Caelen's Wife - the Complete Collection (32 page)

“Aye, they need kindness and a gentle hand, to let them ken they be no’ alone. But they also need people to remind them that there still be rules. To treat them so delicately, to never tell them nay or to never give them boundaries, well, ye’ll be raisin’ a spoiled child who will grow into a spoiled adult.”

He made perfectly good sense. “Fer someone who be afraid of children, ye understand them quite well.”

F
iona and Isabelle
had been helping in the kitchen while their men had taken Conner hunting. Maggie and Burunild sat side by side on stools in front of the large hearth. While Maggie looked far away and distant, Burunild regaled everyone with stories of Caelen’s youth. Fiona enjoyed learning what her husband had been like as a boy. Apparently, he’d always been a serious sort, even as a small boy. Isabelle peeled vegetables and listened intently. Fiona kneaded bread that their cook, Rod McPherson, would bake on the morrow.

“’Twas as if he had been born with the weight of the world on his shoulders,” Burunild explained. “But there were times when ye’d swear he did no’ own a lick of brains.”

Fiona held back her thought that there were times now when she thought the same thing. Such as the day he arrived at her keep and kidnapped her.

As Burunild began to tell yet another story, the door to the kitchen burst open. Conner bounded in holding a string of rabbits in one hand. Caelen and William were not far behind.

“Four of ‘em!” he exclaimed as he raced into the kitchens, raising his arm to show everyone. “I got four of ‘em!”

Rod gave an approving nod. “Those will make a fine rabbit stew, lad.”

Conner beamed proudly as he rushed to his sister and held the rabbits in front of her face. “See, Maggie? I caught four rabbits. Mr. McPherson will make rabbit stew. Ye like rabbit stew, Maggie.”

Maggie looked at the rabbits and gave a barely perceptible nod of her head. Fiona couldn’t tell if her actions were intentional or simply automatic. She watched as Conner leaned in and whispered something into Maggie’s ear, to which Maggie made no outward appearing response.

“Ye caught them all yerself, lad?” Burunild asked him.

“Aye, I did, usin’ snares.”

“Right fine rabbits,” Burunild told him as she gave him a pat on his head.

“Burunild is right, Conner,” Fiona praised him. “With ye in our keep, we shall never go hungry.”

Conner smiled and nodded his head. “Caelen and William said the same thing.”

“What say ye give those rabbits to Rod,” William told Conner.

Conner handed the rabbits over to Rod, who took them outside to skin.

“Go wash yer hands, now lad,” Isabelle told Conner. “And ye as well,” she said, directing her comment to Caelen and William. “Yer hands be filthy.”

William smiled rather devilishly, raised his hands and wriggled his fingers in front of Isabelle’s face. “Kiss me first,” he said.

“Nay!” Isabelle exclaimed as she threw a wet cloth at his face. “Ye smell!”

William feigned hurt feelings, but only long enough for Isabelle to let her guard down. Soon, William was chasing Isabelle around the kitchen, begging for a kiss. Isabelle pretended to be disgusted, all the while squealing with delight.

Caelen stared at them as if they’d lost their minds. As he watched, he leaned in sideways and whispered into Fiona’s ear. “Do they always behave like this?”

Fiona laughed as she nudged him playfully with her elbow. “They be young and in love, Caelen.”

Caelen’s brow furrowed. “Must be a McPherson behavior, fer the McDunnahs do no’ run around cacklin’ like children.”

“That be because their chief behaves so seriously all the time,” Fiona replied.

He gave her a glare of reproach. “Are ye sayin’ I do no’ ken how to have fun?”

Fiona nodded. “Aye, that be what I’m sayin’.”

A mischievous grin played out on his face. “If memory serves me correctly, we had a wee bit of fun just this morn.”

Fiona could not hide her amusement and giggled. “Aye, that was fun. Ye do know how to have fun behind closed doors. But when there be people around, yer as serious as a priest.” With that, she touched the tip of his nose with a flour-covered finger. He didn’t know that his nose was now covered in flour.

“I prefer to have me fun alone with ye. I do no’ need to display me happiness fer the whole world to see.”

Isabelle squealed with delight when William finally caught her. They were in the corner of the kitchen, William’s big arms wrapped around his tiny wife’s waist. “Kiss me and I’ll let ye go,” he said as she pretended to struggle against him.

“That’s what ye said last time, and now I be carryin’ yer babe.”

The entire room fell silent.

“What did ye say?” William asked, looking confused as well as surprised.

From the expression on her face, she hadn’t meant to tell him just yet. “Och! I was goin’ to tell ye tonight, after the evenin’ meal, William.”

William went as white as a sheet and looked as though he were about to pass out. He struggled to get words out. “Are ye certain?” he asked, beyond surprised with the news.

Isabelle drew in her bottom lip and nodded. “Aye, I saw the midwife this morn. Ye’ll be a da come spring.”

It took only a moment for William to regain his composure. He picked Isabelle up and spun her around the kitchen. “I canna believe it! A babe!”

Burunild cackled and clapped her hands. “A babe be always a good thing, aye?” she said as she patted Maggie on her shoulder.

Caelen smiled in spite of himself. He was happy for William and Isabelle, but deep down, he was glad it was the two of them celebrating and not him and Fiona.

While the happy couple kissed and hugged and chattered away, Caelen looked at his own sweet wife. Quietly, she looked on at her brother and sister-in-law. Absentmindedly, her hand went to her stomach.

Though she had told him before that she had long ago resigned herself to the fact that she would never have a child of her own and that it no longer mattered, her eyes told a different story.

F
iona was sincerely
happy for her brother and sister-in-law. There was no doubt that they would make good parents and their child would grow up surrounded by love and generosity. She did not begrudge either of them this happy moment in their lives. Still, it was growing more and more difficult for her to paint on a happy face and congratulate one woman after another. Pangs of regret were getting more difficult to hide.

But this was William and Isabelle’s moment to celebrate, not her moment to grieve. She wiped her hands on her apron and went to hug each of them. “I be so verra happy fer ye,” she said as she kissed Isabelle’s cheek. “I pray it be a boy, fer if it be a girl, she’ll never ken a moment’s peace with William as her father.”

William dismissed the notion. “Girl children need extra protection. There be no harm in seein’ yer children safe.”

Fiona and Isabelle exchanged knowing smiles. “If it be a girl, I shall happily teach her how to defend herself,” Fiona remarked. “And how to sneak away without her da knowin’.”

“Ye’ll do no such thing, Fiona,” William said, growing quite serious. “I’ll make sure she has five guards with her at all times.”

Fiona and Isabelle rolled their eyes. “I pray fer yer sake it be a boy,” Fiona told Isabelle.

Using her walking stick, Burunild stood up. “Maggie, could ye help yer auld grandminny to her room?”

Maggie slid from the stool and stood beside Burunild. With her walking stick in one hand, Burunild placed her other on the little girl’s shoulder. “Ye see that big lout over there?” Burunild asked as she pointed to Caelen.

Caelen winced, rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Well, he be me grandson,” she said as they headed out of the kitchens. “He was the sweetest little bairn ye ever saw.”

Caelen was taken aback by his grandminny’s comment and even smiled over it quite proudly.

Burunild sighed heavily then. “I just do no’ ken what happened when he grew up.”

Fiona tried to cover her laugh with her fingertips. Caelen looked at her askance. “See? I told ye she was a mean auld woman.”

T
hroughout the remainder
of the afternoon Fiona was quiet. During the evening meal, she half-heartedly listened whilst Isabelle and Mairi chatted on about the different stages of pregnancy.

Fiona knew them all, of course, though not through firsthand experience. Nay, it came from years of listening to other women talking about the joys and worries of being with child. It also came from helping them bring one babe after another into this world, or, sadly enough, helping them through miscarriages.

Fiona knew she was not the only barren woman in her clan. Nay, they weren’t known for being the most fertile of women. Most McPherson women were blessed with only one or two children. There were rare exceptions of course, her mother being one of the few to be blessed with four children. The good majority of families here were small and at least five other women in her clan had never been blessed with children.

Therefore, any woman lucky enough to get with child was cause for celebration.

Fiona tried, she sincerely did, to put on a happy face and raise her glass for one toast after another in honor of Isabelle’s announcement. It wasn’t like Fiona to be this melancholy. Mayhap it was due to the fact that she was now married and her perspective had changed.

“Are ye well, lady wife?” Caelen asked thoughtfully.

She shook away the depressing thoughts and offered him a smile. “Aye, I be well. Just verra tired.” It wasn’t a complete lie for she did feel rather weary.

“Let us get ye to bed then,” he said as he pushed away from the table and took her hand.

He hadn’t given her an opportunity to argue, not that she would have. She took his hand in hers and stood. “Thank ye, Caelen.”

They bid everyone at the table a good night and left the dais. On their way out, they paused at the table where Burunild and Nola sat chatting on about one thing or another.

“Good night to ye, Grandminny,” Caelen said as he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. Fiona leaned over and kissed Burunild’s cheek.

“Ye be off to bed so early?” she asked before giving Nola a playful nudge as if to say
I ken what they’ll be doin’ the moment they get behind closed doors.

Fiona smiled adoringly at the auld woman. “Aye, we are. I be verra tired.”

A bright smile lit in Burunild’s eyes. “Och! Mayhap ye’ll be next to announce yer with child, aye?”

Fiona’s smile faded away. She could feel the tears forming but held them at bay. “Mayhap, Burunild,” she said as she hurriedly left the table.

T
he following morning
, Fiona and Caelen were the last to arrive to break their fast. All three of Fiona’s brothers, along with their respective families, including Conner and Maggie, were already seated and eating when they made their way up to the dais.

It did Fiona’s heart good to see Conner eating and chatting away with William. Maggie actually made eye contact with her, if even for a brief moment.

The smell of fresh bread wafted through the air and made Fiona’s mouth water. She had not eaten much the night before and now found herself quite hungry. Caelen led her to her seat and made sure she was comfortable before sitting down beside her.

“How do ye fare this morn?” Collin asked as he passed a plate of bread to Fiona.

“Better,” she said as she took two slices of bread and put them on her trencher.

“Good,” he said. “The McKenzie will be arrivin’ later today. His whisky be ready.”

“And how will he be payin’ fer it this time?” Fiona asked.

“Coin and barley,” Collin said.

Fiona slathered butter and honey on her bread. “Well, make sure he gives ye the coin this time.”

Collin chuckled and leaned back in his seat. “Would ye like to attend the meetin’ to make certain I do things as ye’d do them?”

Fiona stopped buttering her bread to look at him. She saw the playfulness in his eyes. “Mayhap I should, what with ye bein’ new at bein’ chief.”

Collin threw his head back and laughed, his shoulders shaking. “Aye, mayhap ye should.”

Fiona took a bite of her buttered bread. It did not taste nearly as good as it smelled. Mayhap ’twas from one of the batches Isabelle had made. She put the bread down and was about to help herself to eggs, when her attention was drawn to a commotion at the back of the room. ’Twas Alyse, along with her two children.

Alyse appeared to be quite upset over something. She looked about the room and when she spotted Fiona, she headed towards her.

Fiona pushed away from the table and met her halfway. Tears streamed down Alyse’s face. Upon closer inspection, Fiona could see a red mark along her cheek. The poor woman looked unmistakably distraught.

“Alyse!” Fiona exclaimed. “What has happened?”

“’Tis Bhruic,” Alyse sobbed, unable to say much more.

Isabelle, Caelen and Collin had followed Fiona and now stood behind her. “What happened to yer face?” Isabelle asked.

“He hit our mum,” Alyse’s oldest son answered for her, which in turn made her cry all the more.

Wanting to save Alyse any further humiliation, Fiona said, “We’ll go to me study and ye can tell us in private what happened.”

Alyse was in no shape to argue; she clung to her little boys as if they were the only things keeping her from falling apart.

“Isabelle, please take the lads and get them somethin’ to eat,” Fiona said.

Alyse was reluctant to let them go. “I’ll take good care of them, Alyse, I promise,” Isabelle told her. “They can sit at the dais with us.”

“Isabelle and Mairi will take good care of them,” Collin told her. “I’m certain ye’d rather discuss this privately.”

Alyse handed the boys off to Isabelle, while Collin took her arm and led her away. Fiona and Caelen followed behind.

F
iona’s study
— her old study — looked just the same as the day she’d resigned. The only difference now, was that it belonged to her brother. ’Twould take some getting used to.

Collin sat Alyse in one of the two chairs that sat in front of his desk, then offered the other to Fiona. Caelen stood behind his wife, while Collin leaned against the edge of the desk.

“Alyse, tell me what happened,” Collin said, in a low and soothing voice.

Alyse wiped her eyes on her kerchief and turned to face Fiona. “Everythin’ was fine our first night. But the next day, he changed. He started to drink and he has no’ stopped since. Last night, he was up all night long, drinkin’, and this morn, he was so drunk he could barely stand.”

“Has he always been like this?” Collin asked.

Alyse blew her nose and shook her head. “Nay, he has never been like this.”

“Do ye ken why he’s suddenly taken to drink?” Collin asked with a tilt of his head.

Alyse took a deep breath before answering. “Because of Fiona.”

C
ollin’s brow
furrowed as he cast a quick glance at Fiona, who was just as confused as he was.

“Do no’ tell me he has feelin’s fer me wife,” Caelen said, sounding appalled with the idea.

Alyse shook her head, “Nay, ’tis no’ that.”

Fiona turned her chair so that she could face Alyse directly. Gently, she took Alyse’s hands in hers. “Alyse, why do ye say Bhruic be drinkin’ because of me?”

Alyse took a fortifying breath before answering. “I do no’ ken the whole of it, because he will no’ speak to me. But he sits all the day long, mumblin’ yer name and his daughter’s. He drinks and speaks to himself and then he gets verra angry. This morn, I begged him to tell me what was the matter. He got so angry, he began to throw things about, screamin’ and hollerin’ that I should go ask ye why he be so upset, that ’twas all yer fault that he’ll never see his little Aingealag again. When I told him he was no’ makin’ any sense, he struck me!”

None of it made any sense to Fiona. “Why can he never see his daughter again?” she asked.

Alyse shrugged her shoulders. “I dunna ken, Fiona.” She took her hands from Fiona’s and blew her nose again. “He loves his daughter. He be a good man, Fiona, but somethin’ happened the day after ye and Caelen were married. His uncle came to see him and spoke to Bhruic alone. I do no’ ken what they said, but after Edgar left, Bhruic was verra upset and that be when he started to drink.”

Fiona found that more than peculiar. Caelen placed a hand on her shoulder. Without saying a word, she knew he was thinking the same thing as she was. From Collin’s set jaw, he knew it too.

They now knew who was behind the raids.

T
hey wasted no time
.

While Collin set about preparing his men and people for battle, Caelen went in search of Phillip with a few orders of his own. Afterward, Fiona, Collin and Caelen left for Alyse’s hut. They had questions for one Bhruic MacKinnon.

Alyse’s little wattle and daub hut sat just down a small path near the eastern wall. To keep her anger in check, Fiona counted — with no end number in mind — all the way to the door of the hut. She felt betrayed not only by Edgar MacKinnon, but by Bhruic as well. Caelen looked to be just as furious as she, with his jaw clenched, his face red, and his hand on the hilt of his sword. Collin looked no better.

“Pray, keep yer temper in check, husband,” Fiona told Caelen as they stomped toward the hut. His expression said he thought her quite mad. “At least until we learn what we must.”

“I canna promise ye I’ll no’ kill him,” Caelen told her.

“I do no’ expect ye to,” Fiona said. “But keep in mind we need information at the moment. We can kill him after he tells us what we need to know.”

Collin gave each of them a warning. “No one will be killin’ anyone this day,” he warned them. “We do no’ have proof of anythin’, only our speculation.”

Caelen scoffed. “We’ll have more than speculation by the time I be done with him.”

Collin brought them to an abrupt halt. “If I canna have yer word that ye’ll no’ harm, maim or kill him, then ye can remain out of doors whilst I talk to him.”

Caelen worked his jaw back and forth for a moment. Collin’s patience had been one of the qualities Caelen had admired. Until now. “And if he doesna speak? Doesna tell us what we need to know?”

A wry smile formed on Collin’s lips. “He’ll talk. Do no’ worry it.”

C
ollin didn’t
bother with knocking or asking permission to enter. With Fiona and Caelen behind him, he flung open the door and entered.

The tiny hut was in shambles. Broken crockery littered the floor along with clothing, bedding and empty jugs and bottles. Furs meant to keep out the weather, hung by a peg or had been ripped from the windows entirely and lay on the floor. The odor of sweat and ale permeated the air and assaulted Fiona’s senses, forcing her to breathe in through her mouth. Caelen came inside and stood beside her and watched Collin.

Bhruic sat at the small table and didn’t even bother looking up when the door flew open. He remained sitting, probably because he was far too drunk to stand.

He hadn’t shaved in days, his clothes were as rumpled and filthy as his hair. He looked like hell, with his bloodshot, watery eyes and disheveled appearance. On the table in front of him was a jug of ale and a cup. With a shaky hand, he lifted the cup and drank.

Collin stepped forward and knocked the cup from his hands. It went sailing through the air and crashed against the wall.

Bhruic shrugged his shoulders and reached for the jug. Collin slid it to the far edge of the table. “No more, Bhruic,” Collin told him.

“What the bloody hell do you want?” Bhruic asked, his words slurred.

“I want to ken why ye hit yer wife this morn?”

Bhruic snorted derisively. “Why do ye care?”

“I care because Alyse is a fine woman. She deserves better than a drunkard fer a husband.” Collin hid his disgust behind a mask of indifference. He was certain that Edgar was holding Aingealag as hostage, forcing Bhruic to do his dirty work else he’d harm the little girl. All he needed was Bhruic to admit it and hopefully to tell him why.

Bhruic found Collin’s assessment amusing. Chuckling, he said, “I would have to agree.”

“Where be yer daughter?” Collin asked.

Bhruic’s amused demeanor changed dramatically. Tears filled his eyes, his shoulders sagged. “I’ll ne’er see her again,” he muttered.

“Why? Why will ye no’ see her again?” Collin asked, his patience wearing thin. Bhruic was so drunk he teetered in the chair.

“She’s an innocent child,” Bhruic said, his voice cracking. “My sweet babe, she be so sweet and I’ll ne’er see her again.” Staring at the wall, he looked utterly defeated and lost.

Collin rested a hand on Bhruic’s shoulder. “Bhruic, did they threaten ye with yer daughter? Did he threaten to harm yer daughter if ye didna do what he said?”

Bhruic pulled his gaze away from the wall. He looked at Collin as if he had only just realized he was there. Dazed and confused sounding he said, “Collin, have ye seen me Alyse?”

“Aye, Alyse is at the keep, along with her sons. I need ye to concentrate Bhruic. Tell me about yer daughter. Why is Edgar keepin’ her from ye?” Collin asked, raising his voice in hopes of keeping Bhruic awake and focused on the topic at hand.

Bhruic looked confused by Collin’s question. “Edgar?” he asked.

“Aye,” Collin said. “Tell me why they killed Bridgett and Stephan and Mildred. I need to understand why he killed them. What did he hope to gain? I canna believe it all be fer water.”

Bhruic’s eyes began to droop sleepily, the alcohol taking its toll.

“Bhruic!” Collin said his name harshly to gain his attention. “I need ye to tell me why. Why did Edgar have our people killed? Why does he hold yer daughter?”

“Edgar? Edgar has me daughter?” Bhruic asked as his head began to loll to one side. He was close to passing out.

Collin let out a frustrated breath. Bhruic was too drunk to either understand the questions or give answers to them. Collin grabbed Bhruic’s tunic and pulled him to his feet.

“Let me sleep,” Bhruic complained.

Collin shook him hard. “Bhruic, I need answers and I need them now,” he seethed through gritted teeth.

“I have no answers,” Bhruic said tiredly. “I canna even save me daughter.”

Collin gritted his teeth when he saw Bhruic’s head lolling again. Holding Bhruic up with one hand, Collin slapped him across the cheek to gain his attention. “Bhruic!”

The slap had the desired effect. Bhruic opened his eyes, strained to focus them on Collin. “Yer goin’ to tell me all that ye know and yer goin’ to tell me now, Bhruic, do ye understand?”

Bhruic looked defeated as Collin shoved him back into his seat then sat across from him. “Tell me why ye canna see yer daughter again.”

Bhruic took in a deep breath and let it out through his nostrils and rested his head against one hand. “Because Fiona married Caelen.”

“There has to be more,” Collin said. “Tell me.”

“They want unfettered access to yer lands,” Bhruic said, his eyelids drooping once again.

Under the table, Collin kicked Bhruic’s shin to gain his attention. “Why?”

“He wants access to the mountain, to the tunnels.”

Collin cast a curious glance toward Fiona. “He wants our whisky?” Fiona asked.

Caelen looked at her. “Ye keep yer whisky in tunnels?”

“Aye, we do. There be a few spots where ’tis never too cold or too warm and never to wet nor too dry. We’ve kept our barrels there fer decades,” Fiona explained.

Collin turned back to Bhruic who was drifting off again. Collin pulled away the arm his head rested on. “Ye canna expect me to believe yer uncle be willin’ to kill fer whisky.”

Bhruic shook his head. “Nay, ’tisn’t the whisky he wants.”

“The water then?” Collin asked incredulously.

“Nay, nay, nay,” Bhruic said as he shook his head.

“Then what the bloody hell does he want?” Collin demanded.

“I dunna ken!” Bhruic shouted.

Collin sensed there was much more that Bhruic knew but wasn’t telling. He was fully prepared to beat him within an inch of his life to get the information. He slapped Bhruic across his cheek again as a way of keeping him awake and letting him know he was not going to give up.

“They’ll kill me if I tell ye, and they’ll kill me daughter.”

Collin leaned in. “I’ll kill ye if ye remain silent.”

Bhruic threw his hands in the air in defeat. “Me daughter, she be only four years old. Do ye truly want the blood of an innocent on yer hands?” Bhruic asked.

“If she dies, ’twill be because ye were a silent coward. If she dies, there will be no one to blame but yerself. If ye tell us why yer uncle holds her hostage and what he wants, I will do everythin’ in me power to protect yer child.”