Claiming the Highlander

by Mageela Troche

  Manus clapped him on the shoulder. He repeated his invite.

  “We are honored.” Her father pushed between Oran and Alastronia and put his arm around her.

  Manus failed to see Alastronia’s dull eyes. He wiped his hand on his plaid as he angled his chin. Oran wanted to punch him right on its center.

  “Alastronia has wished fae naething else. She is most curious aboot the countess an’ ye ha’e granted her a great gift.” Her father squeezed her tight.

  Oran stood outside. He permitted himself a look at Alastronia, and then walked away. Not that he gave up on winning her. Every path had a few rocks. He had to figure out how to clear it.

  Chapter Four

  Brenna had no other choice. To prevent her marriage from being dissolved, she had to make Caelen the man he needed to become. She saw greatness in him. His skill with a sword added to his power but now, it required more than brute force and a perfect swing. It required the one thing only a woman could give a man; power. Then she’d get her father the sherriffdom and spend the rest of her life at Caelen’s side.

  That chore didn’t seem too overwhelming.

  Fate favored her.

  Rowen hurried down the stairs followed by two men bearing baggage. “Brenna, I’m glad you are here. I have been called to my aunt’s. I shall be gone for about a fortnight. You have to handle the castle chores and care for those three old men.”

  “I shall oversee everything. Do not fret.”

  Rowen raised one brow. “I am sure you will. Please try to seem as though you shall miss me.”

  She chuckled. “I will miss you, but I cannot deny this is my chance.”

  “Then I wish you the best.”

  Caelen swaggered in, bringing in the scent of coming rain, and aimed his lowered brows at his sister. “You are departing.”

  Rowen nodded. “Aye, though you do not have to sound accusatory. I am off to our aunt’s. She is in need of my assistance. I shall return.”

  “You will be near MacLean and Lachlan.” The skin between his brows pleated. Brenna understood how men cowered at a glance of him. She trembled a little.

  Rowen appeared bored. “That I will. Do you wish me to send a message on the chance I visit?”

  “Aye, tell Lachlan to stay the hell away from you.”

  She gave a tight smile. “Aye but what if I don’t stay away from him?”

  “He is not the man for you.”

  “Brenna, did you hear that? I believe he has respect for Lachlan.” She grinned.

  “That he does. This Lachlan must be a good man.”

  Caelen shook his head. “He is, but he cannot care for my sister properly.”

  “Are you planning a marriage for me like Manus?” Rowen cocked her ear, waiting for him to speak.

  Brenna squeezed her lips together to stop her from saying the wrong words. Rowen might have been acting playful but underneath, there was sadness.

  “When I do, you shall do as ordered.” Caelen slammed his fisted hands on his slim hips.

  “We shall see.” Rowen departed with a hug.

  Caelen lowered his brows. “You appear pleased Rowen departed.”

  “I am not pleased because of that, but this is our chance. I will be handling all the domestic duties.”

  He inclined his head to appease her.

  “That is where a woman shines. We will get what we need. The council will cease disturbing your father and my father can cease with his threats.”

  Caelen cupped her face. His thumb stroked over her cheek. “Good. I know you shall prevail.”

  She melted, luxuriating in the tenderness she yearned for. He bent his head and planted a kiss on her. She puckered her lips but he had pulled away. Her lips tingled from the supple feel of his mouth. Caelen was halfway out the door. He halted and sent her a playful smile. Her warrior had heart and showed it just for her. She stared at the shut door with a smile on her face.

  Gilroy twisted his head so his face was in front of her own. “Why are you happy?”

  “My husband is a good man.”

  “That he is.”

  Brenna spun around and followed him to the seats before the hearth. She wanted to blurt out the questions racing through her head. Gilroy rubbed his gnarled hands together before the fire. He grimaced and groaned as he sat back.

  “Do you have medicine?”

  He shot her a look. “I don’t need anything. I’m not old.”

  Brenna was sure he walked these lands when Picts fought the Romans. “Perhaps a bit stubborn.”

  “Just a wee bit.” He rubbed his curing stone between his gnarled hands. He grimaced and rubbed harder.

  “You rest here and I will get you something for that. Just a wee something.”

  She wagered he smiled since his beard trembled. Without wasting time, she headed into the workroom. She lit a candle in the dark, windowless room. The earthy scents blended with the muskiness of herbs. She set water to heat and gathered Juniper berries. She hummed as she mixed the oil and berries. When she finished, the water was ready and she set the holly leaves to steep. With the medicines prepared, she returned to Gilroy.

  She found him hunched closer to the fire. She settled in the chair beside him. “Now Gilroy, you must rub this in morn and night.” She dripped some on his left hand. She massaged it in. The man closed his eyes as she applied it.

  “Oh lass, that is heaven.”

  She did the same with his right, listening to him sigh with relief. “You must care for yourself. Now, drink this.” She held up his cup.

  He peeked inside before he accepted it. “Living up here I forget to take care of myself, but my wife, she insisted I stay here, as I had a duty, and we have our fourth grandbairn, so she is with my daughter to help. She just likes bairns.”

  “Most women do.”

  “You mean all women.” He shot a look at her, turning his head so fast his amulets clanged together.

  “Don’t fret. There shall be an heir.”

  He took a sip, and then another. He lowered the cup and said, “Forgive us for questioning you on that subject. With the laird dying, we fear for the future of the clan.”

  She leapt to her feet. “You men are wrong. Caelen is this clan. He is a man of skill and influence, though he chooses not to use it. There is no better man.”

  “He has not been here. We…I worry he doesn’t feel the bond with his clan. He returned home wearing a MacLean plaid. I’ve no doubt that you worry about his feelings for you. After all, he was not the one who sent for you.”

  She hadn’t had such thoughts or worries. Since he brought it up, she wondered, and then shook it off. He cared for her. She possessed each letter he had sent to her through the years.

  “Nonetheless, I am here.”

  “Nevertheless, if we hadn’t, how long would it have taken him? I wouldn’t do that to my wife.”

  His words were a strike in her chest, slicing through her to the bone. All of her rattled from it. She rested her hand on the wall to keep her on her feet. She didn’t know how long she stood there, but the touch of Gilroy’s fingers grasping her own brought her back. She swallowed, and needing to fill the silence, she informed him of Rowen’s departure. “You must come to me with all your needs.”

  He drew his hand away. “I shall. My hands feel better, my lady.”

  “I’m glad.” She pointed to the oil. “Remember, night and day.”

  He laid his hand over his heart. “I shall. I will not disappoint you.”

  * * * *

  The lairdess found Brenna toiling over the kitchen rolls. Cook sat alongside her, talking about oats. Cook noticed her first. “Do ye require anyt’ing?”

  “Nay. I need the countess.”

  Brenna set down her quill. “I shall return.” She trailed behind her mother-in-law. Her lackluster gray hair was twisted in a haphazard braid. She had lost weight and she appeared more hunched every day. She dimmed as she watched her life partner die each day.

  “With Rowen
gone, you must oversee everything. I trained you as a child, so I have no concerns, but if you require my help, please come to me.”

  “I shall.”

  “I am also available for guidance.” When Brenna nodded, she said, “That is not the only reason. There is upheaval in the household. I need that to stay away from my husband and me.”

  “Caelen and I shall see to it.”

  “My son is included in that. Tavish is in the chamber now, telling my husband how Caelen has spilt the men.”

  Brenna heard of nothing else. The castle folk had laid wagers already.

  “He has not done such a thing. He has to show he can be a leader of this clan.” It took all of Brenna’s stubborn will to stop her from racing into the chamber and scream insults upon Tavish.

  “Of course he can and will, but he must follow orders.”

  “Follow orders from men who see him as a boy, a boy who left and only just returned.” She cocked a brow.

  “That will pass.”

  “Not as long as the council questions everything. Besides, with the new members and my father making demands, everything could erupt. If my father goes to the king and he demands a divorce, the lands and title will be taken away. What will happen to the clan then? Others would see this as a weakness and my father will war against us. These men will never be pleased with Caelen. When the laird dies, the clan will have unrest. So nay, he cannot follow their orders.”

  “It will get worse. They are going to kill my husband.” She choked back her tears. The lairdess interlocked her fingers and clenched them until her knuckles whitened.

  Brenna rested her hand over them. “I will do all I can to keep these problems from you both. I cannot promise you more than that.”

  “Do what you must. I am placing my trust and hope with you, Brenna.”

  * * * *

  The shutters blocked fresh air and light from pouring in and caught the scent of blood in the stifling air. The healers were pleased they had brought down the laird’s fever. Those men and their doctoring only cared for the symptoms that flared up. For Caelen, it only increased his father’s suffering. From the pile of linens, Caelen knew his father rested beneath it all. He pulled up the stool and sat beside the bed.

  His father rolled his head to the side. His eyes bulged from his thin-boned face and revealed the inner pain racking him and eating him from the inside out. Veins creased his skin and gave him more color than his pallid complexion. The same body that helped him defeat his enemies was destroying this man, who had fought raiders and battles.

  “I should have died with my claymore in my hand and a blade in my gut. Instead, I’m wasting away, dying a shameful death.”

  Caelen’s throat dried and closed up. He kept his hands on his thighs to still the tremors quaking through him. It no longer mattered that he was an Earl and heir. Sitting in this chamber and watching his father die turned Caelen into a boy.

  “I should have summoned you sooner.” He struggled to breathe. The sound was nothing more than a wheeze. “I believed you would come back to face the talk.”

  “I made a choice I believed was moral and just. I couldn’t destroy another based on what I decided.”

  “You have always filled me with pride. My death is coming soon.” He fell silent, struggling for the scant breaths. Caelen could see him heaving for each one. He inched forward as if he could give his own chest expanding breath to his father.

  “Swell Brenna with your child and you can retain the land, no matter what her father plots.”

  “You think a bairn will stop this nonsense he is concocting.”

  “It will give you time to play, and if the union is dissolved, then you shall get the child and land.”

  Caelen dipped his head in semblance of a nod. Speaking was a hardship around the thick knot in his back of his mouth.

  “You are the future of this clan. Be the man I know you are and lead.” He dragged out a thin-boned hand from beneath the covers. He struggled to lift a finger. Caelen grasped his hand. The bones jutted against his palm. He couldn’t feel his skin. Gone were the callouses and the muscles that thickened his large hand.

  “I will do whatever needs to be done. The clan is safe with me and shall rise to dominance. I vow to you.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted as his eyes drifted close. Caelen sat there, holding his father’s hand. His father would soon be gone. While his father rested, Caelen stood and watched for death.

  * * * *

  Manus hovered by the hearth. He stared down at the beautiful lass at his side. He even had a soft grin upon his face. Brenna had never seen such an expression on his face. She stared and that was why he caught her. It was then she saw the old man. He had his head bow, not seeing Brenna, but the lass’s eyes landed on Brenna. Her eyes widened as Brenna neared.

  Manus presented them to her, filling in details about their lives. Poor lass, she didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, folding them before her, and then letting them drop to her side and burying her hands in the folds of her plaid. She darted glances at Brenna, and then grinned when Brenna looked at her. She pressed her lips together, but that did nothing to help. Manus presented the nervous lass and her father. Brenna grasped Alastronia’s hand to easy her nerves. “I have visited there recently.”

  “Aye, my lady. The men who traveled wit’ ye are near us. I ha’e met one man—Oran.”

  “I know him. He is a good man.”

  Manus clutched his jaw. “How?”

  Alastronia blinked at his curt tone. “I found his horse eatin’ its fill frae my garden. He was verra nice.”

  “How nice?”

  Her father aimed his gaze on his daughter. Any comment was cut short by Caelen’s arrival. Caelen cupped Brenna’s elbow. His face wore no expression. She was awed that one could show no expression when every emotion shined on her own face.

  “Ah, brother, how goes the training?” Manus didn’t wait for a reply. He turned to his guest. “My brother has taken it upon himself to train five men. A friendly wager between him and my father’s commander. Your cousin, Reamon, is the leader of his group.”

  “He must be honored to ha’e the opportunity,” Alastronia said, her voice stiff.

  Caelen locked his gaze on her. Unlike Manus, Caelen didn’t wear a besotted look upon his face. Alastronia squirmed, avoiding his sharp regard. Caelen ambled away.

  “I have never fished.” Brenna drew in Alastronia’s father to change the conversation. The topic turned to fishing and the sea. Brenna listened as he spoke of the water and listed the type of fish swimming in the lochs. With each detailed description of rolling waves, her stomach turned and flew into her throat. A fine sheen of sweat coated her forehead.

  Tavish slid up to them. Brenna smiled, happy to see his hostile face. This time, he wore a smile. He was quite handsome, with his sun-kissed skin and sparkling, amber eyes.

  “Donald has a great understanding wit’ the sea. He always has the greatest catches.”

  “Tonight’s night meal is not fish,” Brenna said.

  “Thank da Lord, I’m tired of fish,” Donald said.

  Tavish drew Alastronia and her father into a conversation. Manus sidled up to Brenna. “Donald and Tavish have a history. During a battle, Donald saved Tavish’s life. Men had surrounded Tavish. He was drenched in blood, most of it his own. Well, Donald swooped in and together they fought. Tavish collapsed and Donald dragged him back though men chased after them.”

  “Aye, the council cares much for Alastronia and her father. A marriage between us will bring peace between them and my brother. You must help me. Get Caelen to understand that and get the Grants away from her. We don’t need more trouble here.”

  “Trouble from whom? The council, the clan, or the Grants?”

  “The Grants are causing all of it. I can help put an end to all the grumblings. Grumblings that will get worse if he tries to court her.”

  “Which you will stir up?”

  “Your fa
ther is adding peat to the fire. With me on your side, I can use the influence I have with the council to press their ties to help your father get what he wants most. Gilroy has ties to people who have the king’s ear.”

  “That goes against your father’s wishes. Once you wed the Stuart lass, I can call upon their ties to help me.”

  “Perhaps, but before you make up your mind, think it through. I can be a help to you.”

  Or not.

  * * * *

  From the battlements, Caelen watched Manus, along with some men, escort Alastronia and her father home. He had made a promise to his father. He had sat with him for a time. How long a time—that he couldn’t say. Even after, he had joined his wife, his mind centered on the conversation with his father.

  A swathe of fading purple sky outlined the craggy mountaintops as it slipped away. Dense clouds blocked Caelen’s view of the rising moon. The wind blew against him. The flames of the castle’s beacon light flickered against the night’s increasing darkness. His nostrils filled with the scent of smoke, the salty scent of the loch, lichen, and moss.

  With one last glance, he looked up to his parents’ chamber. A light glowed behind the hazy glass. Could he be dead? Nay, he would have been called. The time would be coming soon.

  He made his way to the stairs when Tavish materialized from the darkness. “Are ye aware of what the countess has dun?”

  “You’ll tell me.” Caelen had no wish to hear what the man had to say. He had enough talk for this day.

  “She sent a messenger to her father.” He raised his chin. The haughty angle ignited an urge to punch the man on his chin.

  “That isn’t unusual.” He crossed his arms.

  “She hadna sent one before. The land those Grants are rentin’ are the same lands she brooght into yer union. Their workin’ it gaes the Grants a foothold here.”