Caelen's Wife: Book One - A Murmur of Providence (Clan McDunnah Series 1) (9 page)

T
he babe had not been
asleep long, when Brodie and William came bounding down the three steps that led from the foyer into the gathering room. Behind them were Caelen McDunnah and several of his men.

Brodie and William came to an abrupt halt as soon as they saw their nephew asleep in Fiona’s arms. Both men knew that the last few days — and nights — had been quite stressful for anyone who lived within the walls of the keep, especially on the third floor where Collin and Mairi’s room was located.

“He’s asleep,” William whispered, looking quite relieved. He and his wife, Isabelle, had a bedchamber across the hall from Collin and Mairi. Though a solid wooden door and wide hallway separated the two rooms, nothing aside from moving the child out of Scotland could keep anyone from hearing the poor babe cry.

Caelen and his men came to a halt, but for entirely different reasons.

“Yer wearin’ a dress,” Caelen murmured.

Phillip, having not yet had the pleasure of meeting Fiona McPherson in person, said to Caelen, “Ye did no’ say she had a babe.”

Fiona pinned every man in place with a fierce glare.

“I’ll kill the first man who wakes this babe.”

N
o one moved so
much as a muscle for a very long time.

“This is the first time he’s slept in days. I’ll thank ye kindly to remain quiet,” she whispered.

Phillip repeated his earlier statement to Caelen, this time in a much softer whisper.

“Ye did no’ tell me she had a bairn.”

“I don’t,” Fiona whispered across the space to the man. “This be me nephew, Symon.”

Phillip stepped forward and smiled when he looked down at the babe. “Colicky?”

“Nay,” Fiona whispered as she continued to rock from one foot to the other. “Teethin’.”

“Did ye rub whisky on his gums?”

“Aye, only a little while ago,” Fiona said, wondering who this big, burly man standing before her was.

Phillip gave an affirming nod of his head. “What have ye teethin’ him on? A beef bone?”

“I be no’ sure what his mother and father are usin’ at the moment. A bit of leather I think.” Fiona said, as she stared up at the man. “Who are
ye?”

Phillip took his eyes away from the babe long enough to answer. “Phillip McAdams. I be cousin to Caelen, on his mum’s side.”

Fiona inclined her head to him. He looked nothing at all like Caelen, but there was something in the man’s warm smile, the way his eyes near sparkled with hidden amusement and kindness that made her feel at ease in his presence. He spoke to her as if she were a long lost friend and she liked him immediately. “’Tis a pleasure to meet ye, Phillip McAdams.”

Phillip was not quite finished with offering advice on teething babes. “Ye should also try a sugar teat.”

“Aye, when he wakes we shall try that. Fer now, I’d like to keep him sleepin’.”

Looking away from Phillip she turned her attention to the group of men standing near the entryway. Caelen looked as though he’d just seen a ghost.
With such a peculiar expression about his face, she began to wonder if she had something stuck to her face or mayhap she’d forgotten to dress that morn.

T
he moment
his eyes first rested on Fiona, that small crack in the stone around his heart melted, as if it were nothing more than slag in a blacksmith’s forge. It had been protecting his heart for well over a decade. Now, it was gone in the time it took to soak in the sight of Fiona McPherson, standing in front of the hearth, with a babe in her arms.

In all his dealings with Fiona McPherson, he had never seen her look so … so beautiful that it stole away his very breath.

A dark blue gown of serviceable wool, fit the curves of her body with perfection. Over that she wore an arisaid made out of the McPherson colors of red, green, and blue. A simple broach held it in place.

Her hair, which he’d never before seen unplaited, hung in a braid over one shoulder. In her arms, she held a sleeping babe, swaddled in a pale yellow blanket.

Caelen McDunnah wasn’t exactly certain, but he believed he might very well have just had a glimpse into heaven.

Before he did something stupid — such as fall to one knee and proclaim his undying love and devotion — he cleared his throat. “Good,” his voice choked on the walnut-sized lump that had somehow become lodged there, forcing him to clear his throat again. “Good day, me lady.”

Fiona offered him a soft, warm smile.

His knees nearly buckled. ’Twas a sweet, soft, warm smile, one she could have given to anyone. ‘Twasn’t as if she beamed with happiness to see him. ’Twas everything about her in that one, tiny moment of time, that made his chest tighten and his legs feel as strong as warm porridge.

Willing his heart to beat at a more reasonable rate, he took a deep, calming breath and steeled his nerves.
Remember yer wife and babe, Caelen,
he heard a voice deep within him speak.
Ye canna take another wife. Ye’ll only be a disappointment to her. Ye’ll no’ be there when she needs ye most.

The voice was a slap in the face, a way to bring him back to his senses. Knowing his inner voice was indeed correct, he did his best to convince himself that he did not want, nor did he need Fiona McPherson.

“What brings ye here, this day?” Fiona asked in a soft whisper reminiscent of a faint spring breeze tenderly caressing new grass. God, what he would not do to feel her gentle breath against his skin. To hear it whispering words of love against his ear.
Calm yerself ye bloody fool!

“We bring yer cattle,” he managed to grind out, hoping he did not sound as foolish as he felt.

“Thank ye kindly, Caelen.”

Brodie returned, from where, Caelen did not know for he hadn’t noticed him leaving. “Deana is bringing ye refreshment,” he told Caelen.

Phillip and Fiona whispered harshly, “
Wheesht!”

“Sorry,” Brodie whispered, looking momentarily like a chastised child.

“I be famished,” Phillip told Fiona. “I thank ye in advance fer yer kind hospitality.”

’Twas then that a very comely, yet tired looking lass entered the room from above stairs. Rushing to Fiona, she looked concerned as well as confused. “I woke to Collin snoring and did not see Symon,” she explained. “How on earth did ye get him to sleep?”

Fiona smiled. “’Tis a secret known only to aunts,” she said.

Phillip chuckled as he glanced at the young woman. “I take it the wee beastie is yers?”

“Aye,” she whispered, studying him closely with confused and tired eyes.

“I be Phillip McAdams, cousin to Caelen,” he said. “Ye have a right handsome bairn lass.”

“Thank ye,” she smiled up at him. “I be Mairi, sister-in-law to Fiona,” she told him before turning back to Fiona. “Thank ye, kindly, Fi. I shall put him in his bed now.”

“’Tis no bother,” Fiona protested. “I ken ye need yer sleep.”

“Aye, but ye’ve visitors,” Mairi said as she gently began to take the babe. “Ye’ve more important things to do than watch Symon.”

Caelen could sense Fiona’s reluctance as he watched her carefully hand the sleeping child over to his mother. Quietly, Mairi and babe left the room.

Once she was gone, Caelen went to Fiona. “Would ye have time fer a walk?”

W
ith his stomach
feeling as though it contained a mile of heavy rope tied into knots, Caelen walked beside Fiona. Whilst he would have preferred to go straight to the stables, mount his horse and leave, there were far more important matters to discuss. Such as who might be trying to make it appear as though he was a reiver of sheep.

They had left the gathering room and were now walking around the perimeter of the keep. Shoving aside thoughts of trailing kisses from the tips of her toes to the top of her head, he took yet another cleansing breath before broaching the subject at hand.

“Ye’ll find yer new cattle with those I brought to ye yesterday,” he told her.

“I thank ye kindly, Caelen,” she said.

“Me lady,” he began before she cut him off with a wave of her hand.

“Caelen,” she said as she placed a hand on his arm. “I ken ’tis difficult fer ye to even speak the name Fion
a.
I do no’ like bein’ referred to as
me lady.
If ye’d like, ye may call me Fi.”

Fi.
He had heard her brothers call her that, a term of endearment he supposed. He was seeing a much softer side of the woman and he found he liked it just as much the fierce warrior side she displayed. “Is that what everyone calls ye?”

Fiona shook her head and began to lead him away from the keep. “Nay, only me brothers call me Fi. Me people call me Fiona.”

“And what do the other clan chiefs call ye?”

Her face burned crimson for a moment before answering. “To me face? They call me The McPherson
.
”

She hadn’t quite been able to hide the hurt in her voice. Suddenly, he had an overwhelming urge to protect the woman from ever suffering any amount of pain or discomfort. Nay, he had to push that aside along with all the other tender feelings he held for her.
The McPherson.
Nay, it did not have the same melodic quality as her given name. ’Twas far too harsh a title for such a lovely woman as she.

“Fi,” he said as if he were trying boots on to check for fit. “’Tis a right pretty name.”

He caught the slightest hint of a blush on her cheeks before she turned away.

Needing to extricate himself from the far too personal direction their conversation was heading, he steered back toward sheep and reivers.

“Fi, I swear to ye that I had nothin’ to do with the reivin’ of yer sheep.”

“I’m beginnin’ to believe ye,” she said without looking directly at him.

Whilst she might not believe him completely, at least she was heading in the right direction.

“I’ve sent Kenneth on a mission,” he told her as they approached the large wooden gates set in the wall.

“What kind of mission,” Fiona asked as she motioned for the gates to be lifted.

“To find information,” he told her as they waited.

“Information regardin’ what?” she asked.

The inner gate began to lift upward almost noiselessly. The sounds of gears and pulleys working together were barely noticeable. Once the inner gate was lifted, they stepped through and waited in the small area between the two gates. For several long moments they stood in relative darkness, waiting for the portcullis to be lifted. He was grateful for the sound of grinding gears and pulleys for he worried Fiona would be able to hear his heart pounding madly against his breastbone. Being this close was far too tempting. “Information on who might be reivin’ yer sheep and why they want it to look as though I be behind it,” he said, his voice breaking through the uneasy silence that had fallen between them.

Finally, the second gate was lifted and they stepped into the bright sunshine. ’Twas then that he noticed two men following behind them. “Are they yer personal guards?” he asked with a nod over his shoulder.

Fiona glanced over her shoulder before giving a shake of her head and rolling her eyes. “Henry, Robert,” she said to the two men. “Why are ye followin’ me?”

The two men cast a glance between themselves before the taller of the two men answered. “We’re no’ followin’ ye, we’re followin’ him
,”
he answered with a nod toward Caelen.

Fiona sighed. “William?” she asked.

“Aye,” Robert answered. “He says to no’ let either of ye out of our sight.”

Fiona’s hands went to her hips. “Pray tell, when was William made chief?”

The men remained silent, though Caelen could sense they wanted to say more.

To Caelen, she said, “Me brother, William, is verra overprotective of me and cares no’ that I be chief of our clan. I think he is under the tetched belief that I still be only six years old.”

Caelen smiled down at her. “I fear I be that way with me own sisters. It matters no’ that they both be married with bairns of their own.”

“Fine,” she told the two men. “Ye may follow, but at a distance fer I do no’ need ye hoverin’ about like midges.”

Turning back to Caelen, she led him out into the bright sunlight. “Whilst ’tis good to know he cares, it still annoys me.”

Fiona led him around the tall curtain wall and northward. The keep sat in a small, flat area of land at the base of
Sidh Chailleann.
The curtain wall surrounded the keep on only three sides, with the east and west walls built into the base of the mountain.

Fiona had been watching him study the lay of the land and the walls. “Aye, we use the mountain as our rear wall.”

“Ingenious,” Caelen said.

“We do no’ worry over anyone attackin’ from the north, fer ’tis far too treacherous to climb
up the mount, let alone down. Besides,” she said playfully, “we have the fairies, ghosts and brownies to protect us.”

T
hey followed
the length of the eastern wall where the terrain grew increasingly rocky. Fiona began climbing up and over boulders like a mountain goat; with grace and elegance that defied logic. ’Twas as if she floated from one rock or boulder to another. ’Twas all he could do to keep up.

“Where are ye takin’ me?” Caelen asked.

“Up the mountain,” she said playfully. “Or are ye afraid?”

“Of fallin’?” he asked as his foot slipped off the edge of a smooth boulder. Henry and Robert chuckled as he fought to keep his balance. If he moved his foot just so, he might be able to dislodge enough loose rocks to send them tumbling down at the two men. Deciding it might, mayhap, not be the best way to endear Fiona and her clan to him, he pushed onward and upward.

“Nay,” she called down to him with a mirthful voice. “Of fairies.”

Caelen stopped his forward progression and looked up at her. He believed in fairies as much as he believed in unicorns — not at all. Many people believed the mountain to be the home of fairies, haunted by ghosts — and very few would dare venture near it. Caelen did not believe in those old tales. But twice now, she mentioned the fairies. Mayhap she
believed in those old tales.

When he finally reached Fiona, she was perched atop a large, flat rock that protruded from the side of the mountain like a large shelf. Wearing a victorious smile, she sat with her feet dangling over the edge. With her skirt raised ever so slightly, he could see her slender ankle and part of one finely-toned calf. Were he not terrified of falling to his death, he might have paused to drink in the sight of her.

“Ye climb like a ram!” Caelen said as he carefully made his way onto the shelf ledge.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, her feet swaying back and forth as if she sat at the edge of a loch with her feet gliding through the water.

He was never fond of heights. Admittedly, he didn’t even like looking out the tower windows of his keep. Keeping his back pressed against the side of the mountain, he declined her invitation to sit beside her.

“Are ye afraid of heights?” she asked after swinging around to face him.

“Nay,” he said. “It be the
fallin’
that scares the bl-” he stopped the curse before it could escape. “I do no’ like the idea of fallin’ off the mountain.”

Fiona pushed herself to her feet, wiped her hands on her skirt and turned to look out at the landscape. “But look at the beauty that lies before ye,” she said happily before sighing contentedly.

“Aye,” he said to her back without looking at the land. “’Tis quite beautiful.” He, of course, was referring to
her
and was glad her back was turned to him.

Pointing down at the McPherson holdings, she began to identify many of the buildings. “Ye can see the keep of course, but over there, to the right are the stables, then the laundry house and the kitchen. The barracks, the granary, and the bathhouse are on the left. It might no’ be as grand or as large as your keep and buildin’s, but we be quite proud of it.”

He dared a glance down at her home and had to admit, though it was small, it still looked majestic. As a clan chief, he could understand her pride for he, too, was proud of what he had helped to build.

“Ye can just make out Loch Rannoch from here as well. ’Tis where we do all our fishin’.”

“Where do ye make the whisky?” he inquired.

Fiona turned to face him. “’Tis a secret,” she told him.

“Some believe McPherson whisky to be the finest in all of Scotia,” he said. “I canna blame ye fer no’ sharin’ the location of yer still.”

“We do
make the finest whisky in all of Scotia,” she said.

His smile grew. “It will do, I suppose,” he said, teasing her.

Fiona tilted her head to one side and crossed her hands over her chest. “I suppose ye think McDunnah whisky is better?”

He had to laugh at her apparent umbrage. “Nay,” he said. “I prefer McAndrew whisky.”

Her eyes widened in horror. “That swill? Yer daft!”

He threw his head back and laughed. “’Twas only a jest, Fi,” he explained with a smile.

“Why do ye jest so?”

“I like the way yer eyes sparkle when yer angry.”

She had no response to that other than to say, “I think we should go back, before a fairy comes to push ye off the mountain fer insultin’ our whisky.”

Uncertain if that was a veiled threat he kept quiet while she led the way back down.

H
e felt much better
after his feet touched solid ground again. Henry and Robert stood nonchalantly with their backs against the stone fence. Each cast Caelen a look of disgrace as he walked by, as if they could not understand how a grown man could be so feeble at climbing a mountain. Immediately, he regretted not kicking the rocks down on their daft heads.

Fiona led the way along the wall and toward the small forest he had spied briefly when they were standing on the shelf. It sat to the south and east of the keep.

’Twas Fiona who turned the conversation toward the sheep again. “So if what ye tell me is the truth, why would anyone want to make ye look guilty of stealing me sheep?”

That was one of the many questions annoying him for days now. “That be a verra good question, Fi. Have ye
any ideas?”

“I canna understand it meself,” she told him. “But after these past months, nothin’ would surprise me.”

His curiosity was piqued. “What do ye mean?”

Coming to a stop, she studied him closely for a few moments. “Ye really do no’ ken about all the proposals, do ye?”

Caelen shrugged his shoulders and raised his palms upward. “I’m afraid I do no’.”

With a heavy sigh, she started toward the forest again and began to explain. “It all started about nine months ago. Walter MacKinnon appeared at me keep, unannounced and asked fer me hand.”

“And ye found that odd?” Caelen asked.

“Aye, I did fer I’d never before met the man.”

“Was he seekin’ an alliance through marriage?”

“Well, all he would say was that it would be mutually beneficial to both clans. That be what all the others told me as well,” Fiona said as she stepped around a large boulder.

“All the others?” Caelen asked.

“After that, ’twas the McGregor, then the McKenzie, MacElroy, and Farquar. Two are already married, so they each offered up one of their sons. And they all said the same thing: ‘Twould be mutually beneficial fer both clans
.”

On the face of it, a proposal of marriage to form an alliance between two clans was not at all unusual. Usually, such a marriage was made between the children of the clan chiefs, not the chiefs themselves. The circumstances in this particular instance were unusual. Fiona was the chief of her clan, widowed and had no children of her own. Even so, he could not find it exceptionally odd that proposals were made. What did make it unusual was the number of proposals and the fact that learning others were offering for her hand made him feel entirely far too jealous. He had no claim to the woman and refused to even give consideration to it. Knowing that however, did not make the twinge of jealously any less painful.

Caelen glanced over his shoulder and was glad to see that Fiona’s guards had stopped following them. They were standing together near the entrance to the forest. They glowered at him as if to warn him to carefully watch his step. Either they were tired of following him and Fiona or they were giving them more distance. Either way, he didn’t care as long as they left him and Fiona alone.

“We’ve been at peace with all
of our neighbors fer more than one hundred years,” Fiona went on. “We’re also a verra small clan. Our numbers dwarf in comparison.”

That was a good point to consider. Besides the best whisky in all the land, what could the small McPherson clan have that would make so many men offer for her hand?

A narrow, age-old foot path led through the forest. ’Twas cooler here, under the canopy of old black alder, downy birch and sessile oaks. Fiona lifted her arisaid and wrapped it around her shoulders.

The ground here was soft and spongey. Caelen knew that dangerous bogs could be found throughout McPherson land and hoped Fiona would keep him from falling into one. “Why, then, have all these men come proposin’?” she asked.

The words were out of his mouth before he realized it. “Because yer a beautiful woman.”

F
iona stopped
dead in her tracks and looked at him as if he had lost his mind. Crossing her arms over her chest, she shook her head in dismay. “I’ve heard many words to describe ye, Caelen McDunnah.” She then began to list them. “Fierce, ruthless, cunning, intelligent, honorable, and more than a bit tetched. But never has anyone accused ye of bein’ a liar.”