Caelen's Wife - the Complete Collection (29 page)

Fiona wanted to say or do something, anything, to help the children feel both welcomed and at home. Other than feeding them and loving on them, she didn’t know what else to do. She glanced up to see Caelen still standing near the window. His expression was a combination of sadness and anger, which was exactly how she felt. Still, he remained silent and unmoving.

Fiona sat in the chair in front of the fire and tried to lift Maggie to her lap. The little girl shrugged away Fiona’s gesture and took a few steps away.

“She does no’ speak and she does no’ want to be held,” Conner said as he stood beside Fiona and stared across the room at Caelen.

She wasn’t about to force the little girl to do anything she didn’t want to do. Hopefully, over time, the child would learn to trust again and mayhap speak. “Conner. Maggie. I’d like ye to meet Caelen McDunnah,” Fiona said as she nodded toward her silent partner.

Conner scooted a bit closer to Fiona, no doubt a bit fearful of the large, quiet man with the scars. Fiona wrapped an arm around the boy and drew him in closer. “Caelen be a good man, Conner. But he is no’ used to bein’ around children.” She leaned in and whispered into the little boy’s ear. “I think he be afraid of ye.”

Conner’s brow scrunched in doubt. “He be so big, how can he be afraid of us?” he whispered with the intense disbelief that only a boy of nine could have.

Fiona smiled up at Caelen while she whispered to Conner, “All men are afraid of somethin’, even that one.”

Conner looked at Caelen then to Fiona and back to Caelen again, suspicious and doubtful.

Caelen caught on that their conversation concerned him and his brow furrowed. “I will leave ye to settle the children in,” he told Fiona before quitting the room in a hurry.

F
iona helped
the children into sleeping gowns, setting aside her concern for Caelen. Maggie was completely disconnected, remaining mute and distant even while Fiona changed her clothes and tucked her into the bed. Conner climbed into the bed next to his sister. It was quite evident to Fiona that Conner was the only person in the world right now that the little girl trusted.

Sitting in a chair next to their bed, Fiona sang soft, sweet lullabies until they drifted off to sleep. Occasionally, the sounds of the wedding celebration would float into the quiet room, barely audible over the soft crackle of the fire and the steady breaths of the two orphaned children.

It was impossible for her to imagine growing up without two loving parents. When she tried to imagine how she might have felt as a child if she were forced to endure what these children had, it made her feel sick to her stomach.

To date, Conner had refused to discuss all that he had seen or witnessed that night, and who could blame him? Fiona believed that with enough time, patience and guidance, he might be able to deal with his grief. Maggie, however, was another story. It pained her to watch this poor little girl suffer to the point of muteness.

As she sat gently rubbing Conner’s back, the door slowly opened and Caelen stepped inside. He stood near the doorway for a time, studying Fiona closely before going to her.

“Be they sleepin’?” he whispered as he stood behind her.

Fiona nodded and stood, took Caelen’s hand and led him from the room. Out in the hallway, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. “I love ye, Caelen McDunnah.”

He returned her embrace and kissed the top of her head. “And I love ye, Fiona McPherson.”

They stood holding each other for a long moment before Fiona pushed away. Taking his hand in hers she led him to her room situated next to the children’s. She opened the door and paused just inside it. “Do ye have any objections to sleepin’ with me before we be properly married?” she asked.

In the blink of an eye, he’d gone from a serious looking man to one with great hope.

“Do ye intend to seduce me?” he asked with a devious grin.

“Aye, I do,” she told him. “Mayhap more than once.”

’
T
was
late the following morning before Fiona and Caelen woke to the sound of Isabelle knocking at her door. “I have Conner and Maggie,” she called out to them. “I be takin’ them to break their fast.”

Fiona felt guiltily relieved. She was exhausted and a dull ache had begun to form at the base of her skull. Caelen insisted he had a cure for her ailment. Half an hour later she had to admit she did feel better and the ache was gone.

They finally made their way below stairs. Deana McPherson was just rousting out the last of the men who had fallen asleep in the gathering room the night before.

“Good morn, Fiona,” Deana said cheerfully when she saw them enter the room. “Would ye like to break yer fast?”

Fiona didn’t much feel like eating. Though Caelen had done his best to reassure her that her clan would want nothing but the best for her, she was not nearly as hopeful. He had loved her to the point of exhaustion last night and were it not so important to meet with her people this morn, she would have remained abed.

“I be famished,” Caelen told Deana as he led Fiona to the dais.

Deana studied Fiona closely for a long moment. “Are ye well, Fiona?”

Fiona let loose with a long, heavy sigh. “Aye, I be well, Deana.”

“Ye do no’ look well. Ye look quite tired.”

Deana’s eyes grew wide with understanding when she saw Caelen smiling proudly from ear to ear. Fiona was too busy thinking over how she would present her ideas to her clan to notice.

After Deana left, Caelen leaned in closely to Fiona. “I think ye look quite bonny this morn, me lady wife.”

Fiona smiled weakly. “I be no’ yer wife yet, Caelen. Mayhap ye should no’ get too far ahead of yerself.”

His smile brightened as he twisted a long strand of her hair around his finger. “After the things I did with ye last night, and again this morn, I do no’ care what anyone else might say, believe, or think. As far as I be concerned, ye be me wife,” he said with a wink.

Fiona felt her cheeks grow warm and flush. She’d been married before and never considered herself naive when it came to the ways of loving. Until Caelen came along. Any preconceived notions on loving went flying out the window, guided of course, by Caelen’s skilled hand. And lips. And tongue.

Before she could think of a response, Collin and Mairi entered with Collin proudly holding his son in one arm. “Good morn to ye,” Collin called out.

Fiona quickly gathered her senses and returned the greeting. As soon as Symon heard his aunt’s voice, he turned to search her out. He began cooing and smiling, holding his arms out for Fiona. As Collin approached the dais, Brodie came into the room, doing his best to disguise the lingering limp. She’d not chastise him for being out of bed. He was probably going mad by being cooped up.

“There be our wee beastie,” Fiona said as she took Symon from his father. “I hear ye’ve another tooth, little one.” She settled him down on her lap and kissed the top of his head.

“Aye, that be three now,” Collin informed her proudly. “And he be pullin’ himself up to anythin’ he can get his hands on and walkin’ all around it.”

Fiona smiled at her brother. “Aye, and soon, he’ll be an expert marksman with the bow.”

Collin rolled his eyes as he helped Mairi to her chair. Without thinking, he said, “Ye’d be even more a braggart if ye had children of yer own.”

Fiona knew he hadn’t said it with malice, or to hurt her, or to remind her of what she couldn’t have. It had simply been an offhand comment, said without thinking. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, his face fell and he turned to face her. “Fiona,” he said, searching for the right words to express how sorry he was.

Fiona smiled, though her it pained her to do so. “Think nothin’ of it, Collin. I ken ye meant no harm.”

T
he tension
in the air was palpable. Caelen felt it as surely as he felt Fiona’s sudden shift in mood and countenance, no matter how she tried to hide it. As she bounced Symon on her lap, Caelen was at a loss for words. Comforting someone in pain or discomfit was not his best trait, if he possessed such a trait at all. Though she tried to mask the hurt, it was still there in her strained smile and dark eyes. He wanted to do something, say something that would lighten the mood or at the very least, bring a smile to her face.

He knew she was barren for she had been quite honest about that from the very beginning. If he were to be honest with himself, he was glad that she could not have children and for purely selfish and cowardly reasons. If she could not get with child then he would not have to worry himself into an early grave over her. He’d already lost one wife and a son in childbed. The thought of losing another, especially Fiona, was enough to make him physically ill.

The only thing he could think to do at the moment was to place a gentle hand on her arm. The moment he touched her, Fiona’s head spun away from Symon to look up at Caelen. She looked mad enough to bite nails.

“I do no’ need yer pity, Caelen,” she whispered harshly.

“’Tis no’ in me nature to pity anyone,” he whispered back.

She started to speak, then stopped. Her eyes, on the verge of tears, stared into his, searching for what he could only assume was any hint of disingenuousness. A long moment passed before her eyes flittered and filled with humor. “I suppose ye be right about that.”

“That is no’ to say I canna feel pain fer someone. I be no’ completely heartless,” he said.

A warm smile came to her face. “Nay, no’ completely,” she teased. “Mayhap tetched, but no’ heartless.”

He’d meant only to offer her comfort. ’Twas a foreign concept, having a man who cared about her feelings. ’Twas yet another item to add to the list of things she would have to get used to.

W
hile Collin
and William gathered the clanspeople, Fiona went to her room to change. Caelen and his men took advantage of that time to partake of the bathhouse. She had just stepped into her dress when someone knocked at her door. She finished lacing up the sides of her dress before opening the door.

“Brodie,” she smiled up at him before pulling him into her room. Hugging him, she asked, “How do ye fare? How is yer leg? Does it pain ye overly much?”

Brodie smiled as he returned her hug. “I be fine, Fi. Quit fussin’ like I be a bairn.”

Fiona smiled as she punched him in the arm. “Fine, I’ll treat ye like the fool ye be.”

“Och!” he said, pretending she’d actually hurt him. “Careful, Fi, I be a wounded man.”

“Yer an eejit,” she told him with as much seriousness as she could muster. “Traipsin’ across the country like ye did.”

He looked guilty and tried to shrug it off. “I fear I do no’ ken what ye mean.” He limped across the room to sit in front of the fire.

“Caelen told me what ye did, Brodie. Against the advice of the healer, ye went hiein’ across the country to the MacDougalls, to tell Caelen I was gettin’ married,” Fiona reminded him. She couldn’t fault him for his actions, even if they were ill-conceived and not necessary.

He shrugged again and picked invisible lint from his plaid. “I thought ye were makin’ a terrible mistake. I could no’ let ye marry a man ye did no’ love.”

Fiona raised a brow as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve never known ye to be a romantic, Brodie.”

He glanced up long enough to attempt an angry glare. He was unsuccessful. “Yer daft.”

“Nay,” she said as she took the seat opposite him. “I was no’ the one who rode across the countryside with a wounded leg.”

“Me leg be fine.”

She was not so convinced and watched him closely for a time. Knowing that if she nagged him too much, he’d do something reckless just to prove he could. So she let the matter of his leg drop for now. “I thank ye, Brodie, fer bringin’ Caelen to me.”

A devious smile crept up on his face. “Ye deserve each other.”

Fiona giggled slightly at his comment. “I suppose we do.”

“Because yer both more than just a wee tetched,” he added.

“I’d say it runs in our family,” she told him playfully. ’Twas good to have him back home. She had missed these rare quiet moments with him.

They sat quietly for a while before Brodie asked, “Will he make ye happy?”

She thought it an odd question considering all he’d done to see her and Caelen together. “Aye, I believe he will.”

“Well, I hope this marriage is a damn sight better than yer last one,” he told her. “But if he ever hurts ye, I’ll kill him with me bare hands.”

Fiona laughed at him, mostly because she knew he meant it. “No’ before I do.”

He knew better than to argue. “Do ye think the clan will agree to it? To makin’ Collin chief?”

She let out a quick sigh. “Honestly, I do no’ ken. They love Collin, that much be certain. But lovin’ a man and believin’ in him be two different things.”

’Twas Brodie’s turn to raise a curious brow. “Ye do no’ think they’ll have confidence in him?”

“Most do already. But the others?” She gave a slight shrug of her shoulders. “Who kens? But if anyone can prove they be worthy, it be Collin.”

Absentmindedly, Brodie began to rub his aching thigh. Fiona chose not to comment or to ask. “I give ye my word, Fi, that I’ll do everythin’ I can to see ye wed and to help Collin with his transition.”

His promise made her smile. “I thank ye, Brodie.”

“Do ye think the attacks will stop with Collin as chief?”

She could only pray for such a thing. “Who kens? I suppose it depends on who is responsible and what their reasons for attackin’ be. Until we learn their identity, I will no’ be restin’ on me laurels.”

“I doubt any of us will,” Brodie told her.

W
ithin an hour
of breaking their fast, the clan was assembled in the gathering room. Collin and William had seen to it that any visitors and members of the other clans who had gathered to help celebrate Alyse and Bhruic’s wedding were kept out of doors. Isabelle remained above stairs with Conner, Maggie and Symon.

The trestle tables had all been folded and put away and now Fiona, her three brothers and advisors, stood on the dais facing her people. By now, word had spread that Caelen had proposed and that Fiona truly wished to marry him. Secrets amongst her clan were as safe as sweet cakes around children or young lasses around Brodie.

Most of her people smiled up at her, eagerly awaiting the formal announcement. Those who were less than thrilled with the news, stood on one side of the room staring at Caelen and his three men. If looks could kill, then Caelen and his men would have wiped out at least twenty of her people.

Fiona thought back to the times over the past two years, when she stood before her people, dressed in leather and mail. Today, she wore a sky blue gown trimmed in gold. She let her hair fall freely over her shoulders and down her back. Aye, she was still their chief, but today, she felt the need to remind them she was also a woman.

She took a few small steps toward the front of the dais. “I have asked ye all here today,” she spoke over the din of the crowd to gain their attention. It took only a moment before a quiet hush fell across the crowd. “To speak with ye on verra important matters. Some of ye may already have heard, but I want ye to hear it from me, so that ye ken the truth.” She paused momentarily, to look out at her people. They had been through so much together, these past few years. These were her people, her friends and family. It was going to be exceedingly difficult for her to get through this without breaking down.

Willing her nerves to settle, she pressed onward. “Over the past weeks, I’ve come to know Caelen McDunnah quite well. He be a good man,” she told them as she chanced a glance toward him. He was standing not far from her, his shoulders back, his head held high, and one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

“Caelen McDunnah has offered fer me hand.” She let the words settle in across her people for a moment. “I made oaths that I would never let Clan McPherson fall, nor would I ever allow it to be absorbed into another clan. I take those oaths quite seriously and will no’ break them.” She took a deep breath before going on. “I would verra much like to marry Caelen, but I canna do that and remain yer chief. So I bring a proposal to all of ye. I will step down as chief to marry Caelen and offer Collin as my replacement.”

A murmur erupted throughout the crowd. Many of her people seemed at ease with the proposals, a few even appeared to be quite happy for her. But there was that small handful of people who stood to her left, glaring at Caelen, who were far less pleased.

“I will no’ marry Caelen and I will no’ step down unless I have yer blessin’,” she told them. She came close to choking on the words. Her honor would not allow her to step away without their approval.

“How do ye ken fer certain that Caelen did no’ have Bridgett or Stephan and Mildred killed?” one of the men called out over the crowd.

Fiona looked for the source of the question. Ordack McAndrew. He’d come to Clan McPherson some twenty years ago, when he married Lauren McPherson. Lauren looked up at her husband with a look of disgust and told him to wheesht.

“How long have ye known me, Ordack?” Fiona asked him across the crowd. He shrugged his shoulders as if he neither knew nor cared. “Some twenty years now,” Fiona answered for him. “Have ye ever known me to make a decision lightly? Have ye ever known me to believe whatever was told to me? Do ye think me such a poor judge of character?”

Ordack’s wife answered for him. “Bah! Ignore him, Fiona! I ken ye would no’ marry a man ye did no’ trust. Collin will make a fine chief.”

Fiona resisted the urge to smile at the small but mighty Lauren. Others chimed in with their agreement that Fiona was a good judge of character and Collin would make a fine chief.

“It has always been a McPherson leadin’ this clan,” another man shouted. “The last time I looked, Collin is a McCray.”

Someone in the back of the room called out, “Would ye feel better if Collin changed his name?”

The room erupted into laughter at the man’s jest.