“Robert knows this and will soon be mustering forces to attack England while it’s vulnerable. It is a sprint to see who will attack first. Regardless, though, war is imminent. The decision I have now is whether to wait and fight a battle against my own at the same time I fight the English or to fight now.” Colin watched the old laird wrestle with his thoughts.

Mahon took a deep breath and exhaled. “Turning potential enemies into actual ones is dangerous and costly.”

“I can ignore a potential enemy, Donovan, but I will not ignore one that tries to humiliate me and cause suffering to my clansmen. When enemies make themselves known whether English, Irish, or Scot, one has two choices, fight now or fight later.”

“And what are you inclined to do, McTiernay?”

“It depends on your decision. Someone intends for us to fight, no doubt to diminish your force and possibly eliminate mine, leaving Lochlen undefended for those who desire it. We can ignore what they did or we can band together against the one man who foolishly thought to pit us against each other.”

“MacCuaig.”

“There is no proof. No one saw any of the attackers, and unlike your tartan, I cannot link him or his clan to the attacks.”

“You know it was MacCuaig, just as I. The man has a black and greedy heart, but he wants more than just Lochlen. If you had spent your youth in the Borders, you would know the obsession he has with your wife.”

“He will never have Makenna, Donovan. I will leave the Dunstan clan and take her and my men to the Highlands before I would allow MacCuaig to touch one hair of my wife’s.”

Mahon swung around and marched back to his chair. He sank down into the worn cushions and locked eyes with Colin. “No man has ever dared to use me or my men before. If MacCuaig wants a battle, he’ll have one.”

“I am glad we are in agreement. But I came this way not just to show you MacCuaig’s misdeeds, but to ask for your favor. I have two battles looming in front of me, and with your assistance, I can end them both definitively and perhaps simultaneously.”

“And if I choose not to support you or your plan?”

“Then I leave here and devise another; however, I doubt my second plan will consider the state of the Lowland Scots to be a priority.”


A week later, Colin left Lonchlilar. His mood was dark and ominous. All who saw him knew the talks with Donovan had ended, and a war between the two clans was brewing.

Mahon watched secretly from his private chambers as the fierce Highlander rode at a gallop out of Lonchlilar’s gates.

The plan had begun.

It had taken a week to resolve all the specifics, and during that time, Mahon learned the fame surrounding the McTiernay strategic abilities was well earned. It all came down to timing and perception. Only one part of the elegant plan had caused Colin to hesitate.

“Your plan requires absolute secrecy of your numbers. Before MacCuaig makes his move, he will scour the hills to verify the size of your army. You have a month, maybe two at best,” Mahon had advised.

“Aye, a problem, but not an insurmountable one. To keep my numbers hidden, I will need to relocate them in stages. What concerns me is the one element I don’t control—MacCuaig. I cannot be certain how long my men’s stay will be. It is too much to ask,” Colin replied somberly.

“What is too long of a stay? Two, three months? Perhaps four? Where better than Lonchlilar Valley can you hide your men? And you know I am right. Your pride is preventing you from accepting this offer. Only under a cloak of mutual animosity will your plan be successful. You said yourself you suspect MacCuaig has already dispatched spies to Crawford, Moncreiffe, and Boyd to watch for any dispatches. He may even decide to send one or two men to my lands, but they will not dare enter the valley. Here is where your men must come.”

“I cannot deny the truth of your words, Mahon. Your sacrifice is appreciated. My men will hunt their own food and bring supplies.”

“I should be thanking you, McTiernay. Your plan allows me to save my own pride and keep my convictions. When this is done, everyone will know that I am your friend and ally,” Mahon pledged, rising to stand. He extended his arm, and Colin clasped it. Mahon squeezed and let go before offering last words of caution. “Beware of MacCuaig. He is crazed, but he is young and strong. And while no leader, he is gifted with the sword in one-on-one combat. None to my knowledge has ever beaten him.”

Colin downed the last bit of ale in his quaich. “Again I thank you, Mahon. Shall we call for Ross? He will want to determine how and where to handle the invasion of my soldiers.”

“Aye, Ross will handle the particulars for now, and though a good lad, he has much to learn. My previous commander is now in Fife. His time with me was recently completed, and he chose, understandably, to help his ailing uncle, a laird of a small MacDuff clan just north of the River Forth. He will soon be named their chief, and I wish him well. I have not chosen a replacement. My junior commanders have the talent to lead and do well with new recruits, but they lack the maturity needed to hone and lead my battle-experienced men.”

“My commander Drake shall report to you directly then and do your bidding. He will be in charge of relocating and then overseeing my men.”

“If it is not too much to ask, I would like to stage some sport, and if my men’s skills have diminished as I fear, I would ask that they join your training. Your commander of course would treat them no different and conduct the practices as he chose.”

Colin sheathed his sword and prepared to leave. “Drake is your man and will see to what you wish. It is the least I can do for this burden you undertake.”

“These are burdensome times, and we all must do what we can to preserve what is ours.”

“Aye, that we must,” Colin replied, following Mahon to the door. “Let us say good-bye now, for in a moment we must depart as enemies.”





Chapter Nine





Colin clapped his commander farewell on the back and mounted his black. After days with minimal riding, the animal was restless and ready for a hard ride. Colin gestured once more to his men and then left the secret encampment. They were heading home. He was riding north alone. Several hard months lay ahead. Dunlop would be his sole commander while Drake secretly sharpened the battle skills of his men at Lonchlilar.

Colin sensed Drake’s eagerness to be trusted with the assignment, but he also knew the young man was disappointed to be away from the freckled beauty who had so thoroughly captured his attention. Yet if all went to plan, his commander would enjoy her attentions this winter in peace.

Riding along the edge of Crawford territory, Colin confirmed his hunch. MacCuaig’s spies were ill-hid, but numerous. Colin suspected several were camped out at every allied clan, ordered to remain there until activity was seen or MacCuaig was ready to make his move. After two days of combing the Lothian hills, Colin learned what he needed to know and headed south.

The ride to Lochlen from Crawford’s should have taken almost three days. Colin made it in less than two. He reached down and stroked the neck of the big black. He had camped late and rested sparingly. Rarely did he ever push a steed this hard, but never had he been so eager to return home. “Come on, boy. I know it’s been rough, and it’s late, but think how good it will feel to be home.”

He urged his mount forward realizing that, for the first time since he moved to the Borders, he considered Lochlen to be his home. He had mouthed the words numerous times. But only recently did his heart no longer seek the Highlands. It reached to Lochlen. To Makenna. He was going home.

The last fleeting rays of sunlight disappeared behind the hills as night invaded the sky. He was almost there. At this pace, he would be in Makenna’s arms before she fell asleep. Even the prospect of facing a cantankerous, feisty Makenna still mad over his departure could not curb the excitement racing through him. He needed to see her again, hear her news, and feel her in his arms. He would even be happy to continue their quarrel. The feeling of anticipation was unfamiliar; one he had never sensed upon returning to Lochlen after a lengthy trip.

In the past, each mile closer to home increased a phantom weight that pressed down upon his shoulders. The second he would pass through the outer gate, news of events that had transpired while he was away would be delivered. Rarely was it ever good. The guilt of not being there to relieve Deirdre of a burden or be by her side when she fell sick had become so heavy he had dared not ever leave.

In the moonlight, Lochlen stretched in the distance. Colin waited for the pressure, the guilt, the fear of learning what happened while he was away. It never came.

Fighting his desire and need to hold Makenna, Colin altered his course and urged the black toward the loch. First a dive to wash off the dirt of travel; then he would find his wife and delve into her secret treasures she divulged only to him.

Washed and dressed again, Colin decided to use the night to cloak his assessment of the work done on the unfinished town wall during his absence. His jaw clenched as he passed through. Indeed, there had been progress. To the distant eye, the wall was near completion.

Colin quelled his anger and proceeded through the village to the heart of Lochlen. The enemy had tipped his hand. The wait would not be as long as he or Donovan presumed.

As he approached the outer gate, soldiers on watch caught sight of Colin. They waved in acknowledgment, and then signaled the guards to open the gate.

Colin rode to the stables, dismounted, and handed the reins over to the stable master. He turned and headed toward the inner gate. Desiring to see only Makenna, he did not stop when Dunlop rushed to his side.