“All will be well, Ula. I promise.”

“No,” Ula replied, pulling back, shaking her head. “No, nothing will be well again.”

“Have you told Father? You know our great laird would do anything for one of his daughters,” Makenna said, trying to evoke a sense of hope and cheerfulness in her tone. It did not work.

Ula straightened her shoulders. Her eyes narrowed with hatred. “Our great laird is no more. The almighty Highlander now orders us Dunstans about.”

Makenna stilled. “Father?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“He is no longer with us.” Ula stood. Anger consumed her once again. “He passed sometime this morning.”

“Does Colin know?” Makenna’s voice was suddenly hollow and foreign to her own ears.

“Aye, it was he who found him and alerted the staff. My chambermaid informed Rona and me, but when we rushed to his side, it was too late. Your husband then ordered me here.”

Suddenly, Ula softened and approached Makenna. “Oh, little sister, how wrong I was to partake in yesterday’s atrocity. Rona and I should have convinced Father that it was a mistake for you to marry the horrid giant. Whatever are you to do? Finding you here in his chambers, and seeing your hair so untidy…I suspect it is too late to annul your marriage. The Dunstans are doomed,” she wailed, flinging herself back into the chair.

Makenna felt her jaw clench as Ula’s statement penetrated the stunned state of her mind. A sudden urge to slap her sister washed over her. Her sister did not grieve for her father, nor for the Dunstans; she grieved for her own future. The woman no longer lived at Lochlen, but every time she and Rona visited, they pressured their father for funds to support a standard of living neither of their husbands could afford. Ula’s husband, Uilleam, was too greedy, and Rona’s was too inept. Ula obviously knew Colin would not be so generous with the Dunstan fortune.

“Our clan will survive. My husband is now laird, just as our father wished it. It is our responsibility to respect Father’s good judgment and support Colin’s leadership so that we will prosper and be strong once again.”

Ula sat up defiantly. “You can say that even though he told no one of Father’s death? I was told by a servant, and here I am trying to spare you the same insult. Good judgment, you say? Poor husband is my reply.”

Makenna didn’t know why Colin had delayed notifying her, but she knew there had to be a reason. A reason she would understand once he explained. “I must go. Will you be all right?”

“You really don’t know what you have done by marrying him, do you? What sentence you have cast onto Rona and me?”

One of moderation, perhaps? Makenna thought to herself as she rushed out the door.

She flew across the courtyard and up the Canmore Tower steps. Along the passageway to her father’s room were several soldiers standing in stoic silence. She pushed past them and entered the cavernous solar. Her father was lying unnaturally still in his bed. Colin sat next to him on a cross-frame chair clutching the man’s hand as if he were alive.

Makenna approached the bed hoping Ula had been wrong. The stillness in her father’s face revealed the truth. Her champion lived no longer.

A void threatened to consume her. Her father had been her last supporting figure. He had loved her completely, never ridiculing her unorthodox passions and unusual habits. He had never admonished her lack of domestic skills, instead encouraging her whenever she had made the attempt. Now he was gone, and Makenna felt her entire world had suddenly been swept away.

Colin waved his hand, and Dunlop escorted the few in the room out and closed the door. Why had such sorrow happened so soon? They were just learning to accept each other and what the other had to give. They had not yet built the trust needed to withstand such loss.

His hand let go of Alexander’s. His close friend had departed, and now Colin had to take his place. Colin knew Dunlop trusted him and would follow his lead, as did Drake and the rest of his men. He had an army, but no longer did he have his friend to question him, challenge his decisions, or just be a sounding board when needed. Alexander was gone.

Colin felt cool, soft fingertips clutch his own. It was a small gesture, but it said so much to him. He looked up. The grief etched on Makenna’s face pained him more than he thought possible. He gave a gentle tug and caught her as she collapsed into his arms sobbing.

For a long time, Colin cradled her as she wept. Sometimes hard and other times soft cries, but never did she let go. She needed him and right now he longed to be needed. I t reminded him that he wasn’t alone. That he wasn’t just desired for his skill with a sword, but that on a deeper level, he was connected to someone who needed him more than anyone else.

The storms of emotions came in what seemed to be never-ending waves. Her cries would ease just before she was sucked down into another spiral of grief. Through it all, Colin held her, never once rushing the process. Again, he had understood what she needed most and gave it to her without question or demands.

After some time, Makenna lifted her head from his chest. Colin cupped her damp cheek with his hand and used his thumb to brush away her tears. “He loved you, Makenna, so very much. Remember that.”

Makenna blinked and new tears fell. “I’ve heard you talk about your parents and how much you loved them. How did you learn to let go?”

“We each must do it in our own way and time. I’ll not tell you how to grieve, just know that you can with me. Alexander was a treasured friend I never expected to receive when I came to Lochlen. His loss will affect many.”

“The clan will want to know what to do next.”

“I will take care of everything, Makenna. You have had to endure much these past days by marrying me. I will not add to your burdens by making you prepare your own father’s funeral.”

Makenna furrowed her brow. Marrying Colin had not been a burden, just the opposite. “Colin, you are not—”

He quieted her with a soft kiss. Still keeping his lips tenderly against hers, he stood up and placed her feet gently on the floor. He released her and called out, “Dunlop!”

Instantly the door opened and Dunlop and Drake entered the solar room. “Laird?”

“Is Brodie or Gorten in the tower?”

“Aye.”

Seconds later Brodie’s head popped in, his usually jovial face now sad with grief.

Colin waved him in. “Brodie, escort Her Ladyship back to Forfar. Fetch someone to make her a bath. She will be eating in her chambers this evening. Her sisters may visit if Makenna wishes.”

Colin watched in silence as Makenna left. Just before she exited, she looked at him one last time. Tentative trust echoed in her shimmering green eyes.

Once she was gone, Colin turned to his commanders. “Dunlop, find Gorten and have him join Brodie. I want both guards standing watch over Makenna’s room. No one other than her sisters is allowed in. With so many guests still in the castle, someone might use this opportunity to influence my wife when she is most vulnerable. I’d better not learn of that happening.”

“Aye, Laird.”

It was the second time Dunlop had referred to him as laird. With Alexander’s body so close it felt odd and a little presumptuous. But he was laird now. And if he were to retain that title, Colin had to act like the Dunstan chieftain, beginning immediately.

“And, Dunlop, once you have finished with Gorten and Brodie, go find Father Lanaghly.”

Dunlop nodded and left.

Colin turned to Drake. “I want you to oversee Alexander’s preparations for burial. We will have the ceremony in three days. That should give all clansmen an opportunity to come and give their respects. If you have any questions, come to me. If you need something or someone, ask Ula or Rona. Do not, under any circumstances, seek Makenna for help. She has been through enough the past few days.”

Makenna stepped out of the tower. A large crowd of Dunstan clansmen filled the inner yard. Brodie leaned over and verified the tension she could see lining her people’s faces. “Word has spread of Alexander’s death. People are already questioning your husband’s right to be laird.”

Makenna nodded, letting him know she had heard his warning, but as soon as the thick crowd saw her they pounced. Brodie was pulling her through the mass, but everywhere she turned, there were questions. Who did she think she was marrying, an outsider and forcing him upon them as laird? Why could she not have married MacCuaig, a Lowlander who knew and respected their customs and ways? Did she regret her decision? Could she get an annulment?

No! she wanted to scream. She had no regrets, that she would never get an annulment, and that Colin held more respect for each and every Dunstan in his small finger than MacCuaig ever held for a single man, woman, or child of his own clan.

But she didn’t have to.

A piercing bellow blanketed the crowd. Caught off guard, they instinctively squashed their carping and listened. Colin’s deep baritone voice was laced with command and promise.

“I am now laird of this clan and claim Lochlen as my home. Alexander charged me with ensuring your safety and well-being and I intend to keep my promise to him. Any Dunstan who wishes to challenge me, let him come forward.”

The crowd squirmed with dissatisfaction, but no one moved to contest Colin publicly. Near the great hall, the faces of several neighboring lairds came into view. This was not how he had hoped to establish relations and alliances, but he had no choice. This was the way it had to be.

“My wife, Deirdre, wanted this to be,” Colin continued. “Alexander wanted this to be, and Makenna Dunstan married me so this would be. I am laird, and I will defend my rights as laird to any who oppose me. In return, I will regard any attack against the Dunstans—whether it be clan, army, or nation—as a personal strike against me.”