Oddly, the idea did not appeal to him. In the past, the vast mountains that jutted into the sea beckoned him to return. The Highlands were the place of his birth, his heritage, but the day he kissed Makenna, Lochlen had suddenly become home.

Retreating into the inner ward, Colin and Dunlop met in the shadows near the chapel tower. Colin verified no one was close enough to see or overhear them.

“Do you know who is behind this?” Dunlop whispered.

“Aye, but I cannot prove such an allegation.”

“Do you wish for the wall to be dismantled and rebuilt, this time by your own men?”

“I’d rather not announce what we know just yet. I am confident the rest of the wall is and will be quite solid. I doubt MacCuaig wants to spend any more than he has to once he takes over.”

“You suspect MacCuaig, then?”

“I have no evidence, but I also have no doubts it is him,” Colin replied evenly. “Starting tomorrow night, I want two guards posted between the two areas of entry, and two more at the end where there is still construction.”

“Aye, Laird. Would you have them inside or outside the town wall?”

“Inside. We will not openly reveal our knowledge of the traitors, but it should make the clan as a whole quite nervous.”

“You suspect the whole clan?” Dunlop asked, appalled.

“Nay, only a handful of people are actively behind this plot, but there are many more who know of it.”

Dunlop was about to ask another question, when Colin shook his head indicating his unwillingness to explain. “I want the guards posted from sundown to sunup.”

Dunlop looked quizzical for a moment, balancing his desire to know more and his duty to obey. Choosing, he replied, “It will be done as you ask.”

Both departed, going separate ways, avoiding the moonlight. Colin headed toward Canmore, hoping Makenna would still be sleeping in the solar. She was.

Askew in their bed, she had kicked off most of the covers and was lying on her side. The diaphanous linen chemise Makenna was wearing clung to her gentle curves featured in the golden hue of the firelight. She was slim and delicate, and her fiery red hair was fanned out on the white pillow, giving Colin a view of her soft, vulnerable nape.

He could feel himself becoming aroused by the sheer sight. Stripping off his sword, belt, and leine, he got into bed, pulling his plaid over them both.

Instinctively Makenna snuggled up to him, wiggling her backside against him to get more comfortable. The pain of her touch was excruciating, but worth it to feel her again in his arms.

So much of him wanted to kiss her awake and make love to her, but even more, he wanted the feeling that things were as before.

He fell asleep vowing to be gone before she awoke.


Shouts from outside woke Makenna. The room was dark with only hazy shadows dancing on the walls from the dying embers. She knew Colin must have also heard the noise, but neither moved. Colin was on his back and Makenna’s head lay comfortably on his chest. Her legs were intertwined with his. She did not want to give this up.

Colin had been visiting her every night for almost two weeks after she had retired and pretended to fall asleep. He would lie holding on to her and leave her side in the morning just before the sun rose.

Makenna squeezed her eyes tight. If the noise continued, Colin would be forced to rise, and when he did, she could no longer pretend she was unaware that he came to her when she slept.

The noise was getting louder. Fear enveloped Makenna. These precious nights where he just held her were all that was keeping her sane. Without them, she would break down in tears and never be able to stop. At any moment, Colin would leave and this time, he wouldn’t come back.

Colin lay awake, torn between his need for Makenna and rising to end the commotion. The time was late, but it was not yet morning. He guessed it to be two or three hours before sunrise—much too early for all the activity he was hearing.

A loud pounding came from the door. Colin grimaced. The choice between Makenna and duty was no longer his to make. Carefully, he slipped off the bed and rose to see who killed the last semblance of his dream life.

Colin opened the door to a young soldier covered in blood. Behind him, he heard Makenna exclaim, “Good Lord!” before she rushed to his side to help the man.

“Colin, carry him in! Where are you hurt?” Makenna asked, searching his body for the wound that caused such loss of blood.

“I am unhurt, milady. It’s Sean. Dunlop has him in the lower hall. He sent me to fetch you, Laird.” The man’s voice was shaking severely as he spoke.

Colin nodded and moved to get dressed when he heard Makenna order the soldier to enter as she was throwing on her own wrap. “Come in here and sit by the fire. Colin and I will take care of Sean. I will have someone bring you some drink.”

Makenna followed Colin out the door. He hesitated. “Sean had to have lost a lot of blood to cover him like that. You should stay here,” he suggested more than commanded.

Makenna shook her head. “The midwife has gone north to help deliver a baby, and even then, I am better skilled with sword and axe wounds. Let me tend to Sean. You find out who did this, why, and how it happened.”

Colin waved for her to proceed down the tower stairs and followed her into the cold night air. When they reached the lower hall, several people had already congregated. Two more men were covered in blood, and a third was on the table.

Makenna moved quickly to the man’s side. Dunlop looked up, surprised that Colin allowed Makenna to be there.

“Tell me exactly what you know of his wounds,” she directed, her voice calm but full of command.

Dunlop instinctively responded, “There’s a good gash on his left upper arm and one somewhere on his face. But he was severely stabbed here.”

Makenna followed Dunlop’s finger to Sean’s right side. Someone had already fetched water and some cloths and laid them at the end of the table. Picking one up, she put it on the side wound and instructed Dunlop to hold it in place.

Then she dipped a second cloth into the water and began cleaning the young man’s face. The soldier resisted. She moved closer, and as if she were comforting a small child, she crooned, “Sean, I need to get a better look at these wounds. I know you are in pain, but you are going to be just fine. I have worked on many knife wounds, and I know just what to do. Do you trust me?”

Sean nodded his head.

Makenna ordered someone to fetch Camus and bring his stitching bag.

Makenna quickly wiped Sean’s face and located the arc-shaped gash on the side of his forehead. As she suspected, a lot of the blood was coming from that. Next, she stole a brief glance at his arm, confirming Dunlop’s description. It was quite deep and would need to be tended, but not until after she addressed his side wound.

Carefully, Makenna took the cloth from Dunlop and inspected the serious injury. Camus arrived and placed a large bag on the table. “What do you need first?” he asked.

Makenna kept her attention on the deep gash. “I’m going to need a compress made of ground ivy for his arm and head. I’ll need a needle, thread, and a candle to stitch his side.”

Camus began digging in his bag, removing the items. “What else?”

Makenna turned, swiftly looked around, and plucked the dagger sheathed in Colin’s belt. Colin saw her intentions and moved to help. Carefully, they cut away most of Sean’s clothing, trying not to cause him any more pain. By the time they were done, Camus had threaded the needle and was burning the tip in the candle’s flame.

Makenna took the needle and pierced the skin. She heaved a sigh of relief when Sean passed out from the pain. Realizing the soldier was no longer conscious, Colin gathered the men in the room into a huddle.

Quickly Mackenna made small stitches along the long gash and gave Camus further instructions. “When I’m done here, I’ll want to keep a poultice of marigold and John’s Wort over the incision. And include henbane, if you have any more. I’ll need one of your men, Colin, to bring in a bed and a more comfortable chair. It will be easier to take care of him here. Once he’s on the bed, Sean should not be moved again. I don’t want anything reopening that wound. Hopefully the poultice will keep down the pain and bleeding.” Out of her peripheral vision, Makenna saw heads nod as people began to execute her instructions.

“Will he be all right?”

The question came from one of the soldiers who had obviously carried his friend in by the amount of blood on him.

Makenna made the last stitch and tied it off. She stood up and looked the young man in the eye. “The wound is deep, and Sean is very weak. But he was strong and healthy prior to this. If we can avoid fever, he should make it.”

Colin ordered the man to help the others with the bed. Then he pulled her aside. For the moment, with the exception of Camus and Dunlop, who remained with Sean, they were alone.

“Tell me the truth. How does he fare?”

Makenna sighed and looked at the unconscious body. “I spoke in earnest before, though I might have given more hope than I should have concerning the fever. When it comes, I’ll give him a hot broth mixed with elder, yarrow, and peppermint.” She paused and looked up at Colin.

“How did it happen?” she asked, positive Colin had discovered how and why Sean had been injured.

“I assigned a few men to watch over the wall until it was complete for security. Bored, they began sparring. Sean heard a noise, was distracted, and did not deflect the dagger coming at him in the dark.”

Colin hated the dishonesty, but after what he just heard, he had no choice. Four men had tried to sneak through the incomplete portion of the wall. Sean was the first to attack, killing the initial invader. The other guards joined and the battle quickly ended. One attacker, in his last gurgles of breath, had laughed and let them know that MacCuaig was coming and he was after Makenna.