“Watch my feet,” she said, and started to show him a few moves. Rhys was ungainly and he stumbled, even catching her foot under his at one point. She managed to slip her foot away before any permanent damage had been done, but she had to shake the pain away. He was a heavy man, and he lumbered about in a way that was not gracious at all. She could tell that he was growing frustrated as his face glowered and his cheeks reddened to a shade that was almost the same as his hair. He muttered a curse under his breath and scowled.
“Why is it sae easy for everyone else?” he asked quietly.
“It’s never easy at the beginning, it just gets easier with practice. I’m surprised ye never learned how tae dance.” A small laugh escaped her lips at the thought of having a life that wasn’t filled with dancing and joyfulness. Rhys was a strange man in this instance and it was strange that he hadn’t done the things she had considered normal.
“The only thing I practiced was sword fighting,” he said as he tried to shift his feet and failed to do it quickly enough, falling out of tempo with the music. Caitlin was doing everything she could to help him, but it seemed that conventional methods weren’t going to be successful. However, once he mentioned sword fighting, she had an idea of what she could do.
“Sword fighting! Why, now ye’re speaking my language,” she said. “Dancing is just like sword fighting! Ye hae tae hae quick feet for both of them! Pretend ye are fighting,” she said. At first, Rhys looked utterly confused as Caitlin shifted her position to take up the stance of a sword fighter. Their arms were still linked, but she pretended to parry and thrust.
“What dae ye know of sword fighting?” he asked, with a look of astonishment. Caitlin enjoyed a secret smile. She suspected that he had never known a girl to move in this way.
“Oh, there’s a lot ye dinnae ken about me,” she said teasingly. “But I wouldnae want tae give away all my secrets before we’re married. We hae a lifetime tae discover them,” she said, and then spun around him elegantly. He smiled and laughed, and started to find more freedom in the movements. He held out his hand as though he clasped a sword and smiled with glee as his dancing improved. He moved naturally and as he did, something changed within her. While they whirled around dancing and the music played havoc with her mind, she completely forgot that he was a Frasier and she was a McClearey. They were just two young people having fun, and she also felt a flush of warm arousal flare inside.
It took her completely by surprise and she wasn’t sure how to handle the feeling. It passed as quickly as it had arrived, and she was grateful for this, but her cheeks flushed with warmth and there was something fluttering in her stomach. It had happened while she had been watching Rhys dance. He showed grace and power, and he bristled with masculinity, so much so that it was impossible to resist. Caitlin rolled her lower lip under her teeth. It felt as though her mind had been opened. The moment was so pure, so wonderful, that she longed to feel it again. His mood had changed completely and he was surrendering to the dance. The music filled her ears and her heart, which beat along with the rhythm of the music. Rhys clasped her hands and twirled her around so that the world blurred around her and only his face was clear. When she looked at him she started to see him not as the enemy, but as her future husband. It was still difficult to shed those earlier feelings, but she wanted to leave a good impression on him and to make him just as excited as she was.
When the hour was late and she was exhausted, she knew it was time to retire. Everyone clapped as the music paused for a moment to give the minstrels a chance to rest. Caitlin was filled with delirium. Excitement coursed through her heart and she found herself flinging her arms around Rhys’s neck. Inspired by instinct and with her inhibitions released, she gave him a fleeting kiss, and then drew away, retreating like the shadows as sunlight broke over the world at dawn. Rhys looked stunned. Caitlin fled the hall, giggling with laughter as she returned to her chambers. With everyone in good spirits, it seemed as though a new era had beckoned, and she was starting to feel glad that she could be a part of it.
Rhys was certainly not what she expected, and as she slipped into bed she reflected on the evening. He was a little rough around the edges, but that was to be expected of a Frasier. There was certainly much to work with there, however. One day her aunt had told her that a husband was like a sculpture; he needed a great deal of work to be perfect and it was up to the wife to mold him into being the perfect man. Well, if such a thing was true, then Caitlin decided that she had the suitable hands with which to mold Rhys, and she went to sleep with a smile on her face, her mind filled with thoughts of dancing and swaying to music for the rest of her life.
4
Caitlin had proven herself to be quite a surprising girl. When the evening began, Rhys had vowed to be aloof and distant. After all, he didn’t see much point in being polite when nothing was going to come of this façade. The only thing he had to do was to prevent Caitlin, or anyone else, from suspecting that anything was amiss. He had begun the evening by drinking like anyone else, but then stopped so that he wouldn’t lose his senses. It wasn’t the night of the attack, but he didn’t want to set a precedent for drinking heavily, as then people would find it odd on the one night he didn’t drink at all. Besides, he told himself that he should keep his mind as sharp as his sword as he didn’t want to succumb to any tricks.
Then Caitlin had walked in. How lovely she had looked! Rhys had had to quell his natural instincts to admire her beauty because she was a McClearey, but it was clear that she stood apart from other women. He tried to give her the cold shoulder as she spoke, but she was so insistent and charming that eventually he had given into conversation. The night was long and he didn’t think he could go the entire time without talking to her. And then came dancing…oh, how Rhys had dreaded that moment! How he had looked over to his father for some respite, only to see Malcolm slapping his thigh as he told a bawdy joke about a maiden and a mule. But Caitlin had encouraged Rhys and allowed him to save face. She had shown him that dancing wasn’t all that different from sword fighting, and in the end, he had learned that, actually, he was rather good.
And then she had left him with a kiss. It was just a simple kiss, a mere brush of the lips against his own, but it was a kiss that was filled with promise, a kiss that would echo into the future.
He went to sleep with a full belly and thoughts on the future, trying not to think about the deadly plot that his father had designed. He would never doubt his father of course, but after spending an evening of revelry with these people he started to feel uneasy about the situation. After all, as he looked around the hall he didn’t see much difference between the two clans. They shared the same food, danced together, and joked together. Yet one side was plotting destruction while the other was in blissful ignorance. One thing Caitlin said had struck him—that the party seemed to prove the two clans could get along, and why couldn’t they do this all the time? There was so much bad blood between the clans that oftentimes it seemed impossible to think about them being allies, but nights like these were the kind of nights that could change a man’s opinion.
Not that Rhys was going to spend too much time thinking about that. It was just one night after all, and it couldn’t erode so many years of threats and crimes committed by the McCleareys.
But it did make one think…
Rhys was awoken early in the morning by Malcolm bursting into his room, not bothering with the decency to knock, but then his father had always been like that. He saw everything in the world as his own right, and he wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than what he thought he deserved. He stroked his beard and didn’t look any the worse for drinking and eating heavily.
“Say what ye want about the McCleareys, but they know how to put on a feast!” he declared, and closed the door behind him to ensure that nobody could hear what they were saying to each other. Rhys yawned and rubbed his eyes, and then sat up. The blanket fell off his body as he swung his legs out of bed and had some water to help
himself wake up.
“Aye, it was a fine night,” Rhys agreed.
“And none of them suspected a thing! Aye, I tell ye Rhys, they’re not as clever as they think. What did ye think of yer future wife?”
“She’s pleasant,” Rhys said, deciding to keep his true feelings a secret.
“Oh aye, pleasant is a way tae describe her alright. I’m guessing ye’ll be wanting tae keep her around? A lass like that…ah…she deserves a better name than the McClearey one! Ye did well though Son. I dinnae think anyone suspected anything, certainly nae her. Ye actually looked as though ye enjoyed dancing like a fool.”
Rhys blanched a little. He rose from the bed and turned his back on his father so that Malcolm couldn’t see how his cheeks reddened. “Aye, it was nae hard tae fool them,” Rhys lied.
“Ye had a better night than I did. I had tae sit with that fool Bryn and try tae pretend all night that I was nae thinking of slitting his throat!” Malcolm paced around the room and placed his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest. “But this keep is mighty fine. It’ll make a good addition tae our territory when we capture it. This is gaeing tae be a glorious beginning, a new chapter in the history of the Frasier clan! With more land, we can become stronger, and all those who laugh at us will be silenced.” The humor suddenly disappeared from his voice. He cast his gaze out of the window into the distance. His eyes narrowed and his face became pinched with tension.
“Aye, all of them will face the wrath of my war hammer, and by the time I’m done, the Frasier clan will be the most feared clan in all of the Highlands. It’ll be a name that strikes terror into the heart of anyone who hears it.” He turned to face Rhys. “And ye, my eldest son, will have a greater inheritance than anyone who has gone before ye. I will give ye the world,” he said. Rhys gulped. His father’s ambitions were great, but also high.
“I hope I can be worthy of ye Father, and worthy of our name.”
Malcolm strode across the room and flung his arms around his eldest son, pulling him into a tight embrace. Rhys was enveloped in a bear-like hug, a hug that smelled of mead and ale and meat from last night’s feast. The hug was so tight that breath was driven from his lungs, and when Malcolm released him, he staggered back.
“Now then, are ye ready for another day of trying tae get through their company? It will nae be long now until we’re storming the walls and hae this place under our control.” He clapped his hands together and had a greedy look in his eyes. “Keep the faith lad, and keep stringing the lass along. As long as she feels like she has yer attention she wilnae think anything is the matter. And if his daughter is happy, Bryn will nae dare tae speak against the wedding, even if he starts tae feel that something is amiss.”
“Aye Father, I wilnae let ye down,” Rhys said, but in his heart, there was a gnawing doubt that made him wonder if this was the right thing to do, as Caitlin had done nothing to warrant this treatment, aside from being born with the wrong name.
Rhys had never had these feelings before. All his life he had believed and obeyed his father. In his eyes Malcolm was infallible, and Rhys hung on every word. Malcolm was a hero, so even a sliver of doubt troubled Rhys. He tried to put it out of his mind as he went to get breakfast and prepare for the day’s events, but it wasn’t the easiest task.
Because of tradition, Rhys still wasn’t allowed to spend much time with Caitlin. He looked around the castle, trying to see if he could steal a moment with her as he was curious about what she was like outside of a feast, and with nobody else around. He smiled politely at those he passed. There was an air of tension around the keep, for although nobody wanted a battle to erupt, tensions were high and the two clans did not yet trust each other fully. Rhys often saw suspicious glances being thrown his way, and it was clear that a number of people didn’t like the fact that Caitlin was going to have to marry him. He looked away in smug satisfaction though, enjoying the idea of rubbing people the wrong way. And little did they know that most of them wouldn’t live for very long past the wedding anyway.
The events of the day were a series of games that were held in honor of the betrothed couple. These events consisted of things like axe throwing, sparring, wrestling, racing, a caber toss, and other physical feats that played into the things that Rhys enjoyed most. He eagerly watched from a wooden stand, enjoying the sound of bodies crunching against each other in conflict. Caitlin was sitting in a similar position away from him, and his gaze continually drifted towards her. She too seemed to be intently watching the games. She wasn’t like any other girl he had met. She was soft and pretty like a girl, but she had the interests of a man, and Rhys wasn’t sure how he felt about this, but it certainly meant that he couldn’t get her off his mind.
The warriors of the McClearey clan were strong men, not as strong as those of the Frasier clan of course, but they put on a good display. Rhys tried to put his doubts out of his mind, but it was difficult.
“This is all well and good Bryn, but I think we should add a little extra edge to the proceedings,” Malcolm boomed. He was in a private conversation with his peer in the other clan, but his voice was so loud that everyone could hear what he was saying. “Since it won’t be long until our clans our joined, we should have a wee contest tae pit our men against each other one last time. What dae ye say?”
There were murmurs behind Rhys. All the onlookers seemed pleased with the suggestion, although Bryn looked uncomfortable as he shifted his weight in his chair. Rhys could see him racking his mind to try and find a way out of the situation, but he could hardly deny Malcolm’s request when there were so many people clamoring for it.
“Aye, that seems like a fine idea,” he relented, although he looked troubled. Malcolm immediately sent word to fetch men from the camp outside to take part in the games. He leaned forward and clapped his hands together, and glanced towards Rhys. He knew that Malcolm was relishing the chance to win one final battle before the wedding. Rhys rolled his eyes, for he was certain that it would only exacerbate tensions between the two clans, but there was little he could do about it. He sat back and waited for clans to form and take part in the various contests. As it turned out, it wasn’t as one-sided as Malcolm would have hoped. The McClearey clan was agile and quick, and what they lacked in raw power they made up for in accuracy and wit. As each event passed the tension grew, for the clans proved themselves equally matched. As soon as one clan won one event, the other clan won the next.
The competition was fierce as well. The men became so heated they started to bicker amongst themselves and a few brawls broke out—brawls that were swiftly ended by Bryn, who rose and barked out orders for them to stop.
“We are ushering in a new era of peace! Dinnae think that means ye can get away with these fights. Control yerselves! I wilnae hae the wedding besmirched by this behavior!” The accused people slunk away and dipped their heads, grumbling to themselves at Bryn’s harsh words.
Rhys glanced over at Caitlin. When there was a break in the events, he left his chair and walked to the edge of his stand. Caitlin caught his gaze and came to him as well. Her cheeks were rosy and her hair hung in tresses around her heart-shaped face. Her eyes gleamed as she smiled, and a warm feeling made Rhys tingle.
“What dae ye think sae far?” Rhys asked.
“Oh, I think it was a wonderful idea ye da had. A competition makes everything more exciting.”
“Aye, and it’s very close. Who dae ye think is gaeing tae win?”
Caitlin glanced over at the field and cast her eyes over the men getting ready for the next event. A playful smile appeared on her face. “It would be wrong of me tae say anything other than my own clan.”
“Aye, but soon enough you’re gaeing tae be a Frasier. Maybe ye should start now and cheer us on,” Rhys said with a grin.
Caitlin arched an eyebrow and regarded him with a challenging gaze. She folded her arms across her chest.
“Ye know that is nae gaeing tae happen. Ye’ll see, by the end of it the McClearey clan wi
ll be on top.”
“A fine boast, but I think ye’ll be mistaken,” Rhys said. A call was given to declare that the rest of the events were ready to begin. Rhys and Caitlin returned to their respective seats. Rhys smiled at the private moment he had shared, but it hadn’t been as private as he would have liked. Malcolm caught his gaze and gave him a knowing nod as if to say that Rhys was doing a good job for keeping up the façade. The smile fell from Rhys’s face, as it had been a genuine pleasure to speak to Caitlin.
But he didn’t have much time to think about that as the events started again and he could lose himself in the drama. The representatives of the clans roared as they pushed themselves to their limits and fought hard to prove that their clan was the superior one and deserved to triumph. But the same balance persisted. The clans were matched evenly and neither had a firm advantage over the other. They did obey Bryn’s wishes though, and no more fights broke out. They reached the final event and the honor of the clans rested upon it. The scores were tied, the clans inseparable, and the victor of this final challenge would win glory for themselves and their clan.
Malcolm set forth his champion, a man named Black Pete because of his shaggy black hair that ran all over his back and shoulders. He grunted, flexed his muscles, and roared loudly in a warning to the men from the McClearey clan. But it wasn’t a man he was going to face. In a surprising turn of events, and something that took Rhys completely by surprise, Caitlin jumped up from the stand and made her way onto the field. Bryn, with a smug grin as he could see Malcolm’s face go purple with rage, announced this his daughter would be representing his clan.
“Ye cannae dae this!” Malcolm shouted. “It’s an affront tae all that is good and holy. She’s just a wee lass. What are ye thinking?”
“Are ye afraid of a wee lass Malcolm? Dinnae worry, Caitlin will nae make a fool of Black Pete here,” Bryn said. Caitlin sauntered past Black Pete, who didn’t look impressed at all. Malcolm was fuming as he returned to his seat, throwing his arms up in the air.
Highlander's War 0f Clans (Scottish Medieval Historical Romance) Page 4