Claiming the Highlander

by Mageela Troche

  “Mother,” Caelen whispered.

  “His medicine isn’t working. Every part of him is racked with pain. There is even blood in his fluid—when he can produce any, that is.”

  “You heard the dogs.”

  “Aye, but I have no wish to speak of it. No doubt, it was the full moon or they caught a scent of something. Just utter nonsense, Caelen.” She raised a shaky hand to her neck. “Go see about your duties.”

  He lingered in his spot. “Go, Caelen.” She seemed to want to offer him comfort or support but at this moment, he did not want it.

  Caelen left the room. When he came into the Great Hall, he found Finian, Gilroy, and Tavish milling about, near the dais. They grew quiet as he approached.

  “How is your father?”

  “Alive. From now on, you will not disturb my father with your petty issues. You will deal only with me. If I follow your advice, good, and if I don’t…” He shrugged. “You are the council, so all you can do is counsel.”

  “Ye winna listen to us,” Finian said.

  “You treat me as a boy. I may have been away from here for many years; however, I know how the clan works.”

  “Do you know how this clan works? Do you understand our needs?” Gilroy looked to the other men.

  “Aye, ye dinna understand the threat we are under.”

  “I do understand. Should I rush to Grant Castle and wave my claymore about? Should I listen to you men who have never laid eyes on the king?”

  “Ye ha’e split the clan,” Tavish said.

  “Because of you three snatching at power that you do not and will not have. Your support would help the clan better.”

  “Ye dinna deserve it,” Tavish said. “Ye are rash an’ dinna understand our needs.”

  “I understand the clan needs the land and that comes with Brenna and this marriage. Leave me alone to do what needs to be done.”

  * * * *

  Brenna slipped into the garden. She drew in a deep breath of the blooming, sweet floral scent. The slight rustling of the leaves made the sweetest music. She planned to steal a few moments for herself and escape the thick, somber mood gripping the castle.

  She traveled on the tiny path to the stone bench. She halted as a sneeze shattered the quiet. Finian perched on the bench. He wiped his nose across his sleeve. He glanced up, most likely sensing her presence. He scooted over and patted the space beside him.

  She settled next to him. She stared at the wheelbarrow before the trellis of roses climbing the wall.

  “I wanna thank ye fae givin’ Gilroy da medicine. He’s stopped gaeng on aboot his pains.”

  “I’m glad. Is there anything you need?”

  He looked at her from the corner of his eye, not trusting her. “Are ye tryin’ to get me on yer side?”

  “A bit, but it is one of my duties. I must admit I like caring for people even though I am a Grant.”

  “Ye fostered in this house as a child. This is yer home too.”

  “I suppose, but the men who came, this isn’t their home. Why? The laird gave permission.”

  He pursed his thin lips. “We ha’e our own people that can benefit frae it.”

  “I have brought in more than enough land for all. Most of it has been planted, filled with cattle, or used in some way that benefits the clan. That cannot be your reason to be so against them.”

  “Ye ken wat yer father is up to. He wants the land an winna listen to the King if he doesna get wat he desires. They are na loyal to us an’ will report back to their laird.”

  “I cannot deny that. Highlanders don’t always obey their king. The truth is, I don’t know what my father wants, but do you think treating them as outcasts is the best course of action?”

  “Caelen disnna understand wat we face.”

  “Since no one on the council has informed him of the problems, how can he solve them?”

  He hung his head. Light glistened off the hairless top and highlighted the brown age spots dotting his smooth skin. “Do ye ken aboot Tavish’s son?”

  She shook her head.

  “Caelen had come to visit. Oh, he was ten an’ four in age. He had changed much. Gone was the skinny lad. We were pleased to see the changes an’ believed he wod be a fine leader.” Finian ran a hand over his bald head.

  “Dairmaid, Tavish’s son, an’ Caelen bonded as weel as Caelen can bond. Well, those two were together one night. They went on their first raid wit’ each other. Somehow, those two got separated frae the others. Caelen returned wit’ Dairmad’s lifeless body. He had been stabbed in the back. Caelen said that they had run into a few men an’ fought. Folks believed the earl failed to protect Dairmaid’s back or worse, Caelen ran away, deserting him.”

  “You cannot believe that. Caelen would never run.”

  “Perhaps not now, but back then…wat else can it be?”

  “Anything but that. I know that, and all are wrong who think otherwise.”

  “Ye are loyal to him. Good, but ye are wrong, my lady. We ken the truth an’ that is why he hasna come back. If ye dinna believe me, find out yerself.”

  * * * *

  Alastronia scanned the fields. Three days had burned away without a glimpse of Oran. The horse hadn’t wandered this way. She had looked out for him. Only Manus appeared and her heart dropped at every smile of his. Her father had gone on about the meal up at the castle as well as Manus. He spoke of nothing more than her and Manus marrying. He hadn’t realized that she added nothing to the discussion.

  Her mind filled with visions of Oran. He was a handsome man, but there was more to him. Where Manus thought highly of himself, Oran possessed confidence and kindness. Besides, Oran thrilled her and Manus bored and sickened her most of the time.

  Then she saw him. His loose-hipped swagger brought him closer. All of her insides trembled. Her hands even shook. Halfway to her, he lifted his arm and waved. She returned it, flapping her arm about as if signaling a ship. Her cheeks stung from her smile.

  “Yer horse isna ’ere.”

  “I came to see ye.”

  Her heart tripped. She grew a little heady. She gripped her hands when she yearned to feel his mouth against her own. His gray eyes darkened as he stared at her lips. They tingled under his heated gaze. She licked her lips.

  “I…will…do ye wish to join us fae our evenin’ meal? I imagine the food isna the best.”

  “Aye, ’tis bad, barely edible, I wad love to, an’ na because of the idea of a gude meal.”

  “Oran, I cod believe ye dinna care aboot the meal, but ye wish to be in my company.”

  “Ye are correct, Alastronia.” He drifted closer. Between them, the space crackled like a fire consuming the peat. He cupped her face. Both leaned toward each other.

  “Alastronia.” Her father’s call doused the fire between them.

  She faced him, schooling her features. He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. She bowed her head. “Da, ye remember Oran.”

  “That I do.” His face pinched, deepening the lines on his craggy face.

  “He shall be joinin’ us this eve.”

  “Wat aboot Manus?”

  “He willna.”

  Her father stared at Oran. His shoulders were back and his chest puffed. “Verra weel.” He headed inside their cottar, keeping his eyes on Oran.

  “Yer father doesna like me.”

  “Because ye arna Manus,” she answered.

  “How do ye feel aboot Manus?”

  She knew her happiness rested upon her answer. “He is a gentleman. Most women wish he paid court to them.”

  “But ye?” His voice dropped to a shaky whisper.

  “I am na ane of those women but my father wishes fae the union,” She said, confessing the truth for the first time. She felt as if she could finally breathe, and then she saw his face. His mouth was pulled down on the corners. Her hungry pains vanished. Why had he drawn away? Was he hoping she married Manus? Had she been wrong about his intention?

  “Com
e inside.”

  He followed behind her. Once inside, she checked the stew. Oran lingered just inside the doorway. She knew what he saw, a simple home and the animals closed off in the opposite end of the small space. It was quite dim in here as the light faded, and the openings were too small to allow light to shine through them.

  “Sit down, lad,” her father ordered.

  Oran remembered himself and settled at the table. She wrapped the edge of her gown around the sizzling handle of the pot. She lifted it and brought it to the table. She grabbed another bowl from the shelf and filled it. As a guest, Oran received the first bowlful, and then she served her father and finally herself.

  Oran breathed in the stew’s fragrance. “Forgive me, but I ha’ena smelled something this gude in a time. Wen the meal comes, I usually cringe.”

  She sat beside Oran. “Even wen ye cook?”

  “The men love that day. But we agreed to share the chores. Most men are speakin’ of gaettin’ wives.”

  Her father looked over his brows at Oran.

  “Is that why ye ‘ere all the time?”

  “Da, he’s na ’ere that much.”

  “He’s ’ere enough. So, lad, wat’s yer answer?”

  He planted his hands flat on the table and avoided looking at her. “I’m nat in the position to provide fae a wife. I’ve yet to prepare a home so na place fae one.”

  She tucked her plaid tighter about her to ward off the cold freezing her blood. Beyond the heartache, there was a spark of hope. Hope, that all would change. That Oran would see that he couldn’t give her up.

  “Then ye better spend yer free time doing dat. Blessedly, my Alastronia is a grand beauty an’ has caught the attention of Manus. He can provide her wit an easier life. She’ll be happy wit’ him.”

  “Are ye sure?” Oran froze, his spoon hovering over the bowl.

  “Aye, why wadna she be?” Her father leaned his arms flat on the table. “Her ma always said, her beauty was worth something.”

  “Where is yer ma?”

  “At the other end of the land. She’s helpin’ my elder sister wit’ her new bairn,” Alastronia answered. “I see that ye are wearing the Mackenzie plaid.”

  “The countess presented them to us. We are MacKenzies now.”

  “Ye are part of the clan now, I guess.”

  “I hope so. I ha’e a chance ’ere an’ that’s good.”

  “Why didna ye ha’e a chance back home?” Her father’s brisk tone cut through her.

  “Ye ken how a clan is. They ha’e an idea of ye an w’ere ye belong, that can stop ye frae rising up.”

  Her father lifted the bowl and drank the broth. He rose from the table and set his bowl in the bucket. “’Night.”

  Oran’s golden brown brows flashed.

  “Finish yer meal. He’s just sittin’ before the fire.”

  Oran began to eat again without speaking. Her father shot looks at them. His bushy brows pulled low as they shot glances and smiles across the table. The meal was over before she wanted it to be.

  “Thank ye fae the invite.”

  Her father nodded, not turning to look. Oran winked. She walked him to the door and then went outside.

  “Thank ye fae the meal. Ye cook better than me.”

  “One day, I may learn if ye speak the truth or being nice.”

  “I will cook ye the grandest meal.”

  “I’ll like that verra much.”

  He seemed to be debating whether to walk away or lingered with her for a time. He must have come to a decision. He kissed her. Their lips fitted perfectly to each other. She was a buzz of sensations—a race of excitement yet a calmness. He drew out the chaste caress. He slowly pulled away. She swayed and her eyes opened. She clutched his liene to steady herself. Every nerve ending of her mouth pulsated, which matched her speeding heart. She hungered for another one.

  He ambled away. He turned around and waved at her. She lifted her hand in return. The growing darkness engulfed him. As she lowered it, she touched her lips. What was she to do? Marry Manus for her family or follow her heart?

  Chapter Six

  Brenna leaned away from the sharp blade hovering near her face. “There is no need to wave these things about.”

  Cook lowered the sharp knife. “My lady, she took the kitchen lad frae his chore. He was supposed to be watchin’ the meal an’ naw the beef isna cooked properly. Tonight’s meal is ruined all because she needed him to run an errand fae her.”

  “’Twas just an errand. I needed the cream fae the laird,” One of Cook’s assistants retorted.

  “Send yer own boy.” Cook pointed the blade at her.

  “Enough!” Brenna held up her hand. “I cannot believe that you cannot save tonight’s meal with your skill. You surely can do it.”

  “Aye, my lady. That I can do.” She smoothed her hands down her apron.

  “As for the cream, for the benefit of your laird, you must do all you can to help him.”

  “I ken, my lady.”

  “Good and this disturbance is postponing his meal, so let’s return to work, and if another kitchen boy is needed, then I shall send one to you.”

  The lairdess swept in. “Whatever is happening?”

  “All has been solved.” Brenna approached her mother-in-law. “Please return to your important duties.”

  Escorting her back to the tower, Brenna said, “I am sorry you were taken away from the laird’s side. I have handled it, so do not fret.”

  “Good,” the lairdess said. “’Tis a beautiful day.”

  “That it is.”

  “I shall return to the chamber. Oh, there is Caelen.”

  He joined them and gave a peck to his mother’s awaiting cheek. “All is well?”

  “Not well, but unchanged. I’m returning to your father.” She made her way to the tower.

  Caelen planted his palm on the small of Brenna’s back. “Now that I have found you, you must come with me.”

  “I must?” She grinned.

  “Do not play with me, wife.” He slammed his hands on his hips. “I know you wish to come with me, so you can end this act.” His hair draped over his face, softening the harsh visage.

  “True and you want me as well.” She composed her features in the best determined face she could muster. She wondered if she looked as fierce as he did.

  “I wouldn’t have gotten you otherwise.” He shook his head slightly, as if confused by her words.

  “That is not what I mean and you know this,” she said, waiting to hear his retort.

  He let out a long, drawn out sigh. “I feel that agreeing with you would be easier.”

  “You haven’t agreed with me.” She wagged a finger at him.

  He snagged her finger. “You are right.” He nipped at its soft pad. “Now come along.” He tucked her arm under his and started across the courtyard.

  She walked on the balls of her feet to match his long stride. Brenna was of average height, but Caelen still loomed over her. That was another thing she liked about him.

  She opened her mouth to ask him where he was dragging her off to when they entered the stable.

  Coinneach jumped to his feet and caught the egg as it rolled to the edge of his hand. “Why, my lord, must I carry this aboot everyw’ere?”

  “Training. You wanted to train.”

  Coinneach scratched his head. “How is this trainin’?”

  “Two orders—one, you don’t question me. Second, that egg will give you soft hands and quick reactions as well as control over your body.”

  “If ye say so, my lord.” Coinneach scrunched up his face as he stared at his open hand and the egg resting in his palm.

  Caelen ordered him to saddle Thor. Coinneach stared down at the egg as if he was deciding what to do with it. He shrugged then popped it in his mouth.

  “Smart lad,” Caelen said. Coinneach swaggered away.

  “Do we ride somewhere?”

  Caelen gave no answer.

  “Are you off
somewhere?”

  He crossed his arms.

  “Caelen, I do not like this.”

  Coinneach returned with Thor saddled and the egg still in his mouth. He popped it into his free hand and beamed. Caelen took the leads and headed outside. Brenna didn’t wish to follow him. Her stupid curiosity had her putting one foot in front of the other. He swung into the saddle, bent down, and grabbed her about the waist. She was in the air, and then he planted her before him.

  “Is this my punishment for stealing—borrowing Thor?”

  He rested his lips against her ear. “You will have to be patient.” His breath breezed against her and sent a hot shiver through her.

  She swung her head toward him. “That is something I have the most difficulty with.”

  “Then this is training for you.”

  She snorted so forcefully, she tossed her head. The back of her head knocked against his chin. He set Thor off. As they left the castle, her uneasiness grew. There was no reason to fire questions at her husband. He would not even give her a hint.

  He pulled over on the soft slope of the hill with a spattering of trees that overlooked the clattan. She tried to dismount. He stopped her with a press of his hand to her waist. He dismounted.

  “You will learn to ride.”

  “I will?” she asked. “I do not see any reason for that.”

  “Truly. You have stolen my horse and ridden off. If you did it once, you will again. I can’t have a dead wife.”

  She smiled.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  “You wish me alive.”

  “Of course, I don’t have time to find another wife.”

  “That is a falsehood. You wish only me to be your wife.” Thor jumped as she dropped the reins.

  He swept them up and handed them back to her. “First lesson, do not drop the reins. The horse will go off wherever he desires.”

  She lifted the reins straight to show her hold. Thor sidestepped and tossed his head.

  “Don’t hold too tight. He will fight you.”

  She loosened her hold.

  “Sit back and loose hipped,” he instructed as he fixed her seat. “Very well. A few lessons. Feel his energy, but don’t challenge him. He is not a light horse. Keep your eyes forward. You look like you want to ask a question.”