Doreen’s condemning words stunned Makenna. She felt as if the iciest loch waters had struck her while sleeping.
Lela, sensing Doreen was now ripe for suggestion, whispered surreptitiously, “That brings me to what I came to tell you. Some of us are leaving.”
“Leaving? Where will you go?”
Lela scoffed. “Not the clan, Doreen…Lochlen. I’d rather assist in the fields or build that horrid wall than work in the disorganized nightmare this place is soon to be.”
Doreen gasped. “But what will Lady Makenna do?”
“What do we care?”
“Don’t you find that cruel to do to one of our own? Lady Makenna is not mean. In fact, I have always thought of her as quite kind.”
“And unappreciative.”
“True, but—”
“And no one wants to stay where there is no one overseeing things, no steward, and no cook.”
“Oh Lord…the cook is leaving, too?”
“Left this morning after she made Lady Rona her morning meal and a traveling pack to go. This place will soon be a disaster. What help does stay will grow angry, and then…” Lela hinted, her voice trailing with a significant amount of malice. The woman was not merely unhappy about Colin, Makenna realized, but sought to punish her as well.
“Then everyone will leave,” Doreen finished softly.
“You may want to consider avoiding the inevitable bitterness and depart immediately like me.”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to work in such conditions, but I don’t want to see Lochlen fall apart either.”
Unable to hear any more, Makenna turned and reentered Colin’s chambers. Closing the door silently behind her, she leaned against the dark planks and felt the first of many tears begin to fall.
How could she have been so naïve to think she could retain the title of Lady of Lochlen Castle without actually being one? How could she have so vastly underrated the importance of what everyone had tried to teach her?
She could easily dismiss Lela’s remarks. They were malicious and spiteful. For some mysterious reason, the woman hated Colin and now hated her for marrying him. But the other woman—Doreen—she had agreed with too many of Lela’s observations.
Makenna could barely remember the women who had supported her sister in her last days. But, from her comments, Doreen did not seek revenge. Her statements were her true feelings.
Forcing her wooden legs to move, Makenna staggered to the bed and collapsed on its unmade surface, crying into the pillow housing Colin’s scent. Last night, he had told her she was beautiful, and she had believed him.
For years, her blond, blue-eyed sisters harped that she could be pretty if she would only try. And she had tried. What she discovered was that her hair was too thick to manage, her skin too golden from the sun, and her green eyes too shrewd to be considered sweet. So she stopped all attempts to do the impossible. Even if she wanted to recreate what her sisters’ had done with her hair on her wedding day, she had no idea where to begin. She only knew how to leave it loose and unrestrained, which in the summer was far too hot to consider, or plait it down her back.
Makenna flipped over and stared at the beams supporting the above battlements. The remarks about her looks had stung, and they were indeed painful, but she had heard them before. The main reason behind her tears was fear that Doreen was right. The laird must be ashamed that his wife is so ill-equipped to help him run and protect his home. The comment haunted her.
People were leaving, and Colin would return humiliated and disappointed. Three weeks ago, she wouldn’t have cared what he thought. Now it mattered a great deal. The task of running Lochlen Castle was enormous, practically impossible for one whose aptitude for such things was nonexistent.
Makenna suddenly realized she was indulging in what Camus used to call “destructive thinking.” It was unlike her to wallow in self-pity. Colin did not believe her helpless domestically. He would not have asked her to take care of Lochlen while he was gone if he didn’t believe her capable. She could be this castle’s lady in all ways, not just name only. She just needed to make the decision. More than once someone had told her she was incapable of accomplishing a task, and each time she had proven them otherwise.
Makenna sat up in bed and wiped her eyes dry with her sleeve. This would be no different. She just needed to find someone capable of teaching her what she didn’t know. And she knew just whom to ask.
A half hour later, Makenna felt much more herself. She brushed her hair until it shone and replaited the unruly locks, but only halfway so that a mass of curls spiraled down her back. “There, that is about all I can do for now,” she told her reflection.
Rising, she went to the door and took three deep breaths before leaving. She rounded the last step, and instead of exiting, she turned inward and entered the cavernous room situated on the first floor.
It had been years since she had been in this room. There were no windows or even arrow slits through the fifteen-foot-thick walls. Its sole source of light came from the enormous hearth situated across from the entrance. The overall structure was the same, but its use had altered greatly.
A few years ago, the Dunstan steward had resided and worked within the Black Tower. Gannon stored specialty goods on the first floor, conducted business from the second, and slept in the chamber Colin currently used. Now the tower basement was divided by a wooden partition. On the left was a storage area housing a mix of items from perishable goods to supplementary weapons. The other side appeared to be a makeshift sleeping quarters for several servants.
“Who goes there?” a female voice snapped. Makenna turned around immediately and matched the face to the unknown voice she had overheard. A round-faced woman, Doreen was somewhere in her late thirties, perhaps even forty whose straw-colored hair was wrapped in a precariously listing topknot.
“Oh…oh…milady. My apologies. I never expected to find you here.”
“No, no, don’t apologize. I didn’t realize what…Are these your quarters?”
“Ah, no. I stay with my husband and my son. Our cottage is just outside the outer wall.”
“Your son, his name is Rufus, right?”
Doreen’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Aye, it is. I wasn’t aware that you knew my son.”
“I have not had the privilege, but I hope to, soon.”
Doreen shifted her weight from one foot to the next and back again. Never had Makenna taken the time to talk or converse with anyone not associated with horses or weaponry. Her knowing about Rufus, a simple farm lad, was unexpected and very disconcerting. “May I inquire to your needs, milady?”
Hearing the confusion in the woman’s voice, Makenna walked over and clutched Doreen’s fingertips with her own. It was a personal gesture, she knew, but it also felt natural. “I…I want to make a request.”
Doreen felt her uneasiness lessen. Her Ladyship was just as nervous and unsure. Feeling the sides of her mouth rise, Doreen chuckled quietly. Who would believe, she, a lady’s maid, would feel more at ease and confident than the actual lady of the castle? She patted Makenna’s quivering hand and asked, “What is that, milady? You need me to fetch the stable master, or Camus perhaps?”
It was natural for Doreen to assume she would want to visit the horses or the sword smith. “No, I need to gather everyone who works at Lochlen just outside the great hall.”
“In the inner yard? Everyone?” Doreen gasped, not even trying to hide her shock.
“Aye, in the yard, and as soon as possible. And no, I don’t need everyone. The armorers, the soldiers on watch, and the stable workers are not required, but anyone else who supports this castle or is paid by the steward must attend. Oh, and Gannon, too, of course.”
Doreen stood frozen in stunned silence. “I…there is going to be some resistance.”