“What do you want, Leon?” Makenna asked, wincing as she struggled against the ropes binding her wrists to the chair. Her flesh ripped again, and new blood dripped down her hands.

Leon motioned for one of his guards to release her. “That is simple. I want you and only you. I, of course, will take Lochlen as my main residence for your benefit.”

Makenna rotated her freed wrists. They burned. Placing her hands on her lap, she examined her captor, twisting her lips into a cynical smile. “Leon, you are ten times the fool I thought you were. You must know that you will soon die by my husband’s hands.” Makenna paused, lancing him with her vivid emerald eyes. “I just hope he lets me watch,” she said, full of sincerity.

Leon’s growl grew into a scream. He marched over, grabbed her hair, and pulled her against him. Eyes of golden rage stared obliviously into Makenna’s green pools of revulsion. He was too consumed with his own hate to recognize the full extent of hers.

“Your Highlander is soon going to be dead,” Leon hissed. “And the moment he exists no longer, you will be free to fulfill your true destiny and become my wife.”

“Never,” Makenna spat, waiting unflinchingly for him to retaliate.

Leon threw her violently away from him, causing her to fall out of the chair and onto the dirt floor. About to grab her again, he came to a sudden halt, his eyes coldly furious as an evil smile slinked across his lips. Maybe the redheaded viper just needed some persuasion, and he had just the perfect influencers locked across the yard in the great hall.

“Bring her,” he ordered his men and then exited into the courtyard.





Chapter Eighteen





Colin maneuvered down the castle allure, slithering below the walkway on the top of the curtain wall. He glanced back. Dunlop, Drake, and three of his ten commanders were following his lead.

Reentering the castle without alerting anyone to their presence had been fairly simple. Once Conor began the main attack, most of MacCuaig’s men had focused on the battle. Those who had not left the outer gate were easily silenced. Ignoring the sizeable number of soldiers guarding the inner gate, Colin headed toward Forfar Tower. Finding the murder hole cleverly nestled at its base, Colin went inside knowing very few were aware of the steep, narrow staircase leading straight to the tower’s battlements. On top of the tower, Colin encountered two more MacCuaig soldiers and disposed of them quietly.

Crouching low, Colin scooted down the allure until he reached a secret opening to the hidden passageway leading to the Chapel Tower and slipped in.

Hunching down, Colin led his men down the small corridor leading straight to the confessional chambers. For decades, the postern and passageway served as a discreet way for women to visit the Lochlen’s chamberlain. When Alexander’s grandfather dismissed the position and converted the tower to a chapel, the passageway had ceased being used. As far as Colin knew, most clansmen, including the priest, had not even known of its existence. Colin only found out about it after he arrived at Lochlen and spied an odd pattern to the floor of the curtain wall. Colin had asked Alexander about it and agreed to keep it a secret.

About thirty feet from the chamber entrance, Colin stopped cold. A bellow roared from across the courtyard. It was MacCuaig, and he was furious. The little hope Colin was clinging to died. Makenna had not eluded MacCuaig’s capture. Only one person could infuriate Leon that much on his perceived hour of victory—Makenna.

Moving quickly, Colin advanced to the small door and freed the latch frozen from years of nonuse. He looked through the peephole, motioning for his men to wait as he pried the heavy wood slats open and stepped through the doorway. He verified the sanctuary was empty and signaled for his men to follow.

Colin held up a clenched fist and immediately all movement ceased. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Besides the distant clanks of metal from Conor’s attack, Lochlen was eerily quiet. Had it been abandoned?

Colin moved to the chapel’s spiral staircase and descended, indicating for his men to follow but make no sound. Carefully, they emerged out of the tower and crept into the inner yard. Hiding behind a nearby cart of hay, Colin peeked around the tilted box to survey the courtyard. Standing outside Canmore Tower was Leon. Behind him was a fuming Makenna. Surrounding them both were at least a dozen men, maybe more.

One of MacCuaig’s men pushed Makenna forcefully, causing her to lose her step and tumble to the ground. Colin gripped his sword and fought his mounting rage.

He flexed his fingers in an effort to remain coldly detached and methodical as he trained his men to be. It proved to be impossible. Separating oneself from fear to save one’s own life was infinitely different from trying to do so when it was someone you loved who was in danger. The only thing restraining him was knowing that if he attacked now, Makenna would most likely be hurt, possibly be killed. He had no choice but to sit silently and wait for an opportunity to present itself.

Dunlop sat huddled beside Colin with his back against the cart and felt his laird tremble with rage. Twisting carefully, Dunlop peered underneath the cart and into the yard. The blood drained out of his face as he witnessed the source of Colin’s anger.

Dunlop nudged Drake and was about to gesture for him to look when Makenna’s voice rang out clear across the courtyard.

“What about my people?” Makenna demanded, moving to stand up. She brushed the dirt off her gown with the air of a regal queen. Her voice and demeanor were full of calm, but one had only to look into her flashing green eyes to realize the fury within her.

Leon spun around. “Your people? You mean my people. They will swear allegiance to me, wear my plaid, and pay me the homage I require. If they don’t, they die. I will not bandy about with your prideful clan as your dead Highlander did. I will not tolerate disobedience or disloyalty.”

Makenna gave him a challenging smile. “My Colin is not dead.”

Leon’s face turned a blotchy red. “No, but he soon will be. As we speak, my best men are advancing on him. They will wait until he is vulnerable, and then they will strike. No matter how long it takes, I will see you free to fulfill your true destiny.”

Makenna narrowed her eyes. “And just what do you see my destiny to be?” she asked through gritted teeth.

Leon advanced until she was just inside his arm’s reach. “Why, to become my wife,” he announced. Before she could back away, his hand sneaked out, gripped her chin, and held it still while he brutally pressed his mouth against her lips.

Colin’s heart felt as though it were being ripped from his chest. All he could think of was getting to Makenna. He clutched his sword and was about to attack regardless of the dangers when two MacCuaig guards dragged a dead body through the inner gatehouse and into the courtyard. Leon wrenched free and turned away from the sight.

Makenna wiped her mouth off with her sleeve and stared at the dead young baker. The boy had made her laugh with his smile and quick wit. He would never do so again. He had been badly beaten before someone had sliced his throat. Something inside her went cold. “What’s wrong, Leon? The sight of Benny’s blood bother you? Or was it his mangled body that made you blanch like an old woman?”

Leon swung around and came within inches of her face, but spoke loud enough to be heard by everyone in the courtyard. “He deserved it! The fool actually tried to stop me from coming after you.”

“He was just a boy!” Makenna screamed.

“A boy who was fool enough to defend you!”

“Is that why you brought him here? So I can see what you will do to anyone loyal enough to protect me?”

“I thought he might prove the lengths I will go to have you. Several people in the great hall will suffer the same fate as your Benny if you or your people continue to fight me.”

Makenna stood wide-eyed realizing MacCuaig was insane. With anyone else, that would be an empty threat, but MacCuaig was ready to act on his promise. She looked about her. The keep was vacant. The only people in sight were MacCuaig and a dozen of his soldiers. She pushed one out of the way so that she could see the doors of the great hall. Several more men were blocking both the main and kitchen exits.

“What did you do?” she asked, her voice hollow at the promised horror of his answer.

“What any self-respecting laird would do. I am not a fool like McTiernay thinking that I can change the hearts of men loyal to another.”

“Loyal to Colin.”

“Not just to him. It seems my pretty little Scottish bride has done what many thought impossible. You learned to run a keep and gained the devotion of all who serve you.”

“What are you going to do with them?”

“That is up to you, my sweet. You see, they are loyal to you. If you agree to renounce your husband and join me, there is a good chance they will follow your lead, and I will let them live.”

Makenna glared at him. What she would give for any kind of weapon. She would die, but so would he. Hope suddenly invaded her thoughts. She did have a weapon. She just needed to get to it.

Makenna eyed him cautiously. For her plan to work, she needed to lead without being obvious. “What about my loyalty? Just how do you expect to gain my allegiance, Leon?”

“Mayhap by oppression at first, but I had your heart once before and I will have it again.”

Makenna gaped at MacCuaig incredulously. “Do you truly believe I will reject my love for Colin and accept yours?”

“You are many things, Makenna Dunstan, but you are not obtuse. Your Highlander has left, retaining the one thing I admired about the man—his pride. And while his army is considerably bigger than I was led to believe, he would not be foolish enough to attack my considerably larger forces, especially not for a clan who betrayed him.”