To Wed A Highlander Read online

  Father Lanaghly saw Colin’s narrowing eyes and walked over to prevent the impending eruption. Unlike his excitable brother, Conor, Colin usually was in full control of his emotions. Tonight, however, if someone did not divert his attention and quickly, it would be Colin initiating the mayhem. “Ahem, I believe Laird Dunstan has retired for the evening. I saw him rise, nod approvingly at you, and your lovely new wife, and then leave.”

  Colin blinked at the interruption before comprehending what Father Lanaghly was talking about. “Did Alexander have assistance?” Colin inquired quietly.

  Although Alexander had hidden it well, the old laird had been in severe pain for most of the night. More than once Colin had wanted to suggest that he retire, but each time he resisted the temptation. Laird Dunstan had earned the right to keep his pride, especially among his allies.

  Father Lanaghly pointed to two empty chairs in front of the smaller hearth nestled near the less crowded end of the great hall. “As he left, no. However, Alexander was moving somewhat slow so I followed him to the inner yard in which I saw two men go to his aide when he thought no one was looking.”

  Colin visibly relaxed. “Alexander should have retired long before he did. Events such as these are hard on him these days. He should have rested more.”

  “Laird Dunstan is a wise man. His hours are numbered, and he wanted to spend them assuring himself of his daughter’s well-being, his clan’s future, and even your happiness.”

  Makenna observed through lowered lashes Father Lanaghly directing Colin to a chair. That was the closest she had ever seen Colin appear to be subservient to anyone. She placed her cup back on the table and casually sauntered over to the stone wall. Curiosity ate at her and she slowly edged her way toward the small hearth, stopping only when she came into earshot.

  “You should not have journeyed so far, Father, but I will admit it is good to see someone from home.” Colin sighed.

  “Aye, I’m sure it is. I was privileged to marry your brother….”

  “What a surprise that was,” Colin retorted as he stretched back in the chair, recalling his eldest brother’s earnest declaration to never marry. When news arrived that Conor had taken a wife, Colin had not believed the herald. He could not imagine his brother married, and most especially to someone half English. The summer following the news he had traveled to see them expecting anything but what he had found.

  Love. True love. The kind he had so desperately wanted with Deirdre, but never had.

  Father Lanaghly lightly elbowed the large man he had known since he was a small boy. “Indeed, but what a good match Conor has made. I’m just as honored to have married you this time. And if the good Lord agrees, I shall be the one to see all you McTiernays joined with fine women.”

  “Keep praying, Father. You may eventually have a chance with Craig and Clyde, but Cole, Crevan, and especially Conan are unlikely to pin themselves down.”

  “Nay, I do not think so. Cole reminds me of you. He needs a woman of fire and substance, and needs to stop looking at the meek ones.”

  “What—” Colin tried to interrupt and get clarification, but Father Lanaghly just continued.

  “Now, I know why you added Crevan to your list of permanent bachelors. At times, his speech can be slow, but he is a fine man and someday a smart woman will see what lies beyond his inability to speak quickly. And what a lucky woman she will be.”

  Father Lanaghly paused and linked his fingers together. Colin waited for him to explain how the contrary Conan was marriage material. Becoming impatient, Colin pressed, “And Conan?”

  Father Lanaghly wrinkled his nose and then let out a sigh. “Conan will get married.”

  “You don’t sound as convinced as you do with the others.”

  “In truth, I’m not. The man is far too intelligent, and he is most intolerant of anyone, especially women, who cannot match wits with him. The only one he dares not tangle with is Laurel. But that is not his biggest impediment to his finding a wife,” Father Lanaghly revealed.

  “And that is?” Colin prodded.

  The priest shrugged his shoulders and let go a long sigh. “Your brother has no interest in one. And unlike yourself and Conor, his declaration seems quite heartfelt.”

  “Conan always was the smartest of us.”

  “There is still time. He is fifteen years of age now. It took Conor until he was thirty to find Laurel. I’m sure someone will capture Conan’s attention. Just as Laurel did Conor’s, and Makenna did with you.”

  Makenna stretched herself to hear Colin’s response. She dared not lean any farther lest she lose her balance and fall.

  Colin chuckled. “Ah, Father. I will spare you the details, but this marriage is not one of love.”

  “But your wife is lovely, and she has such life. Rarely does one see such sparkling energy from a young woman who has endured such sorrows.”

  “Makenna is all that.”

  “But she does not have your heart.”

  Colin shook his head. “I gave my heart to my first wife. I fear God did not make a woman who could claim my soul. At least not how my mother claimed my father’s.”

  “That is not so, son. You just need time to learn that for yourself.”

  Colin was saved from responding. Dunlop and Drake were motioning for him to join a table of neighboring lairds that had convened near the main hearth. Now that Alexander had retired, alliance discussions were commencing. Colin knew that no declarations would be made tonight. These conversations were only to discern how Colin intended to lead the Dunstan clan after Alexander passed away.

  Watching Colin retreat to the other side of the room, Makenna moved to a nearby wooden screen, trying to mask the emotional warfare waging inside her. She did not love Colin, nor he her. But what about her sister?

  Makenna glanced behind the partition for any servants preparing food on the hidden table. There were none. She stepped behind the vertical planks, glad to be hidden from the crowd. Leaning against the small table, Makenna considered her sister’s marriage.

  Makenna could not remember seeing Colin and Deirdre engaged in one affectionate embrace. She had supposed it was because Colin was so reserved. Tonight he had proven otherwise. His normally stoic expression had been replaced with one much more relaxed, even happy when he was dancing. And then, to Father Lanaghly, he admitted that while he loved her sister, Deirdre had not claimed his soul.

  Makenna rubbed her temples. Why did she care if Colin and Deirdre had not been deeply in love? “Because, Makenna, this is your greatest fear,” she answered aloud. “Not only are you afraid that God did not make a man who could claim your heart, but that if he did, your chance of finding him is forever lost since you married Colin.”

  But she knew, even as she whispered the words, that her deepest fear was something far more terrifying. Colin would be the one to claim her soul…but she would never be able to claim his.

  Makenna closed her eyes and gathered the strength to reenter the great hall. Just before she exited, two female voices came through the slats, stopping her cold.

  “I cannot believe she did it,” commented a higher-pitched voice full of astonishment.

  “Aye, neither can I,” replied a voice Makenna instantly recognized. The woman had married into the Dunstan clan and had been a troublemaker even before her husband had passed away. Lela constantly sought ways to rouse ire and angst in her fellow clansmen. Find a conflict and Lela Fraser was the probable instigator of it. Why people tolerated—and worse, listened to—her evil spirit, Makenna never could understand.

  “Betraying her people to a Highlander. She should be ashamed. I cannot believe she will be the next lady of our clan,” Lela added, baiting a response. When one didn’t readily follow, she tried again. “Not only does she disgrace us with her inability to run Lochlen, but to force that…that heathen upon us is unforgivable. He might have been able to fool poor Deirdre and our laird, but the man is crazed if he thinks we will let an outsider tell us what to do.”

  The other woman clucked in agreement. “Never wanted his kind. I could forgive Deirdre. She didn’t know what she was doing when she was deceived by his trickery. But Makenna…”

  “Never doubt that she knew precisely what would happen,” Lela concluded with satisfaction.

  Unable to listen to any more, Makenna whipped round the wood partition. “And just what was I doing, Lela Fraser?” she demanded, loud enough to grab the attention of everyone in the hall. Makenna ignored the stares and locked gazes with the poisonous woman. Lela’s almond-shaped black eyes were set deep and matched the midnight color of her waist-length hair. With a perfect figure and flawless complexion, Lela was a woman who used her beauty to gain power and influence however she could.

  Lela raised a single eyebrow, pretending to be undaunted by Makenna’s intentional reference to her own Highland background. Born a Fraser, Lela had been raised in the Grampian Highlands, and only met her husband by pure chance when he was in Aberdeen selling Dunstan hides and wool. Lela had thought him to be a rich merchant and maneuvered him quickly into marriage, never dreaming that he was really a farmer.

  “What has stalled your vicious tongue?” Makenna asked, crossing her arms in a gesture of superiority. “Or did you forget that you, too, are a Highlander by birth and married a Dunstan Lowlander?”

  “I may be a Highlander by birth, but I am a Lowlander by choice,” Lela countered, rallying. “You cannot hold me responsible for where I was born, but I can and do hold you responsible for stripping away the last specks of our freedom. Your husband was leaving until you became a willing participant in this farce.”

  Makenna looked at the woman to Lela’s left, who had joined the mocking and criticism. She was shocked to see it was someone she had once considered
a friend. “And you, Joanna? Are you of like mind?”

  Joanna narrowed her hazel eyes and nodded, refusing to cower in front of the crowd.

  Makenna turned to the now very quiet and divided room. On one side stood the soldiers, and on the other was a small cluster of Dunstans. “And all of you? You, who eat in my father’s castle, partake in his food and wine. Do you feel I have married foolishly? That I cost you your freedom? Can none of you see that I did it for you? Do you not realize how vulnerable we are and only one man can train our few men to defend us against attack?”

  Lela sniggered. “We see him,” she huffed, jutting her chin toward Colin, who was quietly sitting and watching the argument from across the room. “And when we do, all we can see is the reason our backs ache each night with his order to finish an unneeded wall.”

  “Unneeded?” Makenna gasped. “How can you say that? The English have barely departed our lands and even now there are rumbles that Edward II is plotting his revenge to retake our homes and property.”

  Lela would not back down. “You cannot scare us into supporting you. We know better. The Dunstan land is not strategic. We hold no great value. The English care nothing for us.”

  Makenna gaped at the recklessness of Lela’s words. “You are foolish, Lela, and so are all who believe your nonsense.”

  The soldiers vacated a small path as Makenna headed straight toward Colin. “Say something. Explain. They need to know. They need to understand how much you have done to save them, that without your leadership this clan is doomed.”

  Often Colin had been tempted to do just what Makenna had asked and announce his worth, but he knew it would be a fruitless struggle that would gain him no loyalty. He needed to remain patient and think long-term. With a strong guard, he would be able to take and keep the position of laird of the clan, but it might be a long while before he would truly be a leader to these stubborn people.

  Colin downed the last of the ale and considered the Lowland lairds waiting silently for him to speak. In one smooth movement, he rose from his chair and announced, “I believe, fellow Scots, that for me and my wife the party has just ended.”

  Pivoting, he swept a very astonished Makenna into his arms and exited the great hall.

  Chapter Four

  Colin ignored Makenna’s impassioned pleas to put her down and continued his march across the inner yard. Anticipation filled him, but in ways he had not expected. The yearning consuming him since their vows had been enormous. He had forced himself to endure dinner and conversations when his primary thoughts centered on his wife, their bed, and the pleasures they would soon find in each other’s arms. Tonight, Makenna would discover passion, and maybe, so would he.

  Makenna suddenly felt Colin pivot and watched the distance begin to increase between her and her room in Forfar Tower. She began to struggle earnestly. She had assumed he was going to take her back to her room, drop her on the bed, reprimand her for a minute or two, and then return to the hall. She had been wrong. He was not heading toward her chambers…but to his.

  The Black Tower was aptly named. Its unique onyx-colored stones formed the massive round anchor situated along the eastern wall between the Canmore and Pinnacle towers. Colin lived there alone.

  Stopping his ascent on the third floor, Colin maneuvered down the narrow hallway until he came to a large arched door. He turned and pressed his back against the thick wooden planks until it gave under the pressure. Once inside the private bedchamber, Colin lowered Makenna until her feet rested on the soft rug extending across the room.

  The dying embers in the hearth provided just enough light to illuminate the spacious area. Makenna guessed that even if the fire was ablaze, the dark walls would absorb the extra light and the chamber would still feel protected and set apart. Unlike the routine noise associated with the elite chambers of the towers where she and her father lived, Colin’s room felt like a quiet enclave about which no one knew. She knew her sister had felt isolated in the silence, but Makenna enjoyed the peace it gave.

  She walked over to the nearest of the three plain armchairs facing the fireplace and clutched its back while trying to look casually about the room. Before Colin, the steward had resided in these walls. Once, as a child she had tried sneaking into the tower but had been found and escorted back out.

  Until tonight, she had only heard descriptions of the cavernous rooms the Black Tower held. Deirdre had visited only once and vowed never to enter the obsidian structure again. She claimed the dark stone walls were cold and menacing. Even her father said it lacked the cheeriness he preferred.

  Makenna could understand their comments, but she did not agree with them. The room was not threatening. Instead, it was surprisingly warm, even welcoming. A woolen McTiernay plaid covered the four-poster bed. A simple table to its right held an unlit candle. Nestled underneath two of the room’s four large windows was a long, sturdy bench with silk stuffed pillows at each end. The understated tapestry hanging above the bed was not ornate enough to be one of Deirdre’s creations. The picture of a young Scotsman standing by a river offering his heart to a shy maiden evoked an atmosphere of tenderness, and hope, and vulnerability. It was not what she had expected to find adorning Colin’s walls.

  But even more surprising was the lack of anything feminine. Makenna could see not a single remnant of Colin’s relationship with her sister. She silently wondered if there had ever been anything of Deirdre’s to remove.

  Besides the hearth chairs, the only other item in the room was a beautifully carved chest situated along the far wall. Instead of the slab legs of the typical six-board chest, the sizeable hutch had an elongated front and back and its stiles extended to the floor to make four legs. She didn’t recognize the piece and it did not resemble the furniture in the rest of the room. “Colin, is that chest yours?”

  Still standing by the door, Colin glanced at the chest his grandfather had made him when he was a young boy. That and his mother’s tapestry were the two treasures he had brought with him from his childhood home, McTiernay Castle. “Aye,” he replied.

  Makenna moved closer to the unusual trunk and knelt down to finger the carving etched into its face. “Is this the McTiernay crest?” she asked. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Aye. The eagle represents strength. It clutches a branch of our Highland mountain ash. Those drops you see off the talons are blood.”

  “Of your enemies?”

  “Our comrades. To remember the fallen.”

  Makenna nodded in silence hearing him voice the McTiernay pledge. It was not a mere saying to him, but a true belief. Despite their squabbles, she knew Colin would never forget a single man he ever fought alongside. He would ensure that their deaths had meaning and purpose.

  Makenna rose and gracefully waved her arm in front of her. “Your room is very similar to my own with the exception of your tapestry. It is captivating. I’ve never seen one that portrayed such a pure emotion before. If I were ever to weave, I would want to design a motif such as that,” Makenna ended quietly, unaware that she had voiced her inner thoughts aloud.

  Colin exhaled slowly. He was surprised to be relieved by her approval. Deirdre had always made it clear that he was to come to her chambers if he desired her company. Consequently, he had never cared if his room appealed to anyone else. He had not realized how much of himself was exposed in this simple sanctum.

  A renewed surge of desire swept over Colin. He picked up a log from the stack of dried kindling he had replenished that morning and threw it into the hearth. Long after the fire sprang anew, he continued to stoke it, knowing that if he did not keep his eyes and hands occupied, his control would snap.

  Makenna watched as Colin stabbed the burning logs, sensing his palpable frustration. The dying fire was just another example of her clan’s refusal to support and honor an outsider. If he were a Lowlander and welcomed, all candles would have been lit, the bed turned, and the fire would have been blazing with warmth.