Colin switched arms, bracing his head, and tried to keep his thoughts on how tomorrow would enfold. But again they drifted to one person, just as they had every night since he left Lochlen. Makenna. He wondered how she was faring, if Brodie and Gorten were keeping her safe, if she was still angry, but most of all, he wondered if she missed him as much as he missed her.

He had not thought it possible to crave a woman the way he ached for her each night. They had been married for nearly three weeks, and for fourteen of those days, she had shared his bed. Each night before retiring, they would discuss both important and minor details of their day and talk about events of the morrow. During which one or both would get mad, argue, or just as often, go into fits of laughter over some odd comment or incident. He did not believe it possible to laugh so much with a woman, but his wife had a way of relating a story that made him feel as if he were right there witnessing or experiencing the humorous event himself. Regardless of how the nights started, they had always ended the same. In shared ecstasy.

Colin rolled over on his side and fingered the empty spot beside him. “I miss you, Makenna McTiernay. God help me, I do,” he whispered.


The next morning, the small group rode across the eastern countryside of the Scottish Border region. They could not see the North Sea, but they could feel its cool humid wind blow over the rocks and grass to greet them. Much less friendly were Donovan’s men. No longer lingering in the shadows, sentries followed the group as they made their way east.

Drake watched Colin carefully ready to respond to his command but detected no concern from his laird. By now it was clear an audience with their neighbor would be allowed. It was yet to be seen if leaving would also be on the agenda. Colin obviously had a plan, but what it was, Drake had not a clue.

Midafternoon, Colin halted by a small stream to rest their mounts and replenish their water pouches. He ordered the men to tie the horses and follow him. Colin cut across the stream and broke through the bushes on the other side. The scene was calm and peaceful and deadly.

“This, men, is the valley of Lonchlilar, home of Mahon Donovan. Beyond that hill in the distance is where we’re headed. Before you remount, you will secure your sword and axe so that they are visible and nonthreatening, for there will be men watching, whether you see them or not. I do not expect war with Mahon, but we are not allies, and our company was not planned. I know not how we will be received, but unless provoked, Mahon will see me.”


Mahon Donovan drummed his fingers on the thick-planked table in front of him. At his back was a roaring fire pumping welcomed heat into the room. His bones were no longer young, and they hated the cold. In his youth, men had called him the Lion because of his size, wild yellow hair, brown beard, and his deafening roar when charging the enemy on the battlefield. He was not tall, but wide and thick, and when people left his company they remembered him being much bigger than he actually was.

“Laird?” came a voice from behind.

“Aye, Ross, come in,” Donovan replied without turning around. Every hour he was given updates to the location of McTiernay and his expected time of arrival.

Mahon had ordered his men to allow Colin’s small band safe passage, but he had not forbidden intimidating them. He wished he could witness his men’s attempt to frighten the Highlander. No doubt his soldiers would learn a well-needed lesson. The Donovan army itched for battle and had grown overconfident in their abilities.

“The…the Dunstan laird, Colin McTiernay, has entered the valley. Word has it that he and his men are armed, but their weapons are secured behind them where they cannot be easily reached.”

Mahon nodded. Colin had never been to Lonchlilar before, but the man was obviously acquainted with the secrets of the valley. “Anything else?”

Ross swallowed. “Uh…just that…well, one of the men shot an arrow…”

Mahon turned around at the news. “My man or McTiernay’s?”

“Uh…ours. The arrow was not meant to hit, only to scare, but McTiernay supposedly went and got the soldier who shot it and tied his hands to the tree he was perched upon. One of the men who spied the incident used the back trail to ride back and warn you.”

“When is McTiernay to arrive?”

“Any moment, Laird.”

Mahon swiveled back in his chair to a more comfortable position. “Until I tell you otherwise, the soldier is to remain tied to that tree until Laird McTiernay has departed from this valley. We would not want another accident to start a war.”

“Uh…no,” came a hesitant reply.

Donovan picked up the pewter quaich and swallowed the remaining contents. “For if we did go to war, we would fight, and we would kill many, but just so there is no doubt, in the end, we would lose. McTiernay knows this, and I know this.”

Ross walked around the table and looked at his laird with a steady, but questioning gaze. “Lose? To McTiernay? His numbers are small, few, and I hear they are untrained.”

Mahon eyed the slight man. “Are they, now? I say no one knows. The tricks he uses to hide his numbers are not unknown to me. My valley is riddled with them. But even if you were right, and we vanquish Colin McTiernay and all his loyal men, we would then have to deal with his allies. And even if those allies decided that avenging a dead Highlander is not of value to them, there is his brother. You have not fought alongside a horde of Highlanders, but I have. It is an awesome sight when they are beside you, and I imagine a terrifying one if they’re in front of you. This is not what I want. This is not what I am about. Scots killing Scots is a waste. I will have no more. Leave me now and do not return until McTiernay has arrived.”

“Aye, Laird,” Ross quickly replied.

“That will be unnecessary, Mahon Donovan. I am already here.”

Mahon rose, walked over, and grabbed Colin’s large forearm with a firm grip. “McTiernay, welcome.”

Colin tilted his thumb toward Drake. “If you agree, I would like my commander to be in attendance during our discussions. My other men have been instructed to wait just beyond the outer walls.”

Mahon nodded. “Your commander is welcome, and my servants will see that your men outside are well fed.”

“Your generosity is appreciated.”

Mahon pointed at the padded armchairs at the head table and retook his own seat. “As you can see I have restructured the room to fit the needs of an older man. If I were having this room built now, the hearth would not be situated in the middle of the room with the entrance door to the side. The only way to keep my backside warm is to have my table situated most awkwardly, which in turn results in my back being to the door much of the time. Damn nuisance.”

“It is a grand hall all the same, Mahon.”

The old man nodded at a servant and swirled his finger in the air, indicating for him to bring drinks for his guests. Mahon propped his elbows on the table and looked Colin in the eye. “Enough with the pleasantries. It is a long ride to Lonchlilar. One does not make the journey uninvited and without purpose.”

“If you wanted to kill me or my men, your sentries would have done so the moment we set upon your land.”

“You saw them, then?”

“I had not realized that you intended them otherwise,” Colin lied.

Mahon eyed the young laird. The Highlander’s size would daunt many men, but it was the man’s cunning that caught Mahon’s attention. In an unthreatening way, Colin had cleverly warned Mahon that his men were clumsy and needed further training. It also affirmed Mahon’s guess that Colin’s visit was not to start a war between their two clans, but to avert one.

“You have ridden hard for a reason, McTiernay, and I expect I will not like the answer.”

Colin reached into his leine and pulled out several torn bloody pieces of Donovan plaid and laid them down on the table in front of Mahon. “These were carefully placed throughout the remnants of an attack on my land.”

“A raid?” Mahon asked, picking up one of the still wet pieces. It was without a doubt the Donovan tartan.

“Nay, raids are for livestock. These attacks were senseless slaughters of horses and stock animals.”

“Attacks? More than one?”

“Nine all together, in the span of two nights.”

“No sane Scot would do such a thing. You say these were found on the scene?”

“Those are but a handful of the pieces, aye.”

“No Donovan committed such a crime,” Mahon vowed with conviction.

“I never believed you or your clansmen did. There are too many pieces and their cuts are too similar. As you can see, all are the same size and shape. They were easily found, and in chosen locations. Some of the mayhem was designed just so that I would find proof of a Donovan attack.”

The old laird leaned back into his chair and sat quietly for several minutes before standing up. “Do you know the reason why I did not support you along with Crawford, Boyd, and the others?” he asked, walking toward the impressive stone fireplace.

Colin looked at the man without expression. “I suspected you had had enough.”

The accuracy of the answer startled Mahon. “I must admit I am surprised you ascertained as much, but I am glad you did. I have seen too much war these past ten years. Edward II is being manipulated by his barons, and chaos runs rampant in the English lands. During this time, we must replenish our forces and rebuild our strength. I do not want to see it squandered on battles against our own. Scots should not be killing Scots. It’s a waste and disgrace.”

“I agree.”

“Edward’s son is a fool, but he is not completely stupid. Eventually it will occur to him that attacking Scotland might unite his quarreling nobles.”