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.
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.”