Caelen's Wife, Book Two

by Suzan Tisdale

  The wound of having to leave Caelen, of having to turn away the chance at being his wife, was still so fresh and raw. Fiona wondered if ’twould ever heal or if ’twould simply continue to fester until she was nothing but a shell of the woman she had once been.

  It had only been less than a sennight since last she’d seen him, but much had happened since she’d left the man she loved on the steps of his keep. When she’d left him there, she thought it had been the single most difficult decision of her life. Now? Now she was forced to make another that would, she knew, be even more difficult. Marry a man she did not love and knew she never would in order to secure the future and safety of her clan. Or, turn down the offer, and leave her clan vulnerable to more attacks, more raids, and the potential loss of more lives.

  Oh, how she wished Bridgett were here to help her, to offer solid advice, a word of comfort. Bridgett would have understood how difficult this decision was and would have done her best to help Fiona through it, no matter which path she took.

  How could she say yes and marry a man, who, though she liked him well enough, she could not imagine ever loving, at least not in the same way she loved Caelen? How could she willingly go to the altar and make a promise to love and honor Bhruic? ‘Twould not be fair to either of them or to Caelen.

  How could she take another man into her bed and share her body with him? The thought brought forth more tears. In her heart, she knew that if she did say yes and marry Bhruic, every time he touched her she would think of Caelen. It would be Caelen’s lips she wanted pressed passionately against her own. And Caelen’s hands she would want and imagine gently caressing her skin, not Bhruic’s. And she was sure it would be Caelen’s voice she would hear whispering sweet words in her ears, his hot breath upon her skin, not Bhruic’s.

  The marriage would be nothing but a lie from the beginning.

  ’Twould change her, ’twould make her a liar and she’d no longer be the woman she once was. The guilt would be unbearable.

  * * *

  Fiona woke to the morning light feeling just as confused and contrary as when she had fallen asleep. No new answers had miraculously arrived whilst she slept. No fail-proof plan had come to mind for a way out of the mess she found herself in. She hadn’t fallen out of love with Caelen nor had she received a divine message from God telling her who had killed her best friend. In short, nothing had changed.

  She slid from her bed, splashed cold water on her face, washed her teeth and dressed. The clan chiefs were set to leave after breaking their fast. Whilst she’d have preferred to remain in her room, there was too much to do. First on her list was telling Edgar MacKinnon thank ye, but no thank ye. She couldn’t marry Bhruic.

  She made her way down the stairs and into the gathering room. It looked to be every bit as full as the night before. Secretly, she had hoped that they’d all be gone by the time she made her way below stairs.

  Cursing under her breath the lot life had dealt her, she made her way to the dais where Collin and Mairi were already seated. Mairi was feeding wee Symon little bits of bread and eggs. He was such a sweet babe, all cheeks and thick eyelashes and drool. Happily chomping away at bits of bread, not all of it making its way into his belly. God in heaven, what she would not do to have a babe of her own.

  As she made her way to the front of the gathering room, she caught sight of Edgar MacKinnon on the opposite side of the room. Fiona made her way through the crowded space to speak with him. “Good morn, Edgar,” Fiona said, forcing a smile.

  “Ah! Good morn to ye as well, Fiona,” he said cheerfully.

  ’Twas far too crowded at the moment to have the conversation she needed to. “After ye break yer fast, could ye please join me in me study?”

  Edgar smiled and said, “Of course. Shall I bring Bhruic?”

  “Nay, that will no’ be necessary.”

  For a fleeting moment, his smile disappeared. “Verra well,” he said with a curt nod. “After we break our fast.”

  Fiona thanked him and went to sit with her family. “Good morn, Collin, Mairi,” she said as she made her way up the steps. As she passed behind them, she paused to kiss the top of Symon’s head. “And good morn to ye, ye wee beastie,” she said playfully. When he looked up to smile at her, she noticed a bump on his forehead “What be this? Were ye wounded in battle, wee one?”

  Mairi rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Nay, he’s taken to pullin’ himself up to things,” she explained. “But he does no’ realize not everythin’ be sturdy. He tried pullin’ himself up to the stool I sit upon fer sewin’. It flipped over, and knocked him right in his wee head.” Mairi placed a motherly kiss on his little bump. “I be surprised ye didna hear him screamin’! ’Twas loud enough to wake the dead.”

  Fiona laughed and took her seat. “I fear the lack of sleep finally caught up with me last night. Hordes of Huns could have attacked and I’d have slept through it.”

  Collin finished shoveling eggs into his mouth and downed the rest of his cider before taking Symon into his own lap. “What say we let yer beautiful mum eat, Symon?”

  Symon cooed and laughed as Collin bounced him on his knee. “Ye’ll be walkin’ before long, aye?” he asked Symon. “That will be when all the fun starts.”

  Fiona was enjoying Symon’s giggles and coos, when something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Why it drew her attention, she could not rightly say. Nonetheless, she looked up to see Bhruic standing in the entry way. He was not alone.

  Alyse McPherson was with him.

  Alyse was a quiet woman, just a year or two younger than Fiona. And like Fiona and Bhruic, she was widowed. Alyse had come from the MacKinnon clan six years ago when she married Gerald McPherson. Poor Gerald lost his life more than a year ago, to a freak accident. He’d been in the forest felling trees with several other men. Unfortunately, Gerald cut one way, but the tree went another and he could not get away in time. The tree came crashing down, killing him instantly.

  ’Twas quite possible that Bhruic and Alyse knew each other.

  But there was something in the way Alyse looked at Bhruic that told her it was much more than a mere acquaintance between them. She couldn’t quite put her finger to it, but instinct told her there was more to it than even friendship.

  In truth, it did not matter one way or another. Fiona was not going to marry Bhruic.

  * * *

  Fiona stood between Collin and William on the steps of their keep. They were watching the MacKinnon clan — the last of their visitors — leave through the gate. Relief washed over Fiona as the last mounted man went through.

  “How did the MacKinnon take the news,” William asked as he turned to face her.

  “Better than I expected,” Fiona said. “I thought fer certain he’d be quite angry, but he was no’. Though he does no’ quite understand the way of a woman’s heart, he was no’ angry fer me turnin’ down the offer.”

  Collin placed a hand on her shoulder and the three of them went inside. “Do ye think he’ll remain an ally, even though he said no to marryin’ his nephew?”

  “Aye, I do.” Though for the life of her she couldn’t understand why. Something had happened over the past two days. Edgar had shown a less harsh side of himself, even after she told him she couldn’t marry Bhruic. While she would not go so far as to call Edgar MacKinnon a friend, she now had a more positive attitude toward the man.

  “Good,” William said as they made their way through the gathering room and down the hallway to Fiona’s office. “Lord knows we do no’ need any more enemies.”

  “Were either of ye able to learn anythin’ new?” Fiona asked.

  Collin sighed and shook his head. “Unfortunately, no’. The only rumor that anyone speaks of now is that our water be magic. Ridiculous as that may seem.”

  “Water,” Fiona said with a shake of her head. “All this over water. ’Tis as ludicrous as what William told me last night.”

  Collin paused just inside the study. “I fear I know n
o’ of what ye speak,” he said. Whilst he attempted to feign ignorance, his red face bespoke the truth. He knew exactly to what Fiona referred.

  “Liar,” Fiona said as she sat down behind her desk. “Ye ken exactly what I be speakin’ of. That ridiculous story William told me last night. About how are mum was so worried over me stunnin’ beauty that no one was ever to speak of it.”

  A knowing glance past between her brothers.

  “Do ye truly expect me to believe it?” Fiona asked as she leaned forward in her seat.

  With his eyes on his brother, William cast a slight motion of his head in Fiona’s direction, as if to say ye talk to her.

  Collin cleared his throat. “What William told ye be true.”

  Fiona stared at him. Unbelievable. After everyone had left her bedchamber the night before, she had thought a great deal about what William had told her. She was now thoroughly convinced that the stories had been made up, though the purpose of which evaded her. Believing that they felt sorry for their sister and only wanting to keep her from killing anyone who gave her a compliment, she had dismissed it all in its entirety.

  “I appreciate what ye be tryin’ to do,” Fiona began as she folded her hands together and placed them on her desk. “But truly, ’tis no’ necessary.”

  “Fi,” Collin began before she cut him off.

  “Collin, we’ve more important things to discuss than me beauty or lack thereof.” Finished discussing the matter, she turned to William. “Have ye heard from Brodie?”

  “Only that their healer is makin’ him stay abed, much to his consternation,” William said with a smile.

  “It must be hell on earth fer him,” Collin said. “He never was one to lay abed, unless he had someone in the bed with him.”

  Fiona laughed aloud. Brodie was definitely as fond of women as they were of him. But he was also a very proud man. “Does he say when he will be able to travel?”

  “’Twill be at least two more weeks,” William said. “That is, if he listens to the healer.”

  “I doubt he will listen to anyone,” Fiona said. “Aside from complainin’ about stayin’ abed, does he have any new information fer us?”

  William puffed his cheeks and let out a long breath. “Unfortunately, nay. Accordin’ to everyone we’ve spoken to, this all be over water.”

  Fiona shook her head and pursed her lips together. “There has to be someone who kens more. Unfortunately, I do no’ ken who that would be.”

  From the expressions on her brothers’ faces, they were just as lost as she.

  Eight

  Young Conner McPherson had been having a most pleasant dream. One in which he was older and bigger and a warrior like his da and uncle Michael. He had a real sword, made from the finest steel. He was riding on the back of a fine black stallion, his father and uncle beside him. They were defending Scotland and their home.

  “Conner! Maggie!” ’Twas his mum rousing him and his sister from their sleep. His mum sounded very upset and very afraid. “Wheesht!” she whispered harshly as she pulled first Conner from the pallet, then his wee sister. “Do no’ say a word!” his mum whispered sharply as she led them to the little door in the wall that divided their sleeping loft from the barn loft attached to their hut.

  “What’s wrong?” Conner asked. He’d never seen his mum so afraid before. ’Twas still dark out, and only a sliver of moonlight shone into the one window in their loft.

  “Wheesht, Conner,” his mum said as she shoved him through the small door. His mum knelt down on one knee and shoved his sleepy sister in next. “Conner, no matter what ye hear, ye do no’ leave the loft. Promise me, son, ye’ll no’ leave the loft.”

  Conner nodded his promise as his mum grabbed a blanket from his pallet and stuffed it through the door. “Remain as quiet as a mouse, Conner. Keep yer sister quiet too.” He nodded again as he wrapped his arms around his little sister. ’Twas then that he heard loud voices coming in from out of doors. His mum heard them too and began to shut the tiny door. Before it closed all the way, she placed a kiss on her fingertips and touched first Conner’s cheek, then Maggie’s.

  “If anythin’ happens, Conner, ye go to the main keep. Ye’ve been there before, remember? With yer da and yer uncle.” His mum said as she held onto the door.

  “Mum, I be afraid,” Conner whispered. He would never have told his father that, because men were never afraid. He knew he could tell his mum for she always seemed to understand.

  “I want me da,” Maggie began to cry.

  “Wheesht, now, my babes. I need ye to be as quiet as a wee mouse, no matter what happens, ye stay in this loft. In the morn, ye go to Collin McPherson.”

  “But why?” Conner asked as the voices grew louder and angrier and more frightening. He couldn’t ever remember being this afraid, or seeing his mum in such distress before. His stomach began to feel sick, especially when the door closed. He and his sister were submerged into darkness.

  * * *

  “Conner,” Maggie whispered softly, her little voice sounding very much afraid. “What is happenin’?”

  He did not know for certain. The voices grew louder and angrier. He could not make out any words that were spoken for the wall between their living quarters and the barn would not allow it. That, and his heart was pounding so loudly he worried the angry voices would find them.

  “Conner,” Maggie whispered and trembled. “I want Da.”

  He wanted Da, too. He wanted the mean and angry sounding men to leave. He and Maggie nearly jumped from their skin when they heard a loud crash come from below stairs. It sounded like the front door had been kicked in. A moment later, they heard their mum screaming.

  More crashing, more yelling and the sound of their mum’s terrified shrieks filled the tiny space. Conner drew the blanket up and over his and Maggie’s heads. Huddled under the blanket, they held onto one another for dear life, as if they were on a ship at sea fighting great waves as they tumbled through a storm.

  The blanket only muffled the sounds that came from below. Their auld milk cow began to kick at the walls, lowing loudly while the chickens squawked frantically.

  “Conner, I be scared,” Maggie whispered as she clung to him, her little arms shaking, her chin quivering.

  Supposing she might feel better if she knew he was also afraid, he said, “Me, too.”

  Being the oldest, it was up to him to keep his sister safe and out of trouble. How many times had his father said that to him? Conner had worn the title of big brother proudly, ever since Maggie had been born. For six years now, he’d done his best to keep her out of mischief and harm’s way.

  Now, as they were huddled under the blanket, hidden in darkness in the loft above the barn, he was uncertain he wanted to keep that title or those responsibilities. He didn’t feel quite so brave or auld at the moment.

  Still, he’d made his mum a promise and he’d do his best to keep it.

  * * *

  His mum screamed and screamed to the point that Conner was ready to scream himself. He had no idea what was happening below stairs nor what agony his mum was suffering that made her scream so loudly. Conner had Maggie cover her ears with her hands so that she could not hear it.

  While he would have preferred not to listen, something in his belly told him he must. Listen closely, Conner. Wait until ’tis quiet and then ye can go to yer mum and help her.

  Where was his da? Who were these strange men? He heard the high-pitched neighs of multiple horses and the pounding of hoofs on the ground. Conner strained his ears to listen. He thought he heard the horses running around the outer walls of their hut. Men were laughing, some shouted unintelligibly at what or who he was uncertain.

  It seemed to Conner as if the ordeal went on for hours and hours, with him huddled under the blanket, holding on to his wee sister. More shouting, more laughter, his mother’s screams. Suddenly, he felt like throwing up, but dared not for fear that whoever was below stairs tormenting his mother might hear him. Who knew what
they’d do to him or to Maggie. Nay, he had to be brave and he had to be smart.

  The cow grew increasingly agitated, as did the chickens, but it sounded as though the shouting and screaming had stopped.

  Conner held his breath, strained his ears to listen, to hear over the cow and chickens and his ever-pounding heart. He waited. Finally, he dared take the chance to chance a peek from under the blanket.

  The barn was still quite dark, barely any moonlight at all made its way into the space. When he finally let loose the breath he’d been holding, he caught the faint whiff of smoke.

  Ever so carefully, he crawled from under the blanket and made his way to the edge of the loft. As he drew nearer, he could see something was glowing and flickering. When he made it to the edge, he could see the source of the orange glow.

  The barn was on fire.

  * * *

  Though his mother had told him to wait until morn before he left the safety of the loft, the fire blazing in the corner below changed everything. Thinking quickly, he pulled the blanket away from his little sister.

  “Maggie, do no’ scream or cry. I need ye to listen to me.”

  She nodded her head and took his hand.

  “The barn be on fire. We have to get out,” he told her as he stood up and helped her to her feet. “Ye stay right behind me, Maggie. No matter what, do no’ let go of me hand.”

  As she gave another nod, smoke began to billow up and into the loft. Conner knew they had to leave and leave quickly. He folded the blanket in half before wrapping it around Maggie’s shoulders. She began to weep as she squeezed his hand tightly. “Conner, I be afraid! I want mum!”

  “Wheesht now, Maggie,” Conner said as he tried to sound brave and pretend that he knew what he was doing.

  He tugged on the door and prayed no one below would hear him. He went through the door first, pulling Maggie behind him. Smoke followed from the barn into their loft. Uncertain what lay below or where his parents were, he pulled the door shut in hopes of keeping the smoke out of this portion of their home long enough to make an escape.