Caelen's Wife: Book One - A Murmur of Providence (Clan McDunnah Series 1) (4 page)

He began to question his sanity, cursed his male member to bloody yield before anyone in the near vicinity took notice.

The male member in question shriveled up and yielded to his good sense the moment Fiona said,
Ye canna frighten me into marryin’ ye.

The suggestion of marriage was like icy water to his ardor.

It took a few moments for him to find his voice. “I have no’ asked fer yer hand,” he told her.

Fiona cocked her head to one side. From the expression on her face, he could see she thought him daft. Mayhap he was.

“Then why
did ye steal me sheep?”

“I didna steal yer sheep and I do no’ appreciate bein’ accused of such.”

Fiona took a step forward, her hand going to the hilt of her sword. The sparkle in her eyes seemed to grow. His male member started to wake again.

“The evidence points to ye, or yer men.” Her voice was firm and unwavering. “I’m no’ one to go about accusin’ anyone of anythin’ without evidence.”

Caelen crossed his arms over his chest and spread his legs apart. “And yet, here ye stand before me doin’ just that.”

“Can ye explain the dirk and plaid and me stolen sheep?” Fiona asked.

Caelen had no good answer, at least none that he thought she would believe. His mind began to wander, something else that rarely ever happened when he was in a confrontation with someone. Were the bonny lass before him a man, he’d have knocked her on her arse by now. Instead, his mind was conjuring up images of removing her leather armor and mail. Slowly.

“I thought as much, McDunnah,” Fiona said, not backing down one singular inch. “I will tell ye what I told the others. I’ll no’ marry ye or anyone else fer that matter. Clan McPherson will not be bullied. We may no’ be as big as yer clan, or the McKenzies, Farquars, or the McGregors. But we are just as fierce as all of ye. And ’twill be over me dead body that I yield to any of ye.”

There was that word again. It hadn’t had the same affect as it had moments ago, though his maleness did shrink just a bit.

Marriage? What the bloody hell is this woman talkin’ about?

“Again, I’ve no’ asked fer yer hand, me lady.”

The same expression of disbelief stared back at him. “Ye may no’ have asked yet, but I’m certain ye plan to. Stealin’ me sheep was just yer way of warnin’ me of such.” And with that, she turned on her heels and began to walk away. “I’ll be takin’ me sheep with me, McDunnah,” she said over her shoulder. “And I warn ye to stay off McPherson lands.”

Kenneth stepped forward to stop her but Caelen held him back. “Let her go.”

Kenneth looked at him as though he’d lost his mind, but remained quiet.

Brodie looked at Caelen. “I be so sorry, Caelen,” he said quietly. “She’s as stubborn as they come.”

Caelen smiled at Brodie. “Do no’ worry it, Brodie. But on me honor, I had nothin’ to do with the reivin’ of yer sheep.”

“I did no’ believe ye did,” Brodie said. “I’m certain we can figure this out.”

“Hopefully
before
yer sister runs me through with her sword.” Caelen said with a slight chuckle.

“I will no’ let her kill ye, Caelen. But I canna guarantee she’ll no’ make an attempt.”

Something in Brodie’s tone of voice warned he was not speaking in jest.

Kenneth waited until Brodie and the rest of the McPhersons quit the hall before speaking. “Are ye truly goin’ to let the lass take seventeen of our sheep? We did no’ steal any from her.”

Caelen stared at the people leaving his gathering room. “Aye,” he answered. “I am.”

Kenneth shook his head in dismay. “But
why?
”

Caelen smiled. “Because it will temporarily keep Fiona McPherson from wanting me head mounted on a pike.”

Kenneth sensed there was more Caelen wasn’t saying. “And?”

“It will amuse me.”

“
W
hy
?”

Fiona thought it a reasonable enough question. From the puzzled look on Edgar MacKinnon’s face, he either didn’t understand it or wanted to avoid answering it.

“Why, what?” the small man with thinning blonde hair asked.

Fiona resisted the desire to call into question the MacKinnon’s level of intelligence. He sat in the same spot the MacElroy had sat some two weeks before and had just asked the same question that, to date, four other chiefs had asked over the past year.

Fiona sat at the opposite end of the table, with Collin to her right, and Bridgett to her left. Bridgett, as always, looked quite beautiful this day. Hair as black as pitch fell in a long braid across her bosom. In the candlelight and against the dark green dress she wore, her hair nearly shimmered. Silently, Fiona wished she was as beautiful as her friend, with her deep blue eyes and perfectly proportioned face.

Fiona said nothing as Edgar MacKinnon had repeatedly cast glances toward Bridgett. Resembling a hungry man looking at a roast boar, Bridgett, much to her credit, ignored the stares and compliments. One would think that a man who had just proposed would be more interested in the woman whose hand he had offered for and not her elegant and beautiful best friend. Of course, Fiona would have been more insulted had the man pretended to be interested in her in the romantic or physical sense.

Raising her voice ever so slightly in order to draw Edgar’s attention away from Bridgett and to the topic at hand, Fiona expounded on her previous question. “I ask why
.
Why this sudden interest in me? We’ve only met twice that I can remember. Yet, here ye sit, in me gatherin’ room, askin’ fer me hand. I’d like to ken why
.”

Edgar’s eye twitched ever so slightly before answering. “’Twould be mutually beneficial to each of us.”

She’d heard too many men of late tell her how a marriage between whatever clan was proposing and the McPhersons would be mutually beneficial. So far, no one had been able to tell Fiona how
her
clan would benefit, other than from the protection of the bigger clan. Unconvinced of any benefit to her or her people, she remained quiet.

Edgar went on. “If ye marry me, ye get the protection of me clan. In return, we get all the wonders and magic of yer lands.”

Bridgett shook her head in dismay. “Ye men are all the same.”

Edgar smiled at Bridgett as though an angel had just descended from heaven instead of taking her words as the insult Bridgett had intended.

“To
ye,
marriage is nothin’ more than a way to gain more lands, power, and coin. Do ye no’ care at all about a woman’s heart?”

His smile faded.

“Ye speak as though ye were barterin’ for a cow and no’ a woman’s heart,” Bridgett told him pointedly.

“’Tis a barter. I’m no’ here to win anyone’s tender heart, lass,” Edgar said through gritted teeth that bespoke the fact he did not like to be challenged by anyone.

“But a woman’s heart
is
important!” Bridgett threw her hands into the air. “But ye do no’ care about that. Only lands. Lands, lands, lands!”

“Bridgett,” Fiona said, her gaze never leaving Edgar’s. “Ye need no’ worry over it. Me answer is the same for the MacKinnon as it was fer all the others.” Pushing herself away from the table, Fiona stood with her shoulders back and her chin up. “I’ll no’ marry ye, Edgar MacKinnon. Or anyone else fer that matter. Stay off me lands and warn yer friends to do the same.”

Without bothering to say good day or listen to any further arguments, Fiona left the room with Bridgett following close behind.

F
iona had felt quite
confident that Caelen McDunnah understood her warning and declaration. Even though she had to admit that she might give any proposal he made more consideration than she had the others.

A week had passed since visiting with the McDunnah, yet the man plagued her thoughts. She stood now at her bedchamber window, staring out at the setting sun. It had been a tiresome day with training all morning, going over the larder inventory with their cook, Rob McPherson, and then meeting with Edgar MacKinnon that afternoon.

Sleep had evaded her that first night after meeting with Caelen. Admittedly, she had much that kept her busy to the point of exhaustion. With another marriage proposal, the daily running of the keep and all her duties as chief, there was much on her mind these days.

However, one thought, or more specifically one face, had troubled her thoughts. And the face belonged to Caelen McDunnah.

Even though he had reeked of stale whisky and his eyes had been bloodshot, there was something about the man that she found quite attractive. Mayhap it was his well-muscled body or the way he stood so confidently when she had confronted him about the sheep. Or, mayhap, it had been the fact that he hadn’t argued with her and had allowed her men to retrieve the seventeen head of sheep without so much as a small protest.

Or, more likely than not, it had something to do with the fact that she hadn’t been with a man in five years. Aye, her husband was dead two years now. Five years ago however, he had stopped coming to her bed altogether. After years of trying to conceive a child, James had finally given up, much to Fiona’s heartbreak.

She had loved James, loved him dearly. Unfortunately, he could not return her feelings.

Theirs had been an arranged marriage, as so many often were. Fiona had known from the very beginning that she hadn’t been James’ first choice in a bride. Her father, Thomas and James’ father, Paul, had been the best of friends since childhood. Her father had saved Paul’s life on more than one occasion, beginning in their childhood when Thomas had saved Paul from drowning. A bond was forged over that moment, a bond that lasted their entire lives. Paul McPherson, ever grateful, felt he owed a debt to his good friend and so, a betrothal between their two children was made.

Neither Fiona nor James truly had a say in the matter.

Knowing full well that James didn’t love her, Fiona still did her best to win his heart. Fiona had done everything she could to be a good wife. She made certain the keep ran smoothly, even during less than spectacular financial times. She carefully planned their meals, tended their wounded, and helped to bring everyone’s babes into the world but her own. She had even tried to be a seductive wife, wearing revealing gowns, styling her hair perfectly, and seeking council from more experienced women.

It had all been for naught. No matter what she did, James was never impressed. It wasn’t to say he treated her poorly, for in truth, he hadn’t. Simply put, he wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic as Fiona was.

When attempts at being a seductress failed, she returned to what she knew best; swords and knives.

With three older brothers to look up to, Fiona had always been fascinated with swords, knives, slingshots and battles. Much to her mother’s vexation, Fiona had no desire to learn to cook or sew or tend hearth and home. She preferred the company of her brothers, who were all too happy to teach her what they knew.

Her brothers had spoiled her from the day she was born.
Fiona suspected it had more to do with the fact that she was a quite homely bairn and they believed there was no hope for her. They swore, though, they had taught her everything they knew so that she could protect herself from less honorable members of the opposite sex.

As she grew, so did her reputation at being a fine swordsman and knife thrower. There wasn’t a lad her equal, besides her brothers, and Fiona had enjoyed the attention.

However, as she grew older she discovered there were other ways of sparring
with a boy. The boys, however, did not see her as a potential love interest. Instead, she was simply
Fi.
The homely little sister to the McCray brothers. Aye, they admired her swordsmanship, her skills with knives and slingshots. But that was all they admired about her.

So when her husband began to grow distant, Fiona made the decision to don tunic and trews and pick up her sword with the hope that her skills as a warrior might impress him.

He didn’t so much as blink an eye. Even when she bested one man after another on the training fields.

Seductress or skilled warrior meant nothing to James. Boiled down, he simply wasn’t interested in her. When she finally realized that fact, it nearly clove her heart in twain.

Now here she was, chief of their clan and alone as she had been for years. There was no one to share her concerns or worries with, save her brothers, her mum, and her dearest friend Bridgett.

As much as she loved all of those people, ’twas not the same as having that
one
person to share your life with. There was a level of intimacy between a husband and wife that could not be found with a parent, brother or friend.

Five proposals in the past year and not one of them worth her consideration. They wanted one thing: her land. Not her as a woman, not her heart, just her lands.

But why? Why after more than one hundred years of peace, did these men suddenly begin to want this little bit of land she called home?

Clan McPherson was small in comparison to the other clans, both in numbers and the area they claimed as their own. Rocky terrain that abutted
Mount
Sidh Chailleann,
was ill-suited for growing crops of any kind. Its only saving graces were the fact that its waters were so pure and it was a good place to raise sheep and goats.

Why then were the MacKinnons and all the others so interested in her lands? She hadn’t expected her chiefdom to be this complicated or this lonely.

A knock came at her door. Whilst she’d have preferred to remain alone and unbothered for a while longer, she knew no answers could be found by staring at the horizon. Smoothing down the skirt of her green dress, she bid entry.

Bridgett entered, took one look at Fiona and gave a shake of her head.

“The McDunnah has cast a spell upon ye,” Bridgett said as she came to stand beside Fiona.

Fiona giggled. “Yer daft.”

Bridgett was not the least bit offended. “Am I? Then, pray tell, why have ye been in such a sullen mood these past few days?”

“I’m no’ sullen,” Fiona told her, not averting her eyes away from the window.

“Nay?” Bridgett asked, feigning ignorance. “Ye could have fooled me, the way ye are always lookin’ so forlorn and distracted.”

Fiona sighed heavily and realized Bridgett was not going to leave her alone any time soon. “Bridgett, I ken ye mean well, but truly, I am no’ sullen or distracted. Caelen McDunnah has nothin’ to do with me mood. I simply have much on me mind of late.”

“Such as?”

“Odd,” Fiona said with feigned confusion. “I thought fer certain ye were there when Edgar MacKinnon made his proposal of marriage just a few hours ago.”

“Is that what is botherin’ ye? Edgar MacKinnon’s proposal?”

Fiona let loose with a heavy breath. “Nay, no’ exactly the proposal itself, but somethin’ else he said. When I asked him why he wanted to marry, he said his clan would get all
the wonders and magic
of our lands. What do ye suppose he meant by that?”

“I dunnae,” Bridgett replied. “I thought he was merely bein’ a sarcastic arse.”

Fiona giggled with agreement. “Aye, I suppose yer right. ’Tis no matter. I would no’ marry him or any of the others who’ve proposed.”

A wry smile formed on Bridgett’s lips and her eyes near sparkled with amusement. “But what of the one who has no’ yet proposed?”

“If yer referrin’ to Caelen McDunnah—”

“Aye, I am.” Bridgett continued to smile.

“Ye can set those thoughts aside, Bridgett. He’ll never propose and fer many reasons.” She held up a hand to stop Bridgett’s impending protest. “He still mourns the loss of his first wife. He’ll never remarry. And if, by some act of God he
did
propose, I’d tell him what I told the others.”

Bridgett sighed heavily. “Why? I ken yer lonely, Fi. Have ye no desire to marry again? To be with a man? To share yer life with someone?”

“I do,” Fiona answered softly as she turned to look out the window. The sky was aflame with streaks of red, orange and purple. “But what I desire does no’ matter. Me clan comes first, above all else.”

That much was true, but there was more she refused to share with her friend. The simple truth was that she could not stand the thought of being married to yet another man who did not want her in a physical or romantic sense. Though blessed with many friends, she had no desire to be legally bound to one.

If she could not have a man who wanted her heart, as well as a more intimate and physical relationship, she’d prefer to be alone.