by Cathy MacRae
His voice fell to a whisper. “Bela is the bravest ma and she dinnae want the dragon to ever hurt Bram or his da again. She fought him and even the evil men Gillonay had brought with him. She killed the dragon, but one of his long nails cut her and she fell into a deep sleep, like a faerie princess. Even though she dinnae move, she could hear Bram when he told her stories, and one day she opened her eyes and smiled.”
Bram sighed. “Ye have to wake up, Bela,” he said, his voice matter-of-fact. “I really need a ma. And I’m certain Da misses ye as well. He looks really sad, and I havenae been bad once since ye were hurt.
“I’ve thought about it and decided it would be nice to have a little brother or sister soon, but I dinnae think ye can have one unless ye and Da talk about it first.”
Caelen choked on a startled breath. Another child? He’d told Arbela he did not wish other children, though that was a door he’d closed considering how little chance they stood of ever desiring a family together—or even desiring each other, for that matter.
“Da is doing things with me now, but ye and I can still have a lot of fun together. He’s turning out to be a great da and I think my sister or brother would really like him. Bela, I wish ye’d wake up and get to know him better.”
Tears spilled down Caelen’s cheeks. He’d based his opinion of women on his first wife’s spoiled behavior, avoiding a second emotional entanglement and swearing all women were petty, grasping creatures. He’d been too wrapped in his self-righteous opinion to even have more than a passing thought for the woman he’d married. She’d carried out her duties well, and Bram clearly adored her. It was too late to consider he did, too.
Chapter 26
Arbela sat at the small table near the window, musing over the events of a fortnight earlier, though they remained somewhat cloudy in her mind.
Bram touched the black threads running in a line along the inside of her arm. “Do they pain ye?”
Arbela smiled. He had been quite attentive since she woke a bit over a sennight ago. Whenever Caelen permitted, Bram entertained her with his stories and reports of life at Dunfaileas. “Nae. They do not. Aunt Zora is very tidy with her needle and the wound is nearly healed.”
“I’m really glad ye woke,” Bram said. “Da was beginning to worry.”
“The pair of them were ever in my way,” Zora noted dryly as she folded the blanket at the foot of the bed.
Zora had arrived less than a day after they retook the castle—so Arbela had been told. Arbela found her aunt’s presence comforting, though not as light-hearted as Agnes. Arriving to such chaos and a seriously wounded niece likely hadn’t left Zora much time for cheerfulness. But her calm reassurances and intolerance for medical practices that did not meet her standards, relaxed Arbela and ensured her injury healed as quickly as possible.
Even if it did mean Arbela was obliged to remain in Caelen’s room where she’d been taken after she’d been wounded. Zora had appropriated the extra bed in Bram’s room for herself, and not only was there not another room to move her to, but Arbela couldn’t find it in her heart to admit to her aunt she and Caelen occupied separate rooms.
“She says they can come out tomorrow,” Bram enthused, tapping the line of neat stitches, drawing Arbela’s attention once again. “Can I watch?”
“Ye may help,” Arbela said, eliciting a gasp from the boy. He drew his hand back, uncertainty on his face.
“It will not hurt,” she laughed. “Though it may tickle.”
Bram beamed, obviously relieved.
“Dinnae tire Arbela,” Caelen chided as he entered the room. “Ye and I have a sword lesson to attend to, lad. She needs her rest.”
Rest was the last thing Arbela had on her mind. Weak and tired for the first few days after her injury, she had remained in bed, but light exercise had her back on her feet and impatient to be about her normal routine. Zora and Caelen scolded her each time she left the room, claiming to have her best interests at heart. It was past time to ignore their good intentions. And past time to confront Caelen about their living arrangements.
Bram slid from his chair, grabbing Caelen’s hand eagerly. “I’m really good,” he assured Arbela. “Da says so. Can Toros go?”
“If your father agrees, ye may take Toros,” she said. “Thank ye for taking over Bram’s lessons,” Arbela added, catching Caelen’s eye. “He enjoys them. He enjoys spending time with ye, also.”
Caelen’s gaze skittered away, and Arbela wondered if the remark embarrassed him.
“I’ll come back when I’m finished,” Bram assured her as he skipped at Caelen’s side, Toros at his heels. Silence filled the room as Caelen closed the door on Bram’s chatter. Arbela dropped her robe to the back of the chair and, refusing to meet Zora’s disapproving gaze, dressed in her favored tunic and trousers. She pulled on her boots, then opened her weapons chest.
“The lad clearly dotes on ye,” Zora commented as she straightened the bedclothes. “He is relieved ye have wakened, but he still worries.”
“Do not use Bram to order my actions. I am restless and ’twill do me good to spend time outside. In any case, he is too young to worry.” Arbela made a rippling motion with her fingers, brushing away Zora’s notion. She slipped a dagger into an empty sheath in her boot. Casting a glance about the room, her gaze settled on her aunt’s questioning look.
“I agree he is growing up. I merely wish to give him better things to do than worry. Especially about me. I will be fine.”
“Ye very nearly were not fine, as ye say.” Zora’s lips pinched in a narrow line. “Ye worry me, im dustry.” My daughter. “It is time ye relaxed your warring ways and spent time in serenity. Planning a nursery.”
Arbela met Zora’s arch look with one of her own and ignored the fluttery motion in her belly. Zora sighed.
“Bram is not too young to have spent hours at your bedside, telling tales I imagine he heard from ye these past weeks,” she said, returning to her original statement. “I will remind ye his father also sat at your side until I ran him off each day—which was not an easy feat. He was devastated.”
Arbela’s breath caught on an inhale for an instant at Zora’s words. She could not imagine the bull-headed man she’d married devastated over anything less than the loss of his son. Certainly not over her, the unappealing woman he’d been bribed to marry. She was under no delusion Caelen valued her for anything more than her ability to protect Bram. Of course, the necessity of replacing her would possibly worry him. Nothing more.
With a cleansing exhale, she dismissed Zora’s declaration as a woman desirous of a great-nephew or great-niece, now that her charges were grown. Surely Alex would settle down one day and provide her babes to spoil.
Giving Zora a quick hug of apology, she whistled for Garen to join her and headed to the stable.
* * *
Bram sat at ease atop Ari’s back as they circled Caelen in the pen beside the stable. He prodded the pony to a faster pace, leaning forward slightly in encouragement. His face lit with happiness and success as Ari lifted his feet over the logs spaced in a row on the ground, the first semblance of learning to ride over obstacles.
Love for the boy quivered in Arbela’s heart. She savored it, changing her focus to the larger picture of Caelen spending time with his son. Warmth slid heavy and sweet as honey through her breast, but the sensation fled before she could examine it.
“Nicely done, Bram,” she called as he reined his pony to a halt. Caelen stared at her for a moment, then spoke to Bram who scrambled off Ari’s back and darted across the paddock to her.
“Da says we could ride outside the pen if ye’d come with us.” Bram squinted his eyes beseechingly. “Please?”
“I do not see the need—” Arbela began, glancing up as Caelen stepped near.
“The need is to get the lad used to guiding his pony places other than this pen,” Caelen answered, tossing Ari’s reins over the top rail of the fence. “Ye are a good horsewoman and he can learn a lot by watchi
ng ye.”
“I meant, I did not see the need for him to receive instruction from the both us—at the same time,” Arbela corrected, her tone slightly formal after being interrupted. She couldn’t imagine a companionable ride beyond the walls with her taciturn husband. Certainly not one where she was expected to instruct the boy in a skill where their approaches were dissimilar.
“I’ll not gainsay yer instruction on riding,” Caelen assured her. His eyes flashed. “Mayhap I could learn something as well. Or mayhap I simply wish a few moments of yer time.”
Arbela gave him a startled look. “I am happy to speak with ye when necessary as we have done before.”
Alerting a stable lad with a jerk of his head, Caelen sent him off to saddle Voski. He caught Arbela’s elbow and guided her to the stable. “After Bram is abed, I wish to speak to ye of yer thoughts of Voski covering a few mares next spring,” he said. “’Tis never too early to plan these things.”
“Do ye seek Voski’s approval or mine?” she asked, an impish smile tweaking her lips.
Caelen snorted. “I hardly need to ask his,” he replied. “He does not quietly accept the mares being serviced by the other two studs. He seems to be of the opinion the mares are his.”
“He is young,” Arbela warned. “And untried in such things.”
“Such things are often instinctive,” Caelen returned, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “And often improve with practice.”
Arbela’s cheeks heated. What happened to our conversation? Are we speaking of horses or…? “Mayhap this is best determined later,” she demurred. “I see a lad leading Voski—and another with too many questions on his face.” She slanted her gaze to Bram standing between them, rapt attention on his face.
Caelen laughed and Arbela’s heart skipped a beat. “Do not say I did not warn ye,” she scolded. “Lads tend to question their fathers on the most puzzling matters.”
Caelen settled abruptly, turning his attention to checking Ari’s girth, and Arbela smothered a smile. He handed Bram his pony’s reins and Bram led Ari to a small tree stump nearby. From there, he climbed onto Ari’s back, facing them with a triumphant grin. Arbela’s heart warmed again to see the boy so much at ease with the pony.
“Give us a moment, Bram,” Caelen called. “We will mount up and take our ride.” He turned his attention to Arbela. “Are ye well? Can ye ride without discomfort?”
Taken unaware by his deeply solicitous question, Arbela grasped for words. Words to keep him at the distance they had both stipulated in their marriage, yet something to acknowledge his kindness.
“Yes.” It was inadequate and she knew it. She grabbed Voski’s reins. “Thank you,” she added, leaving it to Caelen to decide if she spoke to the stable lad or to him. She stepped easily into the saddle, a slight twinge in her arm reminding her it had been grievously injured and little used in the past fortnight. She flexed her fingers around Voski’s reins and glanced at Caelen and Bram.
“Are ye coming along?” Toros and Garen barked happily as they joined her.
Bram kicked Ari’s sides enthusiastically and Caelen vaulted onto Addis’ back, setting him back on his haunches as they wheeled to join Bram and Arbela. Her heart soared as they rode through the gates into the late morning sunshine, their horses’ hooves scattering leaves damp from an earlier rain.
She wasn’t certain how it had come about, but her dreams could be found in this instant. Or, at least her hopes. She doubted Caelen would ever become a thoughtful, romantic man. But was that what she truly desired? Strong and encouraging would be better. Steady. Agreeable. She darted a look to one side. His composure was best described as focused, and his clansmen seemed to find him agreeable.
He had been solicitous of her health earlier. Caring? Or desirous of avoiding a weary woman on his hands? She shook her head. Caring too much would only lead to his desire to control her, to form her into his image of a dutiful wife—safe and dull. An image she could never fulfill.
“I wanna race,” Bram complained as Ari plodded beside the larger horses. Breaking into a trot as their longer strides outpaced him wasn’t enough to satisfy Bram’s boundless energy. Half an hour into their ride hadn’t taken the edge off his excitement.
Voski’s antics hadn’t helped. Arbela had been obliged to take off shortly after they’d begun their ride. He’d danced on weightless hooves, bobbing his head as he champed his bit. Agreeing with his desire for speed and the wind in her face, Arbela made her apologies and, finding a suitable stretch of land, urged him to a run. She and Voski were now more relaxed and settled, but Bram’s petulance at not being included was her forfeit.
“Why do ye wish to race?” she asked as Ari’s head bobbed at her knee, his sturdy hooves beating a rapid tattoo to keep pace.
“So I can fight dragons,” Bram replied. He waved a fist in the air, mimicry of a wielded sword. “Ari isnae fast enough to leap out of the way, and I need to teach him.”
“Remember what a brave pony Ari is,” Arbela said. “He has fought off a wolf, and I daresay he can fight off a dragon.”
“But I wanna race,” Bram repeated, a note of petulance creeping into his voice.
Arbela caught Caelen’s gaze over Bram’s head. “I could take Voski to the opposite side of the glen and Bram and Ari could practice between us.”
Caelen remained silent for a moment, and Arbela could tell he entertained the notion. His eyes swept the ground and he pointed to a spot slightly to Arbela’s left. “That way has no obstacles I can see. They should be safe here.”
She reined Voski to the side, giving the dogs a command to remain at the edge of the glen.
Safe. Is safe always the best option? She sighed. The child needed to stretch his wings a bit. At least Caelen allowed Bram this freedom outside the walls. He could have insisted the boy only ride within the paddocks, protected by the new curtain wall and guards striding the parapet.
A burst of happiness swelled to recall Laird MacGillonay had met his death a fortnight earlier, making this jaunt outside the protection of the walls of Dunfaileas possible. Suddenly the air seemed fresher, the sun, peeking from behind wispy clouds, brighter. The man who’d sought to kidnap Bram no longer ruled their lives.
“Come on, Bram!” Arbela called. “Ask Ari to show ye some speed.”
Bram whooped and leaned low over Ari’s neck. The sturdy pony gamely picked up his hooves, breaking into a roughly rollicking canter. He headed unerringly to Voski’s side and trotted jarringly to a halt. His face beaming, Bram tossed side to side as Ari settled to a halt.
“I did it! Did ye see me, Bela? Ari was as fast as the wind! As fast as two winds!”
Arbela laughed. “I am not certain how fast two winds are, but ye definitely have an outstanding pony. Turn him about and head back to your father.”
They repeated the route until Ari’s good ear began to flatten. “I believe he has had enough,” Arbela noted. “Shall we give him a rest? He certainly deserves it.”
Bram sighed. “He is a grand pony, aye?”
“The very best,” Arbela assured him.
She and Caelen rode with Bram to the edge of a nearby burn and let their ponies drink once they’d cooled. Garen and Toros waded through the clear water.
Dismounting, they tied the horses loosely and Arbela offered bannocks and a sip from a waterskin she’d grabbed in her trek through the kitchen an hour or so earlier. Bram stuffed an oatcake in his mouth and scrambled over the rocks, searching for the best stones to skip across the placid surface of the water. His shouts rang in the sun-dappled glen and Toros leapt about excitedly.
Arbela took a step after Bram, but Caelen halted her with a touch on her arm.
“I havenae thanked ye for the remarkable job ye did when MacGillonay took Dunfaileas,” he said. He motioned for her to have a seat, and she perched atop a low boulder, its surface slightly heated from the sun. Garen lay in a nearby patch of shade, panting lightly.
“Ye do not need to,” she replied. �
�Dunfaileas is my home. I did what I deemed necessary to gain it back.”
Caelen grunted. “Ye did more than most men could do or would have thought to do. I wouldnae have considered setting traps to lessen the enemy’s numbers.” He scratched his head. “Yet, a bold approach wouldnae have served ye so well.”
Arbela smiled. “I do not believe the bold approach served anyone but MacGillonay. He completely dishonored your hospitality. Some—my father,” she admitted, “would not approve my strategies, but they were, in this case, necessary.”
“Tell me of yer tactics,” Caelen urged.
Startled to find someone other than Alex interested in methods learned in her Hashashin tutelage, she hesitated.
“Is this something ye dinnae wish to discuss?” he asked.
“No. ’Tis something many see as dishonorable. Most favor brute force over…other skills.”
“Saving Bram can never be dishonorable,” Caelen assured her solemnly.
A painful knot thickened in her chest. I saved ye, as well. Not a brag, not an arrogance. Pain at the thought of losing him. Was he tied that tightly to her love for Bram? Or was there something more?
“I wanted to discuss our bedroom,” she blurted. Heat instantly blossomed in her neck and cheeks. Caelen’s startled look became amused, and it sobered Arbela to see the sparkle in his eyes. “Ye may have yer bed back and I will take the cot,” she said firmly. “There is no need for ye to sacrifice your rest on my account. I realize we have no extra room for Aunt Zora, and I apologize for the inconvenience. But I am healed, and there is no reason I cannot move to the cot.”
“Ye assume I wish ye out of my bed,” Caelen argued.
“I was not invited, nor is this part of our agreement,” she reminded him. Mother Mary save me from falling into such a trap!
“It doesnae have to become a torture chamber merely because we both inhabit it. As ye pointed out, space is limited at Dunfaileas, and I would not wish to inconvenience my wife.” He shrugged as if her decision was of no consequence.