Even the parts of you that you fear. I need them. Please.” Then she lifted herself against him.

No longer in charge of his baser instincts, Colin plunged, driving deep, seeking his own release. Instantly he was transported to another plane of existence. No experience in the past or in the future could match the exquisite feeling of being inside her.

He eased himself partway out of her channel and then entered her again with a long, sure movement. Makenna felt herself stretch to encompass him as new, even stronger sensations swept through her body. She rocked against him, taking him deeper inside her with each thrust.

Just as she felt the heavens open up, Colin cried out as he surged forward into her one last time. Buried deep within her, he felt shudders overtaking his body as he burst into a million pieces. For several minutes, his body pulsated with erotic release.

Thinking he might be crushing her, Colin mustered just enough energy to shift off her and gather her in his arms. For a long time, they lay clinging to each other.

Makenna had never been with another man, and this was only the second night she had lain with Colin. Yet she knew without a doubt that what they shared was powerful and unique. They were forever bonded together.

Raising herself on an elbow, she looked down at him, her eyes serious. “Colin…you belong to me.” It wasn’t a challenge, or an ultimatum. Just a simple statement of fact.

Colin reached out and twirled his fingers through her hair. “Aye, that I do, Makenna. I will never want another.”

She let him pull her cheek down so that it rested on his chest. He did not offer words of love, but what he did give, Makenna treasured. He wanted her, cared for her. Not the way he adored Deirdre, but it was enough.

Colin lay awake stroking Makenna’s hair, listening to her deep repetitive breaths proving she was asleep. Her body molded perfectly to his as if God made her only for him. She would never know how much he relished the simple act of holding her while she slept. It was a gesture of trust, and it made him realize just how lonely his life had been.

His sexual desire for her was still present, but it no longer consumed him. Yet he still wanted…no, needed her by his side.

With the exception of his eldest brother, only Makenna seemed uniquely immune to his temper. He had been furious earlier and had done nothing to conceal the level of his anger. Yet never once did Makenna cower and retreat. Instead, she told him to stop yelling and was shockingly honest. And though he had loved Deirdre, their relationship had lacked something vital. They never learned how to be completely themselves around each other. Consequently, they never shared the true passion he was finding with Makenna. She was completely different from his soft-spoken, gentle, fragile Deirdre. Makenna was wild, and impetuous and aggravating.

And she was his wife.

Deirdre was dead, and it was time to say good-bye. He would always love her, but Makenna was his future. A future he looked forward to and would only jeopardize with continual thoughts of his late wife. He had a second chance with Makenna. She was vastly different than Deirdre and maybe that made all the difference.

Chapter Seven

Makenna rolled over and pulled Colin’s heavy arm around her. The room was dark, but she could see the faint rays of sunlight beginning to emerge. Her first day of complete freedom had arrived. All the lairds had departed for their homes yesterday evening, and Rona would be leaving this morning—finally. Ula had left days ago shortly after announcing that she would no longer remain “in the presence of a Highlander destroying her childhood home.”

She and her husband, Uilleam, ran a small keep in South Ayrshire near the Crossraguel Abbey. It was a nice home and well built, but too small to be of notable significance. Uilleam had intended to remove and use the stone from the abandoned church to expand his estate until the Black Monks announced that they intended to rebuild. Supporters of the monks chased Uilleam away, making it clear they would attack if they caught him thieving again.

He and Ula then turned their greedy eyes to Lochlen hoping to convince Alexander it was they who should succeed him and lead the Dunstans. Alexander had not agreed. Next, Ula had hoped her father would repay her efforts to see Makenna married by funding Uilleam’s ambitions to extend their home. Alexander died before she could ask, and Colin stated that he had no interest in providing any family member continuous financial support. Anger and spite drove Ula and her husband to support MacCuaig.

Mortified that Ula was publicly opposing her own father’s wishes, Makenna had launched into a verbal tirade with her in front of everyone the morning following MacCuaig’s hasty exit. Her fury had quickly transferred to Colin, who proceeded to drag her away from the hall, cutting off her final and most scathing remarks.

Colin normally would have found Makenna’s escapade infuriating. He needed to be spending time building alliances, but then it isn’t every day a husband learns the secret to mollifying his wife.

All the way to the loch, Colin had either watched Makenna fume or listened to her spew words about his bullying nature and high-handed ways. Apparently, no one before had ever dared to embarrass her in such a manner. It was then he realized that Makenna was totally unaware of how inappropriate and unladylike her behavior appeared to those around her.

Arriving at her favorite spot, Makenna huffed and gave Colin an icy look. The walk had done little to diminish her anger. She leaned against one of the waist-high rocks by the shore and boiled in silence.

Colin found himself at a loss for what to do or say. Part of him was actually pleased her anger stemmed from her loyalty to him. However, a larger part wished Makenna would restrain her sudden antagonistic urges.

He needed to return to the gathering, but subjecting Gorten and Brodie to her current mood would be a cruel order. Colin deliberated about bringing up her conduct but quickly dismissed the idea. Last year while visiting his brother, he had witnessed Conor come very close to losing some very precious body parts when he had tried to advise his wife on her behavior when she was still angry. Women can be the most sensible and logical beings in the universe, but drag them into a discussion when they are not in the mood, and watch irrationality explode.

And Makenna was clearly not in the mood.

Colin’s only hope was to induce Makenna into thinking about something else. “You know I also wonder about your sister Ula,” he started conversationally.

Makenna kept her arms crossed and looked at him from the corner of her eye. The man made absolutely no sense sometimes.

Colin saw her reaction and took it as a good sign. “Many think my mother’s idea about naming her sons with the letter C rather odd. I must admit that I am one of them. Now, don’t mention this to my brother Conor, and especially not to his wife, but they’ve actually decided to continue the tradition. And if you have hopes of doing the same, prepare yourself to be disappointed. Our children will have their own names.”

Makenna squinted and shook her head in confusion. “Colin, whatever are you going on about?” she asked, not realizing that for the first time in an hour she was thinking about something other than Ula’s betrayal and Colin’s rude interruption.

Colin picked up some rocks and moved to rest beside her on the boulder. He took one pebble and threw it toward the water, watching it skip along the reflective surface. “Just this, my name was not my choice. I could not influence the way my mother chose to name her sons. Ula, however, chose to marry Uilleam. No wonder they are unhappy and take it out on others. Can you imagine if your name was Colina or if mine were Makenzie?” Makenna felt her jaw drop. “I would never have married you.”

“Nor I you,” Colin replied, throwing another stone. Then a devilishly attractive grin flashed across his face. “But Ula did choose to marry Uilleam.”

Maybe it was the way he said their names. It could have been that they were the butt of his joke. Regardless of what it was, Makenna felt her fury subside. She grabbed the last rock out of his hand and flung it so that it hopped several times before sinking to the bottom. “We can go back now, Colin. I promise to yell no more at Ula—if she is even still here.”

“Glad you are feeling better.”

Makenna moved to stand in front of him. “But you do agree that Ula deserved everything I said, maybe even more.”

“And do you agree that I was right to haul you away?” he asked, pulling her between his legs.

Makenna shrugged her shoulders and played with the laces on his leine. “I guess. It matters so little to her. My father’s wishes, her betrayal, Uilleam’s greed…all of it. The only reason she was passably agreeable the day of our wedding was to influence my father.”

“Alexander may have been soft when it came to his daughter, but he was not going to fund the expansion of her keep.”

“You heard about that?”

“Aye. Uilleam actually approached me before the funeral. You can imagine my answer.”

“That explains why he and Ula didn’t hesitate to support MacCuaig. Revenge.” Makenna paused and released a long sigh. “She is so blind. She cannot be reasoned with or even shamed into doing what is right. It was a waste of my breath and emotion.”

Colin tugged her gently against him. “Let me give you something you can invest your emotions into.” He breathed before lowering his lips to hers. Makenna instantly melted and reached out for support. He kissed her slowly, letting her feel the endless need inside him. It was a long time before Colin ended the tender embrace.

That was nearly two weeks ago.

Makenna flipped over on the bed and began to play with the dark hair on Colin’s chest. Ula was gone, and today Rona and her husband would return to their home. Rona’s constant nit-picking had grown each day her husband remained and participated in talks of alliances. Discussions had ended late yesterday evening, and Rona’s husband was among the many who had not yet pledged his support to Colin.

“Leave, Rona, life will be much more peaceful with you gone.” Makenna sighed to herself. Her fingers danced in the soft curls that covered his upper body before tapering to a line down his abdomen.

Colin stirred, and Makenna knew she had once again spoken aloud. “Well, what do you expect when you have cultivated a habit for so many years?” she asked herself, making sure her lips were firmly pressed together.

Her hair moved, and she knew Colin was awake. Every morning began this way, regardless of the night before. They could come back to his chambers quiet, aroused, or angry, but they always ended in bed, sometimes with frenzied need, and other times with slow deliberation.

Makenna felt free to be totally herself when inside these walls. Lack of fear brought a sense of security and with that an unbridled passion Makenna was unaware she possessed until these past few weeks.

Colin was just about to attend to Makenna’s playful hand when someone unexpectedly banged on the door. No one would summon him at this early hour unless they carried important, and most likely bad, news.

“Stay here,” Colin gently ordered before throwing on his leine and belt. Grabbing his sword, he headed toward the door. Before she could see who was in the hall, the heavy wooden barrier closed behind him.

The wood slats muffled their voices, but did not completely block their words. Makenna swung out of bed and threw on her chemise. She moved by the door and recognized Dunlop’s voice.

“There were several fires set against outlying Dunstan families during the night. One boy was burned, but will live.”

“Raiders?”

“No one saw or heard anyone.”

“Select a small group of men to accompany me. I ride in an hour,” Colin ordered, his voice disappearing as he descended the tower stairs.

Makenna swallowed. Small group of men, Colin had said. She wanted to find him, hold him tight, and make him promise to be careful. Pride kept her feet planted and her hands by her sides.

Suddenly feeling chilled, Makenna walked over to the hearth and added a log to the fire. She stoked it until the flames grew large again, heating the ambient air. Pulling the McTiernay plaid off the bed, she wrapped it around her shoulders and sank into the oversized padded chair she knew Colin preferred. Colin would return and explain what was happening before he left. She just needed to be patient.

“If I were to count all the minutes I spend studying the flames of a fire, I would no doubt learn that I have lost a year of my life,” she mumbled, moving to rest her head in a more comfortable position.

Several piercing shouts from the courtyard below jarred her back awake. Makenna blinked and saw that the light entering the room was significantly brighter than before. She had fallen asleep. At least an hour had passed.

Makenna stretched her deadened limbs and waited for the painful tingling sensation to fade so that she could go and see what was happening.

“Did you fall asleep in the chair?”

Makenna swung around to see Colin enter the room. “Aye,” she replied softly as he pulled out a plaid from the chest. His manner was casual, but she could see the tension in his muscles. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need be aware of. I will take care of it.”

His reply was short and terse. Makenna took a deep breath. He was treating her as if she were a child who needed blanket reassurance that all was well. She rose to her feet. “I do not doubt that you will resolve whatever is wrong, Colin. I am just asking what happened.”

Colin closed his eyes seeking patience and finding none. “And once I tell you, you will want to know where I am going, how long I will be gone, and if it will be dangerous.”

Makenna straightened her shoulders and eyed him closely. “Aye, those are considered basic questions a wife asks her husband when she sees him prepare to leave and not just for the day’s work.”

“I will not be explaining myself to you or anyone else. I am laird now, and I decide who receives what information and when,” he instructed, his voice harsh.

Her hands flew to her hips. “You best decide to include me and before you leave, Colin McTiernay. I am quite knowledgeable about fighting, and I can recognize preparations to enter one.”

Colin felt his insides clench and focused his attention on securing his belt around his pleated plaid. “Aye, I have heard about your alleged skill with a blade.”

“Alleged? I’ll have you know I am d—”

“And like so many of my young, ignorant recruits, you do not understand the great difference between wielding a sword with someone who won’t kill you and with someone who will. And if I have anything to say about it, you never will.”

Makenna’s jaw dropped. “You are serious about leaving and telling me nothing. Nothing about my own clan. If we are in danger…” Her eyes were wide with heated awareness.

Colin stifled an oath. “If you were in danger, I would not leave, Makenna. You know that,” he stated bluntly, wishing he could end this conversation by taking her to bed again. Unfortunately, there was not time to make her see reason, and by the look of her stubborn jawline and flashing emerald eyes, Makenna did not have the slightest inclination to be sidetracked.

“And just why should I know that?” Makenna asked, knowing the insinuation would prick his pride.

It worked.

Colin moved so quickly Makenna never saw him coming. One second she was fuming by the hearth chair and in the next Colin’s hand was around her wrist dragging her across his chest. His blue eyes glinted and pierced her soul. “Because you know me.”

He was right, and suddenly Makenna didn’t want to fight with him just as he was about to leave, heading into possible danger. The fact was, whether he knew it or not, she did know what happened and where he was going. Their fight was about two souls and their pride. And somehow, keeping her pride with Colin was not nearly as important as it once was.

“Aye, Colin, I do know you. You are proud and stubborn, but you would never consciously leave Lochlen, my people, or me in danger. But you should also know that I am not dense. I know something has happened, and it requires you to leave. But what has not occurred to you is that this terrible news will eventually make its way back here. The more you trust me, the better I can prepare our people.”

Colin stifled a groan, knowing their argument had not been terminated but merely postponed. Makenna understood that he needed to leave, just not his need to shield her. Colin dropped a soft kiss into her hair and threaded his fingers through her thick mane. It was gloriously soft, and he knew not being able to touch her for days, possibly weeks would be torture.

He pulled her head back and peered down into bright green pools glimmering with unshed tears. Makenna’s eyes were keyholes to her thoughts, and right now they were full of apprehension. He leaned down and brushed his lips lightly across hers. “Take care of the keep while I’m gone. Drake’s going with me. Dunlop will be with the men at the training fields if you need him. Brodie and Gorten are to remain here with you.”

“I won’t miss you,” she promised softly as he walked to the door.

He turned back and replied, “Aye, you will.” His answer was filled with both arrogance and fear. Colin looked at her for one last moment. And then he was gone.

Makenna stood transfixed for several moments. Their argument had been completely overshadowed by his last request. Take care of the keep. The words kept repeating themselves. Makenna felt the dark walls of the tower begin to close in on her. Ula had been right. The day when her lack of domestic skill would ruin her life had arrived.

“Damn you, Ula!” Makenna muttered as panic invaded her limbs, causing the need to move.

As she paced back and forth, every half-learned lesson about weaving, candle making, running the household, and preparing meals flashed in her head. In her youth, such activities seemed so simple and boring. Now they loomed in front of her as the most complex of chores. How could she take of the keep when she had no idea what to do?

“Stop, Makenna, and think. You can do this. You mastered the battle-axe and the claymore. You learned to hunt and ride. Each seemed impossible at first. You can do this; it’s just a decision. You’re smart, and probably know much more than you think. And what you don’t know, someone can teach you. You’re the Lady of Lochlen Castle.”

Finishing her self-directed pep talk, Makenna felt enormously better. She poured some water into her hands and rinsed off her face. Deciding to forgo the bliaut today, she created an arisaid from the McTiernay plaid and marched out of Colin’s room and toward the stairwell.

Clutching the thick rope attached to the center, Makenna moved to descend when a conversation drifted up the narrow cylindrical structure. Prepared to ignore the two women and go by them, Makenna stopped cold upon hearing her sisters’ names followed by her own.

“Glad I found you,” whispered the first voice. “We can talk now that the Highlander has departed.”

“But what about…?” asked a second woman. Makenna could not make out the rest of the question and assumed the woman was gesturing.

“Do not concern yourself so,” the first voice replied. Makenna recognized its owner. Lela. “No doubt our mistress is still sleeping while we work.”

“If you are so bitter, why did you elect to come back to Lochlen for work? Rumor has it you have a new suitor.”

The second woman sounded familiar, but Makenna could not put a name or face with the voice. If only she had heeded her father’s advice to learn all those who worked at the castle. “There will be times when recognizing the faces and voices of the castle will be more important to you than knowing how to wield a sword,” he had warned. She had truly not believed him at the time, unable to envision a situation when domestic responsibilities would overlap with her life.

Ask her about horses, the stables, or even the stable masters. Ask her about weapons, their use, or her skill. These topics could hold her interest for hours. But the women who supported Lochlen were bizarre creatures with whom she had nothing in common. She had never spent one minute longer than she had to in their company.

“I do have a new man,” Lela haughtily replied. “It was he who convinced me to stay and assist Lady Ula and Lady Rona while they were visiting.”

“Didn’t I just see Lady Rona leave?”

“Aye, she cannot stand to be at Lochlen without her older sister. And you-know-who has never been one for keeping a woman company.”

Makenna bit her bottom lip and wondered if they were referring to her. She shrugged her shoulders and decided it did not matter. Restarting her descent, she had not totally lifted her foot when again their conversation stopped her.

“Too bad Lady Rona’s husband did not show the same spine of Uilleam.”

“I don’t know, Lela. I doubt Ula will be allowed to visit again with her husband backing MacCuaig so publicly.”

“It will not matter when Lochlen falls into MacCuaig’s grasp. He may even have Uilleam manage Lochlen under his rule.”

The second voice sighed. “I think Laird MacCuaig is somewhat delusional if they think the Highlander is going to so easily give up his clan and ranking. Uilleam is a fool, and Ula even more so for marrying him. He may have a pretty face, but weak knees. Same for Rona’s husband. To tell you the truth, I’d rather have the Highlander.”

Makenna smiled to herself, feeling a rush of pride that Colin was the preferred choice among some women. But just as hope was emerging in, a wave of reality washed it away.

“Never!” Lela hissed. “I would rather die the way of Wallace than submit to an outsider.”

“Were you not an outsider coming from the Highlands yourself, Lela?”

Makenna mentally cheered the woman with her lips pressed together to ensure that her comments did not accidentally escape.

“The land, its people, and its customs never laid claim to my soul. Those mountains are miserable, and the men who claim them are barbarians. And now that one of them heads the clan of my dead husband’s, the only peace I have is knowing that his home will soon be in complete disorder under the supervision of his new wife.”

“’Tis true, what you say. Our new lady has not a notion of who comes and leaves. And it is certainly not my responsibility to know or care. The laird must be ashamed that his wife is so ill-equipped to help him run and protect his home.”

Makenna took a step back and leaned against the cold stones of the staircase wall. What did they mean ill-equipped to protect his home? Wasn’t it Colin’s duty to see the keep was safe?

Lela tapped her fingers loudly along the small windowsill and looked out through the dirt coating the glass. It had not been cleaned for months. Her hostility was distancing Doreen. A new direction was needed. “I would wager a new luckenbooth our lady doesn’t care. She doesn’t care about her clan, her keep, or even her appearance.”

“Aye, and what a shame. Who knew Lady Makenna could be such a bonnie lass? She caused quite a stir among the men at her wedding, even my boy Rufus went on about it. It’s a pity she doesn’t continue to at least try and make herself presentable.”

“I predict the Highlander’s eye will soon rove if she continues to be unsightly and conduct herself with such rebellious behavior,” Lela prompted.

A light laughter tinkled up the stairs. “Your new beau’s eye maybe, Lela, but not that Highlander’s—even if she gives him reason. You may have your harsh opinion of the Highlands, but that man stayed true to Lady Deirdre despite her being ill nearly their entire marriage. I know; I attended her.”

“Still, Doreen—”

“Still nothing, Lela. I was there when Laird Crawford told all who could hear that when the McTiernays make a promise, it is for life. And I believe him. I’ve seen it.”

“Hmph,” Lela muttered. Doreen was obviously not going to disavow their new laird…yet. “Well, regardless of how you feel about McTiernay’s ‘noble heart’, he now is with a woman who would rather play all day than tend to her home.”

Makenna’s jaw tightened. Playing! These people think I am having nothing but fun training and hunting! Aye, it’s what I enjoy, but those things are hard. “I’d like to see you hunt for the food I place in your mouth, Lela Fraser,” Makenna whispered aloud.

Balling her fist, Makenna painfully banged the stone barrier. It mattered little what these two women thought.

Doreen clucked her tongue. “Now, that, Lela, is a topic we do agree on. Indeed, wouldn’t we all want to be riding in the breeze or doing only what we enjoyed? You know, I think the lass actually believes we like cleaning, cooking, and taking care of this place.”

Doreen’s condemning words stunned Makenna. She felt as if the iciest loch waters had struck her while sleeping.

Lela, sensing Doreen was now ripe for suggestion, whispered surreptitiously, “That brings me to what I came to tell you. Some of us are leaving.”

“Leaving? Where will you go?”

Lela scoffed. “Not the clan, Doreen…Lochlen. I’d rather assist in the fields or build that horrid wall than work in the disorganized nightmare this place is soon to be.”

Doreen gasped. “But what will Lady Makenna do?”

“What do we care?”

“Don’t you find that cruel to do to one of our own? Lady Makenna is not mean. In fact, I have always thought of her as quite kind.”

“And unappreciative.”

“True, but—”

“And no one wants to stay where there is no one overseeing things, no steward, and no cook.”

“Oh Lord…the cook is leaving, too?”

“Left this morning after she made Lady Rona her morning meal and a traveling pack to go. This place will soon be a disaster. What help does stay will grow angry, and then…” Lela hinted, her voice trailing with a significant amount of malice. The woman was not merely unhappy about Colin, Makenna realized, but sought to punish her as well.

“Then everyone will leave,” Doreen finished softly.

“You may want to consider avoiding the inevitable bitterness and depart immediately like me.”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to work in such conditions, but I don’t want to see Lochlen fall apart either.”

Unable to hear any more, Makenna turned and reentered Colin’s chambers. Closing the door silently behind her, she leaned against the dark planks and felt the first of many tears begin to fall.

How could she have been so naïve to think she could retain the title of Lady of Lochlen Castle without actually being one? How could she have so vastly underrated the importance of what everyone had tried to teach her?

She could easily dismiss Lela’s remarks. They were malicious and spiteful. For some mysterious reason, the woman hated Colin and now hated her for marrying him. But the other woman—Doreen—she had agreed with too many of Lela’s observations.

Makenna could barely remember the women who had supported her sister in her last days. But, from her comments, Doreen did not seek revenge. Her statements were her true feelings.

Forcing her wooden legs to move, Makenna staggered to the bed and collapsed on its unmade surface, crying into the pillow housing Colin’s scent. Last night, he had told her she was beautiful, and she had believed him.

For years, her blond, blue-eyed sisters harped that she could be pretty if she would only try. And she had tried. What she discovered was that her hair was too thick to manage, her skin too golden from the sun, and her green eyes too shrewd to be considered sweet. So she stopped all attempts to do the impossible. Even if she wanted to recreate what her sisters’ had done with her hair on her wedding day, she had no idea where to begin. She only knew how to leave it loose and unrestrained, which in the summer was far too hot to consider, or plait it down her back.

Makenna flipped over and stared at the beams supporting the above battlements. The remarks about her looks had stung, and they were indeed painful, but she had heard them before. The main reason behind her tears was fear that Doreen was right. The laird must be ashamed that his wife is so ill-equipped to help him run and protect his home. The comment haunted her.

People were leaving, and Colin would return humiliated and disappointed. Three weeks ago, she wouldn’t have cared what he thought. Now it mattered a great deal. The task of running Lochlen Castle was enormous, practically impossible for one whose aptitude for such things was nonexistent.

Makenna suddenly realized she was indulging in what Camus used to call “destructive thinking.” It was unlike her to wallow in self-pity. Colin did not believe her helpless domestically. He would not have asked her to take care of Lochlen while he was gone if he didn’t believe her capable. She could be this castle’s lady in all ways, not just name only. She just needed to make the decision. More than once someone had told her she was incapable of accomplishing a task, and each time she had proven them otherwise.

Makenna sat up in bed and wiped her eyes dry with her sleeve. This would be no different. She just needed to find someone capable of teaching her what she didn’t know. And she knew just whom to ask.

A half hour later, Makenna felt much more herself. She brushed her hair until it shone and replaited the unruly locks, but only halfway so that a mass of curls spiraled down her back. “There, that is about all I can do for now,” she told her reflection.

Rising, she went to the door and took three deep breaths before leaving. She rounded the last step, and instead of exiting, she turned inward and entered the cavernous room situated on the first floor.

It had been years since she had been in this room. There were no windows or even arrow slits through the fifteen-foot-thick walls. Its sole source of light came from the enormous hearth situated across from the entrance. The overall structure was the same, but its use had altered greatly.

A few years ago, the Dunstan steward had resided and worked within the Black Tower. Gannon stored specialty goods on the first floor, conducted business from the second, and slept in the chamber Colin currently used. Now the tower basement was divided by a wooden partition. On the left was a storage area housing a mix of items from perishable goods to supplementary weapons. The other side appeared to be a makeshift sleeping quarters for several servants.

“Who goes there?” a female voice snapped. Makenna turned around immediately and matched the face to the unknown voice she had overheard. A round-faced woman, Doreen was somewhere in her late thirties, perhaps even forty whose straw-colored hair was wrapped in a precariously listing topknot.

“Oh…oh…milady. My apologies. I never expected to find you here.”

“No, no, don’t apologize. I didn’t realize what…Are these your quarters?”

“Ah, no. I stay with my husband and my son. Our cottage is just outside the outer wall.”

“Your son, his name is Rufus, right?”

Doreen’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Aye, it is. I wasn’t aware that you knew my son.”

“I have not had the privilege, but I hope to, soon.”

Doreen shifted her weight from one foot to the next and back again. Never had Makenna taken the time to talk or converse with anyone not associated with horses or weaponry. Her knowing about Rufus, a simple farm lad, was unexpected and very disconcerting. “May I inquire to your needs, milady?”

Hearing the confusion in the woman’s voice, Makenna walked over and clutched Doreen’s fingertips with her own. It was a personal gesture, she knew, but it also felt natural. “I…I want to make a request.”

Doreen felt her uneasiness lessen. Her Ladyship was just as nervous and unsure. Feeling the sides of her mouth rise, Doreen chuckled quietly. Who would believe, she, a lady’s maid, would feel more at ease and confident than the actual lady of the castle? She patted Makenna’s quivering hand and asked, “What is that, milady? You need me to fetch the stable master, or Camus perhaps?”

It was natural for Doreen to assume she would want to visit the horses or the sword smith. “No, I need to gather everyone who works at Lochlen just outside the great hall.”

“In the inner yard? Everyone?” Doreen gasped, not even trying to hide her shock.

“Aye, in the yard, and as soon as possible. And no, I don’t need everyone. The armorers, the soldiers on watch, and the stable workers are not required, but anyone else who supports this castle or is paid by the steward must attend. Oh, and Gannon, too, of course.”

Doreen stood frozen in stunned silence. “I…there is going to be some resistance.”

Makenna took a deep breath and exhaled. No turning back now. “Tell them it is…the Lady of Lochlen’s request.”

An hour later, Makenna stood in the inner yard looking out at the small group of two dozen women and a handful of men. There might be a lot she didn’t know about running a keep, but she was reasonably certain the number of people in the yard was far below what was needed to run a castle of Lochlen’s size.

Makenna’s eyes searched the crowd and found Doreen. She motioned for her to come close and whispered, “Is this everybody? I was hoping to talk with everyone at Lochlen, not just those available.”

“Aye, milady, this is everyone, except those you excluded.”

“I thought…well, I thought there would be more people working here.”

Doreen wanted to be anywhere rather than where she was. Wishing she had left when Lela suggested, she nodded. “There are, I mean…were.”

Makenna frowned, feelings of frustration and panic rising within her. “I see.”

A man moved to the front of the small crowd, his mouth thin with displeasure. “No, milady, I don’t think you do see. If you did, you wouldn’t be asking us to come to ye like this.” His eyes were small, deep-set, and firmly positioned upon her.

“And why should I not want to see my staff?” Makenna asked, genuinely curious as to what his objetions could be.

One long finger pointed out at the crowd, as the other pushed back his wispy gray hair. “I have looked, but my eyes cannot seem to find the stable master or his lads. I also do not see the armorers or your friend, the sword smith.”

Makenna felt her face redden and replied defensively, “Well, no—they are not here. I did not want to take them away from their duties.”

“But you have no remorse about pulling me away from my bread. The loaves I was kneading are now ruined and those in the ovens are probably burnt. Now do you see, milady? That’s why so many of us have left. You support the soldiers, but they are not the only ones who work hard and ensure the safety of Lochlen. But you don’t care about us, now, do you?”

The back of Makenna’s hand flew to her mouth as she surveyed the crowd. Several heads were nodding up and down in agreement. She had just made another huge mistake. “Oh Lord, and for those who have stayed, I have just made your work all that much harder.”

His black eyes relaxed as he saw understanding seep its way into his mistress’s expression. “And now, milady, for the first time, I think you just might be seeing the way things are and not the way you want them to be.”

Makenna openly studied the man. Not many would question the laird’s new lady in an open forum, and even fewer would be so harsh. This medium-height, thin-framed man had expanded her perception, giving a larger sense of reason and reality. In a way, he had done for her what she had tried to do for Deirdre. Be honest, despite station or circumstance.

“What is your name?” Makenna’s voice became soft and melodious. Accompanying it was a smile that the men in the yard would talk about for days.

“Dugan, milady,” he answered with quiet emphasis.

“And I take it you are the baker.”

He coughed, suddenly feeling the weight of everyone’s stares. “There was one other, but he left.”

The man looked tired, and now she knew why. He was doing the work of two men. With so few in the yard, Dugan’s situation would no doubt be indicative of those surrounding him. Before she could help Dugan or any of the remaining staff, she would first have to understand just how bad things were and receive advice on what to do about it.

“Where is Gannon?” she asked loud enough for all to hear.

“I am here, Lady Makenna,” came a strong, steady answer as a balding, thickset man with hawklike eyes stepped forward.

When Makenna was a child, the steward had seemed unapproachable and harshly demanding. Now he was the one man who could save her from the deep pit she had spent many years digging for herself. Gannon had been Lochlen’s steward since before she was born. He knew everything that went on at the castle and in the surrounding estates. Skilled at accounting and legal matters as well as personnel management, the old steward was her one hope of fulfilling Colin’s request.

Gannon had watched as Makenna fumbled with the baker and realized her mistake. It seemed she was finally ready to be lady of this grand castle. Of all the Dunstan daughters, she had been the one who had the heart, stamina, and backbone required to lead her people. Ula and Rona were self-centered and vain, Edna was too quiet and introspective, and Deirdre had been led through persuasion, focusing only on personal comforts and not what was best for the clan.

Unfortunately, like her sister, Makenna had foolishly married the arrogant Highlander. Their new laird spoke about rebuilding the Dunstan army and ensuring the clan’s safety, but there was very little evidence he would ever be able to do so. Without the clan’s support, Gannon had no doubt Colin McTiernay would be forced to leave Lochlen. Hopefully, Makenna would realize her folly and stay.

Before he could ask what she wanted from him, her voice rang out, her tone apologetic. “Ah…thank you very much for coming. I apologize for never before showing my appreciation, but I do, as does my husband. I promise to learn and assist you as I should have since my sister passed away. Please go back to your duties. Soon I hope to meet with each of you in a more convenient manner. Good day.”

Makenna watched for a moment as the crowd dwindled back to the various places from which they originated. Seeing the backs of Doreen and Gannon, she called out asking them to wait. “I truly meant what I said, but as you are both keenly aware, I don’t know how.”

“Milady, I am but a lady’s maid, why would you want my help?”

“Because you want what is best for this clan and its castle. I need someone both kind and honest to teach me how to work and converse with women. Will you help me with this?”

Doreen gave her a quizzical look. Her Ladyship wants help on how to be a woman. Lady Makenna had changed, even as recently as the previous evening. Whatever the reason, it was something worth supporting and nurturing. Lady Deirdre had been kind, but she had her faults and though no one said so, Lochlen had suffered for them. She had been unwilling to listen to her people’s needs. Maybe, just maybe, Lady Makenna was the mistress they had longed for.

Doreen shrugged one shoulder and replied, “Aye, I will do my best.”

Makenna turned toward Gannon and met his eyes. She saw hesitation and doubt in their rich brown depths. “Will you assist me? Teach me what I must know to help you and Colin?”

“Aye, where I can, milady.” His reply was short, but it gave Makenna hope.

“Where do you wish to begin?” Gannon asked.

Makenna indicated for Doreen and Gannon to follow her to the great hall. “First I must understand how much our staff has been depleted. I saw perhaps three dozen people. Is this not terribly low?”

Gannon nodded. “Including the armorers, sword smiths, and stable hands, the laird usually employs between seventy and eighty-odd hands to support the castle. Currently, we are staffed at somewhere between forty and fifty, depending on the number of people who left this morning.”

The number was even lower than she thought. Just over half of the people needed. Makenna looked toward a nodding Doreen. “Aye, milady, Gannon tells it correctly.”

Makenna folded her hands together. “Did all those people leave because of me? Because I am now Lady of Lochlen?”

Doreen grimaced. If her lady wanted honesty, then she would receive it. “Many left because of your husband; others chose to go because you willingly accepted him.”

Makenna rose from her seat and then stood motionless. Her insides clenched with fury. How myopic her people were, how limited their insight was to their situation. She might have much to learn from them, but the Dunstans had a great deal to learn from her as well. “Thank you for your honesty, Doreen. Where do you suggest we begin?”

Consolidation and efficiency. That was how they were going to weather being shorthanded. Hopefully, it would not last long. Meanwhile, by finding ways to strip unnecessary chores and activities, they could reduce the workload and thus lower the number of people needed to run a castle of Lochlen’s size.

“Excluding the outer wall towers, do you know how many chambers are within Lochlen?” Gannon asked.

“I would assume almost twenty,” Makenna surmised.

“There are indeed twenty, over two dozen if you include the tower basements. They are a lot of work to maintain.”

“And a lot of privies to clean,” Doreen added.

“Aye,” Gannon replied, nodding. “Cleaning privies is a hapless job, but one that could be accomplished by the young and ill-experienced. We should consider hiring one or two lads as replacements for such a responsibility.”

“Please do so immediately,” Makenna said, tapping her lips absentmindedly with the tip of her finger. “What rooms are we using now?”

“Um, several,” Doreen answered.

“Before Colin returns, I want his things removed and placed into the laird’s solar in Canmore Tower. It is appropriate. He is now the Dunstan laird.”

Shock and resistance invaded Gannon’s expression for a moment followed by resignation and acceptance. “Aye, milady. It will be done.”

“I will also be moving my things into the solar, but would like to maintain my current room for day use. It could also serve as an extra chamber for visiting ladies to converse in when the halls are occupied by men or soldiers.” Seeing Gannon and Doreen nod affirmatively, she continued. “And where are you staying, Gannon? Is there room for you to meet with staff and pay them?”

“For some time now I have been working and staying in one of the outer gate towers.”

Makenna bit her inner lip. The outer gate towers were designed for defense and security. They were cold, damp, and uncomfortable to live in with arrow slits for windows and a narrow staircase only one person could traverse at a time. Those who slept in them were usually soldiers staying only for a rotation before they went back to the training fields or home. “But why? Did Father know this? I know he would not have approved.”

Touched by Makenna’s incredulity, Gannon suddenly didn’t want her to realize why he had been forced to leave the comforts of the Black Tower. Though the order had come from Lady Deirdre, he was positive the Highlander had commanded it. “I suggest that as we examine castle activities and situations, we do not delve too much into why they have come to be as they are.”

Makenna looked into the old man’s eyes and saw the pain there. Instantly, she knew why Gannon lived in one of the outer gate towers. Deirdre had asked him to move so that Colin had a place to stay, away from Forfar and her chambers. It was hard to conceive that her sister had made such a request, yet she knew deep down Deirdre had done just that.

Sighing, Makenna replied, “I think that is an excellent idea, Gannon. Our time is best spent on finding ways to help our people as things are now, not dwelling on the past.”

Relief flowed through Gannon’s face, and he visibly relaxed.

Witnessing Makenna’s sensitivity, Doreen felt hope for the first time. After a long time waiting, the Dunstan clan finally had a lady to lead them.

Makenna cleared her throat and continued as if nothing was amiss. “Gannon, please reside in the Black Tower. You need the room for your duties. As for the rest of the staff, how many require chambers at Lochlen, Doreen?”

“I, uh, for all positions? Or just the staff that we currently have?”

“Let’s focus on current staff. Once others decide to return to their positions, Gannon can find them housing in the outer gate towers. Those who have elected to support the laird and me in our time of need will stay within the main castle.” Makenna’s voice was firm, steady, and left no room for compromise. On this, she was not asking for opinion or getting approval. She was a making a decision. She was also making an insertion that people would be returning.

Doreen swallowed. “Many have families in the village and therefore sleep in their own cottages. The armsmen, stable workers, and armorers have accommodations where they work. This leaves about a half dozen men and a dozen women who would like to have quarters.”

Would like to have quarters, Doreen had said. Meaning some of them currently did not. “Right now part the Black Tower basement is already configured for sleeping quarters, but it is cramped. Gannon, would it be possible to move the items being stored there elsewhere? It seems to be a random mix of supplies, from food to armory.”

“The weapons were supposed to have been removed some time ago. We were short of hands to do so. The food items can be moved to the rear tower, which I am sure the cook and the baker would appreciate.” Situated in the middle of the rear inner wall, the kitchen was set to the rear tower’s left and the bake house was located on the tower’s right.

“Excellent. I will have Dunlop send us a handful of men to help us move Colin’s chambers and the items from the basement. This should provide plenty of room for the men. Now for the women who need accommodations…”

“Most of them prefer to stay in the Pinnacle.”

The Pinnacle. Makenna hated that tower. Situated at an odd angle on a small hill, it distorted the square look of the inner yard and appeared to be taller than the other towers. Consequently Makenna’s great-grandmother called it the Pinnacle, and the name stuck. Makenna preferred her name—the Rooms of Doom and Gloom. For that was what they contained. The whole tower was filled with chambers designated for spinning, weaving, tapestry, embroidery, candle making, cobblers, even the laundry was done near, in, or about the Pinnacle. All things she didn’t understand and hated. Why anyone would want to stay there was a mystery.

“Then that is where they shall stay. I am assuming there is room. Am I correct?”

“Aye, milady. There is.”

Makenna stood and began to pace. “Now for moderation. We’ll start with the chambermaids and the—”

Hesitantly holding her hand up, Doreen interrupted, “Uh, besides me, there are none, milady. The one supporting the laird quit this morning.”

Makenna stopped in midstride and looked at the woman. Gannon and Doreen didn’t know what to say and remained silent in their chairs.

“None?” Makenna’s voice was barely audible. “What other positions are now vacant, and by how many?”

Gannon prided himself on his ability to remain calm in any situation, manage any problem, and address any person whether a noble or a farmer. Yet right now, answering a simple question had never been harder. “As of this morning, the ladies in waiting, chambermaid, and embroiderer positions have been completely vacated. Totally staffed, their numbers reach nineteen.”

Makenna licked her lips. The news explained much. “Then it is fortunate that we have no guests, nor are there any planned. However, until our chambermaids return, all of us will have to continue cleaning and maintaining our own chambers. I will see to Colin’s and my own.”

Doreen gasped. “No, milady!”

Makenna gave the woman a challenging smile. “It shall be no different from what I have been doing for near a year now, Doreen. Or were you unaware that I, Lady McTiernay, daughter of Alexander Dunstan, wife of your new laird, have not been attended to since the day after my sister passed?”

The blood drained out of Gannon’s face, and he turned to look at Doreen. “Is this true?” His simple question was laced with insinuation and displeasure. Doreen opened and closed her mouth several times before letting her face fall into her hands.

“My deepest apologies, milady. I will do your room.”

Gathering the soft, worn fingers in her own, Makenna leaned over and whispered in her ear, “What I most need is not a chambermaid, but your wisdom and feminine guidance. I am completely at a loss on any of those duties performed in the Pinnacle.”

“Aye, milady, I will help where I can,” Doreen cried, gathering Makenna in her arms, relieved there would be no residual enmity.

Pulling herself free, Makenna wiped a stray tear and said, “Now, then, let us go, and, Gannon, you can begin my long-awaited training on what it means to be Lady of Lochlen.”

Two days later, Makenna stood speechless inside the bake house. It was the same here as it was at every station she had been to. At first, she had thought it was her ignorance. She assumed things could not truly be as inefficient and mismanaged as they appeared. Yet her inquisitive nature would not let her mind rest.

She discovered the truth by accident while meeting Lochlen’s one remaining candle maker. “Are you terribly overworked, chandler?”

He stared at Makenna completely perplexed for several moments before answering. Despite his years of service to the Dunstans, he had only seen Lady Makenna at a distance and not very often at that.

A ruddy-faced man with a gray and brown beard, Amos permanently stooped regardless of whether he sat or stood. He narrowed his eyes at her. “You look like your father,” came his answer. “’Tis good that you do. I like women who have color in their hair and face, reminds me of my sweet Bessie.”

Gannon leaned over and whispered that Bessie was his late wife. Alexander had hired Amos upon her death ten years ago. Makenna squared her shoulders and replied, “Why, thank you, chandler. I have just recently begun to enjoy the features I inherited.”

“Call me Amos.”

“All right, Amos. How do you fare? Are you overworked since you are now alone?”

“Are you here to play a trick on me?”

“No…”

“Then I’m not sure what you’re asking. The others left over a year ago because there is not enough work here for one chandler, let alone three. That is why I work alone, milady.”

Makenna could feel her jaw slacken. “But not one candelabra in the castle has a full set of tapers. Most only have one or two.” Turning she looked directly at Doreen. “What about the villagers, do they have candles?”

“Aye, milady, the chandlers that used to work for Lochlen now labor in their cottages making tallow candles. Their wives are most unhappy. The smell and the hours they put in are long and hard.”

“Why are they not making the candles here? Gannon says this room was built for the craft. I am getting the same impression I did when we were speaking with the hoppers, the weavers, and the spinners. First, I hear the laundresses must wash on one side of the keep and carry the wet items to another to hang because someone didn’t like the unsightly view of the clothes drying. Only time-absorbing tapestries with elaborate designs are to be created, and now there are too many candle makers when there are not enough candles? What is going on?”

Gannon shifted and Doreen wrung her hands. Neither spoke.

Amos grunted. “I will tell you, milady. Compared with beeswax candles, tallow candles smell. They do not burn as long, and soot accumulates on the stones and tapestries around them. Your sister hated the odor and the residue, and wanted them out of the keep. Beeswax candles are not harder to make, milady, but finding the beeswax is. It is only because your father was a comparatively wealthy laird that we even had candles lighting Lochlen these two years. Lady Deirdre asked me to stay because I have a trick for smoothing the wax as it’s poured over the rushes so that the candles were all the same width and length. Such things were important to the poor lass.”

Makenna found a seat and sank down on its hard wooden surface. Poor lass, my foot. She knew Deirdre could sometimes be self-indulgent, but she was not mean-spirited. Yet Makenna did not doubt the truth of the chandler’s words. There had to be a better explanation that would clarify all of these decisions and demands.

And yet, with each new stop, Makenna heard a similar description of Deirdre’s interference at almost every station at Lochlen. The castle normally employed two bakers, and three during festivals and four when guests arrived. Now only a lead baker and an assistant remained. However, they were both close to quitting. For two years, they worked extraordinary hours to meet their quotas, but what Makenna was shocked to discover—it was so very unnecessary. Deirdre had enjoyed the view walking along the curtain walls above the bake house, but she had not enjoyed the smoke associated with bakery brick ovens. Consequently, she had ordered only one of the three hearths to be used at a time.

Makenna had always believed her beautiful frail older sister to be this great lady of the castle taking over seamlessly when her mother had passed. But, in reality, everyone—or at least those actually running the keep—knew Deirdre was a poor mistress. Her kind nature, whimsical smile, and fragile features had allowed her to perpetuate the illusion of order and peace.

“Fire all the hearths you need to, Dugan. And if you need more help, and know someone willing to work here at Lochlen, hire them. The people need their bread, but you must also be allowed the time to raise your sons. Gannon will see that you have what you need,” Makenna directed, and then turned to leave.

Caught off guard, the round baker stood in bewilderment as the fiery redhead exited. Just days ago, he was confronting a naïve woman who was unaware of how her actions—or lack of them—affected those around her. Though she still had much to learn, he knew that she could, and more important, would. Was it possible the old laird had been correct? Maybe the Highlander and Makenna were the right ones to restore the strength and prosperity the clan once knew.

Chapter Eight

Colin weaved his way through the rocky hills moving as quickly as possible. He personally needed to see the destruction before too much time passed. His men did not have the experience and skill needed to examine such a brutal attack. He could not take the chance they would overlook critical clues that could identify the perpetrators. Even if he did have such men, he might have ridden out anyway to let the families know they had his support.

“You have been quiet,” Drake observed once he and Colin were out of earshot from the rest of the men in their small group.

“I’m always quiet.”

“Aye, you are, but rarely do you brood, Laird.”

Colin briefly glanced at Drake out of the corner of his eye. He had a gift for detecting a man’s disposition. That and his skill with a multitude of weapons made him an excellent commander and a natural trainer of men. “My mind is on discovering the particulars of what we are to encounter. I thought your mind would be occupied on the same.”

Drake heaved a great sigh. “Alas, it is not. My thoughts have been on a sweet lass with golden freckles and hair the color of winter grass.”

“And who is this lucky woman?”

“Her name is Ceridwin. Not only is she bonnie, but she was most understanding when I told her that I might be gone for an unknown amount of time. She made me promise to be careful and she pledged to wait for me. You are looking at a man in love, Laird.”

Colin found Drake’s pleased look irritating. His commander was well known to the ladies and well liked. He never slept alone when he desired company. Dunlop once accused Drake of using tricks to convince women to do his bidding and warm his bed. Drake’s reply had been, “You just have to know how they think. And I do, thank the good Lord, I do.”

It was hard to tell if Drake was truly smitten or having fun. “Be careful, friend. Love can mock even the truest of hearts.” As the words tumbled out, Colin knew he had spoken more than he should have.

“Nay, you cannot mean our Lady Makenna,” Drake countered in disbelief. “I do not think she is capable of that particular crime. The woman confronts, challenges, and argues, aye, but she would not scorn love. At least, not in the way you mean.”

Colin decided to change the subject. “I’m surprised you told your lady love of your intentions.”

Drake shrugged nonchalantly, and again it rankled Colin. “And why should you be surprised? Did you not relay the same to your wife before we departed?”

“I did not,” Colin replied.

Drake let out a low whistle. The crisp manner Colin spoke those three words explained much. Drake sensed he should be quiet and let it be, but his instincts told him to counter the mental reenactment Colin was having of his departure. “I expect, knowing Lady Makenna, that your choice to keep her in the dark was not well received.”

Colin tightened his grip on the reins. “I chose not to encumber my wife with burdens she could take no action to resolve.” Colin paused and then uncharacteristically added further explanation. “I was trying to be kind to her female sensibilities. No woman wishes to hear of gruesome attacks. I chose to spare her that.”

Colin had not spoken Deirdre’s name aloud, but she was in the air. Drake knew Colin had wisely avoided subjects such as war, attacks, and battles concerning his late wife. She had despised such topics. Whenever Colin was away from Lochlen, she had told herself and others that he was out for a long ride or visiting friends. Deirdre was a lovely woman, but her intentional naiveté was one of her more aggravating traits.

Drake cleared his throat and decided to take a risk. “I agree some women do not take well to hearing such reports as were delivered last night. And for those women, it is a kind service to hold close information they find distasteful or bothersome. But I am surprised to learn Lady Makenna is one of them. She does not buckle at the sight of blood or at the receipt of ill news. Instead of faltering, her courage rises. It is one of the predominant reasons we Dunstan soldiers love her and enjoy training with her in combat.”

Colin’s face hardened as a ripple of possessiveness coursed through him. He had not known so many men adored his wife. “Makenna is indeed a strong woman, but she is still a woman and needs to be protected.”

“From what? The truth? Do you truly believe word has not already spread throughout the village, and that she remains ignorant of the attack? Nay, I would wager our fair lady is completely aware of where we head and why. And while I would not be so presumptuous to speak for Lady Makenna, my lady love would be quite hurt and possibly even angry with me if she learned the truth from another’s lips and not my own. Come to think of it, if I knew I had caused Ceridwin such pain, I would probably choose to ride in quiet solace and reflection brooding about how I could make it up to her upon my return.”

“Drake?”

“Aye?”

“You talk too much,” Colin admonished and prompted his horse forward to rejoin the other men.

The attack had been merciless and cruel. This was not a mere thieving raid for cattle or horses. Evidence of deep hatred was everywhere. Fences were irreparable and had to be rebuilt from new. Two families had stables burned with the livestock still in them. One young boy had been seriously injured in an attempt to save his favorite mare. Other families, whose animals were allowed to graze at night, awoke to a nightmare of mutilation. Such acts were unheard of. The capture of livestock was the goal of raids, not slaughter.

Whoever did this wanted Colin gone. They also knew he would seek retribution.

“What do you think, Laird?” Drake asked in hushed tones laced with fury. His cheerful disposition had been replaced by one filled with vengeance.

Colin ignored the question and aimed his horse toward the broken portion of the nearby fence. He could feel the animal’s reaction to what was around it. The big black knew murder of its kind had taken place. “Who lives here?”

“Calvin and his wife, Loreen. They have one infant daughter. They used to live near the village, but Calvin wanted more land to farm. Alexander offered him this out here.”

“Their house?”

“Intact. Like the others. The focus appears to be killing the livestock that supported these people’s livelihood.”

“Ensure that Calvin and his wife receive the same as the others and have the men remove the carcasses before the family see their land again.”

“Aye, it will be done,” Drake said wearily. It was hard to see so much willful, cruel inflictions on innocent animals. Colin could do very little to restore these people’s lives. He could give a cow and a horse to help soften their losses, but what he could not do was restore their peace of mind. At least not yet.

Colin halted his huge obsidian mount and swung off its back. Rocks were scattered everywhere. He walked down to a weakened but still intact portion of the fence and forcefully kicked it so that it toppled onto the ground. Then he stood back and gazed intently upon the result. He looked back at the pebbled ground.

Whistling he called his black and remounted. “There’s more here than what we’ve seen, Drake. Search every morsel of this farm. Bring me what you find.”

Several hours later, Colin sat on a makeshift bench composed of a dead log. The fire crackled and lit up the night sky. His men were gathered in silent reflection. Each soldier’s palpable anger fed the man next to him. Last night, there had been much discussion. Angry words about payback had been bandied about casually and often. But then, yesterday, they had only seen a fraction of the horror bestowed upon these quiet farmers.

Colin knew it would take very little to unleash the rage warring in his men. Earlier, they had found very consistent and plentiful evidence of the attacking clan. The Donovans.

For those who knew them, the evidence fit. Donovan land bordered the Dunstan’s eastern hills and stretched far both east and south. Mahon Donovan was a hard, unforgiving man, who had fought and lost men in the battles against Edward I. The Scottish laird was well known to be ruthless in combat, killing all enemies—even their animals—in battle. He disliked visitors and warned trespassers only once to make their travels via another route. He had publicly declined to support Colin and left Lochlen Castle shortly after MacCuaig.

Finding torn bloody pieces of the Donovan plaid hidden between rocks and underneath carcasses was more than enough evidence for his men to convict their eastern neighbor.

Colin was not persuaded. There was too much proof, and all of it was pointing to the wrong person. He would give his clansmen their vengeance, but first, he needed to meet with Mahon, just as the real murderer intended.

“Sean, tomorrow you are to ride back to Lochlen and tell Lady Makenna that we may be several more days. Then join Dunlop on the training fields.”

Colin rose to lay his plaid down somewhat apart from the others and then disappeared into the dark. He needed quiet surroundings to plan how he would approach his quick-tempered neighbor.

Silence fell upon the group as each man watched Colin retreat into the woods. It would be some time before their laird returned.

“Does this mean war?” The question came from Sean, the youngest and most inexperienced of the group.

Drake sighed and straightened his shoulders as he stood to survey the small gathering. “Still to be seen, but we will be seeing Donovan. We’ll know more then.”

Drake left them to assimilate the information and moved to lie down on his plaid and think. Colin had not acted like a laird who had found proof of his prey. In fact, he seemed quietly suspicious. More than once Colin had performed odd and even repulsive acts including ripping some of his own plaid, laying it on the ground, and throwing the head of a dead horse on it. Drake had no idea how Colin intended to approach Donovan, but he doubted it would turn out as the men expected.

A light breeze came with the morning. Sean prepared and left for Lochlen. Colin went to visit Calvin and his wife. He did so alone and returned midmorning. Drake waited for Colin’s order dispatching a soldier to go and return with more men, but the word was not given.

Drake asked the question on everyone’s mind, “Do we ride east?”

“Aye. I want to meet with Mahon by nightfall tomorrow.” Colin’s answer meant they would be riding hard and possibly into the night.

When they stopped, it had been dark for some time and they were well into Donovan territory. Colin had caught more than one sentry make note of their entrance and their direction. Making camp, Colin located almost a half dozen men lurking about the darkness. And those he could not see, he could hear. Mahon had relaxed his training since Edward I died and Robert the Bruce took the Scottish throne. Maybe too much.

Laughter erupted from his men around the campfire. Trying to ease their nerves from what they had seen and the potential fight to come, they concentrated on happier times, moments, and people. Mostly they talked about their wives or loved ones.

When he was younger, Colin often wondered why his older brother Conor kept himself apart, never joining in on the conversation on nights such as this. Now he understood. Men you lead cannot see you as a friend. Friends can be questioned, even overruled. As laird and leader, he could not risk blurring the lines even a little bit. Hesitation, doubt, uncertainty—these were dangerous things on a battlefield. And they were cultivated during times like these.

Colin stood and moved his plaid farther away from the others. The bushes were swaying with semi-concealed onlookers. There would be no walk tonight. Lying down on the soft woolen blanket, Colin put his arm underneath his head and stared up at the stars.

By tomorrow morning, Donovan would receive word of Colin’s impending arrival, but he wouldn’t know why. Colin gambled Mahon’s curiosity would be enough to receive him.

If they left at dawn, it would take nearly the whole day to reach Lonchlilar, the heart of the Donovan clan. Nestled in the northeastern hills adjacent to the cliffs of the North Sea, Lonchlilar Castle was well protected with typical walls, barbicans, and portcullises, but it had a secret weapon against those who were unwelcome. Behind the shadows of the simple valley surrounding it were hidden pockets of cleared land where dozens if not hundreds of men could lie hidden and attack without warning. Colin had never personally visited the stronghold, but he had heard much about it.

Colin switched arms, bracing his head, and tried to keep his thoughts on how tomorrow would enfold. But again they drifted to one person, just as they had every night since he left Lochlen. Makenna. He wondered how she was faring, if Brodie and Gorten were keeping her safe, if she was still angry, but most of all, he wondered if she missed him as much as he missed her.

He had not thought it possible to crave a woman the way he ached for her each night. They had been married for nearly three weeks, and for fourteen of those days, she had shared his bed. Each night before retiring, they would discuss both important and minor details of their day and talk about events of the morrow. During which one or both would get mad, argue, or just as often, go into fits of laughter over some odd comment or incident. He did not believe it possible to laugh so much with a woman, but his wife had a way of relating a story that made him feel as if he were right there witnessing or experiencing the humorous event himself. Regardless of how the nights started, they had always ended the same. In shared ecstasy.

Colin rolled over on his side and fingered the empty spot beside him. “I miss you, Makenna McTiernay. God help me, I do,” he whispered.

The next morning, the small group rode across the eastern countryside of the Scottish Border region. They could not see the North Sea, but they could feel its cool humid wind blow over the rocks and grass to greet them. Much less friendly were Donovan’s men. No longer lingering in the shadows, sentries followed the group as they made their way east.

Drake watched Colin carefully ready to respond to his command but detected no concern from his laird. By now it was clear an audience with their neighbor would be allowed. It was yet to be seen if leaving would also be on the agenda. Colin obviously had a plan, but what it was, Drake had not a clue.

Midafternoon, Colin halted by a small stream to rest their mounts and replenish their water pouches. He ordered the men to tie the horses and follow him. Colin cut across the stream and broke through the bushes on the other side. The scene was calm and peaceful and deadly.

“This, men, is the valley of Lonchlilar, home of Mahon Donovan. Beyond that hill in the distance is where we’re headed. Before you remount, you will secure your sword and axe so that they are visible and nonthreatening, for there will be men watching, whether you see them or not. I do not expect war with Mahon, but we are not allies, and our company was not planned. I know not how we will be received, but unless provoked, Mahon will see me.”

Mahon Donovan drummed his fingers on the thick-planked table in front of him. At his back was a roaring fire pumping welcomed heat into the room. His bones were no longer young, and they hated the cold. In his youth, men had called him the Lion because of his size, wild yellow hair, brown beard, and his deafening roar when charging the enemy on the battlefield. He was not tall, but wide and thick, and when people left his company they remembered him being much bigger than he actually was.

“Laird?” came a voice from behind.

“Aye, Ross, come in,” Donovan replied without turning around. Every hour he was given updates to the location of McTiernay and his expected time of arrival.

Mahon had ordered his men to allow Colin’s small band safe passage, but he had not forbidden intimidating them. He wished he could witness his men’s attempt to frighten the Highlander. No doubt his soldiers would learn a well-needed lesson. The Donovan army itched for battle and had grown overconfident in their abilities.

“The…the Dunstan laird, Colin McTiernay, has entered the valley. Word has it that he and his men are armed, but their weapons are secured behind them where they cannot be easily reached.”

Mahon nodded. Colin had never been to Lonchlilar before, but the man was obviously acquainted with the secrets of the valley. “Anything else?”

Ross swallowed. “Uh…just that…well, one of the men shot an arrow…”

Mahon turned around at the news. “My man or McTiernay’s?”

“Uh…ours. The arrow was not meant to hit, only to scare, but McTiernay supposedly went and got the soldier who shot it and tied his hands to the tree he was perched upon. One of the men who spied the incident used the back trail to ride back and warn you.”

“When is McTiernay to arrive?”

“Any moment, Laird.”

Mahon swiveled back in his chair to a more comfortable position. “Until I tell you otherwise, the soldier is to remain tied to that tree until Laird McTiernay has departed from this valley. We would not want another accident to start a war.”

“Uh…no,” came a hesitant reply.

Donovan picked up the pewter quaich and swallowed the remaining contents. “For if we did go to war, we would fight, and we would kill many, but just so there is no doubt, in the end, we would lose. McTiernay knows this, and I know this.”

Ross walked around the table and looked at his laird with a steady, but questioning gaze. “Lose? To McTiernay? His numbers are small, few, and I hear they are untrained.”

Mahon eyed the slight man. “Are they, now? I say no one knows. The tricks he uses to hide his numbers are not unknown to me. My valley is riddled with them. But even if you were right, and we vanquish Colin McTiernay and all his loyal men, we would then have to deal with his allies. And even if those allies decided that avenging a dead Highlander is not of value to them, there is his brother. You have not fought alongside a horde of Highlanders, but I have. It is an awesome sight when they are beside you, and I imagine a terrifying one if they’re in front of you. This is not what I want. This is not what I am about. Scots killing Scots is a waste. I will have no more. Leave me now and do not return until McTiernay has arrived.”

“Aye, Laird,” Ross quickly replied.

“That will be unnecessary, Mahon Donovan. I am already here.”

Mahon rose, walked over, and grabbed Colin’s large forearm with a firm grip. “McTiernay, welcome.”

Colin tilted his thumb toward Drake. “If you agree, I would like my commander to be in attendance during our discussions. My other men have been instructed to wait just beyond the outer walls.”

Mahon nodded. “Your commander is welcome, and my servants will see that your men outside are well fed.”

“Your generosity is appreciated.”

Mahon pointed at the padded armchairs at the head table and retook his own seat. “As you can see I have restructured the room to fit the needs of an older man. If I were having this room built now, the hearth would not be situated in the middle of the room with the entrance door to the side. The only way to keep my backside warm is to have my table situated most awkwardly, which in turn results in my back being to the door much of the time. Damn nuisance.”

“It is a grand hall all the same, Mahon.”

The old man nodded at a servant and swirled his finger in the air, indicating for him to bring drinks for his guests. Mahon propped his elbows on the table and looked Colin in the eye. “Enough with the pleasantries. It is a long ride to Lonchlilar. One does not make the journey uninvited and without purpose.”

“If you wanted to kill me or my men, your sentries would have done so the moment we set upon your land.”

“You saw them, then?”

“I had not realized that you intended them otherwise,” Colin lied.

Mahon eyed the young laird. The Highlander’s size would daunt many men, but it was the man’s cunning that caught Mahon’s attention. In an unthreatening way, Colin had cleverly warned Mahon that his men were clumsy and needed further training. It also affirmed Mahon’s guess that Colin’s visit was not to start a war between their two clans, but to avert one.

“You have ridden hard for a reason, McTiernay, and I expect I will not like the answer.”

Colin reached into his leine and pulled out several torn bloody pieces of Donovan plaid and laid them down on the table in front of Mahon. “These were carefully placed throughout the remnants of an attack on my land.”

“A raid?” Mahon asked, picking up one of the still wet pieces. It was without a doubt the Donovan tartan.

“Nay, raids are for livestock. These attacks were senseless slaughters of horses and stock animals.”

“Attacks? More than one?”

“Nine all together, in the span of two nights.”

“No sane Scot would do such a thing. You say these were found on the scene?”

“Those are but a handful of the pieces, aye.”

“No Donovan committed such a crime,” Mahon vowed with conviction.

“I never believed you or your clansmen did. There are too many pieces and their cuts are too similar. As you can see, all are the same size and shape. They were easily found, and in chosen locations. Some of the mayhem was designed just so that I would find proof of a Donovan attack.”

The old laird leaned back into his chair and sat quietly for several minutes before standing up. “Do you know the reason why I did not support you along with Crawford, Boyd, and the others?” he asked, walking toward the impressive stone fireplace.

Colin looked at the man without expression. “I suspected you had had enough.”

The accuracy of the answer startled Mahon. “I must admit I am surprised you ascertained as much, but I am glad you did. I have seen too much war these past ten years. Edward II is being manipulated by his barons, and chaos runs rampant in the English lands. During this time, we must replenish our forces and rebuild our strength. I do not want to see it squandered on battles against our own. Scots should not be killing Scots. It’s a waste and disgrace.”

“I agree.”

“Edward’s son is a fool, but he is not completely stupid. Eventually it will occur to him that attacking Scotland might unite his quarreling nobles.”

“Robert knows this and will soon be mustering forces to attack England while it’s vulnerable. It is a sprint to see who will attack first. Regardless, though, war is imminent. The decision I have now is whether to wait and fight a battle against my own at the same time I fight the English or to fight now.” Colin watched the old laird wrestle with his thoughts.

Mahon took a deep breath and exhaled. “Turning potential enemies into actual ones is dangerous and costly.”

“I can ignore a potential enemy, Donovan, but I will not ignore one that tries to humiliate me and cause suffering to my clansmen. When enemies make themselves known whether English, Irish, or Scot, one has two choices, fight now or fight later.”

“And what are you inclined to do, McTiernay?”

“It depends on your decision. Someone intends for us to fight, no doubt to diminish your force and possibly eliminate mine, leaving Lochlen undefended for those who desire it. We can ignore what they did or we can band together against the one man who foolishly thought to pit us against each other.”

“MacCuaig.”

“There is no proof. No one saw any of the attackers, and unlike your tartan, I cannot link him or his clan to the attacks.”

“You know it was MacCuaig, just as I. The man has a black and greedy heart, but he wants more than just Lochlen. If you had spent your youth in the Borders, you would know the obsession he has with your wife.”

“He will never have Makenna, Donovan. I will leave the Dunstan clan and take her and my men to the Highlands before I would allow MacCuaig to touch one hair of my wife’s.”

Mahon swung around and marched back to his chair. He sank down into the worn cushions and locked eyes with Colin. “No man has ever dared to use me or my men before. If MacCuaig wants a battle, he’ll have one.”

“I am glad we are in agreement. But I came this way not just to show you MacCuaig’s misdeeds, but to ask for your favor. I have two battles looming in front of me, and with your assistance, I can end them both definitively and perhaps simultaneously.”

“And if I choose not to support you or your plan?”

“Then I leave here and devise another; however, I doubt my second plan will consider the state of the Lowland Scots to be a priority.”

A week later, Colin left Lonchlilar. His mood was dark and ominous. All who saw him knew the talks with Donovan had ended, and a war between the two clans was brewing.

Mahon watched secretly from his private chambers as the fierce Highlander rode at a gallop out of Lonchlilar’s gates.

The plan had begun.

It had taken a week to resolve all the specifics, and during that time, Mahon learned the fame surrounding the McTiernay strategic abilities was well earned. It all came down to timing and perception. Only one part of the elegant plan had caused Colin to hesitate.

“Your plan requires absolute secrecy of your numbers. Before MacCuaig makes his move, he will scour the hills to verify the size of your army. You have a month, maybe two at best,” Mahon had advised.

“Aye, a problem, but not an insurmountable one. To keep my numbers hidden, I will need to relocate them in stages. What concerns me is the one element I don’t control—MacCuaig. I cannot be certain how long my men’s stay will be. It is too much to ask,” Colin replied somberly.

“What is too long of a stay? Two, three months? Perhaps four? Where better than Lonchlilar Valley can you hide your men? And you know I am right. Your pride is preventing you from accepting this offer. Only under a cloak of mutual animosity will your plan be successful. You said yourself you suspect MacCuaig has already dispatched spies to Crawford, Moncreiffe, and Boyd to watch for any dispatches. He may even decide to send one or two men to my lands, but they will not dare enter the valley. Here is where your men must come.”

“I cannot deny the truth of your words, Mahon. Your sacrifice is appreciated. My men will hunt their own food and bring supplies.”

“I should be thanking you, McTiernay. Your plan allows me to save my own pride and keep my convictions. When this is done, everyone will know that I am your friend and ally,” Mahon pledged, rising to stand. He extended his arm, and Colin clasped it. Mahon squeezed and let go before offering last words of caution. “Beware of MacCuaig. He is crazed, but he is young and strong. And while no leader, he is gifted with the sword in one-on-one combat. None to my knowledge has ever beaten him.”

Colin downed the last bit of ale in his quaich. “Again I thank you, Mahon. Shall we call for Ross? He will want to determine how and where to handle the invasion of my soldiers.”

“Aye, Ross will handle the particulars for now, and though a good lad, he has much to learn. My previous commander is now in Fife. His time with me was recently completed, and he chose, understandably, to help his ailing uncle, a laird of a small MacDuff clan just north of the River Forth. He will soon be named their chief, and I wish him well. I have not chosen a replacement. My junior commanders have the talent to lead and do well with new recruits, but they lack the maturity needed to hone and lead my battle-experienced men.”

“My commander Drake shall report to you directly then and do your bidding. He will be in charge of relocating and then overseeing my men.”

“If it is not too much to ask, I would like to stage some sport, and if my men’s skills have diminished as I fear, I would ask that they join your training. Your commander of course would treat them no different and conduct the practices as he chose.”

Colin sheathed his sword and prepared to leave. “Drake is your man and will see to what you wish. It is the least I can do for this burden you undertake.”

“These are burdensome times, and we all must do what we can to preserve what is ours.”

“Aye, that we must,” Colin replied, following Mahon to the door. “Let us say good-bye now, for in a moment we must depart as enemies.”

Chapter Nine

Colin clapped his commander farewell on the back and mounted his black. After days with minimal riding, the animal was restless and ready for a hard ride. Colin gestured once more to his men and then left the secret encampment. They were heading home. He was riding north alone. Several hard months lay ahead. Dunlop would be his sole commander while Drake secretly sharpened the battle skills of his men at Lonchlilar.

Colin sensed Drake’s eagerness to be trusted with the assignment, but he also knew the young man was disappointed to be away from the freckled beauty who had so thoroughly captured his attention. Yet if all went to plan, his commander would enjoy her attentions this winter in peace.

Riding along the edge of Crawford territory, Colin confirmed his hunch. MacCuaig’s spies were ill-hid, but numerous. Colin suspected several were camped out at every allied clan, ordered to remain there until activity was seen or MacCuaig was ready to make his move. After two days of combing the Lothian hills, Colin learned what he needed to know and headed south.

The ride to Lochlen from Crawford’s should have taken almost three days. Colin made it in less than two. He reached down and stroked the neck of the big black. He had camped late and rested sparingly. Rarely did he ever push a steed this hard, but never had he been so eager to return home. “Come on, boy. I know it’s been rough, and it’s late, but think how good it will feel to be home.”

He urged his mount forward realizing that, for the first time since he moved to the Borders, he considered Lochlen to be his home. He had mouthed the words numerous times. But only recently did his heart no longer seek the Highlands. It reached to Lochlen. To Makenna. He was going home.

The last fleeting rays of sunlight disappeared behind the hills as night invaded the sky. He was almost there. At this pace, he would be in Makenna’s arms before she fell asleep. Even the prospect of facing a cantankerous, feisty Makenna still mad over his departure could not curb the excitement racing through him. He needed to see her again, hear her news, and feel her in his arms. He would even be happy to continue their quarrel. The feeling of anticipation was unfamiliar; one he had never sensed upon returning to Lochlen after a lengthy trip.

In the past, each mile closer to home increased a phantom weight that pressed down upon his shoulders. The second he would pass through the outer gate, news of events that had transpired while he was away would be delivered. Rarely was it ever good. The guilt of not being there to relieve Deirdre of a burden or be by her side when she fell sick had become so heavy he had dared not ever leave.

In the moonlight, Lochlen stretched in the distance. Colin waited for the pressure, the guilt, the fear of learning what happened while he was away. It never came.

Fighting his desire and need to hold Makenna, Colin altered his course and urged the black toward the loch. First a dive to wash off the dirt of travel; then he would find his wife and delve into her secret treasures she divulged only to him.

Washed and dressed again, Colin decided to use the night to cloak his assessment of the work done on the unfinished town wall during his absence. His jaw clenched as he passed through. Indeed, there had been progress. To the distant eye, the wall was near completion.

Colin quelled his anger and proceeded through the village to the heart of Lochlen. The enemy had tipped his hand. The wait would not be as long as he or Donovan presumed.

As he approached the outer gate, soldiers on watch caught sight of Colin. They waved in acknowledgment, and then signaled the guards to open the gate.

Colin rode to the stables, dismounted, and handed the reins over to the stable master. He turned and headed toward the inner gate. Desiring to see only Makenna, he did not stop when Dunlop rushed to his side.

“Laird! My apologies for not arriving sooner. I just received news that you were within the castle walls and came immediately. It is fortunate I was not in the fields tonight with the men, otherwise it might have been morning before I learned of your arrival,” Dunlop explained, hoping to deflect some of his laird’s frustration from landing on him. Those who knew Colin and had traveled with him on lengthy trips were very familiar with the Highlander’s dark mood that came with his return.

“I’m glad to see you, Dunlop. I assume all is well with Lochlen and its people?” Colin replied jovially, not slowing his gait.

Stunned, Dunlop stammered, “Aye, Laird. All is well.” Trying to keep up with Colin’s fast, long stride as they neared the inner gatehouse, Dunlop asked, “Laird?”

“Aye?”

“Where’s Drake? The others? Have they not returned with you?”

Colin paused and waited for Dunlop to come closer before replying softly, “There is much to discuss and do, and unfortunately it will require significant sacrifice on us all. Don’t speak of Drake or the missing men. I will explain all tomorrow morning.”

Before Dunlop could respond affirmatively, Colin resumed his rapid pace once again, practically sprinting inside the gate. Dunlop gave up his pursuit and grinned at the disappearing figure. “If you had waited but two more seconds, Laird, I would have told you she is no longer in the Black Tower,” he said to the empty night air.

Dunlop pivoted to return to his bunk in the outer gatehouse wondering if Colin realized how much he had changed since his marriage. Deirdre had been a gentle person and beautiful lady, but never had she caused the look of peace and joy from the sheer expectation of seeing her that he had just witnessed on his laird’s face.

Colin bounded up the stairs to the floor of his chambers. Sprinting down the short hallway, he opened the door and immediately knew something was wrong…or at least very different.

A mock cough erupted from behind him. “Uh, Laird McTiernay, it is good to see you home again. I know Lady Makenna, who is waiting for you in your solar, will be very glad to see you as well. Is there something you needed to discuss? I assure you all has been well with the keep and the castle in general. You would be proud of Her Ladyship.”

Colin blinked and then blinked again. The old steward was trying to save either his own pride, Colin’s, or maybe even Makenna’s by lacing his statements with innuendo and hints. What Gannon failed to recognize was that nothing could alter Colin’s good mood.

Colin laughed out loud and clapped the man on his back. “So I have been moved, eh?”

Realizing Colin was neither annoyed nor angered, Gannon relaxed and replied, “Aye, Laird. Your wife insisted upon it.”

Your wife. Colin enjoyed hearing the sound of it. “I see you have moved back to the main castle. Never knew why you left, but it is good Makenna convinced you to return. It is late, Steward. Perhaps I should let you retire. I should probably retire myself,” Colin said in an effort to be casual, all the while backing out of the room and into the narrow passageway toward the staircase.

Gannon stood speechless as Colin vanished down the stairwell. Had he been wrong all this time? Had Colin been unaware that he was staying in his old chambers? Never once had Gannon considered the possibility that it was Lady Deirdre’s idea to remove him from his home. Perhaps he had misjudged the Highlander. Maybe a lot of people had. Lela’s small group of discontents was growing, but starting tomorrow, he would no longer be one of them.

Colin climbed the Canmore stairs to the top floor and noticed the hallway sconces were lit. The door to the solar was open and the tapestries covering the small exterior window were pulled aside. Another step and he felt the light cross breeze between the windows on the opposite wall of the room.

Hearing movement, Brodie moved into Colin’s view. The guard looked both relieved and pleased to see his laird and was about to say so when Colin motioned for silence. He briefly clasped the man’s arm and then indicated for him to leave.

Moving down the curved hallway, Colin could hear Makenna talking aloud. He paused at the entrance not at all surprised to discover she was addressing no one. Colin tried making out the words, but it almost sounded as if she were speaking in a foreign language.

She was sitting on a thick braided rug in front of the roaring hearth with her feet tucked underneath her brushing her hair dry. The fire crackled and caught the rich highlights of the long tresses.

Colin leaned against the archway. He had waited so long for the chance to pull her in his arms and kiss her long, deep. And now that he was here, he just wanted to drink her in visually, knowing that while he was gone, Makenna had been in his bed waiting for him. The most feisty, willful, and tenacious of the Dunstans was his wife, and nothing could make him happier.

Makenna felt one of her legs begin to tingle and shifted. She rubbed her calf trying to diminish the painful sensation. The stinging was indicative of her life these days. Irritating, but manageable.

Trouble had erupted again that morning. Like the other times, it was something small and innocuous, but it fit a pattern of events that could no longer be dismissed as “accidents.” Worst, whoever was causing the problems was making things harder not just on her, but on everyone.

She had convinced Doreen to introduce her to the villagers and learn if they required any assistance. Visiting in person, Makenna needed no one to explain their needs. They were apparent. Blankets, roof repair, and wood for their hearths. Living close to the castle was supposed to be of mutual benefit. The laird and his keep received food and support, and in return gave protection and aid. Last year, she had not thought to ensure that her people were prepared for the winter, and they had paid for it. She vowed not to repeat her mistakes. Every villager would be protected from the winter’s cold.

Today she had found newly weaved blankets in a fireplace just as they turned to ashes.

Her leg once again feeling normal, Makenna began to brush her hair, mumbling, “How will it all get done? Damn those that would hurt their own. Don’t they realize they are not just insulting me, but the ones who spent the hours making the items they so callously destroy? I might have been irresponsible, but I was never cruel. What I would give to meet just one of these traitors with my sword. They’d never cross me or my own again.”

Frustrated, Makenna tossed the brush onto the chair, pulled her knees up, and rested her cheek upon them. Harvest was coming soon and so many preparations had to get done. The weather this year had been especially good. Consequently, every available hand was needed to gather the food from the overly bountiful crops and prepare it for winter. Once the fields were picked, the farmers would immediately thresh and plow the land to plant the fall crops of rye and wheat. And only when the prepping and stocking of the harvest was complete could the roofs and cottages be repaired for winter. No matter how she looked at it, there were not enough people to get it done. At least not enough willing people. And because of her past shortsightedness and her clansmen’s current stubbornness, everyone would suffer.

Makenna closed her eyes and stretched. She wished Colin was back at Lochlen. He would know what to do. Yet, deep down, Makenna knew she would not burden Colin with her troubles. This was her responsibility. She was Lady of Lochlen. Colin had his own worries with the raids. Rumors of the viciousness of the attacks still echoed in the halls. He had tried to spare her this worry when he left. Pride dictated she do the same and protect him.

“Never will he think I am not up to the task,” she promised aloud.

When she leaned back, Colin saw the strain in Makenna’s face as she spoke, again not loud enough to make out. She looked serious, as if she were working out a very complex problem. Suddenly, he wanted to let her know she wasn’t alone. That he, too, had worries and concerns, and desired to share them with her.

Colin inwardly berated himself for even considering the idea. How could his instinct be to relate a horror with which even his own men had trouble coping? These were his burdens, not hers. No, instead of encumbering her with troubles, he should be relieving her of them. Colin walked in, determined to solve whatever was concerning her.

Makenna heard a scuffle and craned her head to see if Brodie was approaching. Since she had stopped trying to dislodge her two guards from her presence, they had been good about providing space, especially within the castle’s inner walls. However, at night, they had been adamant that at least one of them stand watch outside her door. Makenna had tried to convince them otherwise, saying it was dishonorable for them to sleep where a chambermaid should. Both refused to capitulate. It mattered little if she begged, pleaded, shouted, or even threatened to fight them.

Seeing Colin, Makenna let go a soft shriek. She barely had time to stand when Colin pulled her to his side. Makenna melted into his arms, and Colin knew he had not been alone in longing for his return.

He ran his fingers through her hair, glorying in its red velvet softness. He looked down. Her smile was soft and inviting. She could not hide what she was feeling. Her expressions were an honest reflection of her state of mind, and her brilliant green eyes were shimmering with unshed tears of joy of his return.

Being here, holding Makenna felt incredibly right. He felt a sense of certainty he could not put into words. “I take it you are no longer angry with me for leaving,” he both stated and asked simultaneously.

Makenna grinned. “I was mightily sore at you, but I am now satisfied knowing that I was right, and you were wrong.”

“You were right?”

“Aye, you should have told me what you knew before you left. As an incredibly intelligent laird, I’m sure you realized your error by now.” Her smile grew at his shocked expression. “See, I knew you were well aware of your offense.”

Colin was more shocked at his own reaction to her words than the words themselves. He had been prepared for anger, reprisal, and a good argument before kissing her into capitulation. His plan to calm her was suddenly unnecessary, and he felt robbed. “And what if I think I was right?”

Makenna playfully toyed with the loose strings at the opening of his shirt. “I am sure that you have been correct about a great many things, but I am hard pressed to think of the one you are referring to,” she replied coyly.

“How about you missing me?”

Makenna could hear the pride in his voice, and it quelled her need to deny him the truth. Instead, she laid her head on his chest and hugged him. It wasn’t a verbal affirmation, but she could feel Colin nod his head in satisfaction.

“I cannot tell you how glad I am to be home.” His voice was deep, husky, caressing.

Makenna expected him to tease her further, but his admission completely disarmed her. Her throat constricted. It was followed by a familiar and comfortable sense of physical awareness rippling through her. She lifted her head and gazed into his eyes. There was no mistaking their intense look. Every nerve ending in her body responded to his unspoken message of need sparkling in those cobalt depths. And then Colin kissed her, his touch so tender she could barely find her breath.

Colin felt Makenna shiver in his arms, and deepened the embrace. Their lips moved hungrily against each other. He tried to slow down, but she wouldn’t let him. Tongues teased, tasted, tantalized.

When it finally ended, he was burning with a near-uncontrollable need to bury himself in her. Lord, how she affected him.

No, he silently vowed. First, he would discover what or who had been troubling his wife while he was away. They had the whole night to satisfy his needs.

Colin kissed her forehead and whispered, “Never have I been better welcomed home, and before you tell me what was bothering you before I interrupted, let me get more comfortable.”

Makenna watched, slightly stunned as Colin walked across the room. He undid his belt, throwing both it and his sword on the chest. She had half hoped, half expected him to throw her on the bed and remind her once again of the pleasures of being married. Maybe his feelings for her had changed.

Feeling foolish, Makenna tried to halt her own desires of the flesh. If he could so easily dismiss their kiss, then so could she. But the second he turned around and came back to her side, she knew it would not be possible. His legs were now bare and the only piece of clothing he wore was a cream-colored leine partially opened, exposing his broad chest. The light cloth could not hide the strength of his muscles. She needed to fill the awkward silence before she threw herself at him begging him to take her.

“Rumors came a few days after you left that the attack was no ordinary raid. Descriptions of horrors trickled in for days. When Sean returned with your message, I realized it had been much worse than what we heard. Sean would only say our people had survived, but the animals…how are you faring after witnessing such cruelty?”

Colin blinked. “Sean spoke out of turn. He should not have told you such things.” The idea of his wife exposed to such hatred was not acceptable.

Makenna saw his neck muscles tense. “It was not Sean’s fault. As I said, there were rumors. It was actually kinder knowing the truth. I won’t ask you particulars, but were you…were you able to do what you needed?”

The question startled Colin. He knew what Makenna meant. Had he found the culprits and exacted revenge? But the concept of someone concerned and interested about his trip was unexpected. Previously, whenever he had returned from being away, it had been to a litany of mishaps and lectures of how he should never have left Lochlen. Never once had Deirdre asked about his trips. Colin almost gave in to the urge to tell Makenna all that had happened, his suspicions, and his plans with Donovan.

Instead, he refrained. Makenna was strong, but the burden he carried was one of his making, and he would not ask her to share it. “Aye, I was able to do what must be done…for now.”

“Then you will have to return.”

“Aye, possibly, but I cannot say when at this time.”

Makenna nodded. “I understand.”

Her voice was low and sad. Wanting to comfort her, he scooped Makenna in his arms and settled down in the middle chair. Makenna curled up in his lap and laid her cheek against his chest.

Her sigh reminded him of her previous strained expression. “Makenna, when I entered you looked as if you were working through a problem. What happened while I was away?” He forced his voice to be light and casual while he waged war with his instincts to demand the name and action of whoever upset her.

Colin heard her quick intake of breath. “Nothing really. Just little things. I’m Lady of Lochlen now. I’m a wife, and it’s all still new to me.” She forced a smile and added, “I just hate not knowing how or what to do. I have much to learn, and I am impatient.”

Her answer had the ring of truth, but Colin suspected something more serious was behind her earlier murmurs and looks. Seeing the state of the town walls, he reasoned many still were unhappy at her for marrying him, an outsider…a Highlander. The division between the clan was growing, not shrinking, and Makenna had been alone to deal with the aftermath of their marriage. If he pressed any further, Makenna would withdraw. Patience was the quickest path to gain her trust and learn the full truth.

He shifted her so that he could hold her more comfortably while stretching his legs toward the fire. It was such a simple thing, to hold one’s wife. Simple, but pleasing in a way he had never dreamed possible. “I saw Gannon on my way to you. He affirmed what I saw. Lochlen could not have been in better hands.”

The sincerity of his voice completely disarmed Makenna. How she had needed to hear those words. Tears formed and began to spill. She struggled to stop them, but the more she tried, the faster they fell.

Colin held Makenna as her sobs grew to where they shook her body. Concern flooded him. So much had taken place in the past six weeks, and Makenna had internalized it all. Their marriage, her father, the raids, his absence…she needed to release what she had been keeping buried.

After a while, Makenna calmed but did not move from his lap. The sleeve of her chemise was gathered near her shoulder, and Colin began to stroke the exposed skin. It was like caressing the finest silk. Every few inches his fingertips encountered another small scar. Lightly he touched each one wondering how her skin could be so soft and perfect, yet be riddled with so many old wounds. Her body was covered with them—her sides, her legs, and a large one across her knee that must have been very painful. What crazy foolish hobby did she have as a child—climbing trees? Did she have a bad fall on the stairs? Someday he would ask, but not now. Tonight was about the present and the future, not the past.

Makenna felt like a terrible weight had been partially lifted. It was still there, but it seemed manageable again. Not one for crying, she had never realized how therapeutic it could be. She snuggled closer and felt the proof of Colin’s physical need.

A surge of deep, feminine desire reawakened. She slowly uncurled her legs, enjoying the feel of his arousal. She didn’t resist as Colin’s hand moved across her stomach to the curve of her hip and pulled her even closer.

A surge of euphoria hit Colin. Makenna was making it very clear that she wanted him to change the type of comfort he was providing. He was more than willing to oblige.

She tipped her head back and let her hair tumble over her shoulders. He leaned down and trailed soft kisses along her exposed nape until he reached her earlobe. Suckling the soft flesh, he felt her tremble. Before moving to her mouth, he searched her face, noticing how pretty her eyes looked. They were like two sparkling peridots, green and wide. Her strong features no longer struck him as bold, but beautiful. Never was there a woman more physically desirable. He wondered if she understood her feminine power over him.

“I thought I’d never get home,” he muttered as he covered her mouth with his own. A renewed sense of urgency filled him. He needed to reclaim Makenna as his wife in every way.

Colin’s tongue plunged into her mouth, making his intent unmistakable. She inhaled his musky scent and slipped her hands around his neck.

He eased the kiss and felt her smile across his lips. In response, he captured her lower lip between his teeth. He tugged and heard her laugh in delight. Colin heard himself groan. She was both torment and salvation.

He would not be alone in this agony and slowly began to make love to her with his tongue. He delved again into the sweetness of her mouth. She tasted of life, vibrant and exciting and so very good.

Makenna couldn’t help but respond to the powerful, passionate kiss. As his caress increased in intensity, her laughter morphed into a soft continuous moan. Her fingers plunged into his hair, pulling him even closer. She needed more and tried to advance the unhurried, torturous embrace into one of wild passion.

Colin’s pulse pounded in his ears. After weeks of deprivation, needing her, dreaming of this moment, he found it near impossible to go slow—especially with her encouraging him to do otherwise. He grabbed Makenna’s face between his palms. Colin knew he was in jeopardy of losing the last of his control. Her aggression was incredibly arousing. He had half a mind to raise her chemise and settle her on top of him in the chair. Just the idea of her riding him made him so hot he started trembling.

Makenna stroked his shoulders down to the base of his spine, and Colin caved to his primitive cravings. Emitting a low growl, he slanted his mouth over Makenna’s again and again, his tongue giving and taking with wild, ravenous need. He couldn’t get enough of her. If he didn’t move now, their first coupling upon his return would be in a chair.

Makenna was barely aware of being lifted and carried across the room.

Colin laid her down on the soft mattress and settled himself between her legs. How he had ever thought Makenna to be unyielding and tough he never knew. She was fiery and passionate, but feminine as well. Tendrils of auburn-colored hair floated across her cheeks. Colin brushed them aside and kissed the faint freckles on her nose.

“You are so lovely,” he declared, his voice strained.

Makenna frowned remembering the conversation she had overheard just a few weeks ago. Nothing had changed. She was still too muscular for her slender frame. The sun had forever darkened and speckled her skin most unbecomingly. Her hair remained wild and untamed, and her body was unnaturally flawed with scars. “Not I. I’m riddled with faults,” she countered defiantly.

He brushed a soft kiss on her cheek and then moved to her temple. “I see not a one,” he whispered.

“Then you are blind,” Makenna said, struggling to free herself of the large man. She could endure most anything. Anything but dishonesty framed in kindness.

Colin cupped the sides of her face and trapped her squirming body, holding her still. “I admit I once was blind where you were concerned, but I thank God I no longer am. If I had not married you, Makenna, I would never have known…” His voice became choked at the end.

Makenna opened her mouth to ask what he now knew, but his lips settled on hers with a kiss that dismissed further conversation. All he had to do was touch her, and she could no longer think about anything except him and what he was causing her to feel.

Passion and need radiated from him. A soft whimper came from deep in her throat as he thrust his tongue back into her warm, welcoming mouth.

Her struggles ceased. Instead, she became wild, clutching his back, kissing him feverishly.

Her mouth was hot, open, and so very responsive. His control over his body was nearing his threshold, but before he could no longer restrain his desire, he wanted her crying with need along with him.

Makenna’s heart quickened as Colin released her lips and removed the last remaining bits of clothing between them. Colin was watching her. His expression was unguarded, warm, and tender. She reached up to pull him down to her.

He shook his head and edged down her body to begin a new assault. Colin lowered his head until he was just a scant breath away from one perfect pink bud. Makenna arched her back, yearning for his touch. He smiled and then lowered his mouth to roam the valley between her breasts.

His fingers found one bosom and then the other. His thumbs brushed across her nipples, hardening them into taut nubs. His heart pounded as his lips moved to where his hands had been. He feasted on her, using his tongue to taste the sweet mound she so willingly offered.

With each flick of his tongue over the sensitive flesh, Makenna felt a surge of exquisite passion ripple through her. Her body was on fire, and the blaze only grew as he began to suckle. The added stimulus was almost too much, and Makenna squirmed beneath his heavy frame. She wanted him to both stop and continue the sensual torture.

Hearing her whimpers, Colin moved to let her feel the hardened hunger in him. His heart was pounding and he was going out of his mind with the twisting sensation building inside him.

Everything about his touch was erotic. With each movement, his pelvis rubbed against the junction of her legs. Between his mouth and his hardness, nestled so intimately against her, her senses were swirling out of control.

She parted her thighs to him, urging him to touch her where the throbbing for him was almost painful with unfulfilled need. “Please, Colin, please,” she begged.

“Please what?” he asked, barely able to utter the teasing question.

“Touch me, like you did before. Please, I don’t think I can bear any more,” she cried, her body writhing as he began to stroke her inner thigh, coming close but never entering the hot, damp core of her.

“Oh, I will, Makenna. I will drive you as wild and crazed with need as I,” he finished, burying his face against her throat with a soft groan of desire. At the same time, his hand closed possessively over her soft mound. He slid one finger between the warm folds and penetrated her liquid heat.

Makenna fought for breath. Her heart was racing; her body was ablaze. She dug her nails into Colin’s back. Rhythmically, she flexed and arched her hips against his palm, urging him to stroke her and give her what she so desperately needed.

Colin moved in her most intimate of places, glorying in her passion. He was seconds away from diving in and seeking the comfort he sought, but was determined to drive her to the insane place of need he had been living in for the past two weeks. He introduced another finger and began slowly separating them, stretching her, preparing her for what was to come.

Makenna cried out as he slipped another finger inside her before going lower still to caress the sensitive flesh just below her warm, wet channel. He stroked and caressed until her body was overrun with uncontrollable shudders. She was going mad, and then the world exploded.

At that moment, Colin drove deep, seeking the release and reassurance only she could provide.

His entry brought Makenna back to earth only to drive her wild once again. She wrapped her legs around his waist and joined him in passionate rhythm, meeting each of his thrusts. A force even more powerful than before was building within her, becoming more fervent, more intense with each plunge.

Colin eased himself partway out of her channel and then pressed forward again. She lifted herself against him, silently demanding that he move more quickly. He complied. He thought he had remembered what it was like to be with Makenna, but he had been wrong. The sensations moving through him were so intense, it was impossible to breathe.

He tried to slow down. She looked so small, and he didn’t want to hurt her, but his desire had become painful, a torture Colin could no longer deny release. Again and again he plunged back into her with long, sure movements. Each time she stretched and then closed around him.

The world had disappeared and all that remained was Makenna. He heard her cry out and then felt her small convulsions as she surrendered to the wonder of their lovemaking. Colin clung to Makenna as he erupted inside her, barely aware that the exultant shout echoing in the room was his own.

For long moments, Colin didn’t think he would ever be able to move again. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to. He felt magnificent, all-conquering, and all-powerful. More so than he ever felt on the battlefield. He longed to tell her so, to tell her how much she meant to him, but his throat was so constricted with emotion, it disabled him from saying anything.

Makenna lay in Colin’s arms, truly happy for the first time since he had left her side. His head was upon her chest, his breath ragged. She reached up and stroked his hair lovingly.

There was no denying that the man had invaded her soul. Never would she want another.

Makenna had always wanted to fall in love, but never had she dreamed it would be with Colin. She had thought his love for her sister would protect her from such a foolish, vulnerable feeling. When he had left two weeks ago, she stayed up each night waiting for him, wishing for his return. She had talked herself into believing that it was their lovemaking, not Colin, she missed.

How wrong she had been. Every time they had joined, she had given a piece of herself to him. Tonight, she had given him her heart, completely, wholly, and without doubts.

Now she understood. Love was forever. It would not disappear with the body. Not when it consumed the soul. While Colin would always love her sister, she would always love him.

Colin rolled to his side and pulled Makenna’s backside against him. He kissed her hair. “What are you thinking?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and lied, “I was just wishing my clan would open themselves up and learn how wonderful you are.”

“Right now I only care what you believe. Now hush, and go to sleep, for I doubt I will last the night before needing you again,” he whispered into her hair.

Makenna nestled closer to him. His voice resonated contentment. He was happy, and it was because of her, not her sister. Her love would be enough for the both of them. She would make it be enough.

Chapter Ten

Makenna inhaled the fresh morning air as she walked across the courtyard to the Black Tower. The air was fresh and clear. It felt warm, but the color of the grass was starting to change, as well as the leaves on the village trees. Fall was on the wind and winter would soon follow.

Colin left early that morning with Dunlop, but only after he had brought them both to satisfaction yet again. Makenna smiled to herself remembering his good-bye kiss. It had taken some time and only ended with Dunlop asking if there was something wrong.

A door opened from the Black Tower, and Gannon emerged. Makenna waved to him to get his attention. He met her halfway and arched his brows knowingly. “I see your husband found you last night.”

“And why would you think that, Gannon?” Makenna countered with just a hint of challenge.

Gannon gestured for her to turn and walk with him toward Canmore Tower. “Because if he had not, I have no doubt that your husband would have returned to my quarters and not in the good mood I had first encountered him in.”

Everyone knew Colin was especially foul upon returning from a trip. Maybe he really had been pleased with her efforts. “He was in a good mood, wasn’t he?” Makenna asked merrily.

Gannon nodded. “Oh, aye. Quite unexpected, his reaction was.” Gannon had been even more surprised at his own reaction to last night’s events. He had been the Lochlen steward for over two decades and loyal to the Dunstans his whole life. Having a Highlander as his laird seemed so wrong, especially with the overly indulged Lady Makenna as his wife. But life had been taking unexpected turns the past few weeks and with each new corner, his confidence in Alexander’s decision grew.

Makenna patted the wrinkled skin of the old man and beamed him a grin. “I told you moving Colin into the solar was a smart decision. It demonstrated allegiance.”

“If you say so, milady.”

“I do.”

“Well, as your steward, I have an announcement for you. As of this morning, you now have a chambermaid. She will tend to your room, see it cleaned every morning, and ensure that there is fresh water in the decanter. Vanora is too young to be sleeping outside your chambers. Consequently, she cannot tend to you as a lady’s maid, but—”

Relieved that Colin and she would still be alone at night, Makenna hugged his wide body and kissed his cheek. Gannon blushed profusely. “I, uh, I sent Vanora to the solar. You must have just missed her.”

Makenna knew she had embarrassed the hardened steward but didn’t care. “Shall we go meet her, then?”

“Aye, but you go alone. I have work that must be tended to.”

“Should I come as well? I can meet with Vanora and then join you in the Pinnacle Tower, or will you be in the kitchens?”

Gannon waved his hand. “No, no. Meet with Vanora, but then take the day off.” He raised a finger and gave her a direct look. “Now, milady, I believe you encouraged…no, forced is the better word…everyone—including myself, the cook, and the baker—to take most of the day off yesterday.”

“If this is about the soldiers again, Gannon, I told you, if they can fend for themselves while at the training camps or when they travel, they can fend for themselves one or two days a month to allow those who support this keep a well-deserved break. I warn you now that I will order such rest again. Aye, I know winter is coming, but if we do not take time to enjoy life every once in a while, then—”

“Milady!” Gannon shouted. “You have convinced me!”

Makenna’s brows furrowed. “Then what is your argument?”

“You! I discovered you did not partake in the same break. Doreen told me this morning that she caught you trying to weave something.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything Doreen says, Gannon.”

“I don’t, but I know it was true.”

“They were blankets. And no, they were not pretty, but they will keep someone warm…or warmer.”

“I am sure they will. But it is your turn for a respite, milady. And don’t bother arguing with me. I’ve known you since you were a wee thing, and you cannot intimidate me as you do so many others. Tomorrow you may run this castle as you are so quickly becoming accustomed to doing, but not today. And if I find you sneaking into the keep and lifting a finger to do anything that does not bring you pleasure, then I shall tell the laird in detail exactly how you have been acting as auxiliary staff to keep this place running. I am beginning to wonder if I should tell him anyway.”

Makenna halted and grabbed the steward’s arm. “No, Gannon. Colin does not need to be burdened with my trials. He just needs to know that his keep is not falling apart while he focuses on the security of his people. He does not need to know how, just that it is.”

“Well, I’m not eager to receive the scolding he would give me for letting you work the way you do.”

“Bah, you let me do nothing. This lady of the castle goes where she is needed, Gannon. Pride keeps a lady from her hands and knees when that is where she is needed most.” Makenna paused and looked the steward straight in the eye. “You promised me your silence on this.”

“Aye, and now I’m telling you to rest. You have been running yourself too hard. My promise will matter little if you pass out from exhaustion.”

The old steward was impossible to bargain with in this mood. “This isn’t advice. It’s blackmail,” Makenna accused.

He smiled, knowing he had won the argument. “Call it what you wish, milady. Vanora and then relaxation. I mean it,” he replied solemnly as he turned toward the kitchens.

Gannon hoped Makenna would go riding, which would take her away from Lochlen for several hours. That would give him enough time to meet with Lela and the others and give them his decision. While he still had doubts concerning the wisdom of a Highland laird, he would not actively work against the man. It would be up to McTiernay to prove himself, and if Lela and her associates wanted to plan and work to his destruction, the laird best watch his own back.

Makenna stood for a second in disbelief watching Gannon retreat. Had she changed that much? Two months ago, she would have argued with Gannon until she had no more breath before caving into his or anyone else’s will. Now she practically fell over at the mere push.

Marriage was making her soft. She wondered if Colin was also experiencing changes to his personality. “Probably not,” she huffed and headed toward Canmore and the new maid. “The man is like his sword, hard and…”

Makenna stopped, her eyes huge with inspiration. She knew of a way for people to see Colin as their laird and a Highlander at the same time. She had the solution all along. With Gannon not expecting help, today provided the perfect opportunity to begin.

Picking up her skirts, Makenna rushed to her old room in Forfar Tower and sprinted up the stairs, completely forgetting about Vanora.

Dashing into the room, she rushed over to the unlit hearth and lifted a small board in the flooring. Picking up the key, she moved to the huge floor-standing chest and unlocked it. Using both hands, she shoved the heavy teak lid open. The chest was not an elaborate piece of art like Colin’s, but it was sturdy, and it contained the one thing that would prove to all that Colin belonged at Lochlen.

Makenna reached in and pulled free the velvet bag. Clutching it, she dashed back down the stairs and out the outer gate, completely unaware she had been followed.

“Can you do it? Can you, Camus?” Makenna beseeched, careful to keep her voice down low.

Camus pushed his once red, now silver hair back and retucked it behind his ear. Makenna could never find someone to tell her Camus’s age. He had lived at Lochlen since she could remember and had always looked the same. Withered, but strong. He was wiry and his bronzed skin had become loose and wrinkled, but he still somehow managed to appear quite appealing to the opposite sex. More than once over the years, Makenna had interrupted a visiting widow supposedly stopping by his shop to learn about swords and their value. She could not remember half the excuses she had heard, but not one had been believable.

“Well?” Makenna asked again.

“What you ask is not a light thing, laochag,” Camus cautioned. He knew she was now the Lady of Lochlen, but to him, she would always be the daughter he never had.

“I know it is not,” she replied brusquely. “I remember all you taught me of the importance about swords and their owners.”

Camus sighed and walked to the small bench laden with tools and materials used for sword making. “Aye, and Colin already has a sword. A good sword, I might add. It will be hard to make its equal.” He knew, because he had forged it.

Makenna walked over and placed her hand on Camus’s arm. “But you can. You made my Secret. You have the skill and knowledge to make such a sword. I just know it.”

“My arms guild is very busy these days. The laird has been adding men faster than I can arm them. I have two new apprentices, and they require much oversight. I don’t believe it possible.”

Makenna would not be deterred. “It is possible! Or at least it could be if you tried. I will not seek this task from another. Too many don’t know this trade. It would be like asking the…the blacksmith to make such a piece.”

Camus was fully aware that she was goading him, but her words still sparked his ire. “Blacksmith! Makenna, I taught you better. It is not just a matter of my time, but the sword itself. Just because I spent hours building a piece will not ensure the laird’s willingness to take it. It is a personal area we invade here, Makenna. Men like to commission their own weapons, detailing their specifications. No man would just accept such a thing. He would consider it an insult.”

Makenna dug into her gown and pulled the velvet bag free. “Not if you made it using these. I know they will make all the difference. Not only to Colin, but to my people.”

Camus drew his brows together and took the offered bag. Loosening the strings, he peered inside. His jaw slackened. “Are these…?”

“Aye, they are.”

“And no one knows?”

“Not a single a soul. I took them just in case our clan needed them. They can do my father no good in heaven. I didn’t tell anyone…well, because I couldn’t risk Ula or Rona learning of it.”

“Aye, you were right to do that. And the laird?” Camus asked.

Makenna shifted awkwardly. “Honestly, I forgot about them until this morning. I would have told Colin, but things were so chaotic with my father’s funeral, and—”

“And so your answer is no.”

“He will know if you agree to my request.”

Camus stood and began to stroke his chin. He had fashioned Colin his last sword and knew exactly what the man preferred in size and weight. If he made a similar, maybe even better sword adorned with the Dunstan colors, it could be just the symbol to rally the clan. It certainly was worth a try.

“Aye, you just may be right at that, laochag. I hope the laird knows what a treasure he received the day he married you.”

“It was I who got lucky, Camus.”

Camus shook his head. Makenna never did understand her full value as a woman. He didn’t know when his gangly, awkward little warrior had changed into a beautiful lady, but she had. It was clear Makenna still had yet to make the realization. In time, with Colin’s help, she would.

“The Dunstan clan is fortunate the old laird was so wise and obstinate in putting you two together. I’ll accept your offer. I believe Alexander would have wanted it.”

Makenna pointed to the bag. “Can you keep that safe?”

Camus chuckled. If a man had asked that question, he would have lost an arm or at least a hand. Makenna was the only one who could insult his abilities and leave standing. “Aye, your bag will be safe with me.”

Makenna beamed and planted a kiss on Camus’s cheek for the second time that day. “Thank you!”

Camus waved for her to go. The open affection she gave him was a bit overwhelming, and he knew he was in fear of tearing. “Now get out of here and stop bothering an old man. I have work to do. See me in about a month.”

Makenna blew him another kiss and then glided out the door on a wave of happiness. She hadn’t progressed two steps before colliding with Gorten.

Makenna stumbled and looked up into the stern face of her guard. His light brown hair was pulled tightly back, which only accentuated his angular features. His deep-set hazel eyes had chips of gold that sparkled with irritation. That alone might have alerted her to his mood, if it were not his most common expression. “Gorten! Good grief, I did not see you. How are you this fabulous morn?”

He wanted to say fabulously annoyed, but seeing the level of delight in her face, he realized his carefully prepared lecture would have little effect. “I am well, milady, though somewhat troubled that you left the keep without letting Brodie or me know.”

Makenna blushed at the light censure. “My apologies. It was not at all intentional, I assure you. I had a matter of some import with Camus this morning, and I totally forgot to let you know where I was going. However, I would like to make it up to you.”

Gorten snorted and crossed his arms. She was playing her bewitching games again, and this time with full force. He had half a mind to order her back to the solar and have Brodie fetch the laird. The other half of his mind was curious to know her proposal.

His mouth moved only slightly, but it was enough for Makenna to know she had some room to influence the stern guardsman. “Let me go fetch my Secret, and I shall meet you at the stables. How would you like to spar with me on this fine and glorious day!”

Gorten hated to admit it, and would never do so aloud, but he had missed training with Makenna. She was not a strong opponent, but she was skilled and sneaky with a sword. Sparring with her improved his speed and his ability to think and predict movements. “I shall escort you to the tower and then to the stables,” Gorten answered gruffly.

Makenna did not mind; she knew Gorten was as eager as she was to partake in her version of a relaxing and fulfilling day.

“You missed!” Makenna teased as she dodged yet another strike of his sword.

At first Gorten had decided to engage her lightly, believing time might have slowed her reflexes and ability to fight. He had been wrong. They both knew he was the stronger of the two, but Makenna’s ability to think and outstrategize made her a tough opponent.

Colin watched from afar as the two circled around each other fighting for supremacy. He had never actually observed Makenna spar with anyone before. Soon after he arrived at Lochlen, he had heard of her peculiar interest and her purported talent and immediately ordered his men to end all activity involving Makenna and any lethal object. It seemed she had secretly recruited a few to continue her training, and now he could see why. Never did he dream his wife could wield a claymore with such dexterity. Most women could not even lift one let alone hold and battle with it for long periods.

Gorten was an excellent soldier. One of Colin’s best. Not only was he skilled at riding and fighting, but he was not easily swayed. Once Gorten made a decision, he never deterred from it. It was for those reasons he had been selected to protect Makenna from harm.

Makenna’s laughter drifted to the lone cluster of trees hiding Colin from her view. The sound haunted him; filling him with a physical hunger he thought to have assuaged that morning.

Swords clanked. Makenna turned, easily maintaining her balance where larger men might have fallen. She was self-assured in her abilities, but not overconfident. Her verbal banter was partially a ploy to throw off her opponent and catch him unawares. This was obviously not the first time Gorten had clashed swords with his wife, for he seemed to understand her tactics and countered them. Gorten was also tiring faster than Makenna.

Colin watched his guard advance, deflect, attack, and then retreat. Protecting Makenna had actually improved Gorten’s cunning, but it had seriously reduced his stamina for swordplay. Gorten most likely could still outfight most of his men, but that fact would not remain true if he didn’t have the opportunity to rebuild his strength. Makenna could keep Gorten’s agility alive, but she could not improve his power.

Another crash of metal echoed throughout the hills. Makenna deflected a strike and then spun around, sending dust flying into the air as she aimed for Gorten’s side. He jumped out of the way, slicing her sword down and kicking up further dirt. Then she did something unexpected. Instead of stepping back to ensure that she remained steady, she moved forward, twisting her arms back up. It threw Gorten off balance. Somehow, their limbs hooked together, and Makenna came crashing down with Gorten falling full length on top of her. Dust flew up into the air and took its time settling back to the ground.

Colin could see nothing but a cloud of dirt for a moment, but he heard their laughter. They were practically in hysterics. Makenna sounded so happy, so at ease. And though he knew it to be irrational, he wanted to be the cause behind her free, jubilant laugh.

Colin moved toward them, deciding the one-on-one session was over. When he was halfway across the clearing, the dust had settled enough to reveal their positions. Raw fury exploded.

Jealousy, hot and dark, pumped through him, racing over his nerve endings. Makenna was his. No man was ever to know what it felt like to have her beneath him. They belonged to each other and no one else.

Makenna’s eyes widened in surprise upon seeing Colin. She was about to shout a greeting when her eyes locked with his. Fear rushed through her. Colin looked ready to kill.

“Gorten, I think you better get up,” she murmured, never taking her eyes off of Colin. His expression was dark and stone-hard.

Gorten smiled, still recovering from his fit of laughter. “I suppose you are right. This new move of yours still needs work.”

Gorten was still talking when he felt someone grab him by the shoulders and throw him aside as if he weighed nothing. Reaching for his sword to attack the unknown assailant, Gorten felt a sheathed foot slam down hard on his hand. He looked up and realized who and why he had been assaulted.

“Laird, I did not hear you approach,” he managed to say, trying hard to keep his voice level. He had disgraced himself enough already this day. He would not show pain to his laird.

“I believe you were too busy rolling on the ground with my wife.” There was no mistaking the wrath about to be unleashed on Gorten.

Makenna quickly stood and tried to deflect Colin’s attention off her guard, who feared to move or even stand. “Take your anger out on me, Colin McTiernay. Gorten has been a loyal soldier to you. We were only sparring. Nothing more.”

He knew she spoke the truth. He had witnessed it. But he could not erase the vision of Gorten lying on top of her…laughing. “I saw how he has been loyal to me.”

Gorten remained motionless. One word spoken out of place, and his life would end. Makenna must have sensed that as well.

“How dare you!” Makenna admonished through her teeth. She struggled for composure. Adrenaline pumped through her, and she began to tremble violently.

Colin took a step back. Blue pools of fury shifted from Gorten back to her. “How dare I?”

Gorten took the chance to stand.

Without even looking in his direction, Makenna ordered, “Leave now, Gorten. I am about to fight with my husband and would like to do so in private. Please make sure no one comes within hearing distance of this clearing.” Makenna’s chin came up angrily, her green eyes sparkling with equal intensity, daring him to counter her order.

“Gorten!” Colin yelled without removing his eyes from Makenna. Very carefully, fully aware of his tightly leashed anger and its absurdity, he called out, “Leave, and do your lady’s bidding.” Then much more quietly Colin added, “For she is right. We are about to fight,” he growled through compressed lips.

With Gorten gone, Makenna hoped Colin would calm and become more rational. He looked both menacing—and thoroughly male. She wanted the chance to explain her innocence and then throw herself into his arms and kiss all his doubts away.

Her hope died a quick death.

Gorten might be gone, but their quarrel was not over. Colin’s pride had been injured just as deeply as a sword could do to the flesh. It would not be mended with the mere disappearance of one man.

“So this is what you have been doing while I was away. I am surprised you had the energy for me upon my return. Or maybe I should consider myself fortunate to have a wife with such stamina.”

Makenna cringed at the coldness in his voice. She wanted to shake him into admitting that he knew she would never, ever even look at another man.

“Are you so insecure as to believe I would do that to you? Do you think that I have such a low sense of self-worth? Or maybe I do at that. I did marry you.” Pride spoke now for both of them, slicing through newly built layers of trust.

Colin brought his face very close to Makenna’s so that she had no trouble seeing just how blazingly furious he was. Makenna returned his stare. His eyes were brilliant and frighteningly bright. She saw his anger, but she also recognized possessiveness, pain, and fear. This man, who needed no one, who could stand impassively at a crowd openly hating him, who could ignore taunts delivered by his enemies, needed her.

Makenna pulled at his leine until he leaned down. She could feel the strength radiating through the soft fabric. Lord, he was as inflexible as his stubborn nature. “Listen to me now, Colin McTiernay, for I would never say this if it were not the utter truth. I didn’t want to marry you.”

She could feel him pull away, but she kept him near. “Aye, but I will be forever happy that I did. Never did I dream that I could love a domineering giant, but I do.” Hot tears burned her eyes. She could feel them fall, but she continued. “Do you hear me, Colin? I love you. I would never bear the touch of any man but you. I will never, ever dishonor you or what I feel for you. You complete me in ways I never thought possible. It is because of you I was able to laugh today. It is because of you I feel safe enough, loved enough, to be myself. Do you know how much that means to me? How much you mean to me?”

She let him go and felt him rise, but his gaze did not leave hers. The heat rose in Makenna’s cheeks as she saw the cool possessiveness fill his eyes as he realized what she was saying. It took him several seconds to regain his ability to breathe, and even when he was sure he had himself in hand again, he still did not dare to touch her.

Makenna reached up and cupped his cheek. Colin closed his eyes and felt his hot anger dissipate under the light touch. When it was gone, his eyes sprang open. Two tumultuous green pools shimmered into his. He spread his hands wide against the sides of her face, his fingers tangling in her glorious red mane.

Makenna needed him more than ever before. She had opened her heart to him, told him what she felt. “I love you, Colin,” she pledged again.

The anguished whisper tore at Colin’s heart. He wanted to say the words back, but fear stopped him. He had loved before and barely survived its loss. Loving and losing Makenna would cause a pain he would not be able to endure.

Colin looked down intently into her now serene and confident eyes. He needed some of that serenity, some of that assurance. “Never leave me,” he said roughly, barely able to speak. “Vow it.”

She nodded within his grasp. “I belong to you,” she said, making the same promise she had the night before he left.

“And I to you, Makenna,” Colin whispered just before his mouth closed roughly over hers, searing her lips with his own.

Makenna moaned softly and gripped his neck as he picked her up and moved to the soft grass near the trees where he had been hiding. He lay down and pulled her on top of him. Cupping his hand behind her neck, he gathered her close and brushed his mouth lightly, but possessively across hers.

Makenna wanted him, needed him, but this time she intended to sweep him away in passion. Never again would Colin doubt what she felt for him.

Makenna parted his lips and boldly stroked the inside of his mouth. Her tongue dove in, then withdrew, then plunged again, mimicking the rhythm of lovemaking. She kissed with wild abandon, tasting, teasing, drinking in everything about him.

Colin knew he should do something to gain control of this passionate assault upon his senses, but he couldn’t muster the will to stop her. Not yet. It was the most incredible kiss he had ever experienced.

He moaned and moved his arms slowly around her waist. He felt her warm skin and realized her gown had ridden up, giving him access to inside. His hands stroked her round buttock, enjoying the soft skin before moving down her leg. The blood in his veins turned molten, and his male member rose hot and hard.

Makenna could feel Colin’s fingers caress her, teasing her body into a fever. She decided it was time to issue the same exquisite torment. She felt him, hard and impatient against her thigh, and slid her hand down his body. She removed his belt and plaid and finally found what she sought. It was tight, hot, and hard.

Colin felt her fingers close around him and thought his heart might stop. “God, Makenna, what you do to me,” he groaned softly, deeply.

Makenna smiled and leaned down to capture his lips in a kiss. Her hand never stopped moving up and down his hard shaft, leisurely massaging its tip with her thumb.

Colin could take no more and grabbed her wrist. Before she could argue, he shifted so that she straddled his thighs. Her eyes grew large on her face as she realized what he wanted her to do. “Colin, I—”

“Shhh,” he commanded softly. He reached out and touched her between her thighs. She was hot and moist, and already wild with need for him. Picking her up, she naturally parted her thighs. Then Colin positioned her so that she was astride him, engulfing him with one long, sure movement.

Makenna gasped. She didn’t think it was possible, but Colin felt even more enormous. At first, she expected to burst, but after a moment, her body adjusted, and sudden wild abandon filled her.

Slowly she began the primitive rhythm, moving up, down, and around, taking delight in his bold, aggressive hardness. Makenna gazed down at Colin, looking thoroughly satisfied. Her lips were dewy and swollen, and the sparkle in her eyes drove him into a new, frenzied level of need.

Colin could stand no more. Makenna didn’t even have time to gasp before she found herself on her back with Colin driving himself into her. He pulled her close and showered her face and shoulders with hungry kisses, groaning with intense yearning as he removed clothing frantically, seeking new places to caress.

He was there at the core of her body, pushing into her with each thrust. His mouth was savoring and claiming every morsel of her, branding her as his own.

Her fingers sank into his shoulders. She tipped back, and a small cry caught in her throat. A sweet, hot flame scorched through her.

Makenna climaxed with a shock of immense pleasure that shook her whole body. Colin felt it all just before the wave of sweet bliss claimed him.

Minutes later, he could still feel her trembling with the aftermath of their lovemaking. He had rolled to his back and moved her onto him once again. She was limp, but he knew she was happy. His arms stole protectively around her and he kissed the top of her head.

Colin was glad Makenna could not see him. He was wearing a huge grin and all because Makenna loved him. It sent a wave of elation through him that couldn’t be equaled by any other kind of knowledge.

If anyone had told him that passion and the need for a woman could rule his head, his heart, even his life, he would have thought they were mad. He had needs as any man, but they were well within his control. That was until he had experienced passion with Makenna. Each time, whether hot and wild or slow and exploring, she had brought him to levels of physical want beyond the imagination. And each time, he floated down to earth filled with indescribable happiness.

With her, he felt complete.

Makenna swatted Colin’s hand away for the umpteenth time. “Colin, stop that! You’re making it very difficult for me to get dressed.”

“I hoped to make it impossible,” he said, tugging on her bliaut so that she fell against him.

Makenna surrendered to another kiss, and then tried once again to finish dressing. “You must let me finish, Colin. Someone might approach, and I would forever be shamed.”

Colin let her go. “No one will come. Remember? Gorten is ensuring that none come near.”

Makenna stopped and stared at him. “Lord, I had forgotten. Do you suppose he thinks we are still fighting?”

Colin laughed and stood up, helping her adjust the bliaut. “I highly doubt it.” Colin knew Gorten genuinely liked Makenna and would have interceded on her behalf by now if he believed Colin still to be angry with her. It was both good and bad to have someone as loyal and devoted as her guard.

“There,” Colin said, wiping off the last blades of grass from her sleeve. “No one will ever know how you seduced your husband after defeating one of his men in combat.”

Makenna’s jaw dropped. “I seduced you?” she squeaked.

“Aye, and you can do it again tonight if you wish,” he replied, his voice both arrogant and lighthearted.

“Nay, husband. Tonight it is you who shall be doing the seducing.”

Colin grabbed the reins to his black mount and walked with Makenna to where hers remained tethered to a tree and eating grass. She smoothed the chestnut-colored mane. Adjusting her sword, she sheathed her Secret into the specially made scabbard. She then spoke kindly into the mare’s ear and mounted.

“Would you like to join me and ride to the training fields?” Even as the words left his mouth, Colin couldn’t believe what he was asking. But even as he mentally explored the request, he knew that he would not take it back. “Just this once.”

Excitement bubbled inside Makenna. The training fields. The place Colin prepared his men. She would finally get to see the size of his army and watch them display their skill with a sword. “Aye, Colin, I would like it very much.”

“Come on, then. Let us tell Gorten that he no longer needs to fear for his life before we find Dunlop. Today, he is working with new recruits who think they already know all there is about sword fighting.”

Makenna smiled and joined Colin in the brisk ride to find Gorten and then to the grounds where men learned to be Scottish warriors.

As they approached the wide expanse of land a few miles north of the Lochlen, Makenna could hear shouts and the clinking of metal swordplay. Dunlop rode out to greet them. “Ho, Laird! My lady! It is good to see you riding once again.”

Colin caught the implication. “Have you not been riding, Makenna?”

“Nay, not once while you were gone,” Dunlop interjected, knowing Makenna would somehow evade answering the question.

Makenna shot the commander a scathing look. “I thought it best not to since we did not know exactly what had happened to the farmers or by whom,” she quickly explained and focused on the men practicing.

Colin stared at his wife as she intently avoided his gaze. Her answer was too full of logic, and much too safe to be true. No, there were other reasons that kept Makenna from partaking in one of her favorite pastimes.

Before Colin could ask, a shouting match exploded between several men, and he moved to intercede. Makenna persuaded her mount to move beside Dunlop’s. She studied the fields, estimating over one hundred head practiced here. “Dunlop, how is it possible to train so many men at one time?”

“Colin has grouped them by skill and by weapon. Those you see in the distance practice the longbow. Over there, down the hill and to your right, those men are focused on the mace.”

Makenna watched in fascination. Most were training on the battle-axe, the mace, and the claymore, but some were training on the small ballock knife. The men were quite good. They lacked originality, but they were quick and deadly accurate.

“I’m surprised Colin has so many men training with knives.”

“’Tis a common mistake some leaders make to train only with swords. One does not fight just in war, and most men cannot afford swords. But everyone carries a knife. Why, even you carry a small version in your hilt, do you not?” Makenna nodded. “A man does as well. And it can be deadly if a soldier does not know how to fight, deflect, and disarm an attacker with a smaller weapon. Additionally, a man who is knowledgeable with a knife can defend, wound, and kill—important skills to have in battle.”

Makenna pointed to where Colin was standing. “And what group are they?” Colin was surrounded by boys of varying ages, some very young, approximately thirteen or fourteen, but a few looked nearer to twenty summers.

Dunlop grimaced. “Beginners. They heard about our laird’s leadership and his ability to train younger men and recently joined. They are inexperienced and young, but eager to learn. At least most of them are.”

“Most of them?” Makenna inquired.

“Aye, most, but not all. There are some who feel learning the basics of fighting is beneath them,” he answered, pointing to the obviously much older boys in the group.

They were training with single ash sticks, just as Camus had started his instruction with her. Makenna moved forward and was surprised to hear Colin declare that a truly skilled soldier could discern when to defend himself and avoid killing and when it was absolutely necessary.

One of the bigger boys leaning disrespectfully against the tree threw down his stick. “And I keep telling you that I am ready. I have no need to practice with sticks. I want to fight with real weapons and train with the men.”

Again, Makenna was surprised. She expected her husband to lose his temper at the boy’s insolence, but Colin remained calm, even patient, as the young man droned about how he had never been so underappreciated in his father’s army.

Dunlop leaned over and whispered, “Most lads are eager to listen and learn, but the dozen or so that have been sent to us from Crawford deem they are already great fighters. They want to be moved over to the more advanced groups and begin working with the claidheamh mor.”

Makenna gasped. The little she had seen was evidence enough they were not ready. “But they would be slaughtered.”

“Aye, but at least they’d stop complaining,” Dunlop returned, grinning.

Makenna couldn’t help herself and smiled back, swallowing laughter. She watched as the group recommenced their training. They were too eager, consistently forecasting their intentions. Much practice would be needed before they would be ready for the claidheamh mor, the great sword, her weapon of choice.

A few years ago, Camus had specially made her a two-handed broadsword close to the size of a normal claymore, yet much lighter. She doubted if there was another man in all of lower Scotland who could equal Camus’s knowledge on the properties of metals, how they reacted to heat and which combinations made them stronger. His skill and knowledge had created her Secret, a claymore she could wield much faster than her opponent expected.

Colin felt himself getting frustrated. Dunlop had not exaggerated when he told him about the new Crawford recruits, especially Jaimie’s sons. They truly judged their skills to be the same or even superior to those of his men. Each time they lost, they claimed it was because they had competed against Laird McTiernay’s finest.

An impulsive idea took hold. Hooking his sword in his belt, Colin crossed his arms and ordered the protesters to gather around him close enough for Makenna to hear.

“Do you see that woman over there?” Colin asked, pointing at Makenna but not looking in her direction. “She is my wife, Lady McTiernay. What you may not know is that she enjoys sparring with the claidheamh mor.” He could see the disbelief in their eyes and continued. “Aye, she carries her sword upon her even now.” He paused as some of them craned their heads to look.

“You believe you are good enough right now to spar with the more experienced men and that I treat you differently because you are sworn to Laird Crawford, not to me. I say you are not ready because you lack basic skills. But I am willing to give you the opportunity to prove me wrong. Select one of your men, and I suggest that you pick your quickest and most skilled. If Lady McTiernay is willing to spar, and you win, then I shall move your entire group forward. If not, never again shall a complaint spew from your mouths.”

One older boy scoffed. Makenna eyed the young soldier. He was of average height with bright brown eyes, short scrubby hair, and an expression on his face he thought made him look intimidating and fearsome. He had the body of a man, but he was not one yet. Misplaced pride and lack of humility stood in his way. “It would be unfair. I would not be able to truly fight in fear of hurting her,” the boy complained.

At this comment, Makenna jumped down and unsheathed her Secret. Colin looked unsurprised. He considered warning her that these were the sons of an ally, but decided against it.

Makenna unpinned the bulky plaid from her shoulder. “Colin, I would not mind the least in offering a few of the lessons I learned during my singlestick tutelage. I request only that you not interfere for any reason unless I ask you to.”

Upon Colin’s nod in agreement, Makenna turned back toward the smirking boy who had been joined by someone who looked to be his brother. “What are your names?”

The more polite of the two similar-looking young men stepped forward. “I am Auburn, and he is my brother Korbin.”

“I was watching you, Auburn, and you as well, Korbin, and in many ways I agree with you, I think you have the promise of being great swordsmen. I also admit to never being in battle or a true one-on-one fight for my life. However, I enjoy the art of swordplay immensely and some even consider me quite good. Do you, Korbin, think that I could ever, even at my very best, defeat a Scottish warrior? Even a marginal one?”

Korbin looked at the healthy, but definitely much smaller woman and shook his head. “I do not.”

“Thank you for being honest. I absolutely agree.”

Makenna twirled her Secret and then moved to the middle of the clearing field. She pointed its tip to Korbin and then Auburn. “I shall fight you both simultaneously. And I warn you now that you both will receive scars to remember that no matter how good you are, there is always somebody better, and oftentimes it is the person you least expect. Now fetch your swords.”

Colin was still mentally debating on whether he should stop her challenge. He had meant for her to fight one man, not two. But before he could make up his mind, they had both returned and the fight had begun.

Korbin made the first move and lunged at her with the idea of scaring her. Makenna easily sidestepped his attack. At the same time, she shifted her weight and angle so her sword cut the air in a powerful, fast arc, easily disarming her opponent when it came down. Without stopping the graceful and unexpected move, Makenna twisted and this time with an upward thrust neutralized Auburn, sending his claymore flying several yards away.

“Lesson one. Never underestimate your opponent,” Makenna stated calmly.

Korbin looked at his brother. Auburn fetched his sword and returned, looking both embarrassed and mad. “I am afraid that I will hurt you, milady, if I truly try to fight.”

A whipping sound sliced the air as Makenna moved with precision. She disarmed the young man, and at the same time carved a future scar into Auburn’s upper chest.

Upon seeing Makenna’s blade draw his friend’s blood, Korbin raised his sword and came down where Makenna was standing with all his might. Yet when he arrived, she was not there. Somehow, she had been able to move behind him and with a speed Korbin had not thought possible when wielding such a large and heavy weapon. The shock of finding her gone was immediately replaced with a fiery pain of a sharp edge cutting his upper fighting arm.

“Lesson two. An emotional enemy can be your greatest asset in combat. Your own emotions, however, are your greatest weakness.”

Colin wondered what Jaimie Crawford would think about his methods of training upon hearing who gave his sons scars during training. No doubt Trista would be even less pleased that Makenna hurt her boys. Then again, he doubted anyone could teach Korbin and Auburn the lesson in humility they desperately needed better than Makenna. This moment, while embarrassing, would someday save their lives.

Colin decided not to intervene.

Korbin and Auburn were now angry enough to fight, woman or no woman, lady or no lady. The wounds she issued were minor. They probably stung like hell, and Colin had no doubt that Makenna had fully controlled the size and placement of each slit.

Korbin began dancing around Makenna. Auburn followed his lead. Makenna looked bored. Both began twirling the swords and slicing the air in hopes of intimidating her with the sounds. Makenna let them continue their exhausting dance for several minutes, easily sidestepping their jabs and thrusts.

“Engage!” Auburn yelled in frustration.

Makenna arched a single eyebrow and then pivoted on one foot, bringing herself unexpectedly close to her opponent. Auburn shifted his weight back and at the same time, she brought her sword down at precisely the right time to ensure that Auburn lost his balance and fell.

“You won’t find it so easy to do the same to me,” Korbin taunted, continuing to dance around her.

Makenna didn’t even aim for Korbin’s sword. Instead, she thrust her blade between his constantly moving legs so that they twisted, causing him to fall. She kicked his sword away. Then with two hands, she brought her sword up and aimed it toward his heart in a mock display of what it would be like if someone caused you to fall.

“Lesson three. Maintain balance or fall and die,” she said, completely devoid of emotion.

Korbin gulped, sought his sword, and then prepared again for Makenna. He had thought sheer strength and size were all that was needed to fight and win. Lady McTiernay had neither, yet she found it not in the least bit difficult to disarm him even when he had faith he was completely prepared for her attack.

Auburn looked even less sure about continuing the lesson and wanted to say so.

Korbin moved over to his comrade. Perhaps if they fought together, not on opposite sides, they would have the advantage.

Makenna recognized the ploy at once. She moved forward, slicing the air. As expected, the two jumped slightly apart and then moved to attack her. This time, instead of sidestepping or twirling her body out of the way, she easily stepped through the two men. In their efforts to land a blow, Korbin and Auburn reacted. By the time they realized how close they were to each other, or that they were facing one another, it was too late. Both received a nasty lash from the other on their arms.

Makenna twirled to face the men who were now clutching their wounds. “Last Lesson. Train, train, and when you become very good, train some more. There are ideas, strategies, and techniques your opponent will use against you. Through training, you will discover ways to turn even the most unfavorable situation to your advantage.”

Makenna walked back to her horse, wiped her blade on the end of her bliaut, and then resheathed the sword. Once done, she turned around, beaming. It was clear she found the match to be exciting and exhilarating.

Colin was still shocked as was most of the crowd who had gathered to watch, including her guards Brodie and Gorten. Makenna was exceptionally skilled with the sword. If she had the strength and the size of a man, she would be one of the clan’s best soldiers. She could think quickly on her feet and was always aware of her surroundings. It appeared as if she could sense what her attackers were about to do and prepare a counterstrike. It was incredible.

Watching her so quickly and easily defeat the two men, Colin worried Makenna had wounded their pride to a degree it could not be recovered. Then suddenly, as if she were privy to his thoughts, Makenna addressed the small group.

“I cannot thank you two men for sparring with me. It has been some time that someone has tested what took me so many years to learn. You both should be commended. And while Colin and Dunlop can best discern whether your skills should be honed with more stick training, I can attest of your strength and talent. If you train hard and listen, you will be able to avoid my attacks in less than half the time it took me to learn them.”

Auburn and Korbin stared at her in open disbelief.

Makenna perceived their soundless expression, but she noticed that along with their skepticism, a little of their dignity was repaired. “We are fortunate to have such talent protecting our clan. I must go now, and I doubt I will be able to return any time soon. But I hope to see you again, perhaps during the evening meal in the hall.”

Makenna smiled, waved at the small group, and grabbed the reins to her horse quite pleased with herself. Every man in sight was flabbergasted into silence. She swung onto her horse, and asked Brodie to see her back to Lochlen, knowing that her husband would want to stay.

Colin watched his wife leave with grace and dignity. Never had he felt such pride in a clanswoman, and she was his wife.

Dunlop ordered Auburn and Korbin to go see the midwife to stitch their wounds. The minor cuts Makenna had given them would have healed on their own, but ones they inflicted upon each other were much worse. It would be at least two weeks, maybe longer before they were healed enough to practice again with their group.