Claiming the Highlander (11 page)

She treaded water. “I had forgotten it was cold.”

“Let’s return to our chamber and I’ll warm you again.”

Side by side, they swam to the castle. The beacon guided them in the right direction. Caelen lifted her to the walkway and then he followed.

The moon shined over his naked form. She couldn’t stop herself and ran her hands over his chest. The hairs dried under her touch. She ran her fingers along the cuts of his muscles, feeling the hardness of him. This man was hers for a lifetime.

“I love your body. It’s strong. I just love the feel of you. I know why you are feared. I feel safe with you. But you are gentle too. You hold me tight enough and everything is well when I’m in your arms. I’m drawn to you.” She ran her hands along his sides.

He twisted away from her hands and giggled. “You are ticklish.” She tickled him again. He stayed her hands. “I will cease.”

“You will cease touching me as well or I will take you on these stones.”

“Promise?”

He gave her a tender tap on her buttocks. “Tomorrow.”

She dressed, not taking her eyes off Caelen. “I even love you dressed.” She rose up and kissed him.

As they crossed out of the shadows, she realized the guards were not at their stations. She asked him about that.

“They heard you screaming my name.”

Her face heated. “You think they know what we were doing?”

“They didn’t think you were drowning.”

She hugged his arm tightly, half burying her face and the pleased smile along with it. He placed a kiss on top of her head.

Crossing into the courtyard, she froze. The dogs howled. The eerie sound bounced about, knocking against the castle walls then swirling about the courtyard. Their cries blared in her ears and filled her head. The sound didn’t stop. She looked to Caelen.

He was pale. His eyes were wide open, but obviously not seeing anything before him. They both knew what the howling dogs meant.

* * * *

The morning light shined through the bed curtains. Caelen squinted against the bright light. Sometime during the night, slumber had overtaken him. The dogs howled all night, never stopping even for a breath. The truth was, he wasn’t ready to face this day.

Brenna, laid beside him, curled up on her side, her hands tucked beneath her cheek. He turned to his side and leaned his face on his hand. He watched her. The heaviness pressing against his chest lessened. He pinched a lock of her hair beneath his fingers. He stroked it between his thumb and forefinger, losing himself in the absent movement.

He could lose her. Nothing was as he imagined. In fact, everything had been wrong. He was meant to return home when the time was right. To claim his wife, when the time was right. Nothing was as he thought it would be. Soon he would be the chief of this clan and he had to be worthy of such a title.

He dropped the lock and forced himself to rise. He slipped on his leine.

“’Tis morning.” She rubbed her eyes. “The dogs ceased.”

Caelen put his plaid on next. She climbed out of bed and padded barefoot to him. Her hair hung in disarray. Sleepiness clouded her eyes, giving her a sensual look. “All will be well.”

He wished he shared her view. He barely felt his heart beating in his chest as if the gnawing pain ate away at his heart. The chamber seemed darker and everything was out of focus.

“Aye,” he said, more for her than himself.

He opened the door and peered over his shoulder. Brenna stood there. Her arms crossed over her middle as her hands ran up and down her arms, warding the chill away. He turned away from her and her thoughtful visage. He gritted his teeth. He didn’t need that now.

He came upon the landing of his father’s chamber. The hairs on his arm rose. The door seemed further away, and yet larger, larger than when he was a boy. There was no choice. He knocked and entered. His father was curled up free from the covers. He cringed and held his gut.

“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?

“Come 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.”