Caelen's Wife - the Complete Collection (37 page)

T
he following day
, Bhruic was reunited with his daughter. Caelen was much relieved, for the child had clung to him like a cocklebur. As soon as she was handed over, Caelen found Kenneth and Phillip and a bottle of whisky. They weren’t seen again until the evening meal.

Fiona met with Collin in his study to discuss what was to become of Bhruic MacKinnon. Fiona begged Collin to show some leniency toward the man, for his only crime, at least as far as she was concerned, was loving his daughter. “How far would ye go to protect Symon?”

“I’d kill to protect him, Fi. But I’d no’ kill innocent people,” Collin told her.

“But he did no’ kill anyone, did he?” she pointed out.

Collin took in a deep breath. “I canna believe ye’d want me to show leniency to a man who was going to kill ye and yer husband.”

“I do no’ believe he was goin’ to kill either of us, Collin. I believe he was prepared to drink himself to death first,” she told him. “Ye saw him that day with yer own eyes. He was so drunk he could no’ find his arse with both hands.”

Collin thought back to that day when Alyse came rushing into the keep, in tears, her cheek and jaw red from her husband’s hand. “He did hit his wife,” he calmly reminded her.

Fiona had to admit that was true. “Then punish him fer hittin’ his wife. Punish him fer bein’ an angry drunk. But do no’ hang him fer somethin’ he didna do.”

“Pray tell then, how would ye suggest I punish him?”

She’d already thought about what she would have done were she still chief. “I’d let his wife decide his punishment. I’d also make him clean latrines, train with the women and mayhap work in the kitchens.” Her punishment wasn’t meant to demean the man. Instead, she hoped it would make him appreciate how hard the opposite sex worked and how valuable they were to the clan.

Collin didn’t think that near enough punishment. “I’d like to beat him within an inch of his life.”

Fiona smiled and could not disagree that she would have taken some enjoyment in doing just that. “I would enjoy that as well, but in truth, Collin, I think the man was pushed into a corner by Edgar and Gelis.”

Collin had to admit her argument had some merit. He didn’t believe that Bhruic would have harmed Fiona, or anyone else for that matter, on his own. And Fiona was right in that the man had not made any attempts on her life, even though his daughter was being held as hostage.

“Verra well, then,” Collin said. “I’ll let the man live.”

Fiona looked much relieved. “Thank ye, Collin. I be certain his daughter will be verra grateful to ye fer that.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Fiona broached the next matter at hand. “Now, about the treasure rumored to be hidden in our tunnels.”

Collin smiled and shook his head. “Ye and I have both been in those tunnels many times, Fi. I’ve never seen any treasures.”

Fiona smiled mischievously. “But we never
looked
fer treasures.”

A
week later
, Caelen and Fiona returned to the McDunnah keep. Burunild and Nola had returned a few days before them to help prepare the keep for their new chatelaine — something that Burunild believed had been missing for far too many years.

Fiona doubted Caelen’s people would welcome her with open arms but she knew they would at the very least be respectful toward her. At least in their own rough way. They were a different lot, these McDunnahs, and she liked that about them. Still, there was always the worry that they’d never accept her as their chief’s wife. ’Twas possible a long, bumpy road lay ahead, but Fiona was not afraid to take it.

Fiona had learned a great deal more about her husband from his grandminny in the days after the battle against the MacKinnons, Farquars and McRameys. Though Caelen had no compunction in telling Fiona he loved and adored her, there were parts of his heart where he’d not allow her entry. A deep, hidden place where his first wife and son remained.

Fiona did not want her husband to forget his first family. But neither did she want him to remain guilt-ridden over their deaths. Knowing he could love so deeply, even after so many years, proved to her that he possessed a heart capable of many things.

Still, it bothered her that he had never named his son.

On the morning after their return to his keep, Fiona asked Caelen to take her for a walk of his lands. She didn’t tell him that she had one particular destination in mind.

After touring the stables, granary, chicken houses, corrals, and other buildings, Fiona asked, “Where do ye keep yer dead?” She already knew the answer to that question.

Caelen thought it an odd question. “Why do ye want to ken that?”

“I be the chatelaine now, Caelen. I should know all that I can about yer land.”

“Just outside the walls,” Caelen told her.

“I should like to see it.”

It took some convincing, but Caelen finally relented.

T
he spot was not far
from the outer wall. A flat bit of land that sat at the base of a small hill. ’Twas a quite peaceful place, Fiona thought, with a few wych elms at the western edge. Anyone at the keep, looking this way would never know it was here.

Caelen stopped just at the edge of the cemetery. “Now ye’ve seen it,” he said. “Let us return to the keep.”

Fiona slipped a hand into Caelen’s and said, “Nay, Caelen. We have somethin’ important to do,” she told him. “I want to see where Fiona and yer babe rest.”

Caelen’s jaw tightened, his eyes turned to slits. “Nay,” he told her. She could tell that he was angry. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Caelen, tell me why ye never named yer son.”

He looked at her as though she’d gone completely mad. “We will no’ discuss this, Fiona. We will go back to the keep now and ye’ll never speak of this again.” He tried to pull her away, but she kept her feet firmly planted and wrested her hand from his.

“Caelen, I love ye too much to no’ speak of it,” she told him.

“Fi, ye need to let this go,” he said in a firm voice.

She had no intentions of letting this go. Her mind was set. “Then ye do no’ love yer son as much as I thought.”

He was instantly furious. “How dare ye say such a thing!”

Fiona knew she may have stepped over the line a bit with her accusation. She took a few steps back, not because she feared he’d harm her, but because she needed him to at least step inside the hallowed ground. Progress, no matter how small, was a good thing. “How sad is it that a wee bairn has lain in the cold ground all these years without a name?”

Caelen walked toward her, his face twisted and angry. “Ye ken nothin’ of it, Fiona.”

“Yer right, I do no’ ken anythin’ about it because ye refuse to speak of it,” she said. She was determined to see this through.

“I have me reasons fer no’ speakin’ of it and ye should respect that.”

’Twas then that she saw the pain in his eyes. Just a flicker of it, but enough to realize this was going to be very difficult for him. She decided to soften her approach. Stepping forward, she took his hands in hers. “Caelen, I love ye more than I ever thought possible. And I find I love ye more each day. I ken ye feel guilt over no’ bein’ there fer yer first wife and yer son. But Caelen, do ye no’ think ye should give him a name? It breaks me heart to think of yer babe goin’ through the rest of eternity without a name.”

His expression softened, but not by much. She could see that at least now he was thinking on it.

“Please, Caelen, will ye do this fer me?”

“He has a name.”

F
iona was mightily confused
. “But Burunild said ye never named him.”

The pain became even more evident and it broke her heart to see him like this. Mayhap she had pushed too far. Mayhap some things were better left untouched.

He cleared his throat and stood a bit taller, as if bracing himself against something quite miserable. “Fiona and I had agreed on two names, one fer a girl child, one fer a boy.” His voice caught, forcing him to clear his throat again. “Were it a girl child, we’d have named her Eleanor, after Fiona’s mum.”

Fiona’s eyes grew wet. He was struggling with so many torments at the moment that she almost begged him to stop.

“And were it a boy child, he’d be named after me.”

A few tears escaped and trailed down her cheeks. God in heaven how she wished she could give him a child. ’Twouldn’t make up for all that he’d lost, but still, it would be the most precious gift she could think to give him. “I be so sorry, Caelen,” she murmured softly.

“So ye see, I be no’ so heartless after all,” he said, his voice not quite as harsh as his words.

Her heart leapt into her chest. “I never meant to say ye were heartless, Caelen, I swear it. But when Burunild said ye’d never named him, I thought ye should and I wanted only to help ye.” More tears slid down her cheeks. She’d never felt quite so guilty or heartless.

“I didna want to go through me whole life with people referrin’ to him as wee Caelen or the babe Caelen,” he explained. “’Twas a secret I wanted kept just fer me, fer his mum.”

She couldn’t have stopped the tears if she’d had a sword at her throat. “And I ruined that fer ye!” She fell against his chest and sobbed. “Please fergive me!”

He wrapped his arms around her and patted her back. “Ye do no’ need me fergiveness, Fiona. I ken yer heart guided ye.”

She nodded her head against his chest and clung to him. “I be so sorry, I truly am. So sorry fer everythin’!”

Caelen kissed the top of her head. “Why are ye cryin’ so?”

She sniffed, unable to look up at him. “Because I made ye share a secret that ye truly did no’ wish to share. I be sorry fer bein’ such a stubborn woman. And I be most sorry fer no’ bein’ able to give ye a child.”

“
W
heesht
, now, wife. I do no’ care that ye canna give me a child,” he told her. She may have thought she knew all of his secrets now, but that wasn’t necessarily true. He’d never tell her that he was glad that she couldn’t. The thought of losing her in childbed was the only thing that truly terrified him.

He was glad she was barren. A barren wife meant he’d never have to worry himself into an early grave, worried that she’d die trying to bring his child into this world. Nay, a barren wife was a safe wife. That was one secret he was quite happy to keep to himself.

She continued to weep against his chest. He knew how much she would have loved to give him a child, how desperately she wanted a child of her own. The more she cried, the more his heart ached for her and the more he was willing to say or do anything to make her feel better.

“Mayhap we could adopt a child,” he said, hoping it would help her feel better.

“But yer afraid of children!” she said, her tears ebbing just a bit.

He laughed. “I be no’ afraid of children. I do no’ ken where ye get the idea.”

“Burunild says ye refuse to hold anyone’s babe, because ye be afraid.”

He laughed again. “Burunild does no’ ken as much as she likes to think she does,” he said as he kissed the top of her head again. “I do no’ hold anyone’s babes because I never got to hold me own. I felt as though I was betrayin’ me son by holdin’ someone else’s.”

That made her cry all the more. “That be so sad!” she cried. His tunic was getting quite damp.

He began to feel quite lost not knowing if there was anything he could say or do to make her feel better. He’d never seen this side of her before.

“Wheesht, lass, wheesht,” he whispered.

“I love ye, Caelen, with all me heart,” she said between sobs.

“And I ye, wife. With all me heart.”

He held her for a long while, until she had no more tears to shed. Finally, she looked up at him, her nose red, her skin blotchy and wet. “Do ye think ye might regret marryin’ me someday?” she asked hesitantly.

He threw his head back and laughed. Once he got his laughter under control, he looked into her eyes and said, “No’ bloody likely.”

F
iona had never seen
her husband looking quite so terrified before. Not even nine months ago when a little girl named Aingealag clung to his neck, refusing to let go. Nay, that was nothing compared to what he looked like at this moment.

His skin was ashen and dark circles lined his usually bright brown eyes. He hadn’t truly slept in months, even less so since yesterday when her pains started.

Now, he sat on a chair next to Fiona’s bed, holding her hand as she tried to hide the pain. Knowing all that she knew about her husband, and the guilt he’d suffered through for sixteen years before meeting her, Fiona could say unequivocally that this was truly harder on him than it was on her. His sole worry, as always, was over her safety. He wouldn’t truly rest until their child was born, he’d told her weeks ago. To which Fiona had had no choice but to laugh almost uncontrollably. “Ye think ye do no’ sleep now? Wait ’til this babe is born,” she’d warned him. He swore he had no idea what she meant. Of course he didn’t, for he had no experience with bairns, weans, or children younger than five and ten.

Isabelle and Mairi were here, to offer their support and encouragement. They had travelled to the McDunnah keep a week ago, even though Mairi was heavy with her second child. Mairi had told Collin that he could either bring her here to be with Fiona or she’d walk, the choice was his. Collin relented and brought her.

Isabelle had given birth to a daughter a few months ago. They’d named her Fiona. She was a sweet, beautiful little babe with dark hair and eyes that very much resembled her father, William. Conner and Maggie were very proud of their little sister. Though Maggie still did not speak, she now participated and engaged in activities, albeit silently. Isabelle and William were raising the two orphaned children now, and treated them as if they were their own. When Maggie smiled for the first time — upon their arrival and because Burunild gave her a sweet cake — Isabelle cried tears of joy. There was hope. Always hope.

William and Collin were below stairs with Kenneth, Phillip, Burunild, Brodie, Andrew and Seamus. Richard had not joined the trek to McDunnah lands. He chose instead to watch over the McPherson keep.

Brodie was here for two reasons. One, he wouldn’t miss his sister’s special moment and two, he was married to the woman helping Fiona bring the reason for that special moment into the world. He and Nola married three months prior and had made their home at the McPherson keep. But Fiona wanted Nola here, at the McDunnah keep, to help when her time came.

“Ye can push now, Fiona,” Nola told her after checking her progress for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past few hours.

Fiona let out a relieved breath, glad that the time to push had finally arrived. Nola had prepared her mentally for the agony that lay ahead. Some women found relief in pushing, others screamed out in agony. Each woman was different Nola told her and they would simply have to wait and see. Fiona did not care whether it hurt or not. Soon, she would hold a babe in her arms. Since she’d been convinced she was barren, this was an auspicious moment in her life. Though Caelen worried and fretted, Fiona refused to be anything less than ecstatic. She’d waited too many years to feel a babe kicking against her belly to worry over what might happen.

Whilst most men chose to leave the birthing process to the women folk with a
come and get me when it be over
attitude, Caelen refused to leave Fiona’s side. She knew why and loved him all the more for it. ’Twas the lingering guilt he’d carried with him all these many years for not being there for his first wife when she needed him most. She had died trying to bring his babe into the world. The poor little boy never drew a breath. Caelen had been off fighting the English at the time. He’d never truly gotten over it.

“Try no’ to scream when ye push,” Nola told her from the end of the bed. “Just bear down and push, Fi.”

’Twas God-awful hard work, this birthing business. Fiona felt some measure of relief in pushing. Her pains didn’t feel quite so intense.

“Och!” Nola smiled. “I can see the head!”

Caelen sat on the edge of his chair, holding Fiona’s hand, unable to offer any real words of encouragement. He leaned in and kissed her temple and whispered, “I love ye.”

She could not respond at the moment for another pain hit and she was busy with pushing his child out of her body.

“Good, Fiona! Keep pushin’ and ’twill all be over soon,” Nola said, encouragingly.

“Aye,” Isabelle said as she stood at the end of the bed with a blanket for the babe. “Ye be doin’ a right fine job.”

Six pushes later, little Anna McDunnah came screaming into the world.

Cheers went up around the room.

For the first time in months, Caelen McDunnah actually smiled.

“I have a daughter!” he proclaimed proudly. “Ye did it, Fi! Ye did it!”

Fiona fell back against the bed as Nola placed the screaming babe on Fiona’s belly, tied off the cord, and set about with tending to everything else that happens after a woman gives birth.

Isabelle wrapped the babe in a blanket, whilst Mairi went racing to the stairs to let those below know that the babe was here and ’twas a girl.

Isabelle wiped a warm, damp cloth across the babe’s face and lifted her up. She walked around to Caelen, who was planting much relieved kisses all over his wife’s face. “I love ye, Fiona, I do,” he told her between kisses.

Isabelle cleared her throat. “Sit, Caelen McDunnah.”

He didn’t bother asking why. He sat back in the chair, still smiling from ear to ear.

Without warning, Isabelle placed the babe into his arms. At first, he tried to protest, but she gave him a look of warning that he was quite certain she had learned from his wife.

So he sat, in the quiet hours of the night, holding his precious daughter.

The fire crackled in the hearth, people were busy about the room, but Caelen paid attention to nothing but his daughter. Though he was beyond joyful at holding his child, secretly, he prayed he’d never have to live through another tormenting time like the one he’d been living through ever since the moment Fiona had told him she was with child. ’Twas more frightening than any battle he’d ever endured, including the one where he’d earned the scar that lined his face and side.

She was a sweet, tiny babe, with soft wisps of hair, a perfect little nose and a perfect little mouth. Though he had previously agreed to naming her Anna, after Fiona’s mother, he now thought she should have a name that personified perfection. He wouldn’t even bother with sharing his thoughts with Fiona. She’d likely pin him to the wall if he decided to change her name at the last minute.

“Might I hold her?” Fiona asked.

Caelen looked up from his daughter to his wife. God’s teeth but the woman was beautiful. Even more so now that she’d given him a child, though he had convinced himself he never wanted one.

Carefully, he stood and placed their daughter in Fiona’s arms. Tears of joy streamed down Fiona’s face as she softly caressed her little cheeks. “She be beautiful, aye?”

“Aye, the most beautiful babe ever to grace God’s earth.”

Fiona smiled and placed a soft kiss on Anna’s forehead.

“I have a daughter,” Fiona whispered as if she couldn’t truly believe it.

Caelen climbed into the bed beside his wife. “Part of me wishes she looked more like me,” Caelen said. “Then I’d no’ have to worry about lads chasin’ after her.”

“Do no’ worry over it husband,” Fiona told him. “Fer I shall teach her how to use a sword, knife, and bow and arrow.”

Deciding now was not the most appropriate time to argue over such a thing, he simply smiled at his wife.
No’ bloody likely.