To Wed A Highlander (17 page)

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.”

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?”