To Wed A Highlander (31 page)

Colin could feel the crowd growing and following him. He felt no pity. Mercy now would hurt them more than compassion.

The moment Colin reached the first and widest sabotaged section of the wall he swung the large club and let it crash into the weakened stones. They crumbled instantly upon the collision.

Moving forward, Colin swung again and then again. Each time the wall caved under the assault. Arriving at the second intentionally weakened section, he swung the club one last time and the stones shattered all around him.

He threw the club at the crowd, causing several to jump back or be hit. He exited through the broken wall. Conor and Dunlop joined him.

Colin stopped and sat still for several moments staring at the fidgeting assemblage, the expression in his eyes unreadable. The gathering continued to swell. Many moved outside the broken pieces of evidence that proved their disloyalty. They waited in silence, unnerved by their laird’s cold and distant behavior.

Finally, Colin spoke. “The Dunstans are a proud clan, one weakened by wars. You needed an army to protect you, and I started building one. I had hoped to see the Dunstans grow again into a powerful family of Scotland.”

Colin looked out, capturing the twitching eyes of several village clan leaders one by one. His face remained a stony mask, his normally bright blue eyes dangerously dark. “My wife wanted the same for you. Her love for her people was so great that she married this Highlander and learned how to be the Lady of Lochlen, a position she never aspired to have. Makenna wanted to make you proud. She hoped you would accept her and allow her to help you make your lives better.” His rapier glance passed over the masses, chilling them with its coldness. “But you chose to reject the kindness offered by her generous heart.”

Colin pointed to the portion of the wall no longer standing. “You do not want the safety being offered to you by a Highlander. You would rather help would-be attackers and have enemies raid your home than live under a McTiernay’s rule.”

Reaching down, he pulled out his sword. Colin held the crowd still, his eyes now burning with raw hurt and pained acknowledgment of what he must do. “I accept your decree. Return to your castle. Give your wall as a gift to a new laird that will make you happy. For while I will lose this castle and the lands to which I have lost blood and lives, I will leave with my pride, my self-respect, and my family,” he said smoothly. “But I will also be
taking my sword.”

The crowd watched in half shock, half horror as Colin raised his claymore up in the air. Over a thousand soldiers appeared on the ridge.

Turning to face his men, he punched his sword higher into the air. “With whom do you stand?” he roared, his voice full of command.

Every one of them including Dunlop, who had been watching in silence alongside Conor, raised his sword and yelled, “McTiernay!” The echoes of their definitive loyalty could be heard for miles.

Colin pulled the right rein and rotated back toward the sea of visibly shaken faces. His blue eyes were flat, hard, and remote even as understanding flooded into their expressions. McTiernay was not as weak as they had been led to believe. He had amassed an army loyal to him that could defeat any enemy. They were not stronger or better off under MacCuaig. They had made a terrible mistake and were about to pay the price.

Colin was just about to direct his black toward his men and ride away, when a voice rang out in the crowd. “It was not all of us! Not even most of us betrayed you! Do not leave us defenseless for what only a few did!” the voice cried. It was Gannon’s.

Colin stopped abruptly. His stern-faced expression leveled onto the steward’s. The muscle in the side of Colin’s jaw flexed, indicating how deep his anger ran. “Did you not?” Colin challenged, his voice filled with condemnation. “Can one of you tell me that you were innocent of knowing about the treachery taking place around you? Can you give me your word that you knew nothing, Gannon? Can you swear an oath that you had no knowledge of who acted against my wife?
Your own lady?”

Colin slowly surveyed the rest of them and demanded, “Can any of you claim you knew not of the town wall’s weakened state or who caused it? Betrayal comes in many forms, but those cowards who know of treachery and do nothing hold even less value to me than those who actively support my enemy’s cause.”

His voice was laced with dark accusations, ones none of them could refute. Any hope that he would change his mind vanished when Colin spurred his horse and rode away with Conor and Dunlop. Upon joining his men, he led them north, away from Lochlen toward the Highlands. He never once looked back.

Three hours after leaving Lochlen, Colin amassed his men on the western side of the Lammermuir Hills. The clouds had thickened, causing the sky to hint of dusk versus early afternoon. Rain was imminent.

Colin roamed clasping arms and greeting men he had not seen for months. Expressions of eagerness and respect stared back at him. Dunlop squeezed his shoulder to get his attention and pointed to a group of men apart from the crowd. “Drake’s leaders are assembled and waiting for us. Conor has already joined them.”

Colin nodded and approached the small gathering. He supported Drake’s decision to divide the men into ten mixed-skilled groups, each with its own leader that reported to him. Now they reported to Colin. “It is good to see you again. I shared your frustration these past several weeks at being forced to remain hidden until today. But your patience has paid off. Drake has told me why he selected you, and I stand behind his decision. You ten will now form my elite guard with Dunlop and Drake as your commanders.” Colin scanned the group, finding his brother there for support, but not interfering. “Conor, is Seamus here?”

“I just sent him to the hills to prepare my men. I plan to follow once we are done here.”

“Then I will ride with you. I want to make sure Makenna is well before we return.”

“Are we going back?” asked one of the guards.

“Aye, we are going back. MacCuaig is most likely invading as we speak, looking for us and finding us gone. He will be sloppy, seeking ways to relieve his frustration. I expect a villager or two to arrive any moment and ask for our help. Each of you, rally your men and prepare for battle.”

Immediately the small cluster of leaders disassembled to carry out their orders. Excitement buzzed all around them. For too long they had been away from Lochlen waiting for a chance to rid their home of threats and deceit.

“Dunlop, ensure that the men are ready to move upon my return. Drake, if you want to see that lass of yours, you best ride with Conor and me to the hills.”

Colin was moving toward his black tied with several other horses when he saw three riders coming from the south. He mounted and rode partway to meet them, his face expressionless. Conor and Drake followed.

The three riders slowed, each in various states of nervousness and fright. One of them was Ian. The defiance had left his eyes; his posture no longer carried the rebellious attitude. It was he who spoke. “Laird?”

Colin eyed him with a calculating expression. “I am no longer your laird. Go back to your home.”

Overwhelming panic invaded the young man’s face. His brave countenance wavered. “We’ve come to ask you to return. We know now how wrong we were. What you said was true. Though we never saw ourselves as such, we were the cowards you claimed us to be.”

“Your needs and fears are no longer my concern,” Colin said flatly.

Hot, furious tears burned in Ian’s eyes. “They
are
your concern. You are our laird, and right now enemy soldiers are entering our lands and occupying Lochlen!” Panic filled his voice. The clan’s only chance was Colin’s return.

“Then you must be happy to have a Lowland laird so amenable to your customs, ways, and values,” Colin replied, his voice remote.

A skinny redheaded boy approximately fifteen years old spoke up. “You misunderstand.
MacCuaig
has invaded Lochlen with several hundred men. The clan leaders have told him that we will not accept him.
You
are our laird, and we will fight until you return to our side.”

“He threatened to kill us, Laird,” added the youngest of the three boys. “Our father told us to ride and find you. That you are honorable and would come back to defend us. That you would not let MacCuaig kill loyal Dunstans.”

“Is he right? Are you going to return?” Ian asked directly. A thin flicker of hope burned in his eyes.

Colin’s blue gaze studied Ian. He knew the boy was frightened and ashamed for his previous behavior. Still, he came. “Aye,” Colin said gently, followed by a very firm “Follow us.” He kicked his horse into a gallop toward Lammermuir Hills. The three boys didn’t have a chance to ask why they were heading away from the battle and toward the rocky mounds everyone knew better than to try and cross. A half hour later, their questions were answered without ever being asked.

Ian looked down at the mass of men below as they descended the sloping path toward the hidden army. Armed with bows, broadswords, battle-axes, and halberds, they clearly were soldiers preparing for battle.

“Those are Laird Moncreiffe’s men!” gasped Ian, taking in the huge numbers. In addition, there were plaids from Boyd and Crawford. “Are those
Donovan
colors I see? Aren’t they with MacCuaig?”

Colin smiled and clapped the young man on the back. “All part of the plan,” he said and then rode on ahead, leaving the young man gaping.

Conor came up beside the stunned lad. “He knew,” Ian stammered. “The laird knew all along what was going to happen. Probably even knew we’d come after him.”

Conor let go a loud snort. “Of course my brother knew! Colin is your laird, and lucky for you he is a Highland McTiernay. Nobody better at planning battles.”

“Did he
ever
plan on leaving?”

“Not that I am aware of. Colin needed to expose two enemies simultaneously, MacCuaig and those Dunstans truly disloyal to him.” Conor leaned over and whispered, “If you had joined Colin when he asked, you would have been in on the plan.”

Ian’s eyes popped open wide with realization. “Was there ever an Olave?”

“Aye, Olave lives and is happily married to Hazel. Not an aspect of the story was embellished. It all happened as Colin related.”

“But if it were true, then why didn’t the laird leave, like Olave?”

“Ah, you forgot the end of the story, young Dunstan. What did Olave say when Lisbet asked him to stay?”

“He said something about knowing where he belongs.”

“Aye, and accepting the price that comes with it. Your laird knows where he should be, here at Lochlen, leading and supporting the Dunstan clan. If Colin had any doubts, he never would have married Lady Makenna.”

“Was she the price he paid?”

“No, his foolish pride was the price. And know this, Ian, when a man finally abandons his youthful ideas of how things should be and embraces people as they are, he gains something more powerful in return, something a man can take true pride in.”

“What does he get?”

“For your laird? It was his wife. For you? I don’t know. Each man has to discover that on his own,” Conor answered. Laughing gently, he pushed the young man on the shoulder and edged his horse into a lope to join Colin. It had been a relaxing couple of weeks watching his baby brother run a clan and formulate plans, but he was itching for action. Any more leisure and he would slowly go mad.

“I’m going to find Laurel. I want her to start planning our trip home,” Conor hinted as soon as he reached Colin.

Deftly, Colin maneuvered his black through the thick crowd of men. “I’ll go with you. I have a need to tell my wife that her people are with us, and we will not be leaving Lochlen.” Colin threw a speculative, sidelong glance at Conor. “I am not surprised you are ready to leave. If positions were reversed, I might not have made it so long. Your sacrifice is appreciated. Sending Seamus along made a good show when enticing the other lairds to join us. It is one thing to say you have the support of the McTiernays, it is another to show it.”

Conor was about to reply when Seamus appeared with Drake beside him. Colin swung off his horse and clasped his commander around the shoulders. “Ceridwin here?” Colin asked, knowing how Drake felt about his future bride.

“Aye, she is with Laurel and Lairds Moncreiffe and Crawford.”

“And Makenna?” Colin asked, looking in the direction Drake had pointed.

“I have not seen her, but I did not think to ask.”

Conor clasped his brother’s shoulder. “Come, she rode with Laurel. My wife will know where she is. No doubt off sparring with one of your soldiers teaching them a couple of maneuvers right before they go to battle.”

The tease in Conor’s voice received him a sharp elbow to the ribs. “So my wife spars with men. I admit that I am not fond of the idea, but I am man enough to admit that she is damn good. If she had the strength, Makenna could lay any man out. Possibly even me.”

“Such praise! Come on, brother, and let’s find our wives. It’s going to be a long afternoon and if the clouds tell true, a wet one. I shall need a quick reminder of what awaits me when this skirmish is done.”

The crowd parted as Colin and Conor neared the small group of leaders. Seeing Conor, Laurel smiled and rushed to his side. Then she tried to look around Colin’s large frame for her friend. “Colin! Wherever are you hiding Makenna?”

Colin looked at Laurel quizzically. “Why would I be hiding Makenna? Is she not here with you?”

The blood drained out of Laurel’s face, leaving her ashen white. “No,” she murmured, grabbing Conor’s arm for support. “She’s with you.”

Fear gripped Colin’s heart. He had to have heard wrong, misunderstood. “What do you mean she’s with me?”

Laurel licked her lips, panic filling her green-blue eyes. “Makenna said she had to get something from the armory and join
you.
She promised that it would be all right because she would be with
you
if she did not return. Makenna told us if she did not meet us at the stables, then she had gotten your approval to ride with you and show her clan that you had her complete support. I swear, Colin, that we waited twice the time Makenna told us to before we left. But if you are here, where is she?”

Colin stood transfixed. Icy fear seized his heart. If Makenna had not found him and she had not returned as promised, only one explanation remained. She was in the hands of MacCuaig.

Conor moved his distraught wife to a nearby makeshift bench and made her sit down. Returning, he said evenly, “How do you wish to proceed? MacCuaig might have ordered her to leave.”

“No,” Colin choked. “What you don’t understand, what even I didn’t understand until recently was why MacCuaig was even interested in the Dunstans. He already had a clan, money, and an army. What he wanted was Makenna, and God, Conor, he now has her.”

“We will get her back,” Conor promised, trying to evoke a feeling of hope rather than the fear coursing through him.

“No, you lead the attack as planned in the village. I will go after my wife, and God help MacCuaig when I find him.”

Makenna watched as the elongated shadow moved down the small staircase and into the room where she was held bound. The dim light coming in from the door indicated it was mid to late afternoon. The mounting humidity in the already damp storage room promised rain.

Leon MacCuaig entered and stared at his captive with a sick look of satisfaction.

Makenna glared back wishing she had been just a little faster at Camus’s this morning. She had searched almost everywhere in the small shop before finding the claymore carefully wrapped and hidden behind several crates. It must have been during those precious moments that Colin had left.

Exiting the shop, Makenna heard the thunderous pounds Colin was generating against the town walls. She had been too late.

Immediately, she ran back to the solar to grab her bag when she heard footsteps ascending the staircase. The thudding echoes were followed by a low questioning hiss, “Makenna? Where are you? I know that you are here. I saw you enter. Now don’t make me chase after you, especially after all I have done just to have you be mine. Come out and show me how appreciative you are.”

Knowing there was no escape, Makenna hid the sword underneath the mattress and exited the solar. That had been five hours ago.

Leon stared at his bound captive. When Makenna had met him willingly on the staircase, he hoped she would be reasonable. He had been disappointed. Her greeting had been filled with acid, not the appreciation due to him.

He should have expected the reaction, he told himself. The woman had endured a Highlander for nearly five months. It was bound to addle her mind temporarily. And while he was not a patient man, Leon knew Makenna would see reason eventually. As soon as she realized the Highlander had left her as well as her clan, she would know Leon was the man for her.

Leon circled around Makenna, stopping when he got in front of her, caressing her cheek with his knuckles. He reached behind and removed her gag. “Have we calmed down a bit? I somewhat regretted having to restrain you like that, my dear, but then I couldn’t risk you calling for help. Now, as you might have surmised, you can yell all you want and no one will hear you. No one but my men. Your famed Highlander has left the Borders and you with them.” His rich-timbred voice was oozing with poisonous charm.

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.