Caelen's Wife - the Complete Collection (3 page)

C
ollin led
the way into the McDunnah keep, with William and Brodie bringing up the rear. Surrounding their chief — likely more for the protection of the McDunnah men than Fiona’s own well-being — were Seamus, Richard and three other McPherson men.

Fiona knew that each of them were silently praying she’d not do anything foolish when she met with the McDunnah.
As long as the McDunnah does nothin’ foolish, we should all leave as safely as we arrived.

They were led into the keep, down a flight of narrow stairs, and into a large gathering room. Because of the wall of men surrounding her, it was difficult for Fiona to get a good look at her surroundings. Besides the two heavy chandeliers that hung from the ceiling and the McDunnah crest carved into a piece of dark wood mounted over the large hearth, there was little else she could make out. If only she knew where each of the exits lie and how many McDunnah men might be lurking about, she might feel better.

Quashing the urge to kick her brother in order to get him to move, Fiona did her best to wait patiently. She knew the men meant well and that by surrounding her they were only trying to protect her. Or the McDunnah. Or their own heads. Only time with the McDunnah would tell which of those would be needed most.

Silently, she began counting to one hundred in order to steady her temper and make the time seem to pass more quickly. She’d barely made it past two and thirty when she heard people entering the room.

Brodie was the first to speak. “Caelen,” he said more cheerfully than Fiona thought necessary, considering the reason they were here. As he stepped away from the circle, William immediately took his spot and blocked Fiona’s view. She jabbed him in the kidney with her gloved hand. It didn’t garner so much as a grunt from her brother. He remained still and quiet.

She heard a man’s voice return her brother’s greeting. “Brodie,” he said.

Knowing it would do no good to burst through the wall of men to hurl accusations or demand answers, she remained quiet and listened, and tried to take in more of her surroundings.

Over the large hearth, next to the McDunnah crest, Fiona spotted the head of a wolf. Brodie had mentioned earlier that Caelen oft wore that ceremonial headdress into battle, more to frighten his opponents than to pay homage to something.

On the opposite side of the crest were two crossed swords, the edges of both looking as though they carried the blood from some previous battle. Who knew with the McDunnah? As far as she knew, the man was tetched. Until she was able to speak to him to discover for herself if that rumor was true, she’d continue to believe it.

C
aelen hadn’t taken
the time to shave. It took some doing, but he had managed to wash quickly and don clean tunic and trews, hoping he did not look as hellish as he felt.

Though his mind still felt muddled and the throbbing in his skull grew worse with each step he took, he had made his way down to the gathering room, with Kenneth by his side. Instantly, he recognized Brodie McPherson standing in the crowd of men.

Caelen greeted the dark haired man with an extended arm. “Brodie,” he said with a smile as he scanned the group of men across the room. Relief washed over him when he found no woman with an eager smile on her face. Mayhap ’twas all a jest.

“Caelen,” Brodie said, returning the smile.

“How long has it been?” Caelen asked.

“Far too long,” Brodie replied. “At least two years, I believe.”

Caelen nodded, an action that made his skull scream in protest. He swallowed the urge to curse. “What brings ye to me this day,” Caelen asked as he let go of Brodie.

“Caelen,” Brodie said reluctantly. “We be here because of an incident that took place on our lands last night.”

“What kind of incident?”

Brodie didn’t get a chance to answer. There was a loud thump which was quickly followed by a groan and a curse. “Damn it, Fi!” William McPherson moaned loudly.

Caelen watched as a young lad stepped forward. He wore leather armor over chainmail and dark leather trews. Dark gloves covered his hands, one of which was balled into a fist, the other resting on the hilt of his sword. ’Twas quite difficult to make out the lad’s face as it was covered by a full helm.

Brodie glanced over his shoulder and when he turned back to look at Caelen, his smile had disappeared. There was no way to mistake Brodie’s frustration or embarrassment.

The lad came to stand next to Brodie, looked up at him and shook his head disgustedly.

“Incident?” the boyish figure asked.

Caelen blinked and stared more closely at the small figure that stood next to Brodie.

’Twas no boy.

’Twas a woman.

Bloody hell.

F
iona had grown far too frustrated
with her brother playing nicely with the McDunnah. They’d come here for three things: to find answers, to retrieve the stolen sheep, and to warn Caelen McDunnah to leave them alone. So far, all they had accomplished was Brodie and Caelen behaving like long lost brothers.

Having had enough and wanting to get to the heart of the matter so that she could return to her home, Fiona kneed William in the back of one knee, causing him to lose his balance and bump into Collin. While her brothers cursed and grumbled, Fiona took the opportunity to step forward.

There was no mistaking which of the two men standing in front of the hearth was Caelen McDunnah. A large, garish scar ran down the left side of his face. His dark eyes, though bloodshot, still held a glimmer of youth.

She remembered his hair being darker. It had lightened over the years, but not by much, and he had it pulled back at the nape of his neck with a leather thong.

As tall as Brodie, Caelen wore a cream-colored tunic tucked into brown leather trews. The tunic couldn’t hide his broad shoulders or well-muscled arms, or the fact that he had a flat stomach. Boots were laced around well-muscled calves. Were she not here to warn him to stay off her lands, she might have not been so angry with herself for finding him to be even more handsome than she remembered.

Next to him was a man who could quite possibly be Caelen’s brother for their resemblance was remarkable. The man wore a full beard and looked to be older than Caelen by only a few years. The as yet unnamed man stared at Fiona, with what could only be described as intense scrutiny.

On the way to the McDunnah keep, Fiona had learned more about the McDunnah from her brother Brodie. For instance, the McDunnah was a man who loved a good fight and rumor had it that he often started one out of sheer boredom. Or insanity. It was oft difficult to read the man’s moods, but everyone in her entourage agreed that ’twas more likely insanity that motivated him.

One thing that
was
agreed upon was that you wanted Caelen McDunnah as a friend and not a foe. He was ruthless on the battlefield to the point many thought him deranged.

Rumor also said that to this very day, he still mourned the loss of his beloved wife and son and the man would never remarry. While it might have added to the mystery for Brodie, Fiona attributed the attack and likely soon-to-come proposal to it simply being the right time and opportunity to seek a new wife.

Now she stood before Caelen McDunnah. More handsome than she remembered, to be certain, but he stunk like a drunkard in dire need of a bath.

“Incident?” she asked her brother as she looked up at him. “Ye make it sound as though ’twas nothin’ more than lads out to have a good time.”

“Fi,” Brodie said, his tone laced with an unspoken warning.

Fiona pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin before turning her attention back to Caelen McDunnah. “What do ye have to say fer yerself, McDunnah?”

Caelen looked as stunned as he did baffled. “Who
are
ye?” he finally managed to ask.

With a disgusted grunt and a shake of her head, Fiona removed her full-faced helm and tucked it under one arm. Her long blonde hair was plaited around her head, but some of it had come loose. Tucking loose strands behind her ear, she introduced herself. “I be Fiona McPherson.
Chief
of Clan McPherson.”

“
F
iona
,” Caelen whispered softly before giving a slight shake of his head. Even after all these years, just hearing the name spoken made his chest tighten with guilt.

“McPherson,” Fiona replied. “
Chief of the Clan McPherson,
” she repeated in case he missed it the first time.

“But yer a woman?” Caelen said, still quite surprised.

Kenneth stepped forward to explain the situation to him. “Aye, she be a woman, and the chief of Clan McPherson. Has been fer nearly two years.”

Through his quite ugly hangover and pounding skull, he vaguely remembered hearing that a woman had been made chief of the McPhersons after her husband’s death. But that was about all he knew. No one had mentioned that she was a very comely lass, what with her blonde hair and big green eyes that near twinkled with anger. Or that her name was Fiona. He would have remembered that name.

“Ye reived seventeen sheep from our lands last night, McDunnah,” Fiona accused. “I want them back.”

Caelen felt his eyes widen and he turned to Kenneth. “I’ve been gone a year. Pray tell things are no’ so bad we’ve taken to reivin’ sheep?”

Kenneth furrowed his brow and shook his head. “Nay, all be well, Caelen. We’ve no’ revived any sheep.”

Caelen was relieved to hear it. He had left Kenneth in charge this past year and knew him to have a good mind for money.

“The only reivin’ we’ve done,” Kenneth added with a smile, “is the cows we stole from Brent Kilcannon, like we do every year at this time.”

Caelen laughed aloud. Brent Kilcannon was his brother-in-law, married to Caelen’s youngest sister. Each year, by way of an anniversary gift, Caelen and his men would reive some ten to twenty head of Kilcannon cattle only to return them days later as a gift. ’Twas something they’d been doing for more than five years now.

“He sends his regards, as does yer sister, though she was no’ near as kind about it as Kilcannon,” Kenneth laughed along with Caelen.

“I can imagine what she said,” Caelen laughed. “She probably questioned our level of maturity and sanity, aye?”

“Aye, ye could say that,” Kenneth chuckled.

Caelen was about to tell Kenneth to send Margaret a bolt of the fine burgundy silk he’d brought back from Inverness, as way of begging forgiveness, when his sentence was cut short — and nearly his life — when a blade sailed through the air. It landed in the mantel, dead center between Caelen and Kenneth.

R
udeness begat
rudeness as far as Fiona was concerned. Caelen and his man had apparently forgotten that she stood just steps away, lost as they were in their own conversation.

Fiona counted to ten and cleared her throat. The two men continued to laugh and reminisce, completely ignoring her. Before Brodie had the chance to stop her, she withdrew the McDunnah dirk and bit of cloth tucked into her belt and fired.

Right between Caelen McDunnah and the man he called Kenneth.

Her aim was true. The dirk landed dead center of the two men, impaling the bit of cloth to the thick mantel. Fiona resisted the urge to smile.

That
got their attention.

“Fi!” Brodie chastised.

“What the bloody hell?” Kenneth shouted as he stared at the dirk and cloth. “Ye could have bloody well killed me!” he said as he glared down at her.

Fiona shook her head and rolled her eyes. “If I wanted ye dead ye’d
be
dead.”

“Ye promised not to draw arms!” Brodie growled at her.

“I didn’t draw arms,” she told him, giving her still sheathed sword a pat on the hilt. “But I did draw their attention.”

Brodie sighed and shook his head.

Caelen and Kenneth stared at her in wide-eyed astonishment.

“Now,” Fiona said as she looked directly into Caelen McDunnah’s bloodshot eyes. “Back to the matter at hand.”

She nodded toward the dirk and cloth. “I believe the evidence is right there. A McDunnah dirk and a bit of McDunnah plaid. ’Twas dropped in a struggle between one of me men and one of yers, whilst yer men were stealin’ me sheep.”

Caelen swallowed his anger before turning to the dirk. It took both his hands to remove it from the mantel. With a furrowed brow, he studied the two items closely.

“That dirk has a McDunnah crest on it,” Fiona stated firmly. “Do all yer men carry such a dirk, or just a few?”

Kenneth took the dirk from Caelen’s hand. “That be one of ours, fer certain.”

“I thank ye kindly for admittin’ such,” Fiona said. “I’ll go retrieve me sheep now.”

“Wait,” Caelen said. “This proves nothing.”

“I think it proves that at least one of yer men were amongst the five that stole seventeen of me sheep last night. And that bit of plaid is more evidence. ’Twas pulled off when me man was attacked.”

Caelen remained silent, his face unreadable.

“We’ve come here this day to get our sheep back, McDunnah. And to let ye know that I’ll not yield to yer scare tactics. Ye canna frighten me into marryin’ ye.”

T
he pounding
in his head had begun to dull to a tolerable ache until she threw the dirk.

The woman standing before him, wearing mail and leather, was fascinating and more than a bit frustrating. There was something about her countenance, and those green eyes that sparkled with nearly perfect hidden anger, that intrigued him.

When she threw the dirk and claimed Kenneth would be dead if she truly wanted him dead, something began to happen to Caelen McDunnah. Something that hadn’t happened in a good number of years. His manhood woke up in the blink of an eye.

Now, ’twasn’t as though he were impotent. He was far from that. He had no problem in that regard. He had bedded plenty of women over the years.

’Twas just the fact that he hadn’t felt an instant
arousal since he was a young lad.

No woman since his beloved Fiona had affected him like this. And there had been many
women over the years.