To Wed A Highlander (14 page)

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?”