“Bah, you let me do nothing. This lady of the castle goes where she is needed, Gannon. Pride keeps a lady from her hands and knees when that is where she is needed most.” Makenna paused and looked the steward straight in the eye. “You promised me your silence on this.”
“Aye, and now I’m telling you to rest. You have been running yourself too hard. My promise will matter little if you pass out from exhaustion.”
The old steward was impossible to bargain with in this mood. “This isn’t advice. It’s blackmail,” Makenna accused.
He smiled, knowing he had won the argument. “Call it what you wish, milady. Vanora and then relaxation. I mean it,” he replied solemnly as he turned toward the kitchens.
Gannon hoped Makenna would go riding, which would take her away from Lochlen for several hours. That would give him enough time to meet with Lela and the others and give them his decision. While he still had doubts concerning the wisdom of a Highland laird, he would not actively work against the man. It would be up to McTiernay to prove himself, and if Lela and her associates wanted to plan and work to his destruction, the laird best watch his own back.
Makenna stood for a second in disbelief watching Gannon retreat. Had she changed that much? Two months ago, she would have argued with Gannon until she had no more breath before caving into his or anyone else’s will. Now she practically fell over at the mere push.
Marriage was making her soft. She wondered if Colin was also experiencing changes to his personality. “Probably not,” she huffed and headed toward Canmore and the new maid. “The man is like his sword, hard and…”
Makenna stopped, her eyes huge with inspiration. She knew of a way for people to see Colin as their laird and a Highlander at the same time. She had the solution all along. With Gannon not expecting help, today provided the perfect opportunity to begin.
Picking up her skirts, Makenna rushed to her old room in Forfar Tower and sprinted up the stairs, completely forgetting about Vanora.
Dashing into the room, she rushed over to the unlit hearth and lifted a small board in the flooring. Picking up the key, she moved to the huge floor-standing chest and unlocked it. Using both hands, she shoved the heavy teak lid open. The chest was not an elaborate piece of art like Colin’s, but it was sturdy, and it contained the one thing that would prove to all that Colin belonged at Lochlen.
Makenna reached in and pulled free the velvet bag. Clutching it, she dashed back down the stairs and out the outer gate, completely unaware she had been followed.
“Can you do it? Can you, Camus?” Makenna beseeched, careful to keep her voice down low.
Camus pushed his once red, now silver hair back and retucked it behind his ear. Makenna could never find someone to tell her Camus’s age. He had lived at Lochlen since she could remember and had always looked the same. Withered, but strong. He was wiry and his bronzed skin had become loose and wrinkled, but he still somehow managed to appear quite appealing to the opposite sex. More than once over the years, Makenna had interrupted a visiting widow supposedly stopping by his shop to learn about swords and their value. She could not remember half the excuses she had heard, but not one had been believable.
“Well?” Makenna asked again.
“What you ask is not a light thing, laochag,” Camus cautioned. He knew she was now the Lady of Lochlen, but to him, she would always be the daughter he never had.
“I know it is not,” she replied brusquely. “I remember all you taught me of the importance about swords and their owners.”
Camus sighed and walked to the small bench laden with tools and materials used for sword making. “Aye, and Colin already has a sword. A good sword, I might add. It will be hard to make its equal.” He knew, because he had forged it.
Makenna walked over and placed her hand on Camus’s arm. “But you can. You made my Secret. You have the skill and knowledge to make such a sword. I just know it.”
“My arms guild is very busy these days. The laird has been adding men faster than I can arm them. I have two new apprentices, and they require much oversight. I don’t believe it possible.”
Makenna would not be deterred. “It is possible! Or at least it could be if you tried. I will not seek this task from another. Too many don’t know this trade. It would be like asking the…the blacksmith to make such a piece.”
Camus was fully aware that she was goading him, but her words still sparked his ire. “Blacksmith! Makenna, I taught you better. It is not just a matter of my time, but the sword itself. Just because I spent hours building a piece will not ensure the laird’s willingness to take it. It is a personal area we invade here, Makenna. Men like to commission their own weapons, detailing their specifications. No man would just accept such a thing. He would consider it an insult.”
Makenna dug into her gown and pulled the velvet bag free. “Not if you made it using these. I know they will make all the difference. Not only to Colin, but to my people.”
Camus drew his brows together and took the offered bag. Loosening the strings, he peered inside. His jaw slackened. “Are these…?”
“Aye, they are.”
“And no one knows?”
“Not a single a soul. I took them just in case our clan needed them. They can do my father no good in heaven. I didn’t tell anyone…well, because I couldn’t risk Ula or Rona learning of it.”
“Aye, you were right to do that. And the laird?” Camus asked.
Makenna shifted awkwardly. “Honestly, I forgot about them until this morning. I would have told Colin, but things were so chaotic with my father’s funeral, and—”
“And so your answer is no.”
“He will know if you agree to my request.”
Camus stood and began to stroke his chin. He had fashioned Colin his last sword and knew exactly what the man preferred in size and weight. If he made a similar, maybe even better sword adorned with the Dunstan colors, it could be just the symbol to rally the clan. It certainly was worth a try.
“Aye, you just may be right at that, laochag. I hope the laird knows what a treasure he received the day he married you.”
“It was I who got lucky, Camus.”
Camus shook his head. Makenna never did understand her full value as a woman. He didn’t know when his gangly, awkward little warrior had changed into a beautiful lady, but she had. It was clear Makenna still had yet to make the realization. In time, with Colin’s help, she would.
“The Dunstan clan is fortunate the old laird was so wise and obstinate in putting you two together. I’ll accept your offer. I believe Alexander would have wanted it.”
Makenna pointed to the bag. “Can you keep that safe?”
Camus chuckled. If a man had asked that question, he would have lost an arm or at least a hand. Makenna was the only one who could insult his abilities and leave standing. “Aye, your bag will be safe with me.”
Makenna beamed and planted a kiss on Camus’s cheek for the second time that day. “Thank you!”
Camus waved for her to go. The open affection she gave him was a bit overwhelming, and he knew he was in fear of tearing. “Now get out of here and stop bothering an old man. I have work to do. See me in about a month.”
Makenna blew him another kiss and then glided out the door on a wave of happiness. She hadn’t progressed two steps before colliding with Gorten.
Makenna stumbled and looked up into the stern face of her guard. His light brown hair was pulled tightly back, which only accentuated his angular features. His deep-set hazel eyes had chips of gold that sparkled with irritation. That alone might have alerted her to his mood, if it were not his most common expression. “Gorten! Good grief, I did not see you. How are you this fabulous morn?”