Conor grimaced and nodded in affirmation. He had heard the terms. Not one MacCuaig soldier had been negotiated and neither was permanent peace part of the package. If by some accident MacCuaig lived tonight, he would return to his lands, but he would not live to see the next day. Conor would invade and exact revenge.
Colin glanced up at the stormy sky as he shrugged out of his leine. The rain was spitting and lightning continued to light the sky. At any moment, it would begin to pour. Colin welcomed the slippery distraction. Battles were fought in all types of weather, and he doubted MacCuaig had spent much time on the battlefield acclimating himself to the elements.
MacCuaig followed Colin’s lead and removed his shirt.
Colin grabbed the sword Makenna had made for him and surveyed his opponent. Despite his preference to fight indoors, MacCuaig looked surprisingly calm and unaffected by the weather.
Makenna clutched her arms as the two men prepared for battle. They faced each other in nothing but their tartans secured by leather belts. Colin’s dark hair was tied back with a piece of leather, but MacCuaig chose to leave his sandy locks loose in the rising breeze.
A muscle in the side of Colin’s jaw jumped. The approaching storm could not compare to the one swirling in the depthless waves of Colin’s sapphire eyes.
Slowly they began to circle each other as if walking on opposite sides of an invisible ring only the pair of them could see. MacCuaig suddenly lunged forward with his body weight, thrusting his blade into the space where Colin had been standing. Stunned by Colin’s unexpected celerity, MacCuaig almost did not move in time to deflect Colin’s following stroke.
Both had tested the other and found neither without skill. Lightning streaked across the sky. Thunder followed, but both men remained oblivious of nature’s show as they once again took a revolving stance.
MacCuaig began to taunt Colin. “You play yourself off as the trainer of men, not as a swordsman. But I see I have been deceived. Perhaps that is why my Makenna takes to you so. She always enjoyed playing with swords. Perhaps after she sees your defeat, she will move her affections to me.”
Makenna wondered how much of MacCuaig’s words were reaching their target. But when Colin glided around again so that she could see his expression, she realized her husband had become another man. It was MacCuaig, too consumed with his own arrogance, who did not realize the danger he was in.
Unused to a slow, methodical opponent, MacCuaig lurched forward, spinning quickly to pull out a hidden dagger in an attempt to slice Colin as he twisted out of the way. Usually the move ended the life of his opponent, but Colin emerged on his right with just a superficial slice to his side, but no more.
MacCuaig glared at the nimble Highlander. Not only did Colin not appear to be in pain, but he looked calm, almost bored. Enraged, MacCuaig quickly slashed the air as a distraction before running with his broadsword determined to puncture it through the Highlander’s heart.
Again, Colin easily deflected the attack.
Immediately, MacCuaig spun and executed a number of skilled thrusts, expecting one of them to find his target. Instead, the sound of metal echoed in the air as Colin thrust, pivoted, blocked, and thrust again.
Suddenly the rain began to fall.
MacCuaig fought a shiver and rallied. Colin might think he was an equal in swords, but very few were skillful enough to fight with equal facility with either hand. MacCuaig prepared his grip to make the switch. The unexpected stunt should leave Colin vulnerable for a few seconds—but that would be all MacCuaig needed.
Colin watched as MacCuaig performed the telltale signs of an imminent hand switch and quickly executed the maneuver himself. The unanticipated ability stunned MacCuaig. Colin seized the opportunity and sliced MacCuaig across his chest. The wound was not deep, but very painful.
Blinded by rage and stinging rain, MacCuaig lunged forward right into Colin’s sword. It pierced him straight through.
Colin pushed the man who dared to take his wife off his blade. He watched unremorsefully as MacCuaig fell into muddy pools of water.
Makenna rushed to Colin and buried her head into his chest. Colin stabbed his sword into the ground and pulled her close to him.
Makenna watched as the men led a screaming Lela out of the gate. Suddenly she was cold and Colin was the only one able to make her warm again. “Do you think Lela was right? Was Ula working with her? Does my own sister hate me that much?”
“No, I don’t think it’s true. I have been watching MacCuaig for some time. Never did we see anyone indicating Ula or Rona continued their support of MacCuaig after they left. Most likely, Ula had only been a sympathetic ear. It’s over, love. It’s finally over.”
Makenna kissed the wet skin of his chest, refusing to leave his arms. “No, annsachd, it is finally the beginning.”
Chapter Nineteen
Makenna studied the crowded hall brimming with joy, laughter, and merriment. She knew similar scenes were taking place in the yards, the town, as well as the training fields now overflowing with soldiers. The last two feasts at Lochlen had been somber events that ended with men, women, and neighbors choosing sides. Tonight those neighbors and clansmen felt nothing but a bottomless peace and satisfaction.
The day after the attack, Makenna awoke in Colin’s arms and took a deep breath of the fragrant air. The storm that had blown in had left as quickly, bringing in the last warm taste of fall. In a few weeks, the cold would return, and this time it would not leave until the spring.
Later that morning, Laurel and Ceridwin returned to Lochlen with nonstop questions. Finally, when they were satisfied, Laurel suggested that before everyone returned to their homes for the soldiers to stage some competitive games for all to come and enjoy. Meanwhile they would prepare a feast to celebrate the victors.
Makenna leaped on the idea knowing it would be at least a year before she and Colin would see Laurel again. Her only fear was there would not be enough help to prepare for such an event. Already she knew her staff would be stretched thin just cleaning rooms and seeing to the needs of the visiting lairds. Two hours after Colin and the other lairds agreed to host the tournament her concerns were no more.
Arriving in the village courtyard by the clan’s request, Makenna and Colin surveyed the huge crowd. It was hard to believe that only yesterday Colin had made them aware how loyalty ran both ways. Their laird had returned, and it was now their turn to support him. They had identified knowledgeable people to rebuild the wall, and a mason to ensure that it was done correctly. No castle staff position remained emptied, and there were volunteers to help while the visitors stayed at Lochlen.
The result was an incredible success. For the past three days, games had been conducted followed by dancing and feasting. However, tonight’s festivities outdid them all. Everyone knew that tomorrow brought good-byes, and everyone intended to make the night last as long as possible.
Alliances had been strengthened among the Moncreiffes, Crawfords, Boyds, and Donovans. One of Donovan’s men had been proclaimed the grand champion, while several others representing each of the clans sported the title of champion for individual events. Dunlop had agreed to be Laird Donovan’s commander and continue to train his army. Drake was going to oversee the MacCuaigs and ensure that there was no further uprisings until Robert the Bruce decided how matters should be settled, but the best announcement of all came from Colin, who declared he was soon going to be a father.
The pride and joy on his face as he spoke left no doubt how he felt about the idea of having a son or daughter. And if anyone wondered how much he loved his wife, he or she only had to look at him or see one of the many embraces he publicly pulled Makenna into to understand the depth of his feelings.