“Quiet, ye bloody fools!” the MacElroy barked at the other men. “Can ye no’ hear that she’s countin’?”
There wasn’t a man among them — save, mayhap for the man standing behind the McGregor that she did not recognize — that didn’t possess firsthand experience with just how good Fiona McPherson was with a knife. Or sword or bow and arrow.
In truth Fiona would much prefer to settle any disputes like a level-headed adult. But there were times, far too many times, that words would not work, and some form or display of violence or physical strength was necessary. As long as the men before her knew she was not above using physical force, she could get them to at least listen.
Scanning the curious if not dread-filled eyes of the men, she waited until she had their full attention.
“While it be true that I had originally called ye all here to wage war against the McDunnah, I now have evidence that he was no’ behind the raids.” She paused briefly for her words to sink in, carefully resting the sgian dubhs on the table before her. “I’ll no’ be warrin’ with them.”
Their astonishment was quite apparent.
“What evidence?” the McGregor barked. “Ye call us here for war then change yer mind?”
“Just like a woman,” MacElroy the Arrogant whispered.
Fiona heard him. Tempted as she was to hurl her sgian dubhs into his pompous heart, she resisted. “I’ve only just been made aware of the evidence,” Fiona said, directing her statement toward MacElroy.
“Then why are we here?” the Farquar asked bewildered and confused. “I thought we were goin’ to war?”
“Well, she’s apparently changed her mind,” the McGregor explained. “I’m just as confused as the rest of ye.”
“If ye’d close yer mouths and open yer ears,” Fiona said, raising her voice above the din, “ye might just learn somethin’.” That had been one of her mother’s favorite sayings when Fiona and her brothers were younger. It seemed befitting to use it now, since these men were behaving like children.
They turned their focus back to her and ’twas all she could do not to roll her eyes. “As I said, I’ve only recently been made aware of evidence that exonerates the McDunnah. He is no’ the one responsible fer the raids or fer Bridgett McPherson’s death.” Fiona had to clear her throat to clear the knot that formed at the mention of her dearest friend. “Caelen McDunnah is innocent.”
“What proof do ye have of his innocence?” the MacElroy asked. “Did ye no’ declare that ye’d seen the man with yer own eyes? Were McDunnah daggers no’ left behind?” he said with a disapproving shake of his head.
Fiona was prepared to give just enough information, hopefully enough that one of them might trip on his own lying tongue. “Me brother, Brodie, was with the McDunnah the night Bridgett was killed.”
“That still does no’ make the man innocent,” the MacElroy replied. “He could be directin’ his men to do his dirty work for him.”
“At one point, MacElroy, I was led to believe the same,” Fiona told him. “I have met with the McDunnah several times over the past weeks. He’s no’ the one responsible. Instead, I claim to ye that someone else be responsible, someone who wishes us all to believe it be the McDunnah. For some reason, they want us at war with him and his.”
She took in a breath and waited for the men to consider her words. “I do no’ ken the why of it just yet, but I will find out who is behind it all, on that, ye have me word.”
Each of these men had known Fiona long enough and hopefully well enough to know that she did not make idle threats. Nor was she one who easily jumped to conclusions or judgment.
“I tell each of ye now, that I’ll no’ be warrin’ with the McDunnah. He and I have come to a truce and I now consider him me ally.”
Her last statement was meant to serve as warning. The McDunnahs were now her allies. She could only hope that the news would stop the raids.
“Though we will no’ be warrin’ with the McDunnah, I still need yer aid.”
More confused than before, the men sat with raised brows or mouths agape.
“Aid?” The McGregor asked. “Need I remind ye that ye turned down me previous offer of aid and protection? Ye turned all of us down.”
With an inward sigh, Fiona answered. “I do no’ seek yer protection, McGregor, just yer aid.”
The man shook his head in dismay. “Yer no’ makin’ much sense, McPherson.”
I’d make more sense if ye’d just be quiet and let me finish. “I do no’ need anyone’s protection. But I would ask fer yer help in findin’ out who is truly behind the raids and Bridgett’s death.”
* * *
The task of watching each of the chiefs carefully was up to Collin, Andrew and Seamus. Fiona, too, was studying each man intently, looking for any sign as to who the guilty party could be. Brodie believed the McGregor was behind the raids and Fiona wasn’t so certain he was wrong. The McGregor had been the first to propose, but still, she needed far more proof than her gut instinct. She needed facts.
“Are ye accusin’ one of us?” the McGregor asked, clearly insulted.
“Nay,” Fiona said with a shake of her head. “I do no’ believe it be any one of ye here today. That be why I ask fer yer help. All I seek is information.” ’Twas a lie, but a necessary one. Her gut told her that there was someone inside this room who was the true culprit, the true murderer. If she allowed them to believe she thought them all innocent, one of them might show his hand.
“If any of ye has now or comes to have any information as it pertains to the raids and Bridgett’s murder, I would appreciate ye lettin’ me know,” she told them as she began tucking her sgian dubhs back into her belt.
“What is in it fer us?” the Farquar asked. He was well known for his greed, as well as being a gossip.
“Two barrels of fine McPherson whisky as well as me thanks,” Fiona told him.
She cast another glance around the table, hoping for the slightest indication of guilt.
Nothing.
“The hour grows late and ye’ve travelled far. I welcome each of ye to join us fer our evenin’ meal. Until then, ye are welcome to walk about the keep and lands if ye’d like, or take a respite in the men’s solar. Collin and Seamus shall lead the way.
Without waiting for a response or indication as to what they might plan, Fiona left the men alone with the hope that Collin or one of her other men might learn something useful. For now, she needed to step out of doors for some much needed fresh air.
* * *
A light mist clung to the late afternoon air, cooling Fiona’s heated cheeks. Standing at the bottom of the steps that led into the keep, Fiona took in several deep cleansing breaths. ’Twould take more than fresh air to remove the stench of the foul air that had filled her war room, mayhap even more than one bath.
The courtyard was bustling with people, mostly men that had travelled with their chiefs from the neighboring clans. Over the clatter of people talking, men boasting and guffawing, and the general commotion of daily life, she could hear the lowing of cattle coming from the pasture. Instantly, she thought of Caelen and how deeply she missed him. She imagined she could live ten lifetimes over and never stop loving the man, or missing him to the point of tears.
The ache in her heart was raw and fresh, blending with the guilt she felt at having joined with him, only to leave. The image of Caelen’s face flashed in her mind’s eye as she remembered the pain she had seen in his eyes when she had left. There had been no intent on her part to cause him one moment of suffering or discomfit. She’d been selfish to think that she could take what his body could offer without also taking his heart.
Did men not do that all the time? Join with a woman without regard to her heart or tender feelings? How many times had she consoled a friend or woman who had had her heart broken from those very actions and cursed the man who had left them so despondent?
Fiona took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She had treated Caelen in precisely the
same manner. She was no better than the men she had once cursed and damned to the devil.
The only way she could begin to set things right with Caelen — aside from marrying him — was to find out who was behind the raids and Bridgett’s murder. She needed to prove to the rest of the world, what she already knew in her heart, that Caelen was innocent.
Frustrated that she hadn’t learned anything new from her meeting with the clan chiefs, she decided to take a walk around the keep. She hadn’t taken but a few steps when she heard Edgar MacKinnon’s deep voice calling her name.
“Fiona,” he said as he bounded down the steps.
She paused and waited for him to catch up. When he reached her, he offered a smile and a nod. “I wonder,” he said, “if ye might have time to discuss what just happened.”
Fiona trusted Edgar MacKinnon as much as the other clan chiefs — not one bit. “Aye, I do, if ye do no’ mind takin’ a wee walk.”
Another smile from the small man’s thin lips. Shorter than Fiona by a good two inches, his thinning blonde hair flapped in the wind, his cheeks and nose were already starting to turn red in the cool air.
There was something about the man’s smile … it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “A walk will do me good. ’Twas a bit pungent in there, was it no’?” he said with a slight chuckle.
While she agreed with him, she remained quiet and led the way. She had never been fond of the MacKinnon, but if he had any useful information, she might be willing to revisit her previous opinion of the man.
Fiona led him to the wide path that surrounded the keep. They were cast into shadows on the east side of the building. The air was even cooler here, out of the sun. The MacKinnon shivered slightly but made no move to quicken his step.
“So ye and the McDunnah are now allies?” he asked as they passed by a stone bench.
“Aye, we are,” Fiona replied.
“He be a good man to have as an ally,” Edgar said. “’Tis good to have more than one, however.”
Fiona quirked a brow, but remained quiet. Close yer mouth and open yer ears, she heard her mother’s words of wisdom echo in her mind.
“I never believed the McDunnah was responsible,” Edgar said. “He’s far too clever a man. And if Caelen wanted to attack ye, he’d let ye ken why. He’d want to take full credit and glory. Nay,” he gave a shake of his head. “Nay, Caelen McDunnah is no’ one to hide in the shadows like a coward.”
Fiona could not argue with anything he had just said for that had been her own belief.
“Fiona, have ye any idea who might be responsible fer the raids?”
She had a few but she wasn’t quite ready yet to share them with anyone outside her tight circle of brothers and advisors. “Nay, I fear I do no’ ken who or why.”
Edgar gave a knowing nod. “Would ye like me opinion on the matter?”
’Twas only morbid curiosity that moved her to answer aye.
“While I do no’ ken who is behind the raids, mind ye, I believe they want us all to war with the McDunnah. Mayhap it be someone who seeks retribution fer some past deed done by the McDunnah, either real or imagined. Mayhap that someone is too small to take on the likes of the McDunnah on his own. So he does what he can to start a clan war.”
Fiona wondered if Edgar didn’t know more than he was telling. Mayhap he was giving her bits of information so that she could figure it out on her own. Or, he truly was just guessing.
“I had no’ thought of that before, MacKinnon. I mean, I do believe someone might want us to be at war with the McDunnah, but I canna make a guess as to why. I suppose that be as good a reason as any.” In the end the why was not nearly as important as the who.
“I could verra well be wrong. Then again, it could be someone from a larger clan or clans, who wants to start a war between all the clans, no matter the reason. The outcome would be the same.”
Her curiosity was piqued. “What outcome?”
Edgar shrugged his shoulders as they rounded the corner and walked along the rear of the keep. “The outcome would be that we kill each other and they are left to pick through the spoils of war.”
That was a terrifying prospect. If it was a larger clan or group of clans, they could easily start a war, sit back and wait until nothing was left of these smaller clans, such as her own. Greed was a tremendous motivator. Land could be far more valuable than gold. Was it possible that that was what this all boiled down to? Avarice?
“’Twould be better to let our smaller clans destroy one another, ye ken. They get all the gain without usin’ any of their own vital resources.”
What if he was correct? What if a larger clan, or worse yet clans, were at fault, just sitting back, stoking the flames of war? Would her clan be able to protect itself? What if the Farquar, McGregor, and McKenzie refused to believe such a possibility?
“And now that ye’ve declared the McDunnah yer ally — that is assumin’ I’m right — the true culprits might begin raids on another clan and blame ye.”
A chill ran down her spine with that thought. The mastermind behind the fake McDunnah attacks had almost succeeded. She thought back to the meeting. The McGregor did not seem convinced of Caelen’s innocence and neither did the Farquar. How would she defend herself if she and her clan were suddenly made to look like raiders and murders?
“Again, I could be wrong, Fiona. It verra well could be somethin’ as simple as someone hatin’ the McDunnah enough they’d be willin’ to do anythin’ to bring him to his knees.”
They walked along the rear of the keep, passing by chickens pecking at the ground and a small group of men huddled together under the eaves of the stable making bets on when the sun might shine again.
“I worry, Fiona, what will happen to ye and yers now that ye’ve publicly declared ye be allies with the McDunnahs.”
Doubt began to creep in. She had meant her declaration as a warning to those in attendance that she had the force of the McDunnahs behind her. Her mind raced at all the new scenarios and possibilities.
“Fiona, the truth is it could be anyone doin’ this fer any reason, whether it makes any good sense or no’. I ken ye said ye did no’ want anyone’s protection, but I beg ye to reconsider that. Ye might just need it more than ye realized.”
Fiona came to an abrupt halt. Was this Edgar MacKinnon’s way of terrifying her into a marriage?
Edgar smiled up at her. “I ken what yer thinkin’ and nay, I be no’ proposin’ to ye again. I ken — and ye can correct me if I be wrong — that ye’ll no’ marry out of fear of either havin’ to give up being chief or that yer clan will be absorbed into another.”
Had Fiona been wrong about Edgar MacKinnon? He seemed to have a good grasp on exactly why she had turned down all those proposals. Mayhap he wasn’t quite the weasel or weak-minded fool she had previously thought him to be.
“Ye be right, MacKinnon. I will no’ give up bein’ chief and I’ll no’ allow me clan to be lost to another.” There were now new reasons why she’d never marry. Her heart thoroughly and completely belonged to Caelen McDunnah.
Edgar pursed his lips together and nodded again. “I canna say that I blame ye. Still, ye canna deny ye need protection. And I fear that mayhap the protection of the McDunnahs might no’ be enough.”
* * *
Doubt soon began to do serious battle to the certainty Fiona had previously possessed. Doubt about her clan’s future, her people’s safety and her ability to protect either.
Edgar MacKinnon walked beside her, seeming less and less the fool she had previously believed him to be. Mayhap he was wrong, mayhap he was right. Either way, there were new possibilities she would need to discuss with Collin and her advisors.
She began to miss her parents and Bridgett all the more. What she would not give for her parents’ advice and Bridgett’s shoulder. Had she not given in to temptation and lust two days ago, she would have gone straight to Caelen seeking his counsel on the matter.
She and Edgar were back where they had
begun, walking across the front courtyard. When they neared the steps, Edgar gave a nod and waved his hand to ask if she would like to continue their walk. Fiona gave a nod of affirmation and a wan smile. Mayhap on their second trek around the keep, Edgar would have more answers than questions.
They walked quietly for a time. As the mist ebbed, a strong breeze pushed through, bringing with it the promise of rain. The men who had sought refuge under the eaves of the stables had disappeared, no doubt going back into the keep for more drink.
“Fiona,” Edgar said, breaking through the quiet stillness. “I ken ye’ve no desire to marry me,” he began. When he saw the do no’ dare ask again flicker in Fiona’s eyes, he laughed heartily.
His genuine laughter softened his features and made him seem less a greedy fool and more human.
“I was no’ goin’ to ask ye again, Fiona,” Edgar said with a smile. “I learned me lesson the first time.”
Fiona smiled back at him. “Good,” she said.
“I ken ye will no’ give up bein’ chief nor will ye allow yer clan to be taken over by another.”
Fiona tucked back errant strands of hair the breeze had loosened whilst she responded. “’Tis true. I’ll do neither.”
“I have another proposal fer ye,” Edgar said as he clasped his hands behind his back. “One that will allow ye to remain chief, keep the McPhersons as McPhersons, but gain ye the numbers ye need in order to protect ye in case war does happen.”
Thankful he wasn’t proposing marriage again, Fiona smiled and bade him to continue.
“Before I go on, do I have yer word ye’ll no’ gut me?” Edgar asked playfully.
“Nay,” Fiona answered. “I’ll make no such promise. But I will promise to at least give ye a head start runnin’.” Fiona was glad the mood between them had lightened. She was beginning to see Edgar in a different light. Mayhap he could someday be an ally and friend.
Edgar chuckled. “Thank ye.” He fell silent for a moment before continuing. “I have a nephew, Fiona. He be a good man, a year younger than ye and if what the women of me clan say is true, he be a handsome one, too.”
Caelen's Wife, Book Two Page 4