Drake’s eyes popped open. That was a physical challenge most of the men might not be able to meet. “For whom?” Drake inquired, hoping that Colin just meant the few men at the core of the disturbance.
“Every last soldier in my regiment. Including those in the hills. Drake, you take command now. Dunlop, it will be your turn tomorrow. I want you both practicing with the men.”
Drake knew better than to protest. Colin had been in a silent, hard mood for the past two days. Talks with the local lairds had stalled. MacCuaig had demanded promises limiting Colin’s ability to lead and protect the clan. While the other lairds understood Colin’s quiet refusal, they could not comprehend why he did not call the young laird out on any of his many attempts to insult him. The lack of response was akin to cowardice, and many had said so. Colin simply shrugged at such remarks and asked, “How many battles have you fought the past five years?”
They answered with silence. All knew Colin had fought and led more battles than practically all of them together. In addition, William Wallace had considered him a friend and Robert the Bruce publicly called him an ally. It was hard to blend the calm man who casually dismissed insults with the fierce warrior his reputation alleged him to be.
On his ride back to Lochlen, Colin considered having Brodie or Gorten escort Makenna to the burial site. It had been hell not seeing her these past few days. An unanticipated hell. Not once during his marriage to Deirdre had he yearned for her like he was craving Makenna. It made no sense. The woman had plagued him for two years, but in just the span of a few days had turned his world inside and out. Control that had come so easily to him was now harder and harder to find. If she had come near him even once, he would have caved to his burning need for her. He would not have been able to stop with one kiss. No one was going to take advantage of her weakened emotional state, including himself. Consequently, all he allowed himself were those few brief moments early in the morning watching her sleep.
Today, however, Colin needed Makenna beside him. He did not think he could take another round of accusations without her by his side. He would need her presence to control the rage these men had no idea he was capable of.
Makenna was still staring out the window when she heard a single knock followed by the sound of the door opening. There was only one person who would enter without her permission. Colin.
Makenna spun around. She watched the play of emotions on his face. He was studying her, unsure of what he might find. Makenna couldn’t believe that at one time she found him impossible to read. Camus had been right. He did need her.
Colin drank her in. She was wearing his colors. Instead of the usual single braid down her back, she had let her hair remain loose. Dunlop was right. Makenna had always been beautiful; he had just been too blind to see it.
Makenna dashed across the floor and threw herself into his arms, gathering him close. All her fears vanished. He held her tight, not ever wanting to let her go.
For several minutes, they clung to each other, drinking in each other’s presence as if the other were the only possible food for their starving souls. Finally, Colin kissed her hair and gradually released his hold.
Makenna eased her grasp but refused to let go completely. She placed her cheek on his chest, relishing the steady rhythm of his heart. For the first time in days, she felt safe, and secure, and not alone.
“I’m glad I make you feel that way,” Colin replied in a low voice, soft and clear.
Makenna squeezed her eyes shut. Once again, she had expressed her private thoughts. “I meant…”
Colin raised her chin and tucked her hair behind her ears. “I know what you said, and I know what you meant. And in return for your confession, I will give you one of my own. I, too, have felt very alone these past few days.”
“Oh, Colin, I have heard about the talks.” She saw his head swivel to look at the closed door. “No, not Brodie or Gorten, they would plunge a knife into their chests before betraying you. It was one of the servants bringing my meals. They told me a great deal, so much of it I wanted not to believe.”
He let her go and walked over to the poster bed and stood in the same place he watched her each morning. He stared at the pillow. “Are you also ashamed that I have not called out MacCuaig or any of the others?” he asked quietly without inflection.
She moved beside him and placed a hand on his arm. “Nay, it is not shame I feel. It’s pride. Pride in a man who only pulls arms against his fellow Scots when needed, not when goaded. Give them time, Colin. They will understand what you bring.”
“And what do I bring, Makenna?”
“Honor. Guidance. Security. You bring the chance that our children will grow up not knowing strife. You bring the knowledge that if battle was to come, our men will be skilled and able to return safe. They don’t understand your ways, but they will.”
“If you agree with my ways so much, why did you fight me so hard for two years?”
She smiled at his lighthearted tease and replied, “Oh, I have always thought you to be a fine leader of men, I just thought you a terrible brother-in-law.”
“And what about husband?” he asked, his voice full of entreaty.
Makenna intuitively knew her answer was very important. She looked at his chest and played with the string on his leine. “I am just beginning to learn what he is like. So far, he is the most kind, generous, and understanding man I have ever met. I only hope to someday be as good of a wife my sister was to him.”
“Makenna, never doubt your worth to me. I loved Deirdre, but she is gone now. I am with you now, and you will never know how grateful I am that you married me.”
Then, powered by a need to prove his sincerity, Colin caught Makenna’s face between his hands and brought his mouth down to meet hers. He let his tongue probe her passionate and welcoming warmth as he slid his hands slowly up her spine. He felt her arms stole softly around his neck as she kissed him back with a low, inviting fervor that took his breath away.
A knock came at the door, followed by another. Colin knew he should break off the kiss. Yet each time he tried, there was an even greater urge to brush his mouth lightly, possessively across hers one more time.
The knocks became louder and of greater numbers. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the female voices of Ula and Rona ordering Brodie and Gorten to open the door. When he finally released her, Makenna’s vivid eyes were luminous with promise.
Tonight he would not sleep alone.
Chapter Six
Makenna sat in front of the hall’s hearth and soaked up the heat from the fire and the hot wine. She stared at the hypnotic flames lapping up the stone wall, barely aware of the conversations taking place around her. The weather seemed to know a great man had been buried earlier that day. The light drizzle had been accompanied by a cool breeze, making it feel more like late fall than midsummer. Normally, Makenna enjoyed the brisk warning of the imminent change in seasons. Today, it had chilled her to the bone.
She had believed herself to be ready to see her father and say good-bye. But when she laid his bound sword next to his side, it took all her strength not to crumple on the ground. As if knowing the exact time she most needed his strength, Colin had reached out and held her hand tightly in his own.
Makenna took another sip of wine and glanced around for Colin. He was still seated at the main table located at the end of the hall. He was in deep discussion with many of the same men she had seen the night of her wedding. Several lairds, however, had elected to congregate at a different table. They were the same ones who had vehemently objected to Colin’s insistence that Alexander be buried with the Highlander rite, “earth laid upon a corpse.” They believed her father should have been buried only with the Dunstan sword.