“Ariana felt no guilt over what she’d caused. None whatsoever. Margaret and mum, however, were broken-hearted, beyond consolation. Their poor mum died just a few weeks later, some say from a broken heart. But Ariana? Not one tear did the woman shed over the loss of her parents, over the loss of their chief, or for any of the misery she caused. Not long after, she packed up and moved to Inverness where she managed to marry into nobility. Margaret did marry Charles, months later, and mum soon married our da. Neither Margaret nor mum truly ever got over the loss of their parents and they never saw Ariana, again.”
Fiona sat in dumbfounded silence. ’Twas a disturbing tale, to be certain. Suddenly, she was quite glad she hadn’t been blessed with a sister. But what had any of that to do with her? “’Tis a sad tale ye tell me, William, but I fear I do no’ understand why ye were afraid to tell me.”
William looked somewhat sheepish before he went on to explain. “Ye see, Fiona, when mum heard all the compliments people were givin’ when ye were born, she grew fearful of how ’twould affect ye as ye grew aulder. Her biggest fear was that ye might turn out like Ariana. She could no’ bear the thought. So she made us all swear we’d never compliment ye on how bonny ye were. After she told us the why of it, we felt so sorry for her that we agreed. Mum wanted ye to be known fer a kind heart or fer bein’ intelligent or graceful or anythin’ else but how bonny ye were.”
“That be the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in me life,” Fiona told him. “Ye canna be serious?”
“I be afraid that I am. So we never again remarked at how pretty ye might be. We did our best to encourage ye in other ways, such as with yer knives, yer quick wit and yer kind heart.”
There was no way to be angry with her mother. Her brothers however, were an entirely different matter. Not because she was in any way vain or uncomfortable in her own skin, but because they had withheld this information from her her whole life. They could have, at one point or another, pulled her aside and told her the truth.
“Ye could have told me this before, William,” she said as she shot to her feet and began pacing. “Mayhap when I was four and ten and cryin’ me eyes out because when I tried to kiss Donnel McFarland, he turned white as a sheet and ran away from home for three days, leavin me to think ’twas because I was so bloody hideous!” She spun around and glared at him. “Or a year later, when I finally got up the nerve to ask Peter McPherson to dance at the Hogmanay feast. The poor lad turned green before me eyes and ran out of the keep like banshees were chasin’ after him!”
William remained guiltily silent, looking at the hearth, the floor at his feet, the ceiling, anywhere but at Fiona. “There be more yer no’ tellin’ me, William. Out with it.”
He shrugged his shoulders and pretended not to know what she meant.
Isabelle and Mairi finally stepped forward to chastise her brother. “Tell her the rest, William,” Isabelle said, her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl fierce enough to scare the devil.
He remained quiet.
“Ye tell her or I will,” Isabelle threatened.
“I fear I do no’ ken what ye want me to say. I’ve told her everythin’.”
Isabelle pursed her lips together before turning to look at Fiona. “The lads didna run because they thought ye hideous or homely or even plain. They ran and hid because yer brothers threatened all of them with death if they so much as glanced yer way.”
’Twas all too ridiculous for words. A low laugh began in her belly and continued to grow until Fiona was laughing to the point of hysteria. This had to be some sort of jest. A lie. She knew, deep down, that she was not as pretty as Mairi or Isabelle or as Bridgett had been. She knew it, unequivocally, undeniably. Aye, Caelen thought she was quite bonny, but everyone knew he was a bit tetched. She had taken everything he had told her with a grain of salt, believing ’twas her personality or her keen wit or her fine skills as a warrior that had attracted him to her.
Her laughter filled the room and she was unable to control it. Out of breath, she plopped down in the chair, holding her sides, as her family continued to stare at her with increasing concern.
“Yer all daft! Every bloody last one of ye!” Fiona blurted out before bursting into another fit of hysterical laughter.
“Fiona,” Mairi asked, her voice filled with unease. “What be so funny?”
Fiona shook her head. “I dunnae!” she said between bouts of laughter. “’Tis all too ludicrous!”
Three pairs of baffled eyes stared at her.
“I fear that if I do no’ laugh, I’ll end up in tears,” Fiona admitted as her laughing began to subside. “’Tis much to take in, ye ken. To think that me whole life I could have had men eatin’ out of the palm of me hand!”
Unfortunately, neither her brother nor her sisters-in-law saw the humor in the situation.
Truthfully, she wasn’t certain how she felt about it. Should she be angry and upset? Should she go spit in the wind at what her mother had done to her? Leaving her to believe all these many years that she wasn’t quite pretty enough or bonny enough to turn a man’s head?
What did it matter? Would she see herself differently now? Did it truly change anything? Nay, she supposed, it did not. She was still the chief of her clan, still the same Fiona McPherson that she’d always been. The only difference would be that if someone were to by some chance give her a compliment in the future, she wouldn’t be tempted to take out her dirk and stab him in the eye.
Six
Caelen and his men arrived at the MacDougall keep long after the midnight hour. Caelen had pushed his men and their horses to their limits on their journey north. By the time they reached MacDougall lands, they were covered with filth, sweat and grime and on the brink of exhaustion. The moon hung high and brilliant overhead as a heavy breeze rattled against man and earth alike.
Caelen did not care. There was too much at stake to dally along the way. If there was anyone on God’s earth who could help him, ’twas Angus McKenna, chief of Clan MacDougall.
Caelen and his men climbed down from their mounts as they waited outside the gates of Castle Gregor. ’Twas one of the largest castles outside of Stirling or Edinburgh. Three stories high with four tall square towers, the massive structure was simple in its majesty. It did not boast loudly of opulence or richness, though the MacDougalls were powerful enough and rich enough to make such claims if they chose. Nay, Castle Gregor bespoke power, but instead of shouting its message, it whispered. ’Twas a quiet reflection of the men and women within.
The wait was not long and soon Caelen and his men were allowed inside the walls. At this late hour, most people were asleep save for the night watchmen. One of the MacDougall men approached as the McDunnahs made their way across the large open courtyard.
“Good eve, to ye. The McKenna awaits ye indoors,” the slender young man told Caelen. “I can see to yer men and to yer horses if ye’d like.”
Caelen was glad for the offer. “Thank ye, kindly. I ken me men are tired and hungry after our journey.”
Caelen found Kenneth in the middle of the small crowd. “I would like ye to go with me to talk to Angus.”
“Verra well,” Kenneth said as he and Caelen handed their horses off to Obert. “No rest fer the wicked, aye?”
Caelen chuckled slightly as they headed toward the MacDougall keep. “Mayhap that be why neither of us get much sleep.”
Though the breeze was not quite as strong inside the walls as out, ’twas still strong enough. Caelen’s plaid flapped against his chest and ’twas then he caught a whiff of his foul-smelling self. There was no time to waste by jumping in the loch. Angus would have to take them as they were.
* * *
Caelen and Kenneth had been escorted into the empty, dark grand gathering room. Warming themselves by the fire, they watched as Angus made his way down the staircase. Angus McKenna, though more than fifty summers auld, was still as tall and powerful as he’d been in his youth. Aye, there may have been a few wrinkles around hi
s bright green eyes, and his blonde hair may have been more white but he was still an imposing a figure as ever there was. Though ’twas the middle of the night, Angus was dressed in dark trews and fine blue tunic. The man looked to be both curious and glad to see his friend.
“Caelen,” Angus said as he made his way to the hearth. “What the bloody hell are ye doin’ here at this ungodly hour?” He smiled as he extended his arm.
Caelen wrapped his hand around Angus’ massive forearm and drew him in, giving him a hearty slap on the back. “I missed yer bonny face, ye auld curmudgeon.”
Angus laughed as he pounded Caelen’s back. “’It has been too long since last we’ve seen ye here,” he said before recognizing Kenneth. “And even longer fer ye, Kenneth.”
“At least five years I believe,” Kenneth said as he shook Angus’ offered arm.
“Six,” Angus corrected him as he took a step back and studied Caelen and Kenneth closely for a moment. “’Tis no’ a social visit that brings ye here.”
Caelen cleared his throat before answering. “Nay, ’tis no’.”
Angus gave him a knowing nod. “Do we need the war room, or me private study?”
“Fer now, I think yer private study will suffice,” Caelen answered.
Angus let out a relieved sigh. “Good, fer I fear I be gettin’ far too auld fer battle,” he said with a chuckle as he began to lead the men up the stairs. Angus’ private study was on the second floor of the massive keep.
“Ye?” Caelen chuckled. “Ye’ll still be fightin’ the day the good Lord calls ye from His earth.”
Angus laughed, his booming voice echoing off the stone walls. “I hope to hell no’! When me time comes, I want it to be whilst I’m in the safe and lovin’ confines of me wife’s arms.”
* * *
When they had entered Angus’ private study, the sky was as black as pitch. By the time Caelen finished telling Angus all that had transpired over the past few weeks, dawn was just beginning to break. The early morning sky was a beautiful blend of indigo, gray, and pink.
They sat opposite one another in front of the hearth, with Angus asking an occasional question. Kenneth sat beside Caelen, offering tidbits of information. Caelen did most of the talking.
“So there ye have it,” Caelen said as he held his empty palms upward, “and why I be here today.”
Angus pursed his lips and thought hard for a long moment. “’Tis unusual for the Highlands to be so quiet on a matter,” Angus remarked. “A man in Inverness can pass gas while breakin’ his fast and his cousin in Mull will ken of it by the noonin’ meal.”
Caelen chuckled at his friend’s assessment. Gossip flowed as easily as wind and water. “I canna even find the smallest hint as to who may be behind these attacks. I canna believe this all came about over supposed magic water.”
“I would no’ be so quick to dismiss it, Caelen. Men have been moved to do far worse fer far less,” Angus said.
Caelen knew Angus was right. Nothing about this entire ordeal made any sense. “Even if they are motivated out of some misguided notion that the water on Fiona’s lands is magic, that still does no’ explain why they’ve involved me. Why make me look guilty? What possible gain could come of that?”
Angus’ brows drew into a knot as he thought on it. “Be it possible the two are no’ related? That those chiefs are proposin’ fer magic water, but whoever is raidin’ and blamin’ ye is a separate matter altogether?”
“We’ve given that much thought,” Kenneth added. “But we believe it be far too coincidental.”
“Aye,” Angus said thoughtfully. “None of us believes in coincidence.”
Caelen smiled and stretched his long legs out. “Nay, we do no’ believe in coincidence.”
“What would ye like from me, Caelen? What can I do to help? Are ye here to invoke the Bond of the Seven?”
Caelen sat forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “I believe it be too early yet, to do that.” The Bond of the Seven Clans had been forged between the MacDougalls, McDunnahs, McKees, Lindsays, Randolphs, Carruthers and Grahams ages ago. ’Twas a promise made that should one clan need the others, all they need do is invoke the bond and the others would be there to offer whatever assistance they could. “Fer now, I would like yer help, and Nial’s, in findin’ out who be determined to see me either ruined or dead.”
“I received word from Nial earlier this night. He and Bree shall be arrivin’ in three days,” Angus said.
“Three days?” Caelen asked, disheartened over the news.
“Aye, he had some business to settle before he could leave. What that business was, I do no’ ken. But he’ll be here.”
Knowing there was nothing to be done over it, Caelen let out a long breath. “Could ye send out yer own spies? Mayhap they will be successful where mine were no’.”
Angus gave a slight nod and said, “Aye, I shall dispatch them this morn.”
Caelen yawned, the exhaustion beginning to settle into his bones. He could not remember the last time he slept well or for more than a few hours at a time. If he wasn’t running around the countryside, his dreams were plagued with images of Fiona.
“It has been a verra long night,” Angus said as he pushed himself to stand. “Ye can have Duncan’s auld room while yer here. I recommend ye get as much sleep as ye can, fer it might be some time before ye have it again.”
Caelen smiled wryly at the mention of his old friend’s name. “How be Duncan? And Aishlinn?”
Angus smiled proudly and said, “They be well. They have six children now. Four boys and two daughters.”
A pang of envy stabbed at his chest. Forcing a smile he stood and said, “That be a lot of children.”
Angus nodded in agreement. “Aye, ’tis. Mayhap someday ye’ll find the right woman to settle down with and have a dozen of yer own.”
A sharp pain of regret stabbed at his heart. He was not quite ready yet to divulge to Angus his true feelings for Fiona McPherson. “Mayhap, someday,” he said with a false smile. If God is willing and allows me to find a way.
Seven
Fiona had just finished explaining Edgar MacKinnon’s proposal to William and Collin and their wives. They sat now, in silence, around the table in Fiona’s study. For a long time, none of them said a word.
“I’ve spent only a small amount of time with Bhruic these past two days,” Collin said as he glanced first at his wife, then to Fiona. “He be a good man. I like him.”
Mairi placed a hand on Collin’s arm. “But Fiona does no’ love him, Collin.”
Collin patted Mairi’s hand. “I ken that. But unfortunately, she be no’ in a position to take love into consideration.”
Mairi began to protest at her husband’s insensitivity. He stopped her with a wave of his hand. “Mairi, ye ken as well as I that what I say be true. Fiona is chief. Marriage for her — or any chief for that matter — is no’ always a matter of the heart, but a matter of what is best fer the clan.”
“True or no’, ’tis no’ fair that she has to be forced into a marriage without consideration of her heart,” Mairi argued.
“Think of what it would mean fer the clan,” William interjected. “’Twould mean gainin’ good fightin’ men that we need.”
Isabelle looked at her husband with mouth agape, utterly stunned that he would agree to such a union. “William! Ye of all people? Ye’ve always been Fiona’s champion and now ye throw away all regard fer her feelin’s just to gain more men?”
“I do no’ throw away all me regard, Isabelle. If I did no’ like Bhruic, I’d be against this just as much as ye.” He glanced at Fiona then and said, “Besides, she would be gainin’ a daughter.”
Of all the people in the room, William knew how desperately Fiona wanted a child of her own. Fiona gave him a modest smile but remained quiet.
Isabelle threw her hands up in frustration. “I be surprised at the both of ye,” she said. “Ye were against all the other proposals ’til this one. Ye ma
ke no sense!”
“Aye,” Mairi agreed. “Fiona turned down every proposal to date and ye supported her decision. Even after the raids began, ye said no to Fiona marryin’ anyone. I do no’ understand either of ye.”
“Aye,” Collin said. “We were against Fiona marryin’ another chief. That would have meant us losin’ our name, our identity, our history. This be different.”
“How?” Mairi asked, dismayed by her husband’s turn in opinion.
“It be different because with this marriage, Fiona remains chief, Clan McPherson remains Clan McPherson, we get one hundred strong fightin’ men. Fiona no’ only gets a child she can call her own, but a good husband who likes her and finds her quite bonny,” Collin explained.
Fiona had heard enough. “Ye all make valid arguments fer and against this union,” she said as she drew circles on the table with her index finger. “But in the end, the decision is still mine to make. I ken we need more men. I ken we need strong allies, and we would have that with the MacKinnon.”
While she may have known those things to be true, it did not mean she enjoyed the thought of having to make this decision.
“I will no’ make the decision lightly, ye have me word,” she told them as she pushed herself away from the table. “The hour is late so I shall now bid ye all good night.” With a nod of her head, she quit the room and went to her bedchamber.
* * *
Fiona’s mind would not settle, would not allow her the sleep she desperately needed. Each time she closed her eyes she would see Caelen’s face, filled with pain, pain she had caused him.
An ache had settled deep in her heart. An ache so profound and intense that she did not think she would ever be rid of it. Alone in her room, she sat on the wide windowsill, wrapped in a blanket, chilled to the bone. She stared out across the rocky land into the indigo sky, sprinkled with stars and a crescent moon. And she wept quietly, praying and wishing for things she could not have.
Caelen's Wife, Book Two Page 7