To Wed A Highlander Page 16

  Colin tightened his grip on the reins. “I chose not to encumber my wife with burdens she could take no action to resolve.” Colin paused and then uncharacteristically added further explanation. “I was trying to be kind to her female sensibilities. No woman wishes to hear of gruesome attacks. I chose to spare her that.”

  Colin had not spoken Deirdre’s name aloud, but she was in the air. Drake knew Colin had wisely avoided subjects such as war, attacks, and battles concerning his late wife. She had despised such topics. Whenever Colin was away from Lochlen, she had told herself and others that he was out for a long ride or visiting friends. Deirdre was a lovely woman, but her intentional naiveté was one of her more aggravating traits.

  Drake cleared his throat and decided to take a risk. “I agree some women do not take well to hearing such reports as were delivered last night. And for those women, it is a kind service to hold close information they find distasteful or bothersome. But I am surprised to learn Lady Makenna is one of them. She does not buckle at the sight of blood or at the receipt of ill news. Instead of faltering, her courage rises. It is one of the predominant reasons we Dunstan soldiers love her and enjoy training with her in combat.”

  Colin’s face hardened as a ripple of possessiveness coursed through him. He had not known so many men adored his wife. “Makenna is indeed a strong woman, but she is still a woman and needs to be protected.”

  “From what? The truth? Do you truly believe word has not already spread throughout the village, and that she remains ignorant of the attack? Nay, I would wager our fair lady is completely aware of where we head and why. And while I would not be so presumptuous to speak for Lady Makenna, my lady love would be quite hurt and possibly even angry with me if she learned the truth from another’s lips and not my own. Come to think of it, if I knew I had caused Ceridwin such pain, I would probably choose to ride in quiet solace and reflection brooding about how I could make it up to her upon my return.”

  “Drake?”

  “Aye?”

  “You talk too much,” Colin admonished and prompted his horse forward to rejoin the other men.

  The attack had been merciless and cruel. This was not a mere thieving raid for cattle or horses. Evidence of deep hatred was everywhere. Fences were irreparable and had to be rebuilt from new. Two families had stables burned with the livestock still in them. One young boy had been seriously injured in an attempt to save his favorite mare. Other families, whose animals were allowed to graze at night, awoke to a nightmare of mutilation. Such acts were unheard of. The capture of livestock was the goal of raids, not slaughter.

  Whoever did this wanted Colin gone. They also knew he would seek retribution.

  “What do you think, Laird?” Drake asked in hushed tones laced with fury. His cheerful disposition had been replaced by one filled with vengeance.

  Colin ignored the question and aimed his horse toward the broken portion of the nearby fence. He could feel the animal’s reaction to what was around it. The big black knew murder of its kind had taken place. “Who lives here?”

  “Calvin and his wife, Loreen. They have one infant daughter. They used to live near the village, but Calvin wanted more land to farm. Alexander offered him this out here.”

  “Their house?”

  “Intact. Like the others. The focus appears to be killing the livestock that supported these people’s livelihood.”

  “Ensure that Calvin and his wife receive the same as the others and have the men remove the carcasses before the family see their land again.”

  “Aye, it will be done,” Drake said wearily. It was hard to see so much willful, cruel inflictions on innocent animals. Colin could do very little to restore these people’s lives. He could give a cow and a horse to help soften their losses, but what he could not do was restore their peace of mind. At least not yet.

  Colin halted his huge obsidian mount and swung off its back. Rocks were scattered everywhere. He walked down to a weakened but still intact portion of the fence and forcefully kicked it so that it toppled onto the ground. Then he stood back and gazed intently upon the result. He looked back at the pebbled ground.

  Whistling he called his black and remounted. “There’s more here than what we’ve seen, Drake. Search every morsel of this farm. Bring me what you find.”

  Several hours later, Colin sat on a makeshift bench composed of a dead log. The fire crackled and lit up the night sky. His men were gathered in silent reflection. Each soldier’s palpable anger fed the man next to him. Last night, there had been much discussion. Angry words about payback had been bandied about casually and often. But then, yesterday, they had only seen a fraction of the horror bestowed upon these quiet farmers.

  Colin knew it would take very little to unleash the rage warring in his men. Earlier, they had found very consistent and plentiful evidence of the attacking clan. The Donovans.

  For those who knew them, the evidence fit. Donovan land bordered the Dunstan’s eastern hills and stretched far both east and south. Mahon Donovan was a hard, unforgiving man, who had fought and lost men in the battles against Edward I. The Scottish laird was well known to be ruthless in combat, killing all enemies—even their animals—in battle. He disliked visitors and warned trespassers only once to make their travels via another route. He had publicly declined to support Colin and left Lochlen Castle shortly after MacCuaig.

  Finding torn bloody pieces of the Donovan plaid hidden between rocks and underneath carcasses was more than enough evidence for his men to convict their eastern neighbor.

  Colin was not persuaded. There was too much proof, and all of it was pointing to the wrong person. He would give his clansmen their vengeance, but first, he needed to meet with Mahon, just as the real murderer intended.

  “Sean, tomorrow you are to ride back to Lochlen and tell Lady Makenna that we may be several more days. Then join Dunlop on the training fields.”

  Colin rose to lay his plaid down somewhat apart from the others and then disappeared into the dark. He needed quiet surroundings to plan how he would approach his quick-tempered neighbor.

  Silence fell upon the group as each man watched Colin retreat into the woods. It would be some time before their laird returned.

  “Does this mean war?” The question came from Sean, the youngest and most inexperienced of the group.

  Drake sighed and straightened his shoulders as he stood to survey the small gathering. “Still to be seen, but we will be seeing Donovan. We’ll know more then.”

  Drake left them to assimilate the information and moved to lie down on his plaid and think. Colin had not acted like a laird who had found proof of his prey. In fact, he seemed quietly suspicious. More than once Colin had performed odd and even repulsive acts including ripping some of his own plaid, laying it on the ground, and throwing the head of a dead horse on it. Drake had no idea how Colin intended to approach Donovan, but he doubted it would turn out as the men expected.

  A light breeze came with the morning. Sean prepared and left for Lochlen. Colin went to visit Calvin and his wife. He did so alone and returned midmorning. Drake waited for Colin’s order dispatching a soldier to go and return with more men, but the word was not given.

  Drake asked the question on everyone’s mind, “Do we ride east?”

  “Aye. I want to meet with Mahon by nightfall tomorrow.” Colin’s answer meant they would be riding hard and possibly into the night.

  When they stopped, it had been dark for some time and they were well into Donovan territory. Colin had caught more than one sentry make note of their entrance and their direction. Making camp, Colin located almost a half dozen men lurking about the darkness. And those he could not see, he could hear. Mahon had relaxed his training since Edward I died and Robert the Bruce took the Scottish throne. Maybe too much.

  Laughter erupted from his men around the campfire. Trying to ease their nerves from what they had seen and the potential fight to come, they concentrated on happier times, moments, and people. Mostly they talked about their wives or loved ones.

  When he was younger, Colin often wondered why his older brother Conor kept himself apart, never joining in on the conversation on nights such as this. Now he understood. Men you lead cannot see you as a friend. Friends can be questioned, even overruled. As laird and leader, he could not risk blurring the lines even a little bit. Hesitation, doubt, uncertainty—these were dangerous things on a battlefield. And they were cultivated during times like these.

  Colin stood and moved his plaid farther away from the others. The bushes were swaying with semi-concealed onlookers. There would be no walk tonight. Lying down on the soft woolen blanket, Colin put his arm underneath his head and stared up at the stars.

  By tomorrow morning, Donovan would receive word of Colin’s impending arrival, but he wouldn’t know why. Colin gambled Mahon’s curiosity would be enough to receive him.

  If they left at dawn, it would take nearly the whole day to reach Lonchlilar, the heart of the Donovan clan. Nestled in the northeastern hills adjacent to the cliffs of the North Sea, Lonchlilar Castle was well protected with typical walls, barbicans, and portcullises, but it had a secret weapon against those who were unwelcome. Behind the shadows of the simple valley surrounding it were hidden pockets of cleared land where dozens if not hundreds of men could lie hidden and attack without warning. Colin had never personally visited the stronghold, but he had heard much about it.

  Colin switched arms, bracing his head, and tried to keep his thoughts on how tomorrow would enfold. But again they drifted to one person, just as they had every night since he left Lochlen. Makenna. He wondered how she was faring, if Brodie and Gorten were keeping her safe, if she was still angry, but most of all, he wondered if she missed him as much as he missed her.

 
He had not thought it possible to crave a woman the way he ached for her each night. They had been married for nearly three weeks, and for fourteen of those days, she had shared his bed. Each night before retiring, they would discuss both important and minor details of their day and talk about events of the morrow. During which one or both would get mad, argue, or just as often, go into fits of laughter over some odd comment or incident. He did not believe it possible to laugh so much with a woman, but his wife had a way of relating a story that made him feel as if he were right there witnessing or experiencing the humorous event himself. Regardless of how the nights started, they had always ended the same. In shared ecstasy.

  Colin rolled over on his side and fingered the empty spot beside him. “I miss you, Makenna McTiernay. God help me, I do,” he whispered.

  The next morning, the small group rode across the eastern countryside of the Scottish Border region. They could not see the North Sea, but they could feel its cool humid wind blow over the rocks and grass to greet them. Much less friendly were Donovan’s men. No longer lingering in the shadows, sentries followed the group as they made their way east.

  Drake watched Colin carefully ready to respond to his command but detected no concern from his laird. By now it was clear an audience with their neighbor would be allowed. It was yet to be seen if leaving would also be on the agenda. Colin obviously had a plan, but what it was, Drake had not a clue.

  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.”