To Wed A Highlander

Makenna stared at the madman in silence. There was no point warning the crazed man that Colin would never leave without her.

“What do you want, Leon?” Makenna asked, wincing as she struggled against the ropes binding her wrists to the chair. Her flesh ripped again, and new blood dripped down her hands.

Leon motioned for one of his guards to release her. “That is simple. I want you and only you. I, of course, will take Lochlen as my main residence for your benefit.”

Makenna rotated her freed wrists. They burned. Placing her hands on her lap, she examined her captor, twisting her lips into a cynical smile. “Leon, you are ten times the fool I thought you were. You must know that you will soon die by my husband’s hands.” Makenna paused, lancing him with her vivid emerald eyes. “I just hope he lets me watch,” she said, full of sincerity.

Leon’s growl grew into a scream. He marched over, grabbed her hair, and pulled her against him. Eyes of golden rage stared obliviously into Makenna’s green pools of revulsion. He was too consumed with his own hate to recognize the full extent of hers.

“Your Highlander is soon going to be dead,” Leon hissed. “And the moment he exists no longer, you will be free to fulfill your true destiny and become my wife.”

“Never,” Makenna spat, waiting unflinchingly for him to retaliate.

Leon threw her violently away from him, causing her to fall out of the chair and onto the dirt floor. About to grab her again, he came to a sudden halt, his eyes coldly furious as an evil smile slinked across his lips. Maybe the redheaded viper just needed some persuasion, and he had just the perfect influencers locked across the yard in the great hall.

“Bring her,” he ordered his men and then exited into the courtyard.

Chapter Eighteen

Colin maneuvered down the castle allure, slithering below the walkway on the top of the curtain wall. He glanced back. Dunlop, Drake, and three of his ten commanders were following his lead.

Reentering the castle without alerting anyone to their presence had been fairly simple. Once Conor began the main attack, most of MacCuaig’s men had focused on the battle. Those who had not left the outer gate were easily silenced. Ignoring the sizeable number of soldiers guarding the inner gate, Colin headed toward Forfar Tower. Finding the murder hole cleverly nestled at its base, Colin went inside knowing very few were aware of the steep, narrow staircase leading straight to the tower’s battlements. On top of the tower, Colin encountered two more MacCuaig soldiers and disposed of them quietly.

Crouching low, Colin scooted down the allure until he reached a secret opening to the hidden passageway leading to the Chapel Tower and slipped in.

Hunching down, Colin led his men down the small corridor leading straight to the confessional chambers. For decades, the postern and passageway served as a discreet way for women to visit the Lochlen’s chamberlain. When Alexander’s grandfather dismissed the position and converted the tower to a chapel, the passageway had ceased being used. As far as Colin knew, most clansmen, including the priest, had not even known of its existence. Colin only found out about it after he arrived at Lochlen and spied an odd pattern to the floor of the curtain wall. Colin had asked Alexander about it and agreed to keep it a secret.

About thirty feet from the chamber entrance, Colin stopped cold. A bellow roared from across the courtyard. It was MacCuaig, and he was furious. The little hope Colin was clinging to died. Makenna had not eluded MacCuaig’s capture. Only one person could infuriate Leon that much on his perceived hour of victory—Makenna.

Moving quickly, Colin advanced to the small door and freed the latch frozen from years of nonuse. He looked through the peephole, motioning for his men to wait as he pried the heavy wood slats open and stepped through the doorway. He verified the sanctuary was empty and signaled for his men to follow.

Colin held up a clenched fist and immediately all movement ceased. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Besides the distant clanks of metal from Conor’s attack, Lochlen was eerily quiet. Had it been abandoned?

Colin moved to the chapel’s spiral staircase and descended, indicating for his men to follow but make no sound. Carefully, they emerged out of the tower and crept into the inner yard. Hiding behind a nearby cart of hay, Colin peeked around the tilted box to survey the courtyard. Standing outside Canmore Tower was Leon. Behind him was a fuming Makenna. Surrounding them both were at least a dozen men, maybe more.

One of MacCuaig’s men pushed Makenna forcefully, causing her to lose her step and tumble to the ground. Colin gripped his sword and fought his mounting rage.

He flexed his fingers in an effort to remain coldly detached and methodical as he trained his men to be. It proved to be impossible. Separating oneself from fear to save one’s own life was infinitely different from trying to do so when it was someone you loved who was in danger. The only thing restraining him was knowing that if he attacked now, Makenna would most likely be hurt, possibly be killed. He had no choice but to sit silently and wait for an opportunity to present itself.

Dunlop sat huddled beside Colin with his back against the cart and felt his laird tremble with rage. Twisting carefully, Dunlop peered underneath the cart and into the yard. The blood drained out of his face as he witnessed the source of Colin’s anger.

Dunlop nudged Drake and was about to gesture for him to look when Makenna’s voice rang out clear across the courtyard.

“What about my people?” Makenna demanded, moving to stand up. She brushed the dirt off her gown with the air of a regal queen. Her voice and demeanor were full of calm, but one had only to look into her flashing green eyes to realize the fury within her.

Leon spun around. “Your people? You mean my people. They will swear allegiance to me, wear my plaid, and pay me the homage I require. If they don’t, they die. I will not bandy about with your prideful clan as your dead Highlander did. I will not tolerate disobedience or disloyalty.”

Makenna gave him a challenging smile. “My Colin is not dead.”

Leon’s face turned a blotchy red. “No, but he soon will be. As we speak, my best men are advancing on him. They will wait until he is vulnerable, and then they will strike. No matter how long it takes, I will see you free to fulfill your true destiny.”

Makenna narrowed her eyes. “And just what do you see my destiny to be?” she asked through gritted teeth.

Leon advanced until she was just inside his arm’s reach. “Why, to become my wife,” he announced. Before she could back away, his hand sneaked out, gripped her chin, and held it still while he brutally pressed his mouth against her lips.

Colin’s heart felt as though it were being ripped from his chest. All he could think of was getting to Makenna. He clutched his sword and was about to attack regardless of the dangers when two MacCuaig guards dragged a dead body through the inner gatehouse and into the courtyard. Leon wrenched free and turned away from the sight.

Makenna wiped her mouth off with her sleeve and stared at the dead young baker. The boy had made her laugh with his smile and quick wit. He would never do so again. He had been badly beaten before someone had sliced his throat. Something inside her went cold. “What’s wrong, Leon? The sight of Benny’s blood bother you? Or was it his mangled body that made you blanch like an old woman?”

Leon swung around and came within inches of her face, but spoke loud enough to be heard by everyone in the courtyard. “He deserved it! The fool actually tried to stop me from coming after you.”

“He was just a boy!” Makenna screamed.

“A boy who was fool enough to defend you!”

“Is that why you brought him here? So I can see what you will do to anyone loyal enough to protect me?”

“I thought he might prove the lengths I will go to have you. Several people in the great hall will suffer the same fate as your Benny if you or your people continue to fight me.”

Makenna stood wide-eyed realizing MacCuaig was insane. With anyone else, that would be an empty threat, but MacCuaig was ready to act on his promise. She looked about her. The keep was vacant. The only people in sight were MacCuaig and a dozen of his soldiers. She pushed one out of the way so that she could see the doors of the great hall. Several more men were blocking both the main and kitchen exits.

“What did you do?” she asked, her voice hollow at the promised horror of his answer.

“What any self-respecting laird would do. I am not a fool like McTiernay thinking that I can change the hearts of men loyal to another.”

“Loyal to Colin.”

“Not just to him. It seems my pretty little Scottish bride has done what many thought impossible. You learned to run a keep and gained the devotion of all who serve you.”

“What are you going to do with them?”

“That is up to you, my sweet. You see, they are loyal to you. If you agree to renounce your husband and join me, there is a good chance they will follow your lead, and I will let them live.”

Makenna glared at him. What she would give for any kind of weapon. She would die, but so would he. Hope suddenly invaded her thoughts. She did have a weapon. She just needed to get to it.

Makenna eyed him cautiously. For her plan to work, she needed to lead without being obvious. “What about my loyalty? Just how do you expect to gain my allegiance, Leon?”

“Mayhap by oppression at first, but I had your heart once before and I will have it again.”

Makenna gaped at MacCuaig incredulously. “Do you truly believe I will reject my love for Colin and accept yours?”

“You are many things, Makenna Dunstan, but you are not obtuse. Your Highlander has left, retaining the one thing I admired about the man—his pride. And while his army is considerably bigger than I was led to believe, he would not be foolish enough to attack my considerably larger forces, especially not for a clan who betrayed him.”

Makenna arched her brows in disbelief. Leon’s eyes glinted like black beetles as his mouth crinkled into a smile. “I can see the surprise and doubt in your eyes. Over two thousand of my men are converging on your stronghold as we speak.”

The blood drained out of Makenna’s face. “But there is no one here but women, old men, and children!”

Leon clucked his tongue. “Left to defend themselves by your Highlander. Would you like to renounce him now? The man you agreed to marry has left you and your clan vulnerable. I assure you, I protect what I value.”

Makenna took a deep breath. Leon MacCuaig was filled with hate and greed, but he was not unintelligent. She would not have multiple chances to make her move. “Colin does as well. I would never renounce him, not even if you forced me in the very bed we share.”

Colin felt Dunlop lurch at her words and grabbed the angry commander pulling him back. Dunlop look confused at his laird’s unnatural calmness. “Why, Colin? Why would Makenna—”

Colin motioned for him to be quiet. He knew his wife was loyal to him. Makenna must have a reason to goad MacCuaig to their solar. Something was there. Something that would give her an advantage.

“You will renounce him, and in that very room. Do you think the Highlander will come back for you? A wild Lowlander so incredibly different from his beloved first wife?”

At the mention of her sister, Makenna recoiled. Leon pounced. “Ah, forgot about her, did you? Do you honestly think that a man who would love Deirdre, could love you? She was everything you are not. Meek, fair, mild, and soft-spoken. I ask you. Do you believe him when he says he loves you? The man was devoted to her. Never left her side, but with you it seems he leaps at the chance. He is gone for weeks at a time, leaving you to deal alone with your troublesome clan. And now, he vanishes for the Highlands without you. How could he promise his heart to you when he had already given it away?”

MacCuaig was speaking the questions aloud she had so often asked to herself. She forced herself to ignore his sharp barbs. Colin did love her.

Leon saw the pain swim in Makenna’s eyes and knew that he had guessed correctly. “I have always loved you, and yet you spurned my requests for your hand. I have decided to forgive you for marrying McTiernay. I am here now, and you will never have to see him again. You will be with me. You will be my wife.”

Makenna jutted her chin into the air and looked at him with mute defiance.

Her silence infuriated him. “I will have you, Makenna,” he whispered, yanking her to his side, gripping her so that his fingers bit into her flesh. “I will have you, and you will beg for my forgiveness before this night is over.” He thrust her away from him. Makenna stumbled again but remained upright and silent praying that God would grant her last wish. “Lock her in the solar. Search it first. I will be there soon to collect what she will give me.”

As she was being dragged away, Makenna finally found her voice and cried out, “And what is that?”

MacCuaig turned back and smirked, “Why, legitimacy, my sweet.”

Outside the town wall, Conor moved his men forward as Crawford and Donovan flanked the enemy from opposite sides. They had met and ended the majority of MacCuaig’s army by the loch and now moved toward Lochlen. MacCuaig’s men watched in horror as the coming army grew in size. The Highlander had not left as MacCuaig had promised. And he brought allies.

Screaming they moved to barricade the town wall gate and block the broken sections of the wall. Their only hope was to keep McTiernay’s army outside the town walls until support arrived. Runners had been sent to find other MacCuaig soldiers, but most of the men had scattered throughout the town or were looting within Lochlen’s outer walls.

Dunstan clansmen and women recognized the fear on the MacCuaig soldiers’ faces and began anew in their fight. Their laird had returned.

Gannon glanced around. A blood-spattered battle-axe was on the ground. Grabbing it, he pumped it in the air. “Dunstans! Open that gate! Show our laird that we are men of honor. That we know where he belongs. With us!” A roar of renewed purpose erupted just before a loud crack filled the air.

MacCuaig’s men gathered near the gate heard the Dunstan cry followed by a thunderous sound they assumed to be a lightning bolt. Moments later crazed Dunstan men and women came from nowhere attacking with a wild vengeance. Anything that could stab, puncture, or slice was being used. Realizing their numbers would not hold the gate, MacCuaig soldiers attempted to retreat, only to discover that Conor and his men had already breached the troops securing the broken portions of the wall.

Within minutes, Dunstans freed the gate and pulled the portcullises open. Riders from allied Lowland clans crossed the threshold. As understanding of their circumstances crept into their awareness, MacCuaig soldiers tried to flee or surrender. Those who decided to fight the impossible odds died quickly.

Ending the last skirmish, Conor looked around. No more MacCuaigs were in sight. He joined the other lairds to discuss the next move.

“MacCuaig’s men have vanished,” Boyd said, stating the obvious.

“They are here,” Moncreiffe countered with conviction. “And they are numerous.”

“Aye,” agreed Conor. “I saw masses of them pour out of the outer gate as I was fighting.”

Crawford took a deep breath and exhaled in disgust. “They must have seen our numbers and are hiding. They are just biding their time to attack or flee.”

Conor smiled and said, “Then I suggest we change our style from fighting to hunting. Just remember the inner walls of Lochlen are to be untouched until Colin says it is time.”

Boyd moved his men to skirt the western town wall, Crawford did the same for the east, and Moncreiffe guarded the openings so that Conor and Donovan could skirt the northern and southern portions of the town wall. Once all were in place, Conor gave the battle cry and they moved forward investigating every house, every recess, every hiding possibility. The MacCuaigs had a choice—immediate surrender or death.

Leon was at the Pinnacle Tower about to appraise his new wealth in goods when he heard the battle scream. That was no thunderbolt.

He had assumed the distant ongoing clanking of metal swords to be a few Dunstan clansmen fighting for their lives. He glanced up as lightning streaked across the darkened sky, followed by an icy wind. The battlements on two of the towers were empty of men. Instinct told him they had not retreated because of the impending storm. Not a drop of rain had yet fallen, but soon it would be pouring from the sky.

Leon headed toward Canmore Tower. So the Highlander had not left the Lowlands as he had led everyone to believe. It mattered little. Leon still possessed what he had come for. He had Makenna.

“You!” Leon screamed at one of the guards standing in front of the main entrance to the great hall. “Go tell those not standing watch to close and bar the main gate!”

The man scurried away, and Leon continued toward his destination. He was just passing the Black Tower when the wind kicked up and his senses came alive. He stopped cold and his heart began to pound. He was too late. McTiernay was already inside. MacCuaig turned and disappeared.

Conor surveyed the last group of MacCuaigs captured and ordered them to be brought outside the town wall and held with the others. The men obviously had not supported their laird’s decision to attack their neighbor. Too many of them had surrendered rather than fight to their death.

Hearing a rider approach, Conor turned around, whipping his claymore into position. Immediately, his arm slackened at his seeing Drake.

Drake swung off his horse. “Colin sent me to find you.”

Following Conor’s lead, the other lairds dismounted and circled around the young commander as he used a stick to outline Colin’s plan.

Easing back to a standing position, Conor rubbed his chin and then nodded. “Seamus, go tell the men we advance on Lochlen. Colin is ready.”

Makenna wiggled her numb fingers, feeling the coarse rope of her bindings against her wrists. She drew a lungful of air and exhaled. Her breath was briefly visible before it disappeared. She thought about shouting at the guards stationed just outside the door to light the hearth but decided she would rather wait for MacCuaig. Having him delay his intentions until the room was warm might give her the time she needed.

A shout filled the air, then another. Then came the screams. The battle being fought was clearly one-sided and coming from the great hall. Something had changed MacCuaig’s mind about keeping her people alive to be used against her as leverage. They were dying.

Makenna resumed her struggle against her bindings. Tricking MacCuaig into sending her to the solar seemed like a brilliant plan. She could retrieve the sword Camus made for Colin, and with some luck, use it to kill MacCuaig.

Luck, however, had different plans.

First, MacCuaig had not brought her to the solar, but a huge nameless brute. Luck continued to desert her when the soldier conducted an infuriatingly good search of the room. Upon finding a hidden halbert in Colin’s chest, he decided to bind her to a chair rather than leave her free until MacCuaig arrived. After ensuring that the rope could not be untied, he left her to freeze.

She still had hope. The guard had not found the true reason behind her desire to be brought to the solar. Colin’s sword was still hidden. But, unless she could find a way to loosen her bonds, there would be no way for her to retrieve the heavy weapon and attack an unprepared MacCuaig.

Pain shot through Makenna’s arm as more skin ripped against the ropes. She knew her efforts were in vain. Her struggles seemed only to tighten the knots binding her.

Approaching footsteps caught Makenna’s attention. She stilled and prepared her mind for what was about to come. She could hear the door behind her swing open and refused to turn around.

“You are a monster, and Colin will send your soul to hell for what you are about to do,” she promised.

Heavy footsteps approached, and Makenna felt her bindings loosen. A rich-timbred voice vowed softly in her ear, “Aye, he will.”

Suddenly, she was free and in Colin’s arms, his mouth covering hers. Makenna clung to him as he crushed her to him with a savage intensity, seeking proof she was alive, and still his. He moved his mouth over hers, devouring her softness.

Finally, Colin eased his lips from hers. His love for her was abundantly clear in the depths of his blue gaze. She was safe and loved. Colin had come for her, just as she knew he would.

Lifting her hand, she brushed a dark lock freed from its leather bonds and tucked it behind Colin’s ear. There were tears in his eyes. “Colin?”

He planted a gentle kiss across her forehead. “Forgive me. I never knew such terror as I have known these past hours. I love you more than I ever thought it possible to love another. When I saw MacCuaig…with you…I…”

Makenna held his head between her palms. “I wasn’t afraid. I knew you would save me. And you did, Colin. You did save me.”

Colin’s eyes swam with doubt. “The baby?” he barely choked.

“Fine. We are fine.” She kissed him briefly, reassuring him that what she said was true.

As she pulled her hands away, Colin was reminded of her bloody wrists. He grabbed her forearm firmly and examined the damage. Suddenly his face contorted into a cold nightmare. Makenna remembered him telling her that she had never seen him angry. He had been correct. For never before had she seen him thus.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked, his voice low and strained.

Makenna pulled free and took a step back. “I did this, Colin. I was struggling against the ropes to get free and I…” Makenna stopped talking. Her explanation was not mollifying Colin, but only inflaming his anger. It suddenly occurred to her that it sounded as if she were defending MacCuaig. “He bound me, but only my wrists were injured. We need to save Doreen and the others. I heard them screaming…”

Colin’s gaze shifted from her wrists to her face and eased a little. Then he took her hand and headed to the solar door. “That was not our clan you heard, that was MacCuaig’s men.”

Makenna stopped short. “Not our clan? I thought you…”

“Left them defenseless?”

“No, not exactly. But…”

“But what, love? When I agreed to be the Dunstan laird, it was a decision for life. It was not I who doubted if I should or even could handle the responsibility. The clan needed a reason to join me unconditionally, and I needed a decisive way to determine who had aligned themselves with MacCuaig. If I had not left, it might have taken years for the Dunstans to unite behind my leadership.”

Makenna’s lips parted in surprise. “Why, that is…”

Colin smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. “Fiendishly clever?”

“Aye.”

Colin took her hand again and pulled her toward the exit. “Come, we must go. MacCuaig no doubt will be searching for a way to come and retrieve you before he flees.”

Just before they got to the door, Makenna turned and ran to the bed. “Wait! Your sword!”

His brows drew together questioningly as he looked down. His sword was hooked in his belt. Curious to see what she meant, he watched as Makenna ran to their bed and pushed the mattress to the side. The effort revealed a gold basket-hilted broadsword embedded with the same jewels he thought had been buried with Alexander. Makenna must have removed them. From the beginning, she had seen him as the Dunstan laird.

Colin picked up the blade and knew instantly Camus had fashioned it specifically for him. It was perfectly balanced and weighted. The intricate pattern on the hilt was a detailed combination of Lowland and Highland symbols placed in such a way that showed unity rather than opposition or conflict. He knew without asking that Makenna had conceived the unique design.

A booming voice interrupted his awe over the unexpected gift. “Colin!” It was Dunlop.

Clutching the new sword in one hand and Makenna’s fingers in his other, Colin headed toward the door. They rounded the stairwell quickly and soon exited the tower into the frigid night air. Flames from the lit torches around the courtyard flickered wildly in the wind. Drops of rain were beginning to fall, warning of the impending cold, wet weather.

Dunlop was the first to spot Colin entering the courtyard. Seeing Makenna beside him, Dunlop smiled in relief. “Glad to see you, milady.” Then he turned to Colin and spoke. “Lochlen’s men and women remain in the great hall, but they are now being protected by your men. Conor just sent a runner saying the fight is complete and he, Crawford, Boyd and the others should be arriving any moment.”

“What about MacCuaig?”

Dunlop shook his head without attempting to hide his frustration. “We have not found him, Laird, but every entrance has been sealed. There have been soldiers surrounding the castle capturing all who try to flee. He must have left before then.”

Colin briefly glanced at Makenna and gave his commander a speaking glance. “He is still here.”

Dunlop didn’t argue. “Then, there is no way he can leave.” Pointing to the inner gatehouse, Dunlop announced, “Your brother just arrived, and he brought friends…and a woman.”

Colin walked over to meet his allies, grasping the arms of each man in gratitude. He pointed toward the lower hall and asked everyone to assemble in the warm shelter.

Makenna ignored Colin when he indicated for her to follow. Her eyes watched as Conor semidragged Lela Fraser by the arm and into the inner yard. Her hands were bound and a nasty gash cut through her gown had bloodied her upper arm. Seeing the way she favored it, Makenna guessed it hurt.

Conor stopped in front of Colin holding Lela to his side. “This one got a nice reminder of what happens when you betray your own people. Said she was MacCuaig’s woman.”

Lela scowled and stared directly at Makenna. “I am. Leon will protect me, and I will see you dead.”

Makenna raked her eyes over the hateful woman. She felt nothing. Not hate, not pity, not even the desire to engage her verbally. Turning, Makenna reached up and touched Colin’s shoulder. “Don’t bother. She wouldn’t understand anything you said.”

Lela snapped, “You think I am alone, Makenna McTiernay! Even your own sister, Ula, hates what you have done. She wanted to know everything! She even wanted to know how she could help me get rid of you.”

Colin looked down at Makenna as Lela continued shouting. He was surprised to find a quiet serenity staring back at him. “Seamus, take her away,” he ordered quietly and linked his arm with Makenna’s before heading to the lower hall.

Upon entering, Makenna immediately sought the warmth of the hearth. Colin joined the men assembled around one of the larger tables. “How’s the battle outside?”

Conor gave a relaxed shrug. “As expected. Most of the noise has been the capture of MacCuaig soldiers. We are holding them until you have decided what to do. Only a few chose to fight.”

“The Dunstans?”

“Very few deaths. The men are separating those who died fighting against the MacCuaigs from those who fought with them. Have you found the vermin?”

“He is still here, cowering.”

“What do you suggest?” Moncreiffe asked.

Colin was about to reply when Makenna stepped forward and offered, “I know one way to get Leon to come out.”

“How is that, Lady Makenna?” Donovan inquired as he stroked his thick gray and yellow beard.

Makenna smiled at the older man known as the Lion. “Appeal to his pride. His warped sense of pride.”

Colin eyed his wife for several seconds and then exited the hall without a word. Everyone followed despite the worsening weather.

Minutes later, Colin reappeared in the courtyard with Lela in tow. “MacCuaig!” Colin bellowed, his voice cutting through the whipping rain. “Show yourself! I give you a chance to fight me, only me, and determine who is the better swordsman.”

Seconds later, MacCuaig stepped out from the chapel enclosure and advanced toward Colin. “And if I win?” His confident swagger was of a man who knew the unmatched level of his skills.

“Then you go free.”

“And what if I want more?”

Makenna watched as Lela smiled triumphantly.

“If you want Lela, you can have her, for if I see her again, I’ll have no qualms returning her to you dead.”

The wind caught Leon’s laughter and distorted the evil sound. “Why would I want her?”

Lela spun around. “Because I helped you! I gave you everything you asked for! Spies, people to weaken the wall, even me.”

MacCuaig spun his sword around in his hand so that the metal blade blinked in the torchlight. “Ah, lovely Lela. You were fun…for a while, but of late you have been burdensome and how can I put it…boring. My tastes have always been for more fiery women,” he finished, staring lustfully at Makenna.

“Her! You told me you wanted to see her dead!”

Leon’s eyes shifted from Makenna to Lela and back again. “I intend to have so much more than just my freedom. I want Makenna.”

MacCuaig paused waiting for Colin’s reaction, knowing that emotion—especially rage—was most debilitating to swordplay. Colin never flinched. MacCuaig narrowed his eyes wondering if he had been correct all along. Colin never did care for Makenna or the Dunstans. Only pride had brought him back to help them fight. “Then again,” MacCuaig continued, “with you gone, I assume there would be nothing in my way of me staying here with my prize.”

“Then you accept.”

“I do.”

Colin turned to his commanders and then to Conor. “You heard the terms. Abide by them. MacCuaig returns to his lands unharmed, and Lela is of no consequence. Regardless of what happens, she is to be banished.”

Conor grimaced and nodded in affirmation. He had heard the terms. Not one MacCuaig soldier had been negotiated and neither was permanent peace part of the package. If by some accident MacCuaig lived tonight, he would return to his lands, but he would not live to see the next day. Conor would invade and exact revenge.

Colin glanced up at the stormy sky as he shrugged out of his leine. The rain was spitting and lightning continued to light the sky. At any moment, it would begin to pour. Colin welcomed the slippery distraction. Battles were fought in all types of weather, and he doubted MacCuaig had spent much time on the battlefield acclimating himself to the elements.

MacCuaig followed Colin’s lead and removed his shirt.

Colin grabbed the sword Makenna had made for him and surveyed his opponent. Despite his preference to fight indoors, MacCuaig looked surprisingly calm and unaffected by the weather.

Makenna clutched her arms as the two men prepared for battle. They faced each other in nothing but their tartans secured by leather belts. Colin’s dark hair was tied back with a piece of leather, but MacCuaig chose to leave his sandy locks loose in the rising breeze.

A muscle in the side of Colin’s jaw jumped. The approaching storm could not compare to the one swirling in the depthless waves of Colin’s sapphire eyes.

Slowly they began to circle each other as if walking on opposite sides of an invisible ring only the pair of them could see. MacCuaig suddenly lunged forward with his body weight, thrusting his blade into the space where Colin had been standing. Stunned by Colin’s unexpected celerity, MacCuaig almost did not move in time to deflect Colin’s following stroke.

Both had tested the other and found neither without skill. Lightning streaked across the sky. Thunder followed, but both men remained oblivious of nature’s show as they once again took a revolving stance.

MacCuaig began to taunt Colin. “You play yourself off as the trainer of men, not as a swordsman. But I see I have been deceived. Perhaps that is why my Makenna takes to you so. She always enjoyed playing with swords. Perhaps after she sees your defeat, she will move her affections to me.”

Makenna wondered how much of MacCuaig’s words were reaching their target. But when Colin glided around again so that she could see his expression, she realized her husband had become another man. It was MacCuaig, too consumed with his own arrogance, who did not realize the danger he was in.

Unused to a slow, methodical opponent, MacCuaig lurched forward, spinning quickly to pull out a hidden dagger in an attempt to slice Colin as he twisted out of the way. Usually the move ended the life of his opponent, but Colin emerged on his right with just a superficial slice to his side, but no more.

MacCuaig glared at the nimble Highlander. Not only did Colin not appear to be in pain, but he looked calm, almost bored. Enraged, MacCuaig quickly slashed the air as a distraction before running with his broadsword determined to puncture it through the Highlander’s heart.

Again, Colin easily deflected the attack.

Immediately, MacCuaig spun and executed a number of skilled thrusts, expecting one of them to find his target. Instead, the sound of metal echoed in the air as Colin thrust, pivoted, blocked, and thrust again.

Suddenly the rain began to fall.

MacCuaig fought a shiver and rallied. Colin might think he was an equal in swords, but very few were skillful enough to fight with equal facility with either hand. MacCuaig prepared his grip to make the switch. The unexpected stunt should leave Colin vulnerable for a few seconds—but that would be all MacCuaig needed.

Colin watched as MacCuaig performed the telltale signs of an imminent hand switch and quickly executed the maneuver himself. The unanticipated ability stunned MacCuaig. Colin seized the opportunity and sliced MacCuaig across his chest. The wound was not deep, but very painful.

Blinded by rage and stinging rain, MacCuaig lunged forward right into Colin’s sword. It pierced him straight through.

Colin pushed the man who dared to take his wife off his blade. He watched unremorsefully as MacCuaig fell into muddy pools of water.

Makenna rushed to Colin and buried her head into his chest. Colin stabbed his sword into the ground and pulled her close to him.

Makenna watched as the men led a screaming Lela out of the gate. Suddenly she was cold and Colin was the only one able to make her warm again. “Do you think Lela was right? Was Ula working with her? Does my own sister hate me that much?”

“No, I don’t think it’s true. I have been watching MacCuaig for some time. Never did we see anyone indicating Ula or Rona continued their support of MacCuaig after they left. Most likely, Ula had only been a sympathetic ear. It’s over, love. It’s finally over.”

Makenna kissed the wet skin of his chest, refusing to leave his arms. “No, annsachd, it is finally the beginning.”

Chapter Nineteen

Makenna studied the crowded hall brimming with joy, laughter, and merriment. She knew similar scenes were taking place in the yards, the town, as well as the training fields now overflowing with soldiers. The last two feasts at Lochlen had been somber events that ended with men, women, and neighbors choosing sides. Tonight those neighbors and clansmen felt nothing but a bottomless peace and satisfaction.

The day after the attack, Makenna awoke in Colin’s arms and took a deep breath of the fragrant air. The storm that had blown in had left as quickly, bringing in the last warm taste of fall. In a few weeks, the cold would return, and this time it would not leave until the spring.

Later that morning, Laurel and Ceridwin returned to Lochlen with nonstop questions. Finally, when they were satisfied, Laurel suggested that before everyone returned to their homes for the soldiers to stage some competitive games for all to come and enjoy. Meanwhile they would prepare a feast to celebrate the victors.

Makenna leaped on the idea knowing it would be at least a year before she and Colin would see Laurel again. Her only fear was there would not be enough help to prepare for such an event. Already she knew her staff would be stretched thin just cleaning rooms and seeing to the needs of the visiting lairds. Two hours after Colin and the other lairds agreed to host the tournament her concerns were no more.

Arriving in the village courtyard by the clan’s request, Makenna and Colin surveyed the huge crowd. It was hard to believe that only yesterday Colin had made them aware how loyalty ran both ways. Their laird had returned, and it was now their turn to support him. They had identified knowledgeable people to rebuild the wall, and a mason to ensure that it was done correctly. No castle staff position remained emptied, and there were volunteers to help while the visitors stayed at Lochlen.

The result was an incredible success. For the past three days, games had been conducted followed by dancing and feasting. However, tonight’s festivities outdid them all. Everyone knew that tomorrow brought good-byes, and everyone intended to make the night last as long as possible.

Alliances had been strengthened among the Moncreiffes, Crawfords, Boyds, and Donovans. One of Donovan’s men had been proclaimed the grand champion, while several others representing each of the clans sported the title of champion for individual events. Dunlop had agreed to be Laird Donovan’s commander and continue to train his army. Drake was going to oversee the MacCuaigs and ensure that there was no further uprisings until Robert the Bruce decided how matters should be settled, but the best announcement of all came from Colin, who declared he was soon going to be a father.

The pride and joy on his face as he spoke left no doubt how he felt about the idea of having a son or daughter. And if anyone wondered how much he loved his wife, he or she only had to look at him or see one of the many embraces he publicly pulled Makenna into to understand the depth of his feelings.

Makenna began to clap to the rhythm of the dance and felt Colin’s arms sneak around her waist. Her heart sang with delight. She knew he was about to swing her back into another reel. Then suddenly his arms were gone and Laurel was yanking her toward one of the few vacated spots across the room. Makenna looked back and saw Conor leading Colin away.

Feeling Laurel tug again on the sleeve of her gown, Makenna turned toward her friend, who immediately began speaking. “Makenna, Conor tells me that we are to leave on the morrow.”

The news had been expected, but still hard to hear. In the past few weeks, Laurel had given her so much—friendship, confidence, and a new female confidante, Ceridwin, with whom to share husbandly frustrations and dreams of the future. “Oh, I will miss you so, but I know that you will be glad to see Braedon and Brenna once again.”

“Yes, while I admit that at the beginning I enjoyed the break knowing they were safe and well cared for, I yearn to see my babies.”

“I wish you a safe journey. Hopefully I will be able to persuade Colin to travel north and visit soon.”

Laurel waved her hand at the idea. “Well, not this spring—you will be too great with child. But do not worry. We will visit again, and I hope often. Until then, I wanted to give you a couple of wise words imparted to me when Conor and I were married.”

Makenna almost reminded Laurel that she had been married for several months now, but did not have the heart to squelch the eager sparkle in Laurel’s blue-green eyes. “And what were these juicy morsels of wisdom?” Makenna asked.

“You can never change a Highlander. I know it sounds obvious, but you will find yourself trying to do it nonetheless.”

Makenna grinned and whispered back, “Just as long as Colin realizes he shouldn’t try changing this Lowlander’s odd ways either.”

A slow infectious grin grew on Laurel’s face before she erupted in laughter. Following Makenna’s warm green gaze, she spied her husband looking lustfully her way. “That brings me to my last bit of wisdom. Remain your wild, unpredictable self. He will try to place all these rules on you…let him for his peace of mind. But when he…”

Conor picked up two quaiches filled with ale, handing one to Colin. “Enjoy the merriment, Colin, for you have married yourself a wild mare that will not leave you any relaxation.”

Colin smiled and accepted the drink, keeping his gaze locked on clover-green eyes sparkling at him from across the room. “I would not have it any other way.”

“Listen to my words, or you will suffer my fate.”

Colin furrowed his brow and gave his older brother a brief sidelong glance infused with curiosity. Laurel was the love of Conor’s life, a fate not suffered, but relished. “And what dire future do you see for me? For I can see only beauty and happiness in my path.”

Laurel’s laughter filled the hall, and Conor was temporarily transfixed by his wife as she tipped her head back, causing blond waves to tumble over her shoulders and shimmer in the firelight. He wondered whether he would ever become used to her beauty. Her laughter, even today, still entranced him.

Conor took a large swallow and then used his quaich to point across the room. “The fate of a beautiful, strong-willed wife. Such a fate will give you no peace. You would be wise to lay down the rules now or you have no chance.”

Colin almost choked on his ale when Conor spoke his last words. Had the man been blind? Did he not realize that Makenna thought rules were things to be broken, not followed?

Conor saw Colin’s look of defeat and laughed. “Then again, it seems you are already lost to your fate. It can only be endured if you love the woman.”

Colin grinned. “Then my fate is sealed, and it will be a happy one.”

“Aye, but now I must warn you about wives when they become strong-willed mothers….”

Colin barely heard his brother when Makenna captivated him with a private smile meant just for him. He knew he would hear an earful from Conor later as he left his brother’s side knowing that Conor was still in the process of warning him about his future. Colin also knew that it would be worth it.

“And now about babies…” Makenna heard halfheartedly as she listened to her sister-in-law’s well-intentioned advice. Most of her attention was on the huge Highlander coming toward her. His sapphire eyes were full of mischief and love and unabashed pride that Makenna was his. She would never get enough of this man, and he was all hers.

“Excuse me, Laurel, but I must steal my wife from your side for just a moment.”

Laurel stood with her mouth open. “Again?” she asked in exasperation.

“Aye,” Colin replied as he swept Makenna behind a nearby wooden partition hiding them from the others. “Again and again,” he added as his mouth came down possessively on hers.

Makenna giggled and asked between his teasing nibbles, “What did you want?”

Colin shrugged, still holding her close to him. “That’s not a tough question. I want to be inside you. I want to feel you wrapped around me, shivering with your pleasure. I want to know exactly how much you need me.”

Makenna playfully slapped his shoulder. “No, seriously!”

He raised his head and looked down, his expression both tender and sincere. “I am serious, but I also wondered whether my lovely sister-in-law was imparting some last words of marital wisdom.”

“Aye, how did you know?” Makenna asked, wrinkling her brow in puzzlement.

Amusement flickered in his eyes. “I, myself, was a recipient of my brother’s wealth of spousal knowledge. But what he failed to realize…” Colin said, pausing to nibble on her neck.

“What?” Makenna returned, arching her head back to give him better access.

Colin pulled himself back just far enough away and smiled down at the emerald gems sparkling with love. “That this Highlander knows where he belongs.”

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Copyright © 2008 by C. Michele Peach

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