Page 32 of Highlander’s Hope

“What you need to do is make it difficult for the enemy to enter here. Rather than hiring a mason to start fixing the wall, ask a blacksmith to make you iron spikes to make it hard for them to climb over the wall, like big arrow tips. Or you can have men make them out of wood, but have the blacksmith attach them securely to the wall.” Konnor imagined bird spikes that were used as anti-intruder protection on fences and walls. “Make it so the enemy can’t climb here.”

Marjorie looked at him wide eyed. “But ’tis nae but a quick fix.”

“You don’t have time for a proper repair. You also need to remove the rubble down below.” Konnor pointed down the wall, and everyone looked at what he was talking about. “They’ll have less of a ramp and more of a climb.”

“That will take men,” Marjorie said. “And they need to train to prepare for the fight.”

“What they need is to be smart,” Konnor said. Marjorie opened her mouth and frowned again, clearly unhappy he’d contradicted her. “Next, you should build rows of wooden stakes at the base of the walls so they cannot use siege ladders.”

Marjorie shook her head, her eyes flashing. “Ye have no idea what you’re suggesting. That will take all the men. Every single one. They need to polish their fighting skills for when the enemy gets in.”

“What I’m suggesting will prevent the enemy from getting in.”

Malcolm nodded. “He’s right, lass, I think he has good ideas.”

“He canna contradict the mistress like that, she kens better,” Muir said.

“I’m not done,” Konnor said. “In Iraq, we used drones for early detection, but you can put watchmen out in the woods in all directions, preferably from where the MacDougalls are likely to show up. Give them a signal, something your men can recognize. Something that can give you advance warning.”

“But that would mean risking the lives of more men! I already lost three last night. I cannot lose another.” She shook with anger. Her cheeks reddened, and her eyes were shooting lightning bolts. Like a Celtic goddess of war, she was ready to fight him.

“But—” Konnor started.

“Nae, ’tis quite enough. When I asked for yer help, I dinna mean for ye to suggest strategy that would undermine mine. Ye dinna ken our ways, and ye dinna ken this castle. Leave. I dinna need yer help nae more. My men and I will decide, nae ye.”

Her rejection stung, but worse was the fear for her. The mistakes she was about to make would get her into the exact nightmare she was trying to escape from.

“Listen to me—” Konnor said.

“Leave,” Tamhas insisted. “Ye heard the mistress.”

“Marjorie—”

“Go,” she said and turned away, her shoulders rising and falling quickly with her rapid breathing.

Konnor stared at her back, his nostrils flared, his fists clenching. “Go to your room, Konnor. Lock the door.” The helplessness of the little boy he’d been dragged at his arms, enveloping him in a tight, sticky cocoon. He couldn’t protect his mother from danger all those years ago. And Marjorie, this beautiful, beautiful Highland queen, needed more protection than anyone after what she’d been through. And he wouldn’t let any harm come to her son.

He wouldn’t abandon her, wouldn’t let her anger chase him away. “You want me gone?” he said, and she turned to him, her green eyes ablaze. “Well, too fucking bad. I’m not leaving. Deal with it.”

Ignoring her widened eyes and the sinking feeling of helplessness in his gut, he walked towards the tower. He had to do something. He couldn’t leave, and he couldn’t sit and watch her dig her own grave. He’d find a cart and start removing the rubble at the base of the walls himself.

Chapter 13

Konnor picked up a rock and tossed it onto a pile of stones in the garden cart. It landed with a loud bang. He’d been working for a while through the pain tearing his ankle apart.

The northern castle wall loomed over him into a blue sky. The two guards standing on the wall threw curious glances at him from time to time. Despite the sun, the wind bit the skin of his bare back, wet from sweat.

He didn’t get women. First, Marjorie wanted his help. Now, she wanted him gone. What exactly had changed? All he’d done was give his advice, just like she’d wanted. Ignoring the pain from the calloused, raw skin on his palms, he leaned down and picked another rock, his nostrils flaring, his blood still fuming at Marjorie’s dismissal.

He threw it onto the pile and straightened, breathing in deeply to calm himself. The air was rich with the scents of fishy, lake water that came from the loch, flowers, and dung. Sheep were grazing peacefully nearby, and Konnor followed the herd with his eyes and then looked into the woods he and Marjorie had come out of. The stream he and Marjorie had followed on their way to the castle two days ago would take him back to the ruin with the magical rock. He could leave and get back to his time and to civilization. Then he could forget all this BS.

Yes, he’d get back home. He’d make sure his mom was okay, visit her twice a week like he’d always done. Do some repairs on the house, throw the garbage, run errands for her, and keep her company. She’d cook and show him the new paintings she’d done. She’d picked up painting after Jerry’s death at the suggestion of her therapist, and it had been really good for her.

Her art used to be dark, a combination of black colors and reds, but with time, they became lighter and started varying in themes: a sunny Californian beach, the landscape of the Rocky Mountains in a snowstorm, flowers, and such.

Before his trip to Scotland, he’d brought her groceries and she’d showed him the painting portraying a lonely ship in a turbulent sea. Something about the dark waves, the black sky, and that sole white triangle of a sail had shot right into his heart. Did she feel lonely like this?

Or did he?