To Wed A Highlander Read online

  “When?” Colin asked, only paying half attention to the discussion. Laird Crawford had joined him a few minutes ago, and based on the direction of their conversation, the Lowland laird intended to ally himself with Colin.

  “Perhaps a week or two, maybe longer,” a friendly, but solid voice replied. “My boys have talent but they need a firm hand, one away from the accolades of their mother. God bless her soul, she is the one person I cannot say no to. Any other man and I’d have been able to stop the nonsense hindering those two. I’ve seen your men, and how you train them. If you aren’t too busy being a new groom, it would be a great relief and honor if you would agree to train my sons and a few of their friends.”

  Colin nodded in agreement. His real focus was across the room. Makenna. Just a few hours ago, they had said their vows, and instead of being distraught and angry, she appeared content and untroubled, even happily married.

  He mulled over the idea. Was Makenna happily married? Did she consider him to be a good man?

  Yesterday when he had unilaterally made the decision they should marry, he had not cared about her feelings for him. It mattered not if she considered him decent, trustworthy, or even honorable. He knew he was and that was all that mattered—then. Now, seeing Makenna relaxed, and happy, talking with Crawford’s wife, he wanted her to be just as comfortable when she was with him.

  Jaimie Crawford watched the large Highlander stare questioningly at his new wife. When he had met Colin two days ago, he witnessed the loyalty Colin generated from his men and the reasons why. Calm, steady, and self-assured, this commander would not only teach his sons how to wield a claymore with accuracy, but he would give them the wisdom needed to lead the Crawford army when Jaimie passed. Colin was a rare leader of men, possessing talent to guide and teach as well as command. But, watching him tonight, Jaimie wondered if Colin knew what it meant to be a good husband.

  Laird Crawford was not tall, but wide and strong from hours in the training fields and the occasional good-natured fight. And since Colin was even bigger, it never occurred to him not to ram his elbow into the Highland giant to get his attention.

  Shocked by the unexpected attack, Colin moved swiftly only to be stopped by the biggest grin he had ever seen.

  “Now, hold on there, Highlander,” Crawford cautioned with a chuckle. “You cannot be telling me I hurt you, for that would be an untruth. And how else is a man to get your attention when you’re forever looking at your bride over there? I’ve been wondering why you aren’t with her, and I’ve come to the conclusion that you are just like me on my wedding night. Now, I knew Trista was for me the first time I saw her. She had all that brown hair and the merriest hazel eyes a man could ever want. So I asked her to marry me. I needed someone to take care of my keep, provide heirs, and keep my bed warm at night. But, in truth, I also wanted a friend. Probably won’t shock you, but I love a good laugh, and my lively woman can keep a man laughing. It’s nice to know that in my old age, there’ll be someone at my side I’ll enjoy being with. Now, I tell you this, because you look just as I did before my wedding night.”

  Colin waited patiently for Crawford to end his intentional pause and finally gave in. “And that was?”

  Crawford smiled and slapped Colin on the back. “Now, in trade for your willingness to train my sons, I’m going to give you something more valuable than gold. Your bride, she reminds me of my Trista, bubbling with delight, enchanting all that see her. But she wasn’t always thus.”

  “No?” Colin inquired, only slightly curious as to where the burly laird was going, for it was obvious he had a destination with this story.

  “No, I’m ashamed to say. It wasn’t until a few months into our marriage that it occurred to me I had only been focusing on what I wanted, needed, and liked in a wife. I never once had considered her desires in a husband.”

  Crawford downed a big swig of ale, and Colin sank into a nearby chair, stretching his feet in front of him. Colin assumed the man was done. “I thank you, but I am not sure how that piece of information is so golden or how it applies to me.”

  “Because…” Jaime waited until Colin cranked his head to look the Highlander straight in the eye. He was about to call Colin a fool and decided otherwise. A friendly punch to the ribs he could get away with, but assaulting the Highlander’s pride? He would be leaving on his arse regardless of his title.

  Crawford took another swig of ale. “It turns out that my Trista wanted the same thing I did. A friend to laugh and grow old with, to raise a family, and live a good life.” Jaimie took a deep breath and exhaled for effect. “I’m just wondering why you married Makenna. We all know Alexander’s reasons for wanting the union, but beyond that, what hopes do you have? What do you want? I’m guessing that whatever it is, Makenna desires the same. Give her that, and you’ll be a happy man every night—even on the nights you fight. And though it may not seem like much now, if you heed my words, you will come to see their extraordinary worth. Now, I think it’s time that I dance with my wife,” Jaimie finished, rubbing his hands together in anticipation as he jigged over to a laughing and eager Trista.

  Colin watched as the hefty laird swung his wife around and thought on his counsel. No one had ever really talked to him that way before. Especially someone who knew very little about him. People usually came to Colin for advice, and never did anyone have the nerve to give him unsolicited suggestions about anything. Most assumed that because Colin was previously married, he knew all about the subject. How did Crawford discern the truth? And did the older laird know what he was talking about?

  For years, Colin wondered why his parents’ marriage had worked so well. Was this the secret? If so, then what did he want in a marriage? With Deirdre, he had wanted someone to love who loved him. But he soon learned that it was not quite enough. They had love, but never once did they approach the closeness his mother and father had shared.

  What, then, was the part of marriage that made the soul happy? What did he truly want?

  And the answer struck him so deep down that Colin almost fell out of his chair. He wanted someone to trust and believe in him completely and without reservation. But, more than that, he wanted to be first in someone’s heart, body, and soul.

  Could Makenna truly want the same? Did Makenna need someone who trusted and believed in her? Someone who placed her first above all others?

  Colin knew a trust was growing between him and his new bride, and though he had never said so, he did believe in her. If Makenna decided to make something happen—or not happen—she persisted until she found a way.

  But how could he make her first when he had already given Deirdre his heart?

  Pretending to concentrate on the dancing and the music, Makenna peripherally watched as Colin approached her. She had been intensely aware of him all evening. If it had not been for Lady Crawford to anchor her thoughts and divert her attentions, she would be shaking so bad all would know of her fear and anxiety of what was to come.

  Colin stopped in front of her and stuck out his hand. “Shall we join Laird Crawford and his wife and show them how the estampie is truly to be performed?”

  Makenna sat shocked for a moment and then gave him a large smile that would have warmed anyone who was the recipient of it. Colin was glad to have been both its cause and its receiver. “Do you know how to do the estampie?” she asked, taking his hand. “I don’t think I have ever seen you dance.”

  It was true. He had never danced with Deirdre. She had been too weary to perform the lively dances he preferred. “There is a lot about me you don’t know, Makenna,” he said, swinging her onto the floor. They quickly joined the crowd stomping their feet to the wailing music created by an assortment of skilled musicians.

  Soon Makenna lost herself in the rhythm of the dance. The music shifted and the room seemed to get louder as more and more men joined in and swords appeared on the floor. Makenna jumped into the crowd beside a grinning Trista and clapped loudly as she watched Colin’s skill unfold. Very few practiced the form of dance Colin, Crawford, and a handful of other men were exhibiting. The dance was both celebratory and highly athletic as they jumped over swords and spiked shields with great accuracy and speed. Each time the tune repeated, the musicians would increase the tempo.

  One time while sparring with Gorten, she had asked him how he had learned to be so quick on his feet. He had told her that it was hours of performing the sword dance. Colin made them all learn and practice the complex maneuvers. She had supposed Gorten to be teasing her, but now she realized he had been in earnest. The quick, intricate weaving in and out of the war dance would not only help develop a soldier’s stamina, but it could build and test one’s strength, accuracy, and agility.

  The music continued to build and by now any man capable of performing the Gillie Chalium was on the floor. The room reverberated with stomping feet and shouts of triumph. Trista cried out to her husband, encouraging him in his desperate attempt to keep up with those around him. He was bested, and he knew it, but like many who had joined in, he did not care.

  Makenna’s smile grew even wider. An odd sense of pride surged through her, knowing that the man with the most superior skill was grinning back at her. The musicians finally ended the tune and began another. It was slower but still had a lively beat and Colin deftly glided over to entice Makenna back onto the floor. Others followed Colin’s lead, and the crowded great hall became even more so as the room shook with laughter and the stamping of feet.

  Alexander’s green eyes were filled with peace as he watched the couple from the now almost empty table. All would be well. Makenna and Colin were both stubborn and prideful, but their passion and honor would see them through. And if they continued to lower their defenses, they might even find the rarest thing this wor
ld had to offer—love. The special love one discovers only with one’s soul mate.

  Colin had loved Deirdre and she him, but their love and marriage had been based on need and protection. Makenna would meet Colin as an equal. She would be able to share his burden, protect him in ways he never knew he needed, and he would do the same for her in return.

  Alexander wished he could live long enough to witness this transformation, but it was not meant to be. The squeezing pains in his chest had been growing all afternoon. It was painful to breathe, and now the burning sensation in his upper abdomen was spreading to his arm, neck, and jaw.

  His eyes roamed to his other daughters. Edna could not be here, but he knew that she had found happiness at the abbey. Ula and Rona would have to adjust somehow, for Colin would not be as susceptible to their ploys as he always had been.

  Most everyone was on the floor. All except one. Alexander stole a glance to the man who had chosen to remain seated at the table.

  Leon MacCuaig.

  The young man had physically matured over the past few years. With light brown hair and deep-set black eyes in a rugged face, he was undeniably handsome. He was also pitiable.

  Alexander had tried to guide the young laird after his father had died, but Leon enjoyed commanding others versus listening. He had grown to be a callous leader, ruling by fear rather than trust. Sitting quietly for most of the afternoon, he had not fooled Alexander or Colin for a moment. MacCuaig had remained at Lochlen to discover which and how many Lowland lairds would ally themselves with the Dunstans once a Highlander was in charge. Colin wanted to observe MacCuaig’s reactions and agreed to let him stay.

  Alexander gripped the arm of the chair and stood. He fought the dizziness and ordered his body to comply with one last command. He would walk to his chambers without assistance. Scottish pride demanded no less.

  Chapter Three

  Leon drummed his fingers idly against the wood table, oblivious of Alexander Dunstan’s look of pity or his disappearance. His attention was solely on the Highlander flaunting his obvious attraction for the woman that should have been his wife. Blatant hatred filled him as he stared at the merry couple, and he cared little who saw it.

  Today, Makenna Dunstan had unmasked her beauty to all. And though many had been surprised by her physical transformation, Leon had not been one of them. He had known for years what a unique and striking woman she was. That alone should have entitled him to her hand and not the arrogant Highlander.

  Leon clenched his jaw as another Dunstan soldier called out. With each story praising Colin’s leadership and skills, Leon loathed the Highlander a little more. For two years, he had been hearing about McTiernay and the fictitious tales that surrounded him. No one could be that good at discovering raw talent.

  Twice, Leon tried to plant one of his own men within Colin’s ranks to uncover the truth behind the Highlander’s methods. Both times, the soldiers had disappeared, forcing Leon to rethink how he was going to outwit Colin McTiernay.

  His next idea had been simple. Leon had never encountered anyone who could best him one-on-one with a sword. He would goad McTiernay until his pride demanded revenge, and then strip the Highlander of not only his arrogance, but also his life.

  But before he could put his plan into effect, the news came.

  The Highland creature was to marry Makenna Dunstan, the woman everyone knew Leon had claimed to be his. Leon had worked for too long toward a union between him and the red-haired beauty. So much had been overcome to be stripped away so easily by the hands of an outsider.

  MacCuaig watched as the couple moved more slowly. The sexual tension between the two was palpable even halfway across the room. Leon clasped the quaich in front of him and tried to keep from shaking with rage.

  That was supposed to be him.

  He was the young, good-looking, powerful, Lowland laird. All women wanted him, desired him. They begged for chances to be near him. “Soon Makenna will as well,” Leon promised himself.

  McTiernay might think he had won, but he would soon learn differently. The clueless Highlander was ill prepared for his future. Leon MacCuaig settled back in the deep chair and forced himself to appear relaxed. Colin’s army might be loyal, but they were few in number. Not nearly enough to stop Leon from taking everything McTiernay possessed.

  “I shall pluck them from your fingertips, one by one. First the clan, then the castle, and finally…Makenna,” he swore quietly to himself before downing the rest of his mead.

  Colin whipped Makenna around in his arms, once again mesmerized by her beauty. Two years he had lived at Lochlen and never once had he heard Makenna laugh as she was doing tonight. Only once had Deirdre acquiesced to a big festival in the castle the winter before she died. They had celebrated Twelfth Night, the last day of the Epiphany. It had been a joyous evening for the clansmen, but Makenna and Colin had elected to watch rather than participate.

  Deirdre was recovering from a bad cold she had been fighting for several months and didn’t want any type of activity. She had only agreed to the festival because of Makenna, who knew how much the clan needed the release a celebratory gathering would bring. Makenna, in turn, had stayed by Deirdre’s side tending to her needs so the lady’s maids could participate in the festivities.

  Looking at Makenna now, twirling with an easiness that made her eyes sparkle and dance in delight, Colin realized that he had not been Deirdre’s only willing captive—Makenna had been ensnared as well. She had placed her life on hold and had put Deirdre’s happiness ahead of her own. Not until tonight did Colin grasp how unfair it had been to the lively beauty.

  Colin felt Makenna sashay by him to the beat of the pipes and then back again. He inhaled deeply. Instantly he was reminded of the previous night and the last time he had enjoyed the fresh clean scent of her skin and hair. Makenna moved toward him and out again, making innocent contact. The brief touches were driving him mad. Each time her small, firm breasts grazed his lower chest, Colin fought his need to gather her in his arms and march out of the hall uncaring of what the guests and his men would say.

  Makenna drank in the feeling of being with Colin. She loved to dance, and Colin was an artist on the floor. Like everything else he did, Colin moved effortlessly to the rhythm regardless of its speed. He would bring her in and spin her with an intoxicating level of control.

  When the men had thrown down their swords, Colin’s face had alit with a delight she had not known him capable to possess. At first, she had watched the intricate quick movements of his feet with awe and admiration. Then he had laughed aloud, revealing two dimples as his face split into an infectious grin.

  Makenna had seen him smile many times in the past, but until tonight, she could not recall it reaching his eyes.

  Colin swung her about, pulling her closer each time. Her pulse raced and she knew Colin’s did as well. No one would discern it by looking at him. Outwardly, he appeared happy and relaxed, but Makenna felt the growing tautness of his frame.

  And she knew why.

  Last night had not been a random incident of bizarre need erupting out of charged emotions. The desire to touch him and be touched by him was drowning out all other thoughts. She looked up into his bold blue eyes. They held a clear and unmistakable message. I want you. I will have you. I will know you as no one ever has. It was both intoxicating and terrifying at the same time. Makenna broke away from the dance.

  Colin watched Makenna practically run to the table under the pretense of needing a drink. Only for a moment did he consider joining her. The instant deep attraction between them was inexplicably strong. Colin had struggled most of the night searching in vain for any reason that would rationalize his deep ache to carry her to his bed and make her his.

  Colin’s eyes roamed the hall and saw the empty chair Alexander had been sitting in. He also noticed the looks of heavy admiration several of his men were giving his new wife.

  His nails bit into flesh as his fingers clenched into a fist. Something primitive and all-consuming roared through his veins. He was jealous. Never did he dream he could be jealous of anyone, especially over the wildest of the Dunstan daughters. But, seeing the open looks of desire for Makenna, thoughts about the circumstances causing their marriage vanished. She was his—or would be soon. And with every passing hour, it was getting harder to quash the rush of sexual anticipation stirring within him.