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

by Suzan Tisdale

  Thinking mayhap that Caelen’s men might be unsuccessful in their attempt to uncover the identity of the person, or persons, involved, Fiona made the decision to send Brodie and four men out to visit neighboring clans and villages. Hopefully they would return with the much needed information that would allow them to put the entire ordeal behind them.

  And after? When the dust had settled and things had returned to normal?

  Her heart might remain forever broken but her clan would remain intact.

  The following days seemed to crawl by as fast as a snail trying to make its way through a bog. Soon, she was able to tell the hour of the day by Caelen’s arrival. Always the same, he and twenty or more of his men would arrive late each morn, only for Caelen to inform her that he had no word yet from Kenneth. They would stay but for a short time and then leave before the nooning meal.

  Each morn, her heart would begin to race with the anticipation of simply seeing him. And as she would watch him leave through the gates, it would begin to ache intensely. Each night, she would fall asleep thinking of him with a solemn and heavy heart, only to repeat the same the following day.

  After a week, she was beginning to resent his daily visits for they served no purpose other than to torment her. Aye, she wanted to see him, but it was becoming far too painful to bear the ups and downs of his arrival and departure. ’Twas nothing short of torture.

  When she woke on the eighth day to dark skies and heavy rain, she knew he would not be there that day, for the weather was far too frightful for man or beast. For a brief moment, she was glad for the respite, for it meant a day without seeing him and being reminded every time he looked at her with those brown eyes so full of a promise that could not be kept, of that which could not be.

  But then she realized she would have to suffer through a day of not being able to see him, or speak to him, no matter how brief the conversations might be. ’Twas torment, no matter how she looked at it. She’d suffer if he was there and she’d suffer if he wasn’t.

  ’Twasn’t supposed to have been like this, her life. Nearly two years ago, she had resigned herself to the fact that she would be alone the rest of her life, content with being the chief of her clan.

  But now? Now she had caught a wee glimpse of what might have been, a murmur of providence that would not be fulfilled.

  Throwing her feet over the edge of her bed, she sighed heavily before padding over to the small table that held her pitcher and basin. Splashing cold water on her face, tending to nature’s call, she knew she had to make a decision. A final decision, no matter how difficult it might be.

  “Ye canna go on like this, Fiona. Pinin’ away fer a man ye canna have, no’ now, no’ ever.”

  “They say only the tetched talk to themselves.” ’Twas Bridgett’s voice speaking to her from the doorway. Fiona nearly jumped from her skin.

  “Bridgett!” Fiona exclaimed. “Do no’ sneak up on a person!”

  As always, Bridgett looked beautiful, even at this early hour. With a braid that fell across the bosom of her green dress she wore her arisaid wrapped around her shoulders, no doubt to ward off the chill of the morn.

  “I thought ye were a skilled warrior who slept with one eye open?” Bridgett said playfully as she sat on the edge of Fiona’s bed.

  “Och! I have no worries over anyone attackin’ me whilst I sleep.”

  “But ye would no’ mind wakin’ up next to Caelen McDunnah each morn, aye?”

  Fiona’s jaw clenched tightly. She was in no mood to have this discussion with Bridgett again. “Fer someone who has never joined with a man, ye sure talk about it enough.”

  Bridgett laughed at Fiona’s attempted insult. “’Tis true that me body is as pure as new snow. But me mind? Now that I could verra well end up in purgatory over what goes on in here.” She tapped her temple with her index finger.

  Wanting to change the subject, Fiona finished washing her hands and went to the chest where she kept her dresses. “I fear there will be no trainin’ today. ’Tis no’ a day fit fer anythin’ but sitting by the fire with a mug of hot cider.”

  “Were I you, I think I’d be wantin’ to spend a day like this in bed with a verra handsome man. Caelen McDunnah comes to mind.”

  The woman was as ferocious as a wolf gnawing on the leg of fallen prey. She’d not give up. “Do ye no’ have anywhere else to be this morn? Is it no’ yer week to work in the kitchens?” she asked as she stepped into a plain brown dress that laced up the front.

  “Ye slept through the mornin’ meal, silly woman! We’ve broken our fast and cleaned up. I’ve nowhere else to be fer at least two more hours,” Bridgett said as she jumped to her feet. “Were ye by chance awake all the night thinkin’ of Caelen?”

  Fiona spun around to face her. “Och! Ye jest! I never sleep in!” In a hurry, she grabbed her arisaid from the peg by the hearth and wrapped it around her waist, fastening it in place with her belt.

  “Nay, I do no’ jest. Ye have no’ been sleepin’ well. I thought it best to let ye sleep while ye could. I believe last night was also the first night wee Symon slept soundly as well. But I doubt his dreams were as delightful as yers!”

  Fiona had reached the ends of her patience. Whilst Bridgett was her closest and dearest friend, it did not mean Fiona had to listen to her teasing and taunting.

  “Bridgett, I warn ye now, if ye do no’ quit yer teasin’ about Caelen McDunnah, I’ll assign ye to clean every privy within the keep and every chamber pot as well!” Shoving her dirks into her belt, she left Bridgett alone to wonder if she truly meant what she said.

  Fiona had thought nothing of Caelen’s absence the morning she had woke to gray skies and pouring rain. But when three days of sunshine and warm breezes passed without seeing him, she began to worry.

  Brodie and the others had not yet returned. In truth, Fiona hadn’t expected him for another week or more. He had promised to either send word, or return and deliver any information he might have found.

  Caelen’s absence puzzled her. Had he come to the same realization that she had? Or was it a torment for him, as it was for her, whenever they were together? She felt ashamed for hoping it was the latter, that he simply could not be near her without being able to touch her, kiss her or tell her what was in his heart.

  ’Twas long after the midnight hour when Caelen sat at the long, heavy table in his private study. On either side of him were Kenneth and Brodie. Next to Kenneth sat Phillip. Caelen was listening intently to Kenneth and Brodie explain what they had learned.

  Brodie was travel-worn and practically dead on his feet from lack of sleep. His hair was mussed, filled with dust, as were his tunic and trews. Kenneth looked no better. Five days ago, they had happened across one another at a little village some fifty miles from the McDunnah keep.

  “By the way, Caelen,” Brodie said as he took a long pull on his ale. “Ye owe me ten pillars.”

  Caelen chuckled slightly. “Fer what?”

  He wiped his dirty sleeve across his mouth and shook away the exhaustion. “I had to pay fer the information. Because I did no’ want to bed the wench, she charged me double.”

  Caelen laughed at the man who was fast becoming a good friend. “Are ye sure she did no’ charge ye double because yer so filthy?”

  The four men laughed and drank more of their ale.

  “Tell me again, what ye learned, so that I can be certain I have the facts straight in me mind.”

  Brodie sighed and began to retell the tale he’d heard just two days ago. “Rumor has it that the water on our lands, McPherson lands, is magic.” Brodie said as he waved his hands in the air in disbelief.

  “Why would a grown man believe in such?” Phillip said with a shake of his head.

  Brodie wondered the same. “Apparently, fer various reasons, but the main one bein’ Fergus McPherson.”

  Caelen raised an eyebrow. “Fergus McPherson? Is he the one who started the rumor?”

  Brodie chuckled. “In a roundabout and inadvert
ent way, but I do no’ believe ’twas fer nefarious reasons. Ye see, when James died two years past, many people came to give their respects. During one of the meals, someone asked Fergus how auld he was. Fergus told them, ‘I be three and ninety come spring.’ Well, ye can imagine how many eyebrows were raised over that.”

  “Is he truly that auld?” Caelen asked, his curiosity piqued. No one lived to be that auld, not even his own grandminny.

  “Who kens?” Brodie said with a shrug of his shoulders. “No one really kens the truth and the man is the auldest member of our clan. He be an ornery auld man, but people like him and tend to believe most of what he says,” Brodie said as he poured more ale into his cup. “When someone asked how he managed to live to be so auld, he told them, ’tis God’s divine grace and McPherson water. Well, ye can imagine how that got tongues a waggin’ and people a talkin’.”

  “So all these chiefs are askin’ fer yer sister’s hand because they believe yer water be magic?” Phillip asked, again, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Brodie wasn’t entirely convinced that was the only reason and shared his thoughts with the others. “Well, we are a bit of an odd lot.”

  Caelen, Kenneth, and Phillip did their best to stifle their laughter and comments, for a moment anyway.

  “I’ve met yer sister,” Kenneth said. “’Tis all the proof I need to believe that.”

  Brodie had to laugh, for he agreed. “Aye, she is a wee different, I suppose. But she has a good heart, Kenneth, but aye, a short temper to be certain.”

  Phillip interjected with a question. “Besides yer sister, who I have met by the way and think she be quite bonny, what else makes ye say yer clan is a bit odd?”

  “Well,” Brodie said as he sat up straighter in his chair. “Our people do tend to live longer than most.”

  “That be no’ too odd,” Phillip said as he leaned back in his chair.

  “By itself?” Brodie asked. “Nay, but …” he paused to think if what he was about to say was in fact odd or not. Throwing all caution to the wind, he shared his thoughts. “I’ve noticed of late, that in addition to many of our people livin’ beyond seventy years, we have very few children.”

  Phillip gave a dismissive shake of his head. “Bah! I’ve met yer nephew, ye all have babes.”

  “No’ all of us have babes,” Brodie corrected him without divulging that his sister hadn’t any. “Most of our families only have one child. Two at the most. To have three is verra rare.”

  Caelen pointed out the fact that Brodie had two brothers and a sister.

  “Aye, and we are the only family in the entire clan that has that many.”

  “What does that prove?” Phillip asked. “That yer men are no’ as good at lovin’?”

  “I didna say it proves anythin’,” Brodie said somewhat defensively. “I merely point out that ’tis odd.”

  “Wait a moment,” Kenneth said with a raised hand. “There may be somethin’ to what Brodie says.”

  All eyes turned to stare at Kenneth. “Me grandda had a theory on good blood and bad blood.”

  “Which grandda?” Caelen asked.

  “On the McAdams side,” Kenneth answered. “Now, Grandda McAdams was an odd man. Fancied himself a philosopher and scientist, but in truth, he drank too much. Anyway, what Brodie says makes some sense. See, Grandda believed that there was ‘good blood’ and ‘bad blood’. He, too, came from a small clan where they didna have large families. He believed ’twas because their blood was so good.”

  Caelen and Phillip began to protest. Kenneth held his hand up again. “Hear me out now. What he believed was that some clans had a sickness of sorts. They had to have lots and lots of bairns because so many of those bairns died. Clans with healthier blood tended to have less bairns because they didna need so many.”

  The men fell silent for a time, each one thinking on what Kenneth had shared with them.

  “So mayhap it be no’ the McPherson water that is magic, but their blood.” Kenneth said, breaking the silence that had fallen.

  “Either way,” Caelen said, not entirely dismissing the theory about good blood and bad. “The fact remains that the clan chiefs are trying to negotiate a union between one of them and Fiona. Fer water.”

  “Aye,” Brodie nodded. “Apparently fer water.”

  Caelen pursed his lips together and gave some thought on the matter. “That still does no’ tell us who is stealin’ yer sheep nor why they’re tryin’ to make it look like the McDunnahs be at fault.”

  Apparently, none of the men had a theory on that matter.

  “Mayhap they worry that ye will propose and Fiona will accept,” Phillip offered.

  Without thinking, Caelen said, “She said nay.”

  Kenneth came close to choking to death on his ale. Phillip stared at Caelen as if the man had just confessed he was the true King of Scotia. Brodie sat with mouth agape, unable to form a single word.

  “Ye asked Fiona McPherson to marry ye?” Kenneth asked loudly. He poured another cup of ale and drank it all down in one pull. “Ye jest!” he said as he slammed the cup down.

  “Calm yerself, Kenneth,” Caelen told him. “I didna ask her in the true sense. She turned me down before I had the chance.”

  “Ye’ve lost yer mind,” Kenneth told him, pouring yet another cup of ale.

  “And what, pray tell, would be so wrong with him marryin’ me sister?”

  Caelen answered before Kenneth had a chance. “Brodie,” he paused for a moment, poured himself more ale, and leaned forward. “Brodie, I care verra much fer yer sister. But I fear she’ll no’ have me. I believe she cares fer me, but she, like all good clan chiefs, is puttin’ the needs of her clan ahead of her own. I also believe she worries that yer clan would be absorbed into another, were she to marry anyone outside of the McPhersons. She worries ye’d all be lost to it and she will no’ allow that to happen.”

  Brodie knew Caelen was right in his assumptions. “Aye, Caelen, that would be true. She made promises to both James and his da, when they each lay dyin’, that she’d never allow the McPhersons to be lost, either by misdeed or misfortune. She’d rather die than break her word.”

  Fiona’s honor was one of the many things Caelen admired about her.

  “How did James and his da die?”

  Brodie wasn’t sure why that was important, but answered anyway. “Well, Paul, that be James’ da, he died not long after James, from the wastin’ disease.”

  “And James? How did he die?”

  “An illness. He’d been in Edinburgh fer a time and when he returned, he was already quite ill. Ragin’ fevers, vomitin’, and he had an awful pain in his stomach. I dunnae ken much more than that.”

  “And he and Fiona never had a child?” Phillip asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

  Brodie shook his head. “Unfortunately, nay.”

  Kenneth felt the need then to turn the discussion back to the who and why that remained unanswered. “Still, we do no’ ken who is behind the reivin’ and why they want the McDunnahs blamed.”

  “Mayhap there be more than just water they seek?” Phillip asked.

  “Such as?” Caelen asked.

  “That, lad, I do no’ ken. But I fear there has to be more to this than men who want magic water.”

  There wasn’t another man in the room who didn’t feel the same way.

  Chapter 16

  With still no word from Brodie, and the fact that she hadn’t seen Caelen in days, sleep did not come easy for Fiona. Even with Symon sleeping through the night, now that the two new teeth had come in, sleep was evasive.

  It had been weeks since the last reiving. In William’s mind that proved that Caelen McDunnah was behind it all.

  “It seems that once he befriended ye,” William said as they sat at the high table for their evening meal, “the reivin’ stopped. I say he was behind it from the beginnin’.”

  Fiona was less certain than her brother. “It proves only that whoever was doin’ the reivin’
, they have stopped fer the time bein’. I have no proof that ’twas actually the McDunnah or his men.”

  “What of the dirk and plaid?” William asked.

  “William,” his wife said, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Please, leave Fiona be.”

  “Why?” William asked as he took another helping of fish.

  Fiona could not hear what Isabelle whispered into William’s ear. She didn’t have to. Isabelle knew, thanks to Bridgett’s wagging tongue, that Fiona had strong feelings for Caelen McDunnah. Feelings she refused to act on.

  William spun his head around to look at Fiona so quickly, that she was surprised he didn’t break his own neck. “Does Isabelle speak the truth?” he demanded. “That ye have feelin’s fer the McDunnah?” He made no attempt to hide either his surprise or his disgust.

  “William!” Isabelle chastised. “Leave her be!”

  “William,” Fiona said, mustering all the calmness she could manage. “I’d advise ye to hold yer tongue or I’ll pin it to the table with me dirk.”

  William looked aghast. “Fi!”

  “I warned ye once,” Fiona said as she pushed her trencher away. “I’ll no’ warn ye again and I swear, I’ll no’ count before I do it!”

  “But, Fi,” William said, his voice a bit softer now. “The McDunnah?”

  Fiona turned to face her brother. ’Twas all she could do to keep from screaming Aye! The McDunnah! I have fallen in love with the man but it means nothin’ because first I am chief of this clan! Instead, she said, “William, ye need no’ worry over much. I am first, chief of this clan. I’ll no’ risk the clan fallin’ apart or becomin’ part of another. I promised James. I promised Paul. I made an oath to this clan, to our people, and I intend to keep it.”

  William sat silently as he slowly shook his head in utter disbelief. Then he thought about what Brodie had said, weeks ago. About how it was no’ fair to Fiona that she live the rest of her life alone whilst everyone around her lived happy lives, with wives and bairns. He suddenly felt quite guilty for being so selfish.