Between the battle towers was a sizeable building Laurel guessed to be the great hall. Farther down was a smaller but similarly shaped structure that could only be the lower hall. Sandwiched between the two buildings were the kitchens and the bailey.
But none of these were as fascinating as the round mammoth to her right. Although only three stories tall, the large black tower rivaled the others.
“Tavis,” Laurel prompted, getting the attention of Colin’s guard. “That tower. It is most unusual.”
“We call it tòrr-dubh.”
“The Black Tower,” Laurel whispered. “Most fitting, and most curiously different. I have never seen or even heard of a tower made of such a dark stone.”
“Aye, I doubt you ever will again. For the past three hundred years, different lairds have expanded Lochlen for various purposes. The laird who commissioned that structure ordered its rocks to be retrieved from the mountains of Skye.”
“The Cuillin Mountains!” Laurel exclaimed. The Black Cuillin Mountains were nestled in the Highlands off the Isle of Skye. She had never seen the hard dark hills that straddled the isle, but she had heard of them and how the hill’s black jagged and twisting rocks touched the heavens.
“Aye, you heard correctly. Laird Ranald was one of the first to build onto Lochlen. His intentions were to create a keep using the hard rock of Skye, believing it would make his castle impenetrable to enemies.”
“How did he ever get the stones all the way down here?” Laurel asked, taking in the black structure with new appreciation.
“By ship. For several years, as soon as winter passed, he would send ships north to bring the rock through the Sea of Hebrides and up the River Clyde where his men would then carry or oftentimes drag it here by land. Only after they began constructing the tower did the laird discover that while the rock was indeed hard, it was near impossible to cut and shape. Stories are that the laird’s wisdom caused him to order the inner walls and other towers be built out of local limestone, but pride made him finish the tower’s exterior out of the wicked rock.”
“It is unique and quite powerful on the eye. Is that the laird’s tower?”
“Alas, no. Laird Ranald lived just barely long enough to see it finished. Until that time he kept his solar in the Canmore Tower,” Tavis answered, pointing at the immense tower on her right, “which still holds the laird’s sleeping chambers.”
Laurel was just about to ask another question, when she spied a woman with deep red hair escaping its braid walking rapidly toward them from the far tower situated higher than the rest. Laurel dismounted and moved to meet Makenna halfway.
Makenna watched the beautiful woman coming toward her. Graceful, tall, and slender, Laurel was everything Makenna feared. The woman exuded a regal elegance that only complemented her beauty. A beauty startlingly similar to her dead sister’s.
Makenna had no doubt Colin would be reminded of Deirdre each time he looked at Laurel. Blond and blue-eyed, her sister-in-law reeked of femininity just as Deirdre had.
“Remain calm and for God’s sake smile,” Makenna ordered herself as Laurel approached opening her arms wide. Makenna stepped into them and felt a genuine embrace. Instinct caused her to give one in return.
“My apologies for not greeting you properly. I had not been told that you had arrived or that Colin had left to meet you,” Makenna said apprehensively, wondering what Laurel must think of her and her abilities to be lady of a castle.
“Nonsense. I just arrived and the few minutes I was waiting let me view your home. I must say I am awed. I can never just walk across my courtyard without fear of running into someone or getting stabbed.”
“Stabbed?” Makenna asked, horrified.
“Exactly my sentiments,” Laurel answered, hoping to ease the fear and unease she saw in Makenna’s vivid green eyes. It was obvious Dunlop had spoken correctly. The young woman had a lot of pride in her keep, but also a lot of self-doubt. Laurel hooked her arm in Makenna’s and prompted them toward the great hall, continuing with her explanation. “Conor refuses to conduct all of his training with his men outside the castle walls. We finally agreed that most of his men would train elsewhere, but he still insists on ‘not wasting the space’ and allows contests to take place where ‘everyone can enjoy them.’ Now, I enjoy a good spar as well as the next woman—”
“You do?” Makenna interrupted.
“Of course, but not every day, and certainly not in a place that makes it difficult for people to do their work.” Laurel waited as Makenna ascended the steps to the great hall and opened the doors.
As Makenna stepped through the entrance, a shot of fear ripped through her. It subsided. The hearth was roaring and the rushes were still fresh. Incidents of sabotage had significantly diminished in the past few weeks, but they still occurred and usually where she least expected them.
Forcing her voice to remain steady, Makenna waved Laurel to one of the chairs situated by the main fireplace. “Can I offer you a drink or some food, milady?”
“No, thank you, and please call me Laurel. I really hate the title, and I doubt I will ever become accustomed to it.”
Makenna reassessed her sister-in-law. The woman might have many of Deirdre’s features, but her sensibility was vastly different. Based on her few short comments, Makenna wondered whether the woman’s nature was more like hers.
Laurel sank gracefully into the padded high-back chair reserved for family and special guests. “Your hall is splendid. Warm and inviting.” She pointed to the sunlight. “You must have a love-hate relationship with those enormous windows.”
Makenna’s eyes popped opened wide, for that was exactly how she felt about them. At that moment, Makenna decided to relax and be herself. She knew she would not be able to keep up the pretense of a lady fully in control of her castle and those around her for long, so she might as well stop now and conserve her energy for the next catastrophe. “Aye, I often think they mock me,” she replied, slipping into a cushioned chair beside her sister-in-law.
Laurel inhaled the scent of the new rushes and pointed at the rainbow of colors hitting the tapestries hanging across from the arched stained glass windows. “Those are lovely and complement the room well.”
Makenna sucked in her breath and decided to plunge forward with the truth. It would be best to divulge now her limitations. “They have been there my entire life, just as most of the castle’s decorations,” she commented quietly.
Laurel smiled. “Blessed are those that come before us, for they do make our lives easier, do they not? Can you imagine preparing for winter and having to adorn our homes? I do not think it possible.”
Makenna twisted in her chair and openly appraised Laurel once again. This time she decided to say exactly what was on her mind. “You don’t know me, and yet you speak as if we are old friends.”
Laurel sighed, but instead of conveying irritation with Makenna’s bluntness, she exuded relief. “I’ll have to remember to thank God in my prayers this evening for giving Colin a wife like you. I have a tendency to be unbearably forward and honest, and I made a promise to myself not to be that way with you. I was going to try to be everything a proper lady should be. Complimentary, friendly, and talkative about nothing. I can’t believe I failed so miserably so quickly.”
Makenna tried to swallow her laughter, but could not. “You didn’t fail, I did! If my sisters were here, you would be stuck here hours and hours learning about those damned tapestries, how the colors were chosen, and the difficulty and skill needed to complete each and every stitch. Trust me, I know.”