Claiming the Highlander (26 page)

“My lord, why wod her ladyship da such a thing?”

He would put that same question to Brenna once he found her. She would give him dozen of reasons but none would change his mind. He and his men were outside of Inverness when morning arrived. He rode in to the burgh. His hair was wet along with his leine. Thor splashed through puddles littered with bones and other messes that weren’t pleasant. Once he was inside Inverness Castle’s great hall, Father Murray hurried to him. His cassock flapped about his feet. The holy man seemed both frightened and pleased to see him.

“Your wife is here and is well. The men who accompanied her are in the garrison.”

He sighed his relief, and then stiffened with anger. “Where is my wife?” He glanced about the gathering. There was no sign of his wife among the gathered people as they whispered at his appearance.

“In her chamber,” Father Murray answered. “However, you have been forbidden to see her.”

“What?” The silly courtiers craned their heads about to look at him.

“By the king’s orders, my lord, I am sorry. I have other news, my lord. Laird Grant has been summoned by the king.”

“Has he arrived?” He wasn’t among the currently assembled people either.

“He has not; however, he is forbidden to see her as well.”

“Good. Has she seen the king?”

“She has not, but I imagine she will soon.”

One of the household courtiers came up to him and promised to prepare a chamber. Caelen just nodded and wished the man would to see to the details instead of making Caelen listen to the man prattle on with his nonsense. The man vanished, finally.

Caelen turned about and left, heading straight to the garrison. Inside, the dank building was dim and smelled of wet plaid and manure. Just inside, he found Raemon sitting at a trestle table alongside Oran. Both men jumped to their feet.

“We codna leave her to cam alone,” Oran said.

“You should have dragged her back. I shall deal with you all later. First, I must get my wife back from the king.”

Chapter Thirteen

Brenna was going mad.

A knock sounded on the door and a man entered. “You have been summoned by the king.”

Brenna followed the man through the castle to a set of doors. She nibbled on her lip until the metallic taste of blood touched her tongue. She had her doubts, but couldn’t turn away.

Entering, she stared at the King of Scotland standing beside a chair. He was as tall as Caelen, and years younger. As she approached, she saw how handsome he was, something she failed to notice before in the hall. He was no Caelen, but Scotland should be happy for their handsome king with his red hair and strong chin.

“Lady Wester Ross,” he said, his voice commanding, yet with a smoothness she never imagined him to have. “Your name has been filling my ear for some time.”

“I hope it has not been too much of an annoyance.”

He motioned for her to sit. “Not at all. What has brought you to court?”

She sat. Under the steady regard of his regal gaze, she stammered to get her thoughts together. “I have come for peace.”

“A great gift that is rarely granted.”

“Aye, my lord. As you must know, Caelen’s and my marriage took place so the MacLeods did not get a hold on Scotland. Now my father is petitioning to dissolve my union with my husband.”

“That along with a sherriffdom. The land does fall under your husband’s control?”

She bowed her head to hide her smile. “Aye, it does.”

“At least Scots pay their dowries,” he joked, making reference to King Henry of England, who still had not paid Queen Margaret’s substantial one. “And what of this bloodline your father is proclaiming suddenly?”

“There is a tie with MacBeth. I do not know much of it, but if there is one, it is with an aunt and does not play an importance. Many couples often forget about blood when such important things hang in the balance.”

“Aye, blood is generally overlooked; however, I must learn everything, even that. And where is your husband?”

“No doubt on his way,” she answered.

“Nay, he has arrived. He has been ordered to stay away from you and I order the same with you.”

Her mouth parted and formed a perfect
O
.

“Why have you not let your husband handle these issues?” He steepled his fingers.

“I am his wife. I must help him get what he yearns for.”

He cocked his red brows. “Do you love your husband?”

“Aye, I always have.”

“Truly? Why?”

“Why do I love my husband?” she asked, to clarify his meaning.

“Aye. Aye.”

She blinked. “He is a good man, brave and strong.”

“That I am aware of, but that is not the reason for your love.”

“Nay.” She blushed. “He is kind to me, tender. I look at him and feel warmth and excitement, yet contentment and ease. I know I belong with him, and that our union is strong and just. When he is with me, he laughs. Most see the fierce Viking Highlander but with me, he reveals another side of himself, one he rarely shows.” She shook her head, feeling foolish.

The crease on the king’s cheek deepened as he smiled. “You could not find that with another.”

“Nay,” she blurted out. “With another, I cannot.”

“He couldn’t find that with another?”

“Most certainly, not.” Jealous rose in her and notched up her voice to a screech.

“Your father has been loyal.”

She nodded. “He is.”

“Ties must be strengthened to prevent troubles, but if those same ties cause more strife…” He shrugged.

In a panic, her mind blanked. “I imagine all ties will cause difficulty to those not included.” She wished to take back her words. She might have destroyed all she had tried to build.

“What shall I do about that?” He leaned back, appearing at ease, but she knew he hinged on her answer.

“Unrest can be avoided, however, one cannot please all.”

He fixed his shrewd gaze on her. “You are a strong Scottish lady. Can you live with whatever decision I make?”

Her throat closed. She stammered her beginning. “Aye, I must obey my king, though I wish to stay wed to Caelen—Lord Wester Ross.”

“We shall see.”

The same man appeared at her elbow and escorted her back to her chamber. She plopped down on the bed. Why had she not listened to Caelen? Why had she traveled here?

The answer screamed in her mind. She did not trust Caelen. He had disappointed her too many times in her lifetime. He had not been the only one. She had waited for her father to be the man he was before she had been sent to foster at the Mackenzie household. The man who had loved her, who had sat her with him on his chair telling her stories, who had made her the center of his world, who had loved her. The same man who had taken it away from her, pretending she did not exist, and replaced her with a wife, who had saw her as an enemy.

She had ruined everything and now her fate rested on the past and the decision of a king who cared more for the benefit of Scotland than her heart.

* * * *

Four days had passed and Caelen had not seen his wife or the king. He saw too much of court and heard too much of French, English, and Latin. It was all making his head pound. Standing about the Great Hall, he finally saw something that caught his interest—Gilroy heading toward him.

“My lord, I have found out all you need to know.”

One of the king’s lackeys came up then. “Come, my lord. You have an audience with the king.”

Caelen followed the man and brought Gilroy along with him. When he entered the king’s presences, Brenna was standing there. His steps slowed as he kept his eyes on her. She was still as beautiful as ever and he wanted nothing more than to hold her. Yet much of her seemed different. She had donned French clothing, but there was more. She appeared hollowed out like a tree that had been struck by lightning.

He looked beyond her to Laird Grant standing there.

“Countess Wester Ross, why have you not donned a plaid?”

She raised her head. “I did not want to appear as if I had chosen sides.”

“You have been married since…”

“I was a lass of three.”

“Quite a long time. Longer than I have been king. Lord Wester Ross, you were how old?”

“I was ten.”

“You agreed to this, Laird Grant. You went into it with much enthusiasm; yet now, you stand before me wishing to end this union. Is there a child?”

Brenna laid her hand over her belly. Caelen stared at her. She hadn’t moved.

“Lord Wester Ross,” The king said.

Caelen shrugged at his unasked question. “I do not care what the bloodlines prove. She is my wife and I will not give her up.”

“I may have a say in this. Laird Grant, what have you to say?”

“This marriage is unlawful. There is a blood relation between my daughter and her husband.” He explained about Brenna’s maternal line wed into the MacBeth family line. “That same line then wed in to the MacKenzie line, which is Lord Wester Ross’ branch.”

“And Lord Wester Ross, what have you to say to this?” the king asked.

“He wants to be appointed sheriff or get the land to wed my wife to another. He will not get it or Brenna.”

“My lady,” the king said.

“I have been placed between two men. I love my father and I love my husband. I wish to stay with my husband, but I am a woman pulled between men’s power plays. I do not think that my wishes matter.”

“Do not think such a thing. They matter; however, they play a small role in the greater part.”

Small tremors quaked through her. “I understand. This union came about so that Scotland would not have a power play with the islemen and that the Grants may benefit from the MacKenzies’ standing. I believe that that part of the agreement has been met. And if this union is to be dissolved, then I shall be wed to another man for political reasons. That would only bring about more bloodshed. The MacKenzies would retaliate against the Grants for a broken union and this husband of mine would fight the Grants for lands they believed to be theirs.”

“You are correct,” the king replied.

“So I say I should stay married to my husband. My father is a loyal subject of your majesty. Most highlanders would have solved this problem without the care of their king. Yet, he has come to you.”

“And if there is a bloodline?”

“I am a highlander. I share a bloodline with all.”

“So you claim this highlander?” The king motioned to Caelen.

“Aye I do.”

“Is there a bloodline?”

“My
seanachaidh
knows the answer,” Caelen responded.

“Do not keep a secret.” Alexander waved him forward.

“There is a line between the Countess of Wester Ross and MacBeth; however the line ended when the last of those sons died without issue and without connection to the Earl or Countess.”

Brenna swung her head up and met his gaze for the first time.

“There seems to be no blood line, no reason to dissolve the union, and if her ladyship counts the days, there may well be an heir.”

“He had abandoned her,” Laird Grant called out.

“It seems that he corrected that situation.” The king dismissed them.

Caelen caught up with Brenna. When he reached for her, she buried her hands in her surcote.

“I cannot speak with you now.” She spun away, leaving him standing there to watch her walk away.

He let her go. He could have picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder—the proper behavior of a highlander.

The difficultly he faced was not about land or other nonsense. It was his treatment of her. He went back to his chamber. He gathered the necessary items he needed to get his wife back. Caelen sat down and prepared to be the man she made him and he planned to tell her in the way that she loved.

* * * *

Alastronia held out a missive. Brenna took it and broke the seal.

My dearest Brenna,

I sit here in my chamber trying to find the words to bring you back to me. I do not know what to write as I have never done this before. All I can do is say that I love you. I have been a prideful man. I have believed that I did not deserve you. With you at my side, I have faced demons that have haunted me for years and yet, you stood with me. I have faced the death of my father, the man who taught me what a true leader of men was, and you have stood by me. When you needed me to think of your feelings, I thought nothing of them. For this, please forgive me. I am a better man because of you. I do not know what life lies before us, but I know my days will be better with you at my side. I love you. Please see me so that I may kiss you and hold you close because without you, my life means nothing.

Caelen

Three drops of ink soaked through the parchment beside his name. There was another knock. Alastronia brought her another one. She hadn’t broken the seal when another knock sounded in the dismal chamber.

“My lady,” Alastronia called to her.

She gathered the letters and went to the door. Servant after servant filed up to her and handed her a letter. She scrambled to take them as they piled in her arms. Three slipped from the top and she reached out to catch them, but more fell and pooled at her feet. More servants appeared, each bearing a letter. She took them. Alastronia picked up those that had fallen, but more just slipped from her arms. One tear fell from her eye. Her lips began to shake. She clutched the letters close to her chest. She bent down to scoop them up. Then she saw two bare legs. Her gaze ran up the length, beyond the plaid to Caelen’s face. He hunched down. He took her into his arms, crushing the letters between them. She dropped them and wrapped her arms tightly around him.

“I love you. I will never cease telling you.”

His lips fitted against hers as his arms held her tightly. She deepened the kiss, tasting the saltiness of her tears and Caelen. She melted in his embrace. She knew she had always belonged here with him, and now, he knew it too.