They were met just inside the door by Farquar men. Caelen and his men were able to divest them of their lives in short order. They made their way through the gathering room and began a relentless search for access to the dungeon.
As they raced down a hallway, Caelen caught sight of Edgar MacKinnon who was trying to flee through the back door.
“MacKinnon!” Caelen shouted down the hallway.
Edgar stopped, took one look at Caelen and began to run.
He was halted by five MacDougall warriors who were coming in through the back door. With swords drawn, they forced him back inside the keep.
Caelen met up with them. Pressing his sword against Edgar’s throat, Caelen said, “Where be they?”
Edgar swallowed hard and feigned ignorance. “Where be who?”
Caelen pressed the sword a little harder against Edgar’s throat. “Now would no’ be a good time to test me patience, MacKinnon.”
“They be above stairs. Hallway to the right, last door on the left,” Edgar told him.
Caelen shook his head in disgust. Edgar and Gelis were cut of the same cloth. They had no qualms about harming innocent people, but let them come up against someone of their same size? Cowards.
Caelen ordered two of his men to take Edgar out of doors whilst he and the rest of the men went in search of Collin and William.
Collin and William were exactly where Edgar had said they were.
William was covered in bruises, one eye completely swollen shut. He’d put up a good fight the day Farquar’s men had abducted him. He was lying on the cold, bare floor. Collin, bleeding from a wound to his side, sat on the floor beside him.
Collin smiled from ear to ear when Caelen burst into the room. “I thought ye’d never get here,” Collin said.
Caelen knelt beside William and assessed his injuries. “I was a wee delayed, busy fightin’ to save yer sorry arse and all.”
Collin winced as he tried to laugh. “I think we’ll need a litter fer William,” he said.
“Bloody hell ye do,” William ground out. “I’ll no’ be carried out of here like a bairn.”
Caelen directed two of his men to help William while he helped Collin to his feet. Caelen draped Collin’s arm around his neck and hefted him up. Wincing in pain, Collin let loose with a slew of curses.
“Quit yer belly achin’,” William called out over his shoulders. “Ye’ve a wee flesh wound. I’ve got a few broken ribs. Ye do no’ hear me complainin’.”
Slowly, they helped the men out of the room. As they made their way down the corridor, they passed by a bedchamber. The door was slightly ajar, but they paid no notice. Until Caelen heard the cries of a child.
“Hold up,” Caelen said as he handed Collin off to one of the other men. “Hurry and get them out of here,” Caelen ordered. “I’ll be right behind ye.”
He withdrew his sword. Using the tip of the blade, he slowly pushed the door open. He could hear the child crying from within. Carefully, he took a step inside.
There she was, huddled in the corner of the room, between a chest and the bed. A little girl with cherubic cheeks and curly locks of gold. Tears streamed down her face as she clung to a little doll.
Caelen went to her and knelt down. “Wheesht, lassie,” he told her in soothing tones. “No one will harm ye.”
The little girl looked terrified. Her tears continued to stream down her face.
“Where be yer mum, child?”
Between sobs she replied, “Me mum be dead.”
Her tears and words tugged at his heart.
“Where be yer da?”
She shook her head, still crying. “I dunna ken,” she wailed.
Caelen felt quite lost. He had no idea who the child was, but he couldn’t very well leave her here unattended. He let loose with a frustrated breath and raked a hand through his hair. “What be yer name, lass?”
She sniffled. “Aingealag.”
He hadn’t held a bairn or even a child in ages, except for the day Conner climbed on his knee. Had refused to touch anyone’s child, for he’d never held his own. Now, he bounded down the steps with one in his arms. He searched the yard for his mount. He stood at the far end of the yard, waiting patiently. Caelen let out a loud whistle and the animal came running.
The lass in his arms had stopped crying the moment Caelen told her he was going to take her to her father, Bhruic. He set the little girl on the saddle and climbed up behind her. For a multitude of reasons, he couldn’t wait to get to his wife. She’d be able to care for the child.
The little girl, however, had different ideas. When Caelen found his wife and explained who the little girl was, he tried, unsuccessfully, to hand the child over. The little girl wailed and screamed, locking her hands together around his neck. She refused to let go of the man who had taken her from the bad men.
Fiona had to giggle at the sight before her. Her brave warrior of a husband, battle proven and battle scarred, looked positively terrified of the little girl that clung to his neck.
“I’d rather go back into battle,” he told Fiona as she stood laughing at him. “Please, Fiona, take the child!”
Fiona shook her head. “Nay, Caelen. The poor thing has been traumatized enough. Besides, she’s taken a likin’ to ye.”
“Fiona, please,” he pleaded with her as they stood in the middle of the war tent.
Fiona shook her head and continued to laugh.
“Caelen,” the little girl said. “Be that yer name?”
Caelen rolled his eyes and gave her a curt nod.
“I like ye Caelen,” she told him before resting her head against his shoulder. “Do no’ let me go.”
“Bloody hell,” he murmured.
17
Before they hung Gelis Farquar, Edgar MacKinnon, and John McRamey for their crimes, Edgar told Caelen and Fiona everything he knew. Caelen was certain that the only reason the man spoke was with the hope that he’d be shown some mercy.
Not bloody likely.
“Gelis was in France three years ago,” Edgar told them. “I do no’ ken who he got his information from, but he was told a verra interestin’ story, one that he believed to be true. He was told that when the Templar Knights were run out of France, they came to Scotland.”
“Everyone kens that, MacKinnon,” Caelen said, as yet unimpressed with Edgar’s story.
“Aye, but did ye ken that they brought with them countless treasures? Statues made of gold and silver, chests filled with gold coins, paintin’s and the like. Gelis was told the treasures were priceless. He was also told where those treasures were hidden.”
Caelen cast a glance at Fiona who shrugged her shoulders.
Edgar went on to explain in more detail. “Ye see, he was told that they buried those treasures in hidden tunnels that lay under Sidh Chailleann.”
Looking to his wife, Caelen knew this was the first she was hearing of it. “My Sidh Chailleann?” she asked incredulously.
Edgar nodded his head and smiled. “Aye, Fiona. Yer Sidh Chailleann.”
They hung the three men side by side from the wall of the Farquar keep at sunset.
Fiona could not watch the punishment being carried out, no matter how much she wanted to. She’d seen enough death in the past two days to last her a lifetime.
Nial and Duncan volunteered to stay behind to help establish a new chief for Clan Farquar.
Caelen and Fiona, along with her brothers and what remained of their men, left at dawn the following morning. While they would have liked to have remained behind, they had injured men to return to the McPherson keep.
And one little girl who desperately wanted to see her papa.
18
The following day, Bhruic was reunited with his daughter. Caelen was much relieved, for the child had clung to him like a cocklebur. As soon as she was handed over, Caelen found Kenneth and Phillip and a bottle of whisky. They weren’t seen again until the evening meal.
Fiona met with Collin in his study to discuss
what was to become of Bhruic MacKinnon. Fiona begged Collin to show some leniency toward the man, for his only crime, at least as far as she was concerned, was loving his daughter. “How far would ye go to protect Symon?”
“I’d kill to protect him, Fi. But I’d no’ kill innocent people,” Collin told her.
“But he did no’ kill anyone, did he?” she pointed out.
Collin took in a deep breath. “I canna believe ye’d want me to show leniency to a man who was going to kill ye and yer husband.”
“I do no’ believe he was goin’ to kill either of us, Collin. I believe he was prepared to drink himself to death first,” she told him. “Ye saw him that day with yer own eyes. He was so drunk he could no’ find his arse with both hands.”
Collin thought back to that day when Alyse came rushing into the keep, in tears, her cheek and jaw red from her husband’s hand. “He did hit his wife,” he calmly reminded her.
Fiona had to admit that was true. “Then punish him fer hittin’ his wife. Punish him fer bein’ an angry drunk. But do no’ hang him fer somethin’ he didna do.”
“Pray tell then, how would ye suggest I punish him?”
She’d already thought about what she would have done were she still chief. “I’d let his wife decide his punishment. I’d also make him clean latrines, train with the women and mayhap work in the kitchens.” Her punishment wasn’t meant to demean the man. Instead, she hoped it would make him appreciate how hard the opposite sex worked and how valuable they were to the clan.
Collin didn’t think that near enough punishment. “I’d like to beat him within an inch of his life.”
Fiona smiled and could not disagree that she would have taken some enjoyment in doing just that. “I would enjoy that as well, but in truth, Collin, I think the man was pushed into a corner by Edgar and Gelis.”
Collin had to admit her argument had some merit. He didn’t believe that Bhruic would have harmed Fiona, or anyone else for that matter, on his own. And Fiona was right in that the man had not made any attempts on her life, even though his daughter was being held as hostage.
“Verra well, then,” Collin said. “I’ll let the man live.”
Fiona looked much relieved. “Thank ye, Collin. I be certain his daughter will be verra grateful to ye fer that.”
They sat in silence for a moment before Fiona broached the next matter at hand. “Now, about the treasure rumored to be hidden in our tunnels.”
Collin smiled and shook his head. “Ye and I have both been in those tunnels many times, Fi. I’ve never seen any treasures.”
Fiona smiled mischievously. “But we never looked fer treasures.”
A week later, Caelen and Fiona returned to the McDunnah keep. Burunild and Nola had returned a few days before them to help prepare the keep for their new chatelaine — something that Burunild believed had been missing for far too many years.
Fiona doubted Caelen’s people would welcome her with open arms but she knew they would at the very least be respectful toward her. At least in their own rough way. They were a different lot, these McDunnahs, and she liked that about them. Still, there was always the worry that they’d never accept her as their chief’s wife. ’Twas possible a long, bumpy road lay ahead, but Fiona was not afraid to take it.
Fiona had learned a great deal more about her husband from his grandminny in the days after the battle against the MacKinnons, Farquars and McRameys. Though Caelen had no compunction in telling Fiona he loved and adored her, there were parts of his heart where he’d not allow her entry. A deep, hidden place where his first wife and son remained.
Fiona did not want her husband to forget his first family. But neither did she want him to remain guilt-ridden over their deaths. Knowing he could love so deeply, even after so many years, proved to her that he possessed a heart capable of many things.
Still, it bothered her that he had never named his son.
On the morning after their return to his keep, Fiona asked Caelen to take her for a walk of his lands. She didn’t tell him that she had one particular destination in mind.
After touring the stables, granary, chicken houses, corrals, and other buildings, Fiona asked, “Where do ye keep yer dead?” She already knew the answer to that question.
Caelen thought it an odd question. “Why do ye want to ken that?”
“I be the chatelaine now, Caelen. I should know all that I can about yer land.”
“Just outside the walls,” Caelen told her.
“I should like to see it.”
It took some convincing, but Caelen finally relented.
The spot was not far from the outer wall. A flat bit of land that sat at the base of a small hill. ’Twas a quite peaceful place, Fiona thought, with a few wych elms at the western edge. Anyone at the keep, looking this way would never know it was here.
Caelen stopped just at the edge of the cemetery. “Now ye’ve seen it,” he said. “Let us return to the keep.”
Fiona slipped a hand into Caelen’s and said, “Nay, Caelen. We have somethin’ important to do,” she told him. “I want to see where Fiona and yer babe rest.”
Caelen’s jaw tightened, his eyes turned to slits. “Nay,” he told her. She could tell that he was angry. This wasn’t going to be easy.
“Caelen, tell me why ye never named yer son.”
He looked at her as though she’d gone completely mad. “We will no’ discuss this, Fiona. We will go back to the keep now and ye’ll never speak of this again.” He tried to pull her away, but she kept her feet firmly planted and wrested her hand from his.
“Caelen, I love ye too much to no’ speak of it,” she told him.
“Fi, ye need to let this go,” he said in a firm voice.
She had no intentions of letting this go. Her mind was set. “Then ye do no’ love yer son as much as I thought.”
He was instantly furious. “How dare ye say such a thing!”
Fiona knew she may have stepped over the line a bit with her accusation. She took a few steps back, not because she feared he’d harm her, but because she needed him to at least step inside the hallowed ground. Progress, no matter how small, was a good thing. “How sad is it that a wee bairn has lain in the cold ground all these years without a name?”
Caelen walked toward her, his face twisted and angry. “Ye ken nothin’ of it, Fiona.”
“Yer right, I do no’ ken anythin’ about it because ye refuse to speak of it,” she said. She was determined to see this through.
“I have me reasons fer no’ speakin’ of it and ye should respect that.”
’Twas then that she saw the pain in his eyes. Just a flicker of it, but enough to realize this was going to be very difficult for him. She decided to soften her approach. Stepping forward, she took his hands in hers. “Caelen, I love ye more than I ever thought possible. And I find I love ye more each day. I ken ye feel guilt over no’ bein’ there fer yer first wife and yer son. But Caelen, do ye no’ think ye should give him a name? It breaks me heart to think of yer babe goin’ through the rest of eternity without a name.”
His expression softened, but not by much. She could see that at least now he was thinking on it.
“Please, Caelen, will ye do this fer me?”
“He has a name.”
Fiona was mightily confused. “But Burunild said ye never named him.”
The pain became even more evident and it broke her heart to see him like this. Mayhap she had pushed too far. Mayhap some things were better left untouched.
He cleared his throat and stood a bit taller, as if bracing himself against something quite miserable. “Fiona and I had agreed on two names, one fer a girl child, one fer a boy.” His voice caught, forcing him to clear his throat again. “Were it a girl child, we’d have named her Eleanor, after Fiona’s mum.”
Fiona’s eyes grew wet. He was struggling with so many torments at the moment that she almost begged him to stop.
“And were it a boy child, he’d be named after me.”
A few tears escaped and trailed down her cheeks. God in heaven how she wished she could give him a child. ’Twouldn’t make up for all that he’d lost, but still, it would be the most precious gift she could think to give him. “I be so sorry, Caelen,” she murmured softly.
“So ye see, I be no’ so heartless after all,” he said, his voice not quite as harsh as his words.
Her heart leapt into her chest. “I never meant to say ye were heartless, Caelen, I swear it. But when Burunild said ye’d never named him, I thought ye should and I wanted only to help ye.” More tears slid down her cheeks. She’d never felt quite so guilty or heartless.
“I didna want to go through me whole life with people referrin’ to him as wee Caelen or the babe Caelen,” he explained. “’Twas a secret I wanted kept just fer me, fer his mum.”
She couldn’t have stopped the tears if she’d had a sword at her throat. “And I ruined that fer ye!” She fell against his chest and sobbed. “Please fergive me!”
He wrapped his arms around her and patted her back. “Ye do no’ need me fergiveness, Fiona. I ken yer heart guided ye.”
She nodded her head against his chest and clung to him. “I be so sorry, I truly am. So sorry fer everythin’!”
Caelen kissed the top of her head. “Why are ye cryin’ so?”
She sniffed, unable to look up at him. “Because I made ye share a secret that ye truly did no’ wish to share. I be sorry fer bein’ such a stubborn woman. And I be most sorry fer no’ bein’ able to give ye a child.”
“Wheesht, now, wife. I do no’ care that ye canna give me a child,” he told her. She may have thought she knew all of his secrets now, but that wasn’t necessarily true. He’d never tell her that he was glad that she couldn’t. The thought of losing her in childbed was the only thing that truly terrified him.
Caelen's Wife, Book Three Page 12