“Nay, you cannot mean our Lady Makenna,” Drake countered in disbelief. “I do not think she is capable of that particular crime. The woman confronts, challenges, and argues, aye, but she would not scorn love. At least, not in the way you mean.”
Colin decided to change the subject. “I’m surprised you told your lady love of your intentions.”
Drake shrugged nonchalantly, and again it rankled Colin. “And why should you be surprised? Did you not relay the same to your wife before we departed?”
“I did not,” Colin replied.
Drake let out a low whistle. The crisp manner Colin spoke those three words explained much. Drake sensed he should be quiet and let it be, but his instincts told him to counter the mental reenactment Colin was having of his departure. “I expect, knowing Lady Makenna, that your choice to keep her in the dark was not well received.”
Colin tightened his grip on the reins. “I chose not to encumber my wife with burdens she could take no action to resolve.” Colin paused and then uncharacteristically added further explanation. “I was trying to be kind to her female sensibilities. No woman wishes to hear of gruesome attacks. I chose to spare her that.”
Colin had not spoken Deirdre’s name aloud, but she was in the air. Drake knew Colin had wisely avoided subjects such as war, attacks, and battles concerning his late wife. She had despised such topics. Whenever Colin was away from Lochlen, she had told herself and others that he was out for a long ride or visiting friends. Deirdre was a lovely woman, but her intentional naiveté was one of her more aggravating traits.
Drake cleared his throat and decided to take a risk. “I agree some women do not take well to hearing such reports as were delivered last night. And for those women, it is a kind service to hold close information they find distasteful or bothersome. But I am surprised to learn Lady Makenna is one of them. She does not buckle at the sight of blood or at the receipt of ill news. Instead of faltering, her courage rises. It is one of the predominant reasons we Dunstan soldiers love her and enjoy training with her in combat.”
Colin’s face hardened as a ripple of possessiveness coursed through him. He had not known so many men adored his wife. “Makenna is indeed a strong woman, but she is still a woman and needs to be protected.”
“From what? The truth? Do you truly believe word has not already spread throughout the village, and that she remains ignorant of the attack? Nay, I would wager our fair lady is completely aware of where we head and why. And while I would not be so presumptuous to speak for Lady Makenna, my lady love would be quite hurt and possibly even angry with me if she learned the truth from another’s lips and not my own. Come to think of it, if I knew I had caused Ceridwin such pain, I would probably choose to ride in quiet solace and reflection brooding about how I could make it up to her upon my return.”
“Drake?”
“Aye?”
“You talk too much,” Colin admonished and prompted his horse forward to rejoin the other men.
The attack had been merciless and cruel. This was not a mere thieving raid for cattle or horses. Evidence of deep hatred was everywhere. Fences were irreparable and had to be rebuilt from new. Two families had stables burned with the livestock still in them. One young boy had been seriously injured in an attempt to save his favorite mare. Other families, whose animals were allowed to graze at night, awoke to a nightmare of mutilation. Such acts were unheard of. The capture of livestock was the goal of raids, not slaughter.
Whoever did this wanted Colin gone. They also knew he would seek retribution.
“What do you think, Laird?” Drake asked in hushed tones laced with fury. His cheerful disposition had been replaced by one filled with vengeance.
Colin ignored the question and aimed his horse toward the broken portion of the nearby fence. He could feel the animal’s reaction to what was around it. The big black knew murder of its kind had taken place. “Who lives here?”
“Calvin and his wife, Loreen. They have one infant daughter. They used to live near the village, but Calvin wanted more land to farm. Alexander offered him this out here.”
“Their house?”
“Intact. Like the others. The focus appears to be killing the livestock that supported these people’s livelihood.”
“Ensure that Calvin and his wife receive the same as the others and have the men remove the carcasses before the family see their land again.”
“Aye, it will be done,” Drake said wearily. It was hard to see so much willful, cruel inflictions on innocent animals. Colin could do very little to restore these people’s lives. He could give a cow and a horse to help soften their losses, but what he could not do was restore their peace of mind. At least not yet.
Colin halted his huge obsidian mount and swung off its back. Rocks were scattered everywhere. He walked down to a weakened but still intact portion of the fence and forcefully kicked it so that it toppled onto the ground. Then he stood back and gazed intently upon the result. He looked back at the pebbled ground.
Whistling he called his black and remounted. “There’s more here than what we’ve seen, Drake. Search every morsel of this farm. Bring me what you find.”
Several hours later, Colin sat on a makeshift bench composed of a dead log. The fire crackled and lit up the night sky. His men were gathered in silent reflection. Each soldier’s palpable anger fed the man next to him. Last night, there had been much discussion. Angry words about payback had been bandied about casually and often. But then, yesterday, they had only seen a fraction of the horror bestowed upon these quiet farmers.
Colin knew it would take very little to unleash the rage warring in his men. Earlier, they had found very consistent and plentiful evidence of the attacking clan. The Donovans.
For those who knew them, the evidence fit. Donovan land bordered the Dunstan’s eastern hills and stretched far both east and south. Mahon Donovan was a hard, unforgiving man, who had fought and lost men in the battles against Edward I. The Scottish laird was well known to be ruthless in combat, killing all enemies—even their animals—in battle. He disliked visitors and warned trespassers only once to make their travels via another route. He had publicly declined to support Colin and left Lochlen Castle shortly after MacCuaig.
Finding torn bloody pieces of the Donovan plaid hidden between rocks and underneath carcasses was more than enough evidence for his men to convict their eastern neighbor.
Colin was not persuaded. There was too much proof, and all of it was pointing to the wrong person. He would give his clansmen their vengeance, but first, he needed to meet with Mahon, just as the real murderer intended.
“Sean, tomorrow you are to ride back to Lochlen and tell Lady Makenna that we may be several more days. Then join Dunlop on the training fields.”
Colin rose to lay his plaid down somewhat apart from the others and then disappeared into the dark. He needed quiet surroundings to plan how he would approach his quick-tempered neighbor.
Silence fell upon the group as each man watched Colin retreat into the woods. It would be some time before their laird returned.
“Does this mean war?” The question came from Sean, the youngest and most inexperienced of the group.
Drake sighed and straightened his shoulders as he stood to survey the small gathering. “Still to be seen, but we will be seeing Donovan. We’ll know more then.”
Drake left them to assimilate the information and moved to lie down on his plaid and think. Colin had not acted like a laird who had found proof of his prey. In fact, he seemed quietly suspicious. More than once Colin had performed odd and even repulsive acts including ripping some of his own plaid, laying it on the ground, and throwing the head of a dead horse on it. Drake had no idea how Colin intended to approach Donovan, but he doubted it would turn out as the men expected.