To Wed A Highlander Read online

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I would assume almost twenty,” Makenna surmised.

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

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

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

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

  “Um, several,” Doreen answered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Aye, milady. There is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Doreen gasped. “No, milady!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Call me Amos.”

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

  “Are you here to play a trick on me?”

  “No…”

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

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

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

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

  Gannon shifted and Doreen wrung her hands. Neither spoke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Chapter Eight

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

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

  “I’m always quiet.”

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

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

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

  “And who is this lucky woman?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I did not,” Colin replied.

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