To Wed A Highlander Page 21

  Dunlop leaned over and whispered, “Most lads are eager to listen and learn, but the dozen or so that have been sent to us from Crawford deem they are already great fighters. They want to be moved over to the more advanced groups and begin working with the claidheamh mor.”

  Makenna gasped. The little she had seen was evidence enough they were not ready. “But they would be slaughtered.”

  “Aye, but at least they’d stop complaining,” Dunlop returned, grinning.

  Makenna couldn’t help herself and smiled back, swallowing laughter. She watched as the group recommenced their training. They were too eager, consistently forecasting their intentions. Much practice would be needed before they would be ready for the claidheamh mor, the great sword, her weapon of choice.

  A few years ago, Camus had specially made her a two-handed broadsword close to the size of a normal claymore, yet much lighter. She doubted if there was another man in all of lower Scotland who could equal Camus’s knowledge on the properties of metals, how they reacted to heat and which combinations made them stronger. His skill and knowledge had created her Secret, a claymore she could wield much faster than her opponent expected.

  Colin felt himself getting frustrated. Dunlop had not exaggerated when he told him about the new Crawford recruits, especially Jaimie’s sons. They truly judged their skills to be the same or even superior to those of his men. Each time they lost, they claimed it was because they had competed against Laird McTiernay’s finest.

  An impulsive idea took hold. Hooking his sword in his belt, Colin crossed his arms and ordered the protesters to gather around him close enough for Makenna to hear.

  “Do you see that woman over there?” Colin asked, pointing at Makenna but not looking in her direction. “She is my wife, Lady McTiernay. What you may not know is that she enjoys sparring with the claidheamh mor.” He could see the disbelief in their eyes and continued. “Aye, she carries her sword upon her even now.” He paused as some of them craned their heads to look.

  “You believe you are good enough right now to spar with the more experienced men and that I treat you differently because you are sworn to Laird Crawford, not to me. I say you are not ready because you lack basic skills. But I am willing to give you the opportunity to prove me wrong. Select one of your men, and I suggest that you pick your quickest and most skilled. If Lady McTiernay is willing to spar, and you win, then I shall move your entire group forward. If not, never again shall a complaint spew from your mouths.”

  One older boy scoffed. Makenna eyed the young soldier. He was of average height with bright brown eyes, short scrubby hair, and an expression on his face he thought made him look intimidating and fearsome. He had the body of a man, but he was not one yet. Misplaced pride and lack of humility stood in his way. “It would be unfair. I would not be able to truly fight in fear of hurting her,” the boy complained.

  At this comment, Makenna jumped down and unsheathed her Secret. Colin looked unsurprised. He considered warning her that these were the sons of an ally, but decided against it.

  Makenna unpinned the bulky plaid from her shoulder. “Colin, I would not mind the least in offering a few of the lessons I learned during my singlestick tutelage. I request only that you not interfere for any reason unless I ask you to.”

  Upon Colin’s nod in agreement, Makenna turned back toward the smirking boy who had been joined by someone who looked to be his brother. “What are your names?”

  The more polite of the two similar-looking young men stepped forward. “I am Auburn, and he is my brother Korbin.”

  “I was watching you, Auburn, and you as well, Korbin, and in many ways I agree with you, I think you have the promise of being great swordsmen. I also admit to never being in battle or a true one-on-one fight for my life. However, I enjoy the art of swordplay immensely and some even consider me quite good. Do you, Korbin, think that I could ever, even at my very best, defeat a Scottish warrior? Even a marginal one?”

  Korbin looked at the healthy, but definitely much smaller woman and shook his head. “I do not.”

  “Thank you for being honest. I absolutely agree.”

  Makenna twirled her Secret and then moved to the middle of the clearing field. She pointed its tip to Korbin and then Auburn. “I shall fight you both simultaneously. And I warn you now that you both will receive scars to remember that no matter how good you are, there is always somebody better, and oftentimes it is the person you least expect. Now fetch your swords.”

  Colin was still mentally debating on whether he should stop her challenge. He had meant for her to fight one man, not two. But before he could make up his mind, they had both returned and the fight had begun.

  Korbin made the first move and lunged at her with the idea of scaring her. Makenna easily sidestepped his attack. At the same time, she shifted her weight and angle so her sword cut the air in a powerful, fast arc, easily disarming her opponent when it came down. Without stopping the graceful and unexpected move, Makenna twisted and this time with an upward thrust neutralized Auburn, sending his claymore flying several yards away.

  “Lesson one. Never underestimate your opponent,” Makenna stated calmly.

  Korbin looked at his brother. Auburn fetched his sword and returned, looking both embarrassed and mad. “I am afraid that I will hurt you, milady, if I truly try to fight.”

  A whipping sound sliced the air as Makenna moved with precision. She disarmed the young man, and at the same time carved a future scar into Auburn’s upper chest.

  Upon seeing Makenna’s blade draw his friend’s blood, Korbin raised his sword and came down where Makenna was standing with all his might. Yet when he arrived, she was not there. Somehow, she had been able to move behind him and with a speed Korbin had not thought possible when wielding such a large and heavy weapon. The shock of finding her gone was immediately replaced with a fiery pain of a sharp edge cutting his upper fighting arm.

  “Lesson two. An emotional enemy can be your greatest asset in combat. Your own emotions, however, are your greatest weakness.”

  Colin wondered what Jaimie Crawford would think about his methods of training upon hearing who gave his sons scars during training. No doubt Trista would be even less pleased that Makenna hurt her boys. Then again, he doubted anyone could teach Korbin and Auburn the lesson in humility they desperately needed better than Makenna. This moment, while embarrassing, would someday save their lives.

  Colin decided not to intervene.

  Korbin and Auburn were now angry enough to fight, woman or no woman, lady or no lady. The wounds she issued were minor. They probably stung like hell, and Colin had no doubt that Makenna had fully controlled the size and placement of each slit.

  Korbin began dancing around Makenna. Auburn followed his lead. Makenna looked bored. Both began twirling the swords and slicing the air in hopes of intimidating her with the sounds. Makenna let them continue their exhausting dance for several minutes, easily sidestepping their jabs and thrusts.

  “Engage!” Auburn yelled in frustration.

  Makenna arched a single eyebrow and then pivoted on one foot, bringing herself unexpectedly close to her opponent. Auburn shifted his weight back and at the same time, she brought her sword down at precisely the right time to ensure that Auburn lost his balance and fell.

  “You won’t find it so easy to do the same to me,” Korbin taunted, continuing to dance around her.

  Makenna didn’t even aim for Korbin’s sword. Instead, she thrust her blade between his constantly moving legs so that they twisted, causing him to fall. She kicked his sword away. Then with two hands, she brought her sword up and aimed it toward his heart in a mock display of what it would be like if someone caused you to fall.

  “Lesson three. Maintain balance or fall and die,” she said, completely devoid of emotion.

  Korbin gulped, sought his sword, and then prepared again for Makenna. He had thought sheer strength and size were all that was needed to fight and win. Lady McTiernay had neither, yet she found it not in the least bit difficult to disarm him even when he had faith he was completely prepared for her attack.

  Auburn looked even less sure about continuing the lesson and wanted to say so.

  Korbin moved over to his comrade. Perhaps if they fought together, not on opposite sides, they would have the advantage.

  Makenna recognized the ploy at once. She moved forward, slicing the air. As expected, the two jumped slightly apart and then moved to attack her. This time, instead of sidestepping or twirling her body out of the way, she easily stepped through the two men. In their efforts to land a blow, Korbin and Auburn reacted. By the time they realized how close they were to each other, or that they were facing one another, it was too late. Both received a nasty lash from the other on their arms.

  Makenna twirled to face the men who were now clutching their wounds. “Last Lesson. Train, train, and when you become very good, train some more. There are ideas, strategies, and techniques your opponent will use against you. Through training, you will discover ways to turn even the most unfavorable situation to your advantage.”

  Makenna walked back to her horse, wiped her blade on the end of her bliaut, and then resheathed the sword. Once done, she turned around, beaming. It was clear she found the match to be exciting and exhilarating.

  Colin was still shocked as was most of the crowd who had gathered to watch, including her guards Brodie and Gorten. Makenna was exceptionally skilled with the sword. If she had the strength and the size of a man, she would be one of the clan’s best soldiers. She could think quickly on her feet and was always aware of her surroundings. It appeared as if she could sense what her attackers were about to do and prepare a counterstrike. It was incredible.

  Watching her so quickly and easily defeat the two men
, Colin worried Makenna had wounded their pride to a degree it could not be recovered. Then suddenly, as if she were privy to his thoughts, Makenna addressed the small group.

  “I cannot thank you two men for sparring with me. It has been some time that someone has tested what took me so many years to learn. You both should be commended. And while Colin and Dunlop can best discern whether your skills should be honed with more stick training, I can attest of your strength and talent. If you train hard and listen, you will be able to avoid my attacks in less than half the time it took me to learn them.”

  Auburn and Korbin stared at her in open disbelief.

  Makenna perceived their soundless expression, but she noticed that along with their skepticism, a little of their dignity was repaired. “We are fortunate to have such talent protecting our clan. I must go now, and I doubt I will be able to return any time soon. But I hope to see you again, perhaps during the evening meal in the hall.”

  Makenna smiled, waved at the small group, and grabbed the reins to her horse quite pleased with herself. Every man in sight was flabbergasted into silence. She swung onto her horse, and asked Brodie to see her back to Lochlen, knowing that her husband would want to stay.

  Colin watched his wife leave with grace and dignity. Never had he felt such pride in a clanswoman, and she was his wife.

  Dunlop ordered Auburn and Korbin to go see the midwife to stitch their wounds. The minor cuts Makenna had given them would have healed on their own, but ones they inflicted upon each other were much worse. It would be at least two weeks, maybe longer before they were healed enough to practice again with their group.

  Turning around, Dunlop saw an ashen Colin. “Laird? Is something wrong?”

  Colin shook his head no, not daring to speak. It wasn’t until Dunlop said the word “midwife” that Colin realized what he had done.

  Makenna could be carrying their child unknowingly even now. Since his arrival, he had carried on about how she was wild and reckless with her life. Today, out of pride in wanting to show all her skill, he had needlessly put her and the potential life of his unborn son in danger. How could he have been so senseless?

  Never again, Colin vowed. Never again would he allow possible harm to fall upon her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Makenna leaned against the cool stones framing her chamber window and stared down at the busy people below. Part of her felt obligated to join them; but a larger part knew her health and mind needed this break. Almost two months had passed since that July morning she had sparred with Gorten, and in that time, she had not taken another full day off.

  Colin was working equally as hard. Every morning he was in the village handling immediate clansmen’s needs before riding to the training fields for the remainder of the day. Some nights he fell into bed exhausted, too tired to mutter a word, much less summon the energy to make love to her. Makenna would lie down and hug him to her side, content just to have him home and in their bed. His arm would curl around her possessively, reminding her there was more to their relationship than passion.

  Today would be her third try at a day off; she and Gannon had established a rotating schedule that gave them both a chance to rest. Guilt had persuaded her to forgo her first break and offer assistance where she knew she could be of help. The second time, an accident in the kitchen with the new baker required her medical attention. Benny was young, but everyone had taken to him immediately. A natural comic, the boy made Makenna laugh whenever she was near him. He was one of the new staff she hoped would stay for years to come.

  Makenna let the tapestry fall back into place partially covering the window. She knew exactly what she wanted to do to relax. She donned one of her warmer bliauts and set out to find Brodie to let him know she was ready to leave.

  Within the half hour, Makenna and her guard breached Lochlen’s outer walls and cantered toward the River Dye Water. Feeling the air whip through her hair was both invigorating and cathartic.

  Makenna knew that much of the strain and stress associated with her position as Lady McTiernay stemmed from Lochlen being so short-staffed and the frequent, intentional sabotages to progress. Despite these setbacks, she was becoming more adept at managing all the work and the people at Lochlen Castle. Though her confidence had grown, she could never see herself truly enjoying the burden of responsibility.

  Makenna urged her mount to move into a full gallop and thought about her biggest conundrum of late. Colin.

  Although he denied it, Makenna was positive Colin regretted his decision to let her spar with his men. Immediately following her match with the two boys, Colin had seemed happy, almost proud of her abilities. Yet later that night when he returned to Lochlen, his happiness and satisfaction had morphed into something difficult to name. Whatever it was, it continued to haunt his demeanor toward her.

  Colin was not angry. He was not disappointed, nor did he exhibit shame. The nights he came home early, he was an amazing lover and willingly conversed about his day. It was when she spoke of her duties and activities that his mood darkened. It mattered not the topic. The crops, the canning, the preparation for winter—each would alter his disposition and result in moody silence. She could not discern what was so alarming about helping Gannon run the keep or manage the harvest.

  Feeling the large sorrel-colored steed run at a steady pace, Makenna let go of the reins and spread her arms open, sensing the wind on her face. It felt like years, not months, had zoomed by since she had ridden in this carefree way. Makenna had forgotten how wonderful the sensation was.

  She had just closed her eyes when she felt someone yank her off her mount in one powerful swoop.

  Landing most uncomfortably, Makenna exclaimed, “Brodie, what the hell!” while twisting to address the man who almost killed them both with such a stupid move.

  Colin pulled back his reins and slowed his mount to a slow gait.

  “Colin!” Makenna shouted, recognizing her husband. She quickly looked around to see if Brodie was nearby and spied the guard riding opposite their direction to capture her horse. She tried adjusting to a more comfortable position, but Colin’s arm would not budge. “You could have just told me that you wished to talk. There was no need for such dramatics,” she scolded.

  Colin refused to speak. He was fully aware that his tightly leashed anger had been spawned from abject fear. But the vision of her riding full-out across the fields with her arms opened wide would haunt his dreams forever. In his vision, the horse stumbled or she became unbalanced. Whatever the cause, the result was always the same—Makenna fell to her death. The idea of her being ripped away from him was unbearable. He would never survive such a loss.

  Colin knew he was falling in love, and it frightened him.

  Loving Makenna made him vulnerable, in many more ways than he had ever been with Deirdre. Over the past few weeks, he had grown to enjoy their discussions about various clan happenings. She had a different perspective; one he had quickly learned to respect. It was reassuring knowing that even when he was not there, Makenna supported him in both speech and action. And the nights…he never understood what a comfort it could be just to hold someone close as they slept.

  Life was good. Love would only disrupt the solitude and peace he had found.

  Colin kept silent as he turned the black toward Lochlen.

  Makenna watched him in fulminating silence. Colin’s chest and back rippled with tension as he worked the reins of his horse. The one time he did look down at her, the expression in his sapphire eyes was almost unreadable. It seemed to fluctuate between fear and fury. The muscle in the side of his cheek was flexed, accentuating his clenched jaw.

  Makenna had no idea why Colin was so angry, but one thing was for certain, when he did finally speak, it would be loud and explosive.

  Impatient to discover what had him so mad, Makenna slanted him a questioning glance. “I cannot imagine what has set off this latest crazed action of yours, Colin, but I would like to understand.”

  He told himself it was not love that had caused his heart to thump wildly at seeing her so close to potential death. “You’re my wife. I take care of what belongs to me.”

  Makenna tried twice more to discover the root of his anger, but Colin refused to speak again. Instead, he rode directly into the inner ward, slid off his black, and then proceeded to carry her up and into her personal room within Forfar Tower. Once there, he let her go and without any explanation for his mood or action, he moved to leave.