Caelen's Wife: Book One - A Murmur of Providence (Clan McDunnah Series 1) (5 page)

C
aelen left
the keep through the kitchens and walked down the winding trail that led to the little huts that dotted the landscape. He was on his way to see his grandminny, Burunild. The auld woman had sent word earlier that morn that she wanted to see him.

He’d been home for days now and had not yet taken the time to visit with his father’s mother. Believing the auld woman wanted nothing more than to chastise him for not visiting sooner, he took his time getting to her cottage.

As he walked down the path, Elspeth McDunnah — one of his many cousins — came out of her cottage with a bairn in one arm and a basket in the other. “Good day, Caelen!”

Happy for the delay, Caelen walked up to her and gave her a warm embrace. “How be ye this fine day, Elspeth? And what do we have here?” he asked, referring to the babe in her arm.

“This be me son, Connor,” she smiled proudly at her babe.

The sense of longing and wishing for that which he knew he would never have tapped at his heart as he looked down at the bundle in her arms. A beautiful babe, not more than three months old Caelen reckoned, was fast asleep in Elspeth’s arm.

“Would ye like to hold him?” Elspeth asked, her blue eyes glistening in the morning sun.

Caelen shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “I be on me way to see Burunild and I fear if I hold him, I’ll no’ want to be puttin’ him down. Burunild will have me head fer certain if I keep her waitin’ much longer.” ’Twas a full out lie but he did not want to explain to Elspeth the truth.

He had never had the chance to hold his own son. Guilt would not allow him to hold someone else’s.

“I shall no’ keep ye, then,” Elspeth said. “I would no’ want Burunild angry with me fer keepin’ ye from her.” She handed Caelen the small basket. “I saw ye headin’ down the path and thought I’d give ye some jam that I made. Is blackberry still yer favorite?”

“Aye, ’tis!”

“Good,” she replied. “There be blackberry jam, bread, and a meat pie. I hope Burunild allows ye to live long enough to enjoy it.”

Caelen laughed in agreement. Burunild might be as auld as Scotia herself and unable to walk far without help, but she could still wield her walking stick with deadly accuracy when she wanted.

“Thank ye, kindly, Elspeth.

A
fter knocking
on his grandminny’s door, he heard the faint sound of her voice bidding him entry. Taking a deep breath to steel himself for the chastisement he was certain was coming, he opened the door and stepped inside.

The furs were pulled away from the windows allowing the bright morning sun to illuminate the interior of the small cottage that Burunild called home. To his left was a loom of questionable age and sturdiness, along with a small stool that sat under a window. How many blankets and plaids over the countless decades had his grandminny created in that very spot?

To his right was an old table and two chairs that sat between the hearth and her bed. Burunild was sitting at the table now, her gnarled hands cutting vegetables and placing them in a large wooden bowl. Looking up from her work, her lips curved into a warm smile. “Do I ken ye?”

His heart clenched at her question and he rushed to kneel before her, setting the basket on the table. Had she suffered some form of apoplexy and now could not remember her own grandson? “Grandminny,” he said, his voice filled with worry and concern. “’Tis me, yer grandson, Caelen.”

Burunild tilted her head ever so slightly and studied him. “Aye, I remember havin’ a grandson named Caelen. He used to be such a good lad and always had the time fer an auld woman. But I fear much time has passed since last I’ve seen him that I wouldna recognize him if he kicked me in the leg.”

The auld woman was tormenting him on purpose! “Grandminny!” he said with more anger than he should have. “Ye ken well who I am.”

“Of course I ken who ye are, ye eejit. The question is, do
ye
ken who ye are?”

“What do ye mean by that?” he asked, his frustration growing and he’d only been here a short time. The auld woman had a way of exasperating him in just a few heartbeats.

“It means, do ye ferget that ye be me favorite grandson? Do ye ferget all the times I cared fer ye when ye were ill or wounded? Do ye ferget that as chief of yer clan, ’tis yer duty to care for
all
of yer people, includin’ yer auld grandminny, who might no’ have too many days left on this earth?”

The auld woman was going to drive him to an early grave.

“
T
wenty-five
?” Fiona asked with barely concealed fury as she paced back and forth in her private study. “Twenty-five more sheep?”

Collin McCray stood patiently in front of the hearth. Having drawn the short straw, it was up to him to tell Fiona the news. Twenty-five sheep had been stolen in the middle of the night and this time, a message was left.

“Aye, Fi,” he said. “And this time, there was a message.”

Fiona stopped pacing. “A message?”

Reluctantly, he recounted what had been told to him by Seamus, who had been told the story by Dudley McFarland, one of the men in charge of guarding the sheep at night. After the first reiving, they had increased patrols and guards to watch over the sheep. “The McDunnah sends his regards.”

Seldom did Fiona ever lose her temper. ’Twas a rarity and one of the things that her clan admired about her. Publicly, she would have remained calm and reserved, not allowing anyone to see how angry she was.

Today, she was not in public and she let loose her frustration with a slew of curses that made even Collin blush.

Within the hour, Fiona McPherson, three of her brothers, and ten of her best men, were mounted and heading for McDunnah lands.

T
hree days had passed
since Fiona McPherson had visited Caelen’s keep.

Caelen couldn’t get the image of beautiful woman out of his mind.

It vexed him.

He had tried drinking the thoughts and images away. He had tried sparring them away.

This morning, he thought he would make another attempt by leaving the keep and hunting, with the hope that, for a few hours at least, he could be rid of the lustful thoughts that plagued him. For a few hours, at least, it had worked.

Hunting with him were his cousin and second in command, Kenneth, and seven other men. Things had been going along splendidly all the day long. They’d managed to catch half a dozen rabbits, several pheasant, and even a nice-sized stag. Caelen’s mouth watered when he thought of what his cook, Jinny McDunnah, would do with the deer meat.

They were camped in a small clearing miles from their keep. Caelen and Kenneth had just finished tying the buck to the branch of a large tree and bleeding it, when the sound of horses approaching broke through the chatter of male laughter. Later, years later when Kenneth would recount what happened next, he would swear that a cold wind had blown in, a forewarning of what was to come.

Caelen had seen the riders first.

McPhersons.

A quick scan of the group was all it took to spot Fiona. In the images and dreams that had bedeviled him, he had envisioned her riding naked atop a snow-white mare, her hair billowing in the wind behind her, her green eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

She was far from naked this day. Resplendent, nonetheless, as she rode a big bay. Dressed for battle it seemed, what with her chainmail, leather armor and trews, and full face helm. He knew it was her, for she was the smallest of all the riders and her brothers and men rode on either side of her. Naked or dressed in full battle regalia, the effect on his person was the same. Desire didn’t just flicker in his groin. It burned, and were he a less experienced man, it might very well have exploded.

Caelen felt his chest tighten, not with dread or fear, but of want and desire. Realizing what those sensations were
was what made him want to run and hide like a lad not yet old enough to grow a beard. That, in turn, made him feel like a fool, which quickly made him quite angry with himself.

It amazed him to no end how a woman —
this
particular woman — could crack open the old, thick wall he had built around his heart. But crack it she had. Ever hopeful he could mend that crack before any real damage was done, he swallowed hard and pretended he hadn’t seen her.

“Bloody hell,” Kenneth muttered when he saw who approached. “Gird yer loins, lad,” he whispered to Caelen. “The Devil approaches disguised as a woman.”

Caelen acted as though he hadn’t heard the man’s warning.

Kenneth shivered. “Is it me, or has the air gone quite cold?”

“Shut up, Kenneth,” Caelen told him.

Kenneth glanced at his chief, studied him closely for a moment and grimaced before turning his attention back to the riders.

F
iona
, her brothers and her men approached the encampment slowly, as if they were simply out for a quiet ride and had not a care in the world. Outward appearances could oft be deceiving. Her face, what of it that could be seen, held no sign of the fury she truly felt.

Pulling her horse and men to a halt at the edge of Caelen McDunnah’s encampment, Fiona gave a quick scan of the area for signs of men hidden in the scattered trees. It
appeared
as though these were nothing more than men on a hunt. She refused to let her guard down for it had
appeared
days ago that Caelen McDunnah meant neither her nor her people any harm. Last night’s raid told a different story.

A quick head count put the McDunnah numbers at nine. Fiona had thirteen men with her. Though they might not be as skilled or battle-honed as the McDunnah men, they would be able to hold their own if necessary.

In truth, she did not want a war with the McDunnahs. After living in peace for more than one hundred years, she didn’t want to be the one who led her people to trouble or war. However, she was not about to cower in fear. She would defend her people and their land if she had to.

“McDunnah,” she greeted him before she and her men dismounted. As always, they fell in around her.

Caelen stepped forward, smiled, and bowed. “Me Lady,” he said.

She found the bow and his greeting quite odd, for any other chief would have extended his arm to her as if she were a man. The bow she surmised was meant to disarm her senses. It worked, albeit for a fleeting moment. She pushed the tickling sensation that fluttered in her stomach aside and decided to ignore the fact he called her
Me Lady.

“What brings ye to McDunnah lands this day?” Caelen asked.

Fiona watched as the man she remembered as Kenneth fell in beside his chief. She made a mental note to keep a close eye on
that
one. There was something about the man … she couldn’t quite put her finger to it, but she didn’t quite trust him.

Never one to tip-toe around an issue, Fiona went straight to the point. “When last I saw ye, Caelen, I thought we had an understandin’.”

Caelen cocked his head slightly, his brow furrowed, but said nothing.

Although his confusion looked genuine, Fiona was far too angry to believe he had no idea to what she was referring. “I told ye and yer men to stay off me lands, McDunnah.”

Caelen righted himself, crossed his arms over his chest and spread his feet apart. “Neither I nor me men have been on yer lands.”

“Then have ye taken to usin’ yer women and bairns to reive?” she asked bluntly.

Fury flickered briefly behind his dark brown eyes. He glowered down at her, little wrinkles forming around his eyes. Were she not so bloody angry with him, she might have found him quite attractive. Nay, not even she believed that lie. She did find him exceedingly handsome, even whilst glowering down at her.

“I told ye before and I tell ye again. We’ve no’ reived any sheep from ye. And I thank ye kindly to keep yer insults to a minimum.”

Fiona tilted her head ever so slightly and took another step forward. “Last night, at least ten of yer men came onto me
land and stole twenty-five more sheep. One of them left a message fer
me.
”

“A message?” Caelen asked.

“Aye,” Fiona answered before recounting what she’d been told.
“Caelen McDunnah sends his regards.
” She let him think on it for a moment. “Be it possible that ye have men raidin’ that yer no’ aware of?” She’d only asked that question because Brodie had made her promise to at least give it some consideration.

Behind his fierce glower, Fiona caught a glimpse of something. Mayhap he hadn’t given that possibility any prior consideration. Either it spoke to his rumored insanity, or he cared for his people so much he could not begin to think ill of them.

Fiona took a step back and spoke loud enough that those around her could hear her words of warning. “I want no quarrel with ye McDunnah. Keep yer people off me lands.”

One of Caelen’s younger men, a boy really, for he didn’t look to be older than six and ten at the most, apparently took some offense to her warning. “Or what?” he challenged.

Fiona cast a glance his way. “Or else ye’ll start a clan war.”

The boy threw his head back and laughed, as did one of his comrades.

Without warning, Fiona withdrew two dirks from her belt and sent them flying toward the two young men. One blade barely missed the shorter boy’s left ear, the other tore through the sleeve of the taller boy’s shirt, pinning him to the tree behind him.

The McDunnah warriors immediately advanced, drawing swords and cursing loudly. The McPherson men did the same.

Caelen and Fiona each held up an arm, calling their men to halt.

The boy pinned to the tree looked positively stunned. “Ye could have killed me!” he protested with a loud yet quavering voice. The other lad was stunned into muteness as he held a hand to his ear in disbelief.

“If I wanted ye dead, ye’d be dead,” Fiona politely informed both young men.

Caelen stepped between Fiona and the young men. Brodie, Collin, and William were on either side of Fiona in less than a heartbeat’s time.

Caelen bent slightly at the waist, his hands on his hips. “Lass, ’twas a foolish thing ye just did. Me men could have killed ye all.”

Fiona did not back down. “Ye warn yer men I’ll no’ be trifled with and I’ll no’ be laughed at.”

Laughter broke out amongst the men standing behind Caelen. “Yer clan is nearly as wee as
ye
are!” came a voice over the laughter.

Fiona did her best to ignore the taunt. Keeping her focus solely on Caelen, she warned him again. “Warn yer men, Caelen.”

“Might I remind ye that ’twas
ye
who just now threw two dirks at unarmed men?”

Fiona raised her voice loud enough that all could hear her. “Again, we want no quarrel with the McDunnahs. Stay off our lands and leave our sheep be.”

Another round of laughter ensued. ’Twas all she could do not to call her men to battle.

“Is that a challenge?” The same voice called out.

Brodie put a hand on Fiona’s arm in an attempt to stop her from doing something foolish. She stepped away from Caelen and looked at his men. They varied in age, size, and stature. Even though she knew they were highly skilled and well-trained warriors, she would not turn and run and be made a fool of. “Would any one of ye like to challenge me?” she asked calmly, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword.

“Battle a woman?” one of the older men asked.

Fiona smiled. “Are ye afraid
I might hurt ye?”

More laughter, although this time it was not quite as strong.

She heard Caelen’s voice speaking over her shoulder.

“I’ll challenge ye.”

A quiver of excitement started in her stomach and spread to her fingertips.

H
e had made
the challenge for two important reasons. One, he could not be certain his men would show any kind of restraint. And two, he simply could not resist.

Slowly, Fiona turned around to face him. Though her lips only gave a slight hint to her eagerness, her eyes told the entire story. She was downright gleeful with the prospect.

“To first blood?” she asked him as she stepped toward her brothers. They did not look at all pleased by this turn of events.

“To first blood,” Caelen said as he and Kenneth stepped away.

“Have ye lost yer bloody mind?” Kenneth asked in a harsh whisper as they walked toward Caelen’s horse.

“Mayhap,” Caelen said as he placed a hand on Kenneth’s shoulder. “Should the lass be as good as I think she is, I want me body buried on the north side of the loch.”

Kenneth’s eyes nearly leapt out of their sockets. “What do ye mean ye want … Caelen, I swear to ye that if ye go through with this and survive, I’ll kill ye with me bare hands.”

Caelen smiled. “If I’m to die this day, I prefer it be at her
hands,” he said with a nod over his shoulder. “Can ye think of a better way to die?”

Kenneth shook his head in disgust. “Ye have lost yer mind.”

Caelen continued to smile. “Mayhap I have, Kenneth, mayhap I have.”

“
F
iona
, I beg ye to stop this,” Collin said through clenched teeth. “’Tis madness!”

Fiona shrugged his protest away as she tightened the belt around her waist and did a mental count of her weaponry; one sword, a dirk in each boot, another at the back of her belt, one strapped to her forearm and hidden under her sleeve. The two dirks she’d thrown earlier were still imbedded in the tree. “Remind me to get me dirks out of the tree before we leave, Collin.”

His dark curly locks bounced when he shook his head in dismay. “
If
we get to leave this place.”

“Ye fash worse than a mother over her first bairn, Collin,” Fiona said as she debated on whether or not to wear her helm. “We’ll leave,” she told him. Before he could protest, she said, “And we’ll leave alive.”

“Ye canna mean to do this,” William chimed in. “’Tis madness!”

Fiona was growing weary of the prevailing doubt as it pertained to her madness. “Why? Are ye worried I’ll no’ draw first blood?”

Her three brothers stared at her with mouths agape. Collin answered her question. “Do ye ferget who
Caelen McDunnah be?”

“Of course I have no’ forgotten,” she replied.

Collin shook his head again. To his brothers he said, “’Tis the end, lads. ’Tis been a pleasure callin’ ye brothers. I wonder if I have time to write me last words on a bit of somethin’. I’d like me body to be buried next to Da.”

Fiona rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Ye have no faith in me, Collin? Or ye, William? Brodie?”

Her brothers’ silence told her more than words could. Smiling at the three of them she said, “I wager the three of ye that I will draw first blood.”