Caelen's Wife: Book One - A Murmur of Providence (Clan McDunnah Series 1) (6 page)

Brodie finally spoke, his curiosity piqued. “Wager what?”

Fiona never knew a Scotsman who could turn down a wager, no matter how ill-conceived or odd the wager might be. “The three of ye will clean the gatherin’ room after the evenin’ meal for the next sennight.”

Collin sighed. “I’ll make the wager but ’twill no’ matter fer we’re all sure to die here this day, regardless of which of them draws first blood.”

Fiona tilted her head to one side. “Explain what ye mean by that.”

“If the McDunnah draws first blood, I fear I’ll no’ be able to contain the rest of the men from tryin’ to seek vengeance. And if ye draw Caelen McDunnah’s blood, I ken with a certainty his men will want yer head mounted on a pike.”

Fiona giggled at her brother. “We shall see, lads. We shall see.”

A circle of men formed around Caelen and Fiona. The McDunnah men stood behind Caelen while Fiona’s men stood behind her. The two opponents stood some ten feet apart from one another, each sizing up the other.

“Do ye care to make a wager before we begin?” Fiona asked with a smile.

“A wager?” Caelen asked. “What do ye have in mind?”

Fiona pretended to think on it for a moment. “Five head of cattle,” she said. “Five of yer best cattle
.
I’ll no’ want any of yer auld and sickly cattle.”

Caelen smiled widely. “And if I win?”

“Ye won’t,” Fiona said with an air of confidence that Caelen found rather enticing.

“Yer so certain?”

“Aye, I am.”

“Then it should no’ matter what ye wager,” he challenged.

“True,” she agreed. “If ye
win, I’ll let ye keep the twenty-five sheep yer men took from me last night.”

Caelen shook his head. “I didna take yer sheep and neither did me men.”

“So ye say.”

“Are ye tryin’ to delay the inevitable?” Caelen asked as he unsheathed his sword.

Fiona’s skin turned to gooseflesh at the sound. There was something exciting, something that thrilled her to her very marrow whenever she heard that seductive sound of a sword against the leather sheath. ’Twas as enticing a sound as a lover’s kiss upon bare flesh, or so she imagined.

Withdrawing her own, she continued to smile at him. “Fine. If ye
win, I’ll give
ye twenty-five sheep.”

She heard her brothers groan behind her. They couldn’t afford to lose five sheep, let alone five times that.
Why, oh why do they no’ trust me?

Caelen and Fiona circled one another, their swords glinting in the late afternoon sun. Although she was taller than most women, Caelen was taller than she by six inches. All muscle and cunning. Were it a battle of fisticuffs, she’d lose after the first punch.

But this was sword against sword.

A battle of wits, strategy, and skill.

The odds might not be in her favor, but Fiona McPherson was never one to back down from a challenge.

Caelen was the first to strike, albeit rather weakly. That was his first mistake, for she knew then, without a doubt, he would do nothing to harm her. Chivalry and ignorance could be a deadly combination. In truth, she wouldn’t do anything to maim the man, but teaching him a lesson that he was not likely soon to forget? The thought sent a shiver of excitement up and down her spine.

She blocked each of his thrusts. One of two things was at play. Either he was merely sizing her up, testing her abilities, or he was trying to wear her down. Physically, she was as sound as could be and rarely tired easily. Mentally, she was growing weary of his weak swordplay.

“McDunnah?” she asked, blocking yet another weak thrust. “Were I a man, would ye still be fightin’ like a young lad who canna yet grow a beard?”

He raised a brow adding a bit more strength to his next thrust.

’Twas time to call his feeble swordplay to an end. If he would not voluntarily treat her as an equal, she would force the issue.

On his next strike, Caelen grasped the hilt with both hands and swung sideways. As soon as she saw the manner in which he grasped his sword, Fiona crouched down, planted both hands firmly on the earth, and spun one leg out. Her foot caught Caelen just so on the side of his foot, and his legs went out from under him.

A cheer came up from her men, whilst a loud gasp of surprise came from Caelen’s.

Caelen landed on his back and before he had time to recover, Fiona was straddled atop him. He looked positively stunned. Fiona masked her glee well as she grabbed his wrists and pinned him to the ground.

She felt something hard under her bottom and knew full well it was his dagger. Still, she wanted to torment him for being so bloody nice instead of actually challenging her abilities.

Feigning surprise, a wide smile formed on her lips. She wriggled her bottom against the dagger for emphasis. “Och! Caelen! Be it the fightin’
that excites ye so, or is it me?”

T
he woman made
him daft with feelings and thoughts that were best left unfelt and unthought. For her own good as well as his.

Truthfully, he hadn’t wanted to harm so much as a hair on her head. He knew she was good with knives, for she’d proved it twice before. He should have known she’d be just as skilled with a sword. He knew he had frustrated her by throwing weak jabs and thrusts but hadn’t realized until she had kicked his feet out from under him, just how serious she was taking his challenge.

And now, she straddled him, and was taunting him in more ways than she realized. Aye, she was a stubborn woman, chief of her own clan, but there was something quite innocent hidden behind those beautiful green eyes of hers. There was no doubt in his mind that she did not realize the effect she had on him.

And when she asked,
Be it the fightin’ that excites ye so, or is it me?
It nearly did him in.

In one swift move, he rolled her over and onto her back, switching positions. A position he wished he could share with her in the privacy of his bedchamber, sans clothing.

“I must admit lass,” he smiled down at her, “it be a wee bit of both.”

What he did next surprised not only himself, but every other man and woman in attendance.

With her pinned beneath him, he slowly lowered his lips to hers.

Q
uite simply
, the kiss stole her breath away, along with her good senses. James had never kissed her in public, let alone with such abandon and passion. This was unlike any other kiss she’d ever experienced. Thrilling and intense in its simplicity. Her heart skipped along quite happily with her fluttering stomach.

For a brief moment, Fiona forgot where and who she was.

But only for a brief moment.

Certain she was that he’d meant only to disarm her and believing there was no meaning to the kiss other than to put her off balance mentally, she allowed the kiss to intensify.

His tongue caressed her bottom lip, begging entry, which she allowed. Were she not lying on her back in front of her brothers and men she might very well have given in to the warm feelings rising up in her belly, or the quivering taking place in her nether regions.

Before she lost complete control, she made a quick decision. She drew Caelen’s lower lip betwixt her own and bit.

Hard.

Stunned, he groaned in pain and withdrew, and grabbed his bottom lip with his fingers.

Fiona smiled triumphantly when he withdrew his fingers and stared in disbelief.

“I drew first blood.”

A
few heartbeats later
, he threw back his head and laughed.

Fiona wasn’t quite certain what to make of his laughter and decided to hold judgment, at least for now. It could be he laughed because he was as deranged as people claimed him to be. There was also a possibility that the manner in which she returned the kiss was laughable. Deep down she prayed it was the former for her womanly pride might not be able to withstand the latter.

Caelen looked up at his men, and with a smile, he declared Fiona the winner. “She drew first blood, lads!”

A rather loud protest went up amongst his men, while Fiona’s stood in stunned silence for a long moment.

Caelen stood and offered Fiona his hand. Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet.
I pray me face is no’ as red as it feels.
Glancing at him briefly, she was afraid he might be able to see in her eyes all that she was thinking and feeling. He seemed genuinely pleased to raise her hand in the air and announce her “the winner.”

Silence fell across their men as confused, bewildered eyes stared at the two of them. Brodie and Andrew stood with mouths agape. Caelen’s man, Kenneth, looked as though he were staring at a three-headed monster that had just crawled up from the bowels of the earth.

Caelen turned to her, still smiling. “Ye did good, lass! Ye drew first blood.” He leaned in, whispering into her ear. “’Twas a quite delightful way to be defeated.”

Any kind feelings she may have had for him fell away in the blink of an eye. She’d not allow him to charm away her common sense or make her forget why they were here to begin with. Fiona McPherson was not a senseless young girl who could be fooled by a handsome smile or kiss that made her toes curl. Nay, she was the chief of her clan and she’d not allow Caelen McDunnah to forget that.

Pushing aside all tender feelings, she pulled her hand away and headed toward her horse, with her men quickly following. She mounted and called down to Caelen. “I’ll expect me cattle by the end of the week.”

Caelen was still smiling as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “I thought we were no’ allowed on McPherson land?”

Resisting the desire to kick him in his head for being such an arrogant arse, she said, “I’ll make an exception this one time, McDunnah, as ye’ll be bringin’ me the cattle I won fer drawin’ first blood. After that, I’ll no’ be so kind.”

Not wanting to give him the opportunity to respond, she turned her horse around and left as quickly as she could with Caelen McDunnah’s laughter trailing behind her.

I
t took
three days for Caelen and Kenneth to question every man within and surrounding the keep. Not one could tell them anything about Fiona McPherson’s stolen sheep or how a McDunnah dagger and bit of cloth had been found at the site of the first attack. But they all had an opinion on what they thought of Caelen allowing Fiona McPherson to draw first blood. Even his grandminny was concerned.

“Did ye truly allow a woman to draw first blood?” she asked him when he came to visit her with the hopes that she had heard some bit of gossip that would shine some light on the matter.

“I didna allow it,” Caelen answered as honestly as he could. “She drew it fairly.”
And I enjoyed every blissful moment of it.

They sat together at the table in Burunild’s cottage, sharing cider and bread. ’Twas an overcast day, one where the sun and clouds were playing a game of hide and seek.

Burunild clucked her tongue and shook her head. “I think she’s bewitched ye.”

Caelen raised a brow. “I do no’ mean to be disrespectful,” Caelen said. “But I think ye’ve gone mad.” So had half his clan for many had accused Fiona of bewitching him, either with a spell or her beauty. They appeared to be equally divided.

“Have I now?” Burunild said. “’Twas no’ me
who allowed a lovely young lass to draw first blood.”

Caelen took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “That lovely young lass happens to be chief of her own clan. She also happens to be quite skilled with knives and swords.”

“I’ve ne’er met a woman clan chief before,” Burunild said as she offered him another slice of bread. “I would verra much like to meet one before I leave this earth.”

Grateful for the change in subject, Caelen said, “She’s a fierce thing. I think ye’d like her.”

“As a granddaughter-in-law?”

He nearly choked on his cider. “Are ye daft, woman?” he asked angrily once he got his choking under control.

“Bah!” Burunild said a she scowled at him. “That be twice now that ye’ve disrespected yer grandminny!” She picked up the walking stick that rested against the table and shook it at him. “Ye be no’ too big fer me to beat ye senseless, ye heathen!”

He did not feel guilty for disrespecting her, but he did feel guilty for allowing her to goad him. Taking a deep breath, he promptly got his anger under control. “I did no’ mean to yell or be disrespectful,” he lied. “But ye are daft if ye think the woman has bewitched me or that I have any notions of marryin’ her.”

While he might have been tormented with dreams of bedding the woman, marriage was out of the question.

Burunild eyed him suspiciously for a moment. “Ye are afraid.”

Why was this woman intent on driving him mad? “Afraid?” he asked, appalled at the accusation. “Afraid of what?” He regretted asking the question the moment he heard it leaving his mouth.

The auld woman shook her head in disgust. “Ye be afraid of givin’ yer heart to her. Or to any woman fer that matter.” Looking away as if she were ashamed of him, she laid the walking stick across her lap. “How long will ye grieve fer a woman ye did no’ love?”

Insulted, he pushed himself away from the table. Close to being furious, he told himself to leave before he said something he might later regret.

“I loved me wife,” he said, pausing at the door. “I loved her verra much.”

Burunild pinned him in place with an icy glare of reproach. “Before she died or after?” she asked. “’Tis guilt that keeps ye grievin’, no’ love. Ye be afraid to love anyone fer fear ye’ll have to relive the nightmare of losin’ another wife or babe. ’Tis guilt that kept ye even from namin’ yer son and ’tis guilt over no’ bein’ there for them that keeps ye so rooted in the past.”

It mattered not to Caelen that Burunild spoke the truth. Guilt, remorse, and grief had kept him from naming his son. It also kept him from ever considering taking another wife. But he’d rather have his eyes pulled out of their sockets by rats than to admit such to his grandminny.

“I thank ye fer the cider and bread,” he said as he pulled the door open. “I’ll be quite busy fer a time. I’ll send someone to look in on ye.”

Burunild called after him. “If ye do no’ rid yerself of that guilt, Caelen McDunnah, ye’ll die all alone! A sad, lonely man!”

Ignoring her, he left the cottage, quietly shutting the door behind him.

His grandminny was correct in one regard. He would die alone. But he’d not die sad or lonely. Aye, he’d have regrets and tried to convince himself that no man could leave God’s earth without them.

A
ngry with his grandminny
, Caelen left her cottage and headed back toward his keep. He’d have to consume vast amounts of whisky in order to forget the conversation that had just taken place. However, getting drunk was out of the question. He’d need to keep his wits about him if he were to get himself out of this current predicament.

Caelen’s gut told him his men were innocent. Someone wanted it to appear that the McDunnahs had stolen McPherson sheep. But why? To what end? Who would want the McDunnahs and McPhersons at war with one another? None of it made sense.

Since he could not find the answers amongst his own people, mayhap they lie with the McPhersons and there was only one way to find out. He went in search of Kenneth.

H
e had found
Kenneth in the main gathering room, going over plans for their new granary with several carpenters. Caelen tried to feign interest in the plans, but his heart was not in it. His grandminny’s words reverberated in his mind. It was difficult to push her words away, for, as much as he hated to admit it, they were nothing but the truth.

Once they finished discussing the new granary, Caelen pulled Kenneth into his private study.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about our problem,” Caelen told him as he poured ale into two cups.

“Which one?” Kenneth asked as he took a cup. “The fact that ye let a wee lass best ye? The fact that same lass has bewitched ye? Or the fact that someone wants us at war with the McPhersons?”

Caelen sighed angrily. “Why is it everyone believes I let
Fiona win? And why is everyone convinced she has bewitched me?” He tossed back the entire mug of ale and slammed the empty cup down onto his desk.

Ignoring his cousin’s anger, Kenneth pressed onward. “Well, ‘twasn’t me that allowed a woman to best me, to draw first blood. I be no’ the one besotted with her.”

Stunned, he could not speak for several long moments. “Besotted?” he growled. “Has this entire clan gone mad?”

Kenneth shrugged his shoulders. “If the clan has gone mad, ’tis because their chief has.”

“What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?” He was growing weary of the accusations that he was besotted or bewitched. If anything, he was quite bewildered at how his people had formed such conclusions.

“It means that I saw how ye looked at the woman. I saw with me own eyes how ye stared after her as if ye were a man dyin’ of thirst. ’Tis why ye let her win.”

“Oh for the love of God!” Caelen shouted. “I did no’ let
her win!”

Kenneth set his cup down, crossed his broad arms over his chest and stared at his chief. “The Caelen McDunnah I
know, would have drawn first blood in one swipe of his sword, just to prove he could do it.”

“But ’twas no’ a man I was up against!” What had they expected him to do? Slice her throat from ear to ear? What good would that have done?

“Nay, ’twas no’ a man ye were up against, but a right bonny lass.”

“Bonny or no’, she is still a woman and
the chief of the McPhersons. And that has nothin’ to do with the fact that someone wants us at war with one another.”

“I can only hope that ye let her win because she is a woman and you were tryin’ to avoid a clan war.”

Caelen imagined he could stand on top of his keep and shout out to the world that he hadn’t
let
Fiona McPherson win. Winning had not been the point in making his challenge that day.

“I challenged Fiona to keep one of me men from doin’ it. They’d no’ have shown any restraint, fer they were far too angry with her.”

“Then why, pray tell, did ye kiss her? ’Twas it all part of yer devious plan to catch her unawares? Were ye plannin’ on kissin’ her into submission?”

He had no explanation, at least not one that would put him in a good light.

Fiona had been on her back, pinned beneath him, as he had been imagining far too often. He’d been unable to resist the urge and now he was living to regret it.

“It matters no’ why I kissed her.”

“I think it does,” Kenneth argued. “If ye kissed her because yer a devious bastard, then I applaud ye. But if ye kissed her because ye are besotted with her, then I fear we are in a grave amount of danger.”

“What do ye mean, danger?” Mayhap his cousin had lost his mind.

With a heavy sigh and shake of his head, Kenneth answered. “If someone is tryin’ to get us to go to war with the McPhersons, and we instead form an alliance …” he let his words trail off.

Kenneth’s worry had some merit to it. There were too many unknowns at the moment. He had no idea who was behind the raids on McPherson lands or why they wanted it to appear that the McDunnahs were responsible.

“I kissed Fiona McPherson because I am
a devious bastard,” Caelen said, which was not a complete lie. “And contrary to popular belief, I have no’ lost me mind, nor am I bewitched or besotted.”

Kenneth’s face was awash in doubt and Caelen knew there was probably very little he could say at the moment to disprove his cousin’s theories.

“We need to find out who is stealing McPherson sheep and why they want us to be blamed,” Caelen said with the hope that Kenneth would begin to focus on something other than lasses who cast spells.

Kenneth gave a nod of agreement. “Who hates us the most at the moment?”

Caelen smiled deviously. “Well, now, Kenneth, that be a right long list. Our list of allies is much shorter.”