Makenna flipped over and stared at the beams supporting the above battlements. The remarks about her looks had stung, and they were indeed painful, but she had heard them before. The main reason behind her tears was fear that Doreen was right. The laird must be ashamed that his wife is so ill-equipped to help him run and protect his home. The comment haunted her.

People were leaving, and Colin would return humiliated and disappointed. Three weeks ago, she wouldn’t have cared what he thought. Now it mattered a great deal. The task of running Lochlen Castle was enormous, practically impossible for one whose aptitude for such things was nonexistent.

Makenna suddenly realized she was indulging in what Camus used to call “destructive thinking.” It was unlike her to wallow in self-pity. Colin did not believe her helpless domestically. He would not have asked her to take care of Lochlen while he was gone if he didn’t believe her capable. She could be this castle’s lady in all ways, not just name only. She just needed to make the decision. More than once someone had told her she was incapable of accomplishing a task, and each time she had proven them otherwise.

Makenna sat up in bed and wiped her eyes dry with her sleeve. This would be no different. She just needed to find someone capable of teaching her what she didn’t know. And she knew just whom to ask.


A half hour later, Makenna felt much more herself. She brushed her hair until it shone and replaited the unruly locks, but only halfway so that a mass of curls spiraled down her back. “There, that is about all I can do for now,” she told her reflection.

Rising, she went to the door and took three deep breaths before leaving. She rounded the last step, and instead of exiting, she turned inward and entered the cavernous room situated on the first floor.

It had been years since she had been in this room. There were no windows or even arrow slits through the fifteen-foot-thick walls. Its sole source of light came from the enormous hearth situated across from the entrance. The overall structure was the same, but its use had altered greatly.

A few years ago, the Dunstan steward had resided and worked within the Black Tower. Gannon stored specialty goods on the first floor, conducted business from the second, and slept in the chamber Colin currently used. Now the tower basement was divided by a wooden partition. On the left was a storage area housing a mix of items from perishable goods to supplementary weapons. The other side appeared to be a makeshift sleeping quarters for several servants.

“Who goes there?” a female voice snapped. Makenna turned around immediately and matched the face to the unknown voice she had overheard. A round-faced woman, Doreen was somewhere in her late thirties, perhaps even forty whose straw-colored hair was wrapped in a precariously listing topknot.

“Oh…oh…milady. My apologies. I never expected to find you here.”

“No, no, don’t apologize. I didn’t realize what…Are these your quarters?”

“Ah, no. I stay with my husband and my son. Our cottage is just outside the outer wall.”

“Your son, his name is Rufus, right?”

Doreen’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Aye, it is. I wasn’t aware that you knew my son.”

“I have not had the privilege, but I hope to, soon.”

Doreen shifted her weight from one foot to the next and back again. Never had Makenna taken the time to talk or converse with anyone not associated with horses or weaponry. Her knowing about Rufus, a simple farm lad, was unexpected and very disconcerting. “May I inquire to your needs, milady?”

Hearing the confusion in the woman’s voice, Makenna walked over and clutched Doreen’s fingertips with her own. It was a personal gesture, she knew, but it also felt natural. “I…I want to make a request.”

Doreen felt her uneasiness lessen. Her Ladyship was just as nervous and unsure. Feeling the sides of her mouth rise, Doreen chuckled quietly. Who would believe, she, a lady’s maid, would feel more at ease and confident than the actual lady of the castle? She patted Makenna’s quivering hand and asked, “What is that, milady? You need me to fetch the stable master, or Camus perhaps?”

It was natural for Doreen to assume she would want to visit the horses or the sword smith. “No, I need to gather everyone who works at Lochlen just outside the great hall.”

“In the inner yard? Everyone?” Doreen gasped, not even trying to hide her shock.

“Aye, in the yard, and as soon as possible. And no, I don’t need everyone. The armorers, the soldiers on watch, and the stable workers are not required, but anyone else who supports this castle or is paid by the steward must attend. Oh, and Gannon, too, of course.”

Doreen stood frozen in stunned silence. “I…there is going to be some resistance.”

Makenna took a deep breath and exhaled. No turning back now. “Tell them it is…the Lady of Lochlen’s request.”

An hour later, Makenna stood in the inner yard looking out at the small group of two dozen women and a handful of men. There might be a lot she didn’t know about running a keep, but she was reasonably certain the number of people in the yard was far below what was needed to run a castle of Lochlen’s size.

Makenna’s eyes searched the crowd and found Doreen. She motioned for her to come close and whispered, “Is this everybody? I was hoping to talk with everyone at Lochlen, not just those available.”

“Aye, milady, this is everyone, except those you excluded.”

“I thought…well, I thought there would be more people working here.”

Doreen wanted to be anywhere rather than where she was. Wishing she had left when Lela suggested, she nodded. “There are, I mean…were.”

Makenna frowned, feelings of frustration and panic rising within her. “I see.”

A man moved to the front of the small crowd, his mouth thin with displeasure. “No, milady, I don’t think you do see. If you did, you wouldn’t be asking us to come to ye like this.” His eyes were small, deep-set, and firmly positioned upon her.

“And why should I not want to see my staff?” Makenna asked, genuinely curious as to what his objetions could be.

One long finger pointed out at the crowd, as the other pushed back his wispy gray hair. “I have looked, but my eyes cannot seem to find the stable master or his lads. I also do not see the armorers or your friend, the sword smith.”

Makenna felt her face redden and replied defensively, “Well, no—they are not here. I did not want to take them away from their duties.”

“But you have no remorse about pulling me away from my bread. The loaves I was kneading are now ruined and those in the ovens are probably burnt. Now do you see, milady? That’s why so many of us have left. You support the soldiers, but they are not the only ones who work hard and ensure the safety of Lochlen. But you don’t care about us, now, do you?”

The back of Makenna’s hand flew to her mouth as she surveyed the crowd. Several heads were nodding up and down in agreement. She had just made another huge mistake. “Oh Lord, and for those who have stayed, I have just made your work all that much harder.”

His black eyes relaxed as he saw understanding seep its way into his mistress’s expression. “And now, milady, for the first time, I think you just might be seeing the way things are and not the way you want them to be.”

Makenna openly studied the man. Not many would question the laird’s new lady in an open forum, and even fewer would be so harsh. This medium-height, thin-framed man had expanded her perception, giving a larger sense of reason and reality. In a way, he had done for her what she had tried to do for Deirdre. Be honest, despite station or circumstance.

“What is your name?” Makenna’s voice became soft and melodious. Accompanying it was a smile that the men in the yard would talk about for days.

“Dugan, milady,” he answered with quiet emphasis.

“And I take it you are the baker.”

He coughed, suddenly feeling the weight of everyone’s stares. “There was one other, but he left.”

The man looked tired, and now she knew why. He was doing the work of two men. With so few in the yard, Dugan’s situation would no doubt be indicative of those surrounding him. Before she could help Dugan or any of the remaining staff, she would first have to understand just how bad things were and receive advice on what to do about it.

“Where is Gannon?” she asked loud enough for all to hear.

“I am here, Lady Makenna,” came a strong, steady answer as a balding, thickset man with hawklike eyes stepped forward.

When Makenna was a child, the steward had seemed unapproachable and harshly demanding. Now he was the one man who could save her from the deep pit she had spent many years digging for herself. Gannon had been Lochlen’s steward since before she was born. He knew everything that went on at the castle and in the surrounding estates. Skilled at accounting and legal matters as well as personnel management, the old steward was her one hope of fulfilling Colin’s request.

Gannon had watched as Makenna fumbled with the baker and realized her mistake. It seemed she was finally ready to be lady of this grand castle. Of all the Dunstan daughters, she had been the one who had the heart, stamina, and backbone required to lead her people. Ula and Rona were self-centered and vain, Edna was too quiet and introspective, and Deirdre had been led through persuasion, focusing only on personal comforts and not what was best for the clan.

Unfortunately, like her sister, Makenna had foolishly married the arrogant Highlander. Their new laird spoke about rebuilding the Dunstan army and ensuring the clan’s safety, but there was very little evidence he would ever be able to do so. Without the clan’s support, Gannon had no doubt Colin McTiernay would be forced to leave Lochlen. Hopefully, Makenna would realize her folly and stay.