A skinny redheaded boy approximately fifteen years old spoke up. “You misunderstand. MacCuaig has invaded Lochlen with several hundred men. The clan leaders have told him that we will not accept him. You are our laird, and we will fight until you return to our side.”
“He threatened to kill us, Laird,” added the youngest of the three boys. “Our father told us to ride and find you. That you are honorable and would come back to defend us. That you would not let MacCuaig kill loyal Dunstans.”
“Is he right? Are you going to return?” Ian asked directly. A thin flicker of hope burned in his eyes.
Colin’s blue gaze studied Ian. He knew the boy was frightened and ashamed for his previous behavior. Still, he came. “Aye,” Colin said gently, followed by a very firm “Follow us.” He kicked his horse into a gallop toward Lammermuir Hills. The three boys didn’t have a chance to ask why they were heading away from the battle and toward the rocky mounds everyone knew better than to try and cross. A half hour later, their questions were answered without ever being asked.
Ian looked down at the mass of men below as they descended the sloping path toward the hidden army. Armed with bows, broadswords, battle-axes, and halberds, they clearly were soldiers preparing for battle.
“Those are Laird Moncreiffe’s men!” gasped Ian, taking in the huge numbers. In addition, there were plaids from Boyd and Crawford. “Are those Donovan colors I see? Aren’t they with MacCuaig?”
Colin smiled and clapped the young man on the back. “All part of the plan,” he said and then rode on ahead, leaving the young man gaping.
Conor came up beside the stunned lad. “He knew,” Ian stammered. “The laird knew all along what was going to happen. Probably even knew we’d come after him.”
Conor let go a loud snort. “Of course my brother knew! Colin is your laird, and lucky for you he is a Highland McTiernay. Nobody better at planning battles.”
“Did he ever plan on leaving?”
“Not that I am aware of. Colin needed to expose two enemies simultaneously, MacCuaig and those Dunstans truly disloyal to him.” Conor leaned over and whispered, “If you had joined Colin when he asked, you would have been in on the plan.”
Ian’s eyes popped open wide with realization. “Was there ever an Olave?”
“Aye, Olave lives and is happily married to Hazel. Not an aspect of the story was embellished. It all happened as Colin related.”
“But if it were true, then why didn’t the laird leave, like Olave?”
“Ah, you forgot the end of the story, young Dunstan. What did Olave say when Lisbet asked him to stay?”
“He said something about knowing where he belongs.”
“Aye, and accepting the price that comes with it. Your laird knows where he should be, here at Lochlen, leading and supporting the Dunstan clan. If Colin had any doubts, he never would have married Lady Makenna.”
“Was she the price he paid?”
“No, his foolish pride was the price. And know this, Ian, when a man finally abandons his youthful ideas of how things should be and embraces people as they are, he gains something more powerful in return, something a man can take true pride in.”
“What does he get?”
“For your laird? It was his wife. For you? I don’t know. Each man has to discover that on his own,” Conor answered. Laughing gently, he pushed the young man on the shoulder and edged his horse into a lope to join Colin. It had been a relaxing couple of weeks watching his baby brother run a clan and formulate plans, but he was itching for action. Any more leisure and he would slowly go mad.
“I’m going to find Laurel. I want her to start planning our trip home,” Conor hinted as soon as he reached Colin.
Deftly, Colin maneuvered his black through the thick crowd of men. “I’ll go with you. I have a need to tell my wife that her people are with us, and we will not be leaving Lochlen.” Colin threw a speculative, sidelong glance at Conor. “I am not surprised you are ready to leave. If positions were reversed, I might not have made it so long. Your sacrifice is appreciated. Sending Seamus along made a good show when enticing the other lairds to join us. It is one thing to say you have the support of the McTiernays, it is another to show it.”
Conor was about to reply when Seamus appeared with Drake beside him. Colin swung off his horse and clasped his commander around the shoulders. “Ceridwin here?” Colin asked, knowing how Drake felt about his future bride.
“Aye, she is with Laurel and Lairds Moncreiffe and Crawford.”
“And Makenna?” Colin asked, looking in the direction Drake had pointed.
“I have not seen her, but I did not think to ask.”
Conor clasped his brother’s shoulder. “Come, she rode with Laurel. My wife will know where she is. No doubt off sparring with one of your soldiers teaching them a couple of maneuvers right before they go to battle.”
The tease in Conor’s voice received him a sharp elbow to the ribs. “So my wife spars with men. I admit that I am not fond of the idea, but I am man enough to admit that she is damn good. If she had the strength, Makenna could lay any man out. Possibly even me.”
“Such praise! Come on, brother, and let’s find our wives. It’s going to be a long afternoon and if the clouds tell true, a wet one. I shall need a quick reminder of what awaits me when this skirmish is done.”
The crowd parted as Colin and Conor neared the small group of leaders. Seeing Conor, Laurel smiled and rushed to his side. Then she tried to look around Colin’s large frame for her friend. “Colin! Wherever are you hiding Makenna?”
Colin looked at Laurel quizzically. “Why would I be hiding Makenna? Is she not here with you?”
The blood drained out of Laurel’s face, leaving her ashen white. “No,” she murmured, grabbing Conor’s arm for support. “She’s with you.”
Fear gripped Colin’s heart. He had to have heard wrong, misunderstood. “What do you mean she’s with me?”
Laurel licked her lips, panic filling her green-blue eyes. “Makenna said she had to get something from the armory and join you. She promised that it would be all right because she would be with you if she did not return. Makenna told us if she did not meet us at the stables, then she had gotten your approval to ride with you and show her clan that you had her complete support. I swear, Colin, that we waited twice the time Makenna told us to before we left. But if you are here, where is she?”
Colin stood transfixed. Icy fear seized his heart. If Makenna had not found him and she had not returned as promised, only one explanation remained. She was in the hands of MacCuaig.
Conor moved his distraught wife to a nearby makeshift bench and made her sit down. Returning, he said evenly, “How do you wish to proceed? MacCuaig might have ordered her to leave.”
“No,” Colin choked. “What you don’t understand, what even I didn’t understand until recently was why MacCuaig was even interested in the Dunstans. He already had a clan, money, and an army. What he wanted was Makenna, and God, Conor, he now has her.”
“We will get her back,” Conor promised, trying to evoke a feeling of hope rather than the fear coursing through him.
“No, you lead the attack as planned in the village. I will go after my wife, and God help MacCuaig when I find him.”
Makenna watched as the elongated shadow moved down the small staircase and into the room where she was held bound. The dim light coming in from the door indicated it was mid to late afternoon. The mounting humidity in the already damp storage room promised rain.
Leon MacCuaig entered and stared at his captive with a sick look of satisfaction.
Makenna glared back wishing she had been just a little faster at Camus’s this morning. She had searched almost everywhere in the small shop before finding the claymore carefully wrapped and hidden behind several crates. It must have been during those precious moments that Colin had left.