“Mystery, Makenna?” Ula inquired, breaking Makenna’s memories of the previous night.
“Did I say that out loud?” Makenna asked weakly.
“Aye, you did,” answered Rona. “But you make no sense. What’s a mixture of contradictions and mystery?”
Ula laughed condescendingly. “What else? Men! It’s about time little Makenna finally figured out why we women find them so fascinating.”
Rona came up and draped a gold cross around Makenna’s neck and clasped it. “Speak for yourself, Ula. My husband stopped being fascinating long ago. I tolerate him because he pampers me and stays out of my way. Though do not get me wrong. I am glad to be married to him. If I weren’t, Father would be forcing me into marrying that hulking Highlander and not poor Makenna.”
Ula faked a shiver. “You can say that again. Even our sister Edna escaped; though I think choosing the church is a little extreme.”
Rona adjusted the gold strand and smiled in smug satisfaction. “Oooh, there. That’s it. I must say, little sister, I never thought you could look this beautiful. Then again, you never would sit still long enough for any of us to see what was under that mass of red hair.”
Ula nodded so enthusiastically Makenna thought her sister’s head would snap off. “Aye, look for yourself, Makenna,” Ula instructed, handing her a flat rectangular reflecting dish of highly polished silver.
Makenna was not fooled by her sisters’ gaiety, nor did she believe their cheery disposition was indicative of her clan’s feelings toward her pending nuptials. Still, they were telling the truth. She did look beautiful. For the first time in her life, she was glad not to possess the straight gold-blond tresses of her four sisters and her mother. She alone had received the Dunstan dark red hair and green eyes. And today, they did not appear to be wild or untidy, but captivating.
“I must say that while the Dunstan colors clash horribly with your hair, this McTiernay plaid does just the opposite,” Ula commented as she finished pinning the pleats of the dark plaid so that it hung off one shoulder and flowed to the floor without disturbing the beauty of the blue bliaut that lay beneath. “When your husband—”
“He’s not my husband yet,” Makenna countered, hoping that by some miracle Colin never would be.
“Fine, when your soon-to-be husband handed me his plaid and instructed that you wear it today, I was concerned it would mar the overall look Rona and I spent hours trying to create. But it has done just the opposite. Don’t you think, sister?”
Rona moved alongside Makenna plucking at phantom pieces of dust before agreeing with Ula’s assessment via a long-winded speech, which spawned a rambling response from Ula and another from Rona.
Makenna tuned them out and again picked up the reflecting dish. She stared into it for several seconds before laying it down. The outward transformation was complete. The navy cloth Ula had used to create her bliaut represented purity and complemented the deep blue in the McTiernay plaid. The rich green of her chemise made the emerald color of her eyes come alive beneath her thick, dark lashes. She looked every bit like a woman about to be married. Her hair was right, her dress was right, her jewelry, even her plaid were just how they should be.
But she was not like any other woman.
Other women knew how to be around men, laugh and flirt with them, manipulating them to do their bidding. Other women would know how to make a man, especially one like Colin, happy. Makenna had never learned the craft. She had never even wanted to. Her sisters believed she desired to be a boy, based on her affinity toward “male-oriented” activities. They were wrong.
Born late and last, Makenna was burdened with four elder sisters. One ignored everybody and everything that was not of the church, but the other three loved to impart instruction whenever possible. Deirdre’s coaching had not been laced with ridicule, but even she had repeatedly reminded Makenna how she didn’t excel at even one domestic activity. By the time Makenna was ten, the difference in their ages became even more apparent as her siblings began to enjoy men’s company and connived of ways to attain it.
Never had Makenna felt more uncomfortable and out of place than when her sisters had entertained. Her awkward, still-growing body never would do what she wanted. Frustrated with her clumsiness, her sisters had ordered her to stay away when guests arrived until she could be in a man’s company without sputtering or knocking something over.
It had been Camus, the wonderful old sword smith, who had come to her rescue. He showed her how to wield a ballock knife. In doing so, Makenna learned how to control her body and understand where she was at all times relative to others and objects around her. In time, she became confident in herself.
Witnessing Makenna’s natural ability and how much she liked the masculine activity, Camus had convinced her father to allow Makenna to continue training. Soon she was able to throw a halberd, and her confidence grew even more as soldiers complimented her skills with the Lochaber axe.
On the training field, Makenna was comfortable around men, never feeling nervous, anxious, or out of place. Only in the great hall did she secretly yearn for her sisters’ effortless ability to converse with men and command their attention as a female.
After Ula and Rona married, Makenna decided she, too, wanted someone to love. Trying to mimic her sisters’ tricks to gain male attention had been a humiliating disaster. As a result, Makenna decided to perfect those activities men respected and ignore the feminine ones she despised.
Makenna put the reflecting dish back on the table. Now the only way she knew how to be around a man and receive notice or admiration was not through physical looks and silly flirting games but through her skills in riding, hunting, and fighting. Fate was cruel, forcing her to marry the one man who admired neither her abilities nor her as a woman.
Makenna stood as everyone disappeared out the door and down the hallway. It was time. She nervously collected the small bouquet of flowers and herbs one of the servants had gathered that morning and debated one more time whether she was doing the right thing. She looked like someone she wasn’t—someone beautiful, feminine, and fragile. If Colin believed her capable of becoming what she currently appeared to be, they were both doomed.
Makenna descended from the last tower step and exited Forfar’s arched stone entrance. As she came into view, a deafening roar erupted from the crowd gathered in the inner ward. Practically every person shouting was a soldier Colin had recruited and trained.
Drake suddenly appeared on her right and escorted her through the throng to the Dunstan chapel located in the opposite corner of the inner yard. The average-size sanctuary had been unused for the past two years since Father Renoir had vacated his post for one in France after the death of England’s king, Edward I. Deirdre had died soon afterward and neither Colin nor her father had searched for another priest. Consequently, Father Lanaghly, the McTiernay priest, had agreed to travel from the Highlands and preside over Colin’s second wedding. When he arrived three days ago, Makenna had been surprised to find the older priest overflowing with kindness and possessing a mischievous twinkle in his deep brown eyes. She wondered whether he would have been so nice if he knew about the friction between her and Colin.
At the chapel tower’s entrance, Drake bowed and left to go inside and join Colin and Dunlop. Makenna took several deep breaths and stepped through the carved stone archway. Immediately the pressure from eyes following her every move came crashing down.
Colin knew the moment Makenna had entered the chapel. Most of the morning he had spent alone and deep in thought. The confusion, the uncertainty he had been feeling about marrying Makenna had vanished the second she responded to his kiss. Never had he dreamed the undisciplined tigress would melt in his arms. But it wasn’t her response that disturbed him the most…it was his. No woman had ever caused him to lose control, and while he had managed to refrain from bedding her yesterday, it had been close. His desire for her was so sudden and intense it had overruled all logic, all conscious awareness, all sanity. He had wanted to devour her and almost had.