Caelen's Wife - the Complete Collection (15 page)

“I fell into a gulley, where I was impaled with by a long, heavy tree limb. I nearly bled to death, and would have had Phillip and Kenneth no’ come along when they did!”

Neither Fiona nor William could understand why their brother was embarrassed. He very well could have died. There was no shame in how he was wounded.

“Brodie,” Fiona said, offering a comforting smile and pat on his hand. “Ye could have died. There be no shame in that.”

“Bah!” Brodie said. “If I’m to die, I do no’ want it to be from fallin’ from me horse. ’Tis embarrassin’!” he exclaimed.

“Would ye rather go out in a hailstorm of arrows in some bloody battle?” William asked, just as perplexed as Fiona.

“Well that would be a better story to tell than I fell off me horse!”

“Ye’ve gone mad,” Fiona told him. As an afterthought, she asked, “Why were ye at the McGregors?”

“Because I believe he is the one behind the raids and responsible for Bridgett’s death.”

B
rodie explained
why he thought the McGregor was behind the raids and Bridgett’s death.

“He was the first to propose,” he said as began to sound quite tired. “I thought it best to start at the beginnin’. So I went to see him.”

“And?” Fiona asked, anxious to hear what he had learned.

“Well, I found it quite odd that when I arrived to speak with him, he gave me his condolences on yer
death.”

She blinked twice, sincerely confused. “Me? He thought I was dead?”

Brodie gave an affirming nod. “Aye, he did. And that is what I found so odd. I meself had only learned that mornin’ of Bridgett’s death. When I met with him late that night, he was under the assumption that ye had died in the raid.”

A chill raced down her spine. How on earth could the McGregor have known?

“When I asked him how he knew, he became verra nervous and said that word travels fast in these parts. Sometimes it arrives with inaccurate information. I decided to leave it alone, so I hurried to get back here, to let Caelen know what I had learned. That is when I hurt me leg.”

Fiona had to agree that news and gossip traveled quickly, as if it were carried on the winds itself. Having learned her lesson the hard way about accusing someone without proof, she was not quite ready to send out a call for war.

She was about to tell Brodie just that, when Phillip popped into the room.

“Me lady,” he said with a smile. “I ken ye’ve traveled far this night. I’ve rooms prepared fer ye and yer men. I have a hot bath waitin’ down the hall fer ye as well.”

How long had it been since she’d had a hot bath and a good night’s sleep? Far too long. ’Twas rather tempting.

“I fear we canna stay,” Fiona said as she stood. “We need to return home and tell Collin what we now ken.”

William stepped forward. “Collin already knows, Fiona. Everythin’ Brodie just shared with us was in his letter.”

“Why didna ye tell me?” she asked sounding more defensive than she had intended. She was the chief of their clan. That information should have been given to her, not Collin.

“Fi, I knew ye’d need to hear it from Brodie’s own lips. I also knew ye’d need to see fer yerself that the McDunnahs are no’ preparin’ for war against us. Ye’d no’ have believed me otherwise.”

Fiona knew he was right. She hadn’t exactly been in the right frame of mind these past days. Overwrought with guilt and grief, she would not have believed anything they told her.

“Verra well,” she finally said. “We can rest a while. But I want to return home as soon as possible. No more than a few hours rest, William.”

He looked relieved. “Good! I’ve no’ slept well of late,” he admitted. “We can all use a good rest.”

Knowing that Caelen was not here helped in her decision. She would bathe, sleep for a few hours, and leave before he returned.

F
iona soaked
in the tub until her skin wrinkled and the water turned tepid. The hot water had done wonders for her achy muscles and tired bones.

Her room was nicely appointed, with a large bed in the center of the room, much nicer than the one she slept in at home. It sat near the fireplace, which at the moment had a roaring blaze going.

Grabbing a drying cloth from the little stool that had been placed by the tub, she stood and wrapped herself in the luxurious-feeling linen. The warmth from the fire felt almost as good as the lovely bath. She sat down in the chair next to the hearth and began to dry her hair and combed her fingers through damp locks. Had she known she would have been treated so kindly, she would have brought an extra change of clothes and something in which to sleep.

Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier the longer she sat by the fire. Exhaustion was beginning to set in. She was about to climb into the bed when someone knocked at her door.

Believing it was the maid who had helped her earlier, she gave permission to enter.

Caelen.

F
iona gasped
, stunned to see him. Her mind raced to find something intelligent to say. Then she remembered she was naked, save for the drying cloth. That didn’t help her situation at all.

What should she say? Where should she begin? What should she do?

Knots formed in her stomach, as they so often did whenever he was near. But this was different. She owed him more than just an apology.

“Caelen,” she said, her voice scratchy from jumbled nerves.

“Fiona,” he said as he took a step closer.

His expression was unreadable. She couldn’t tell if he was angry, or happy to see her, or furious to find her here in his keep after all she had said to him the last time she was here.

“Caelen,” she swallowed hard and tried again. “Caelen, I owe ye an apology.”

She was met with stone-cold silence.

Somehow, she would feel better if he would scream or shout or draw his weapon and challenge her. Though this time, she knew she’d not best him.

“I am so verra sorry, Caelen. I canna begin to express to ye how sorry I am. I ken the truth now. Brodie has told me everythin’.” Suddenly, she felt quite cold as she stood there under his intense and scrutinizing stare. She pulled the drying cloth just a bit tighter.

“I ken I do no’ deserve yer fergiveness. Ye have every right to hate me and I would no’ blame ye if I did. I behaved so poorly — nay,” she shook her head, that wasn’t the right word to describe how she had behaved. “I behaved wretchedly, horribly, and I do no’ deserve yer friendship nor yer fergiveness.”

He remained silent and still. It made her all the more nervous.

“I will no’ try to insult yer intelligence by tryin’ to justify how I treated ye. All that I can do is tell ye what is in me heart.”

“What
is
in yer heart?” he asked, his voice soft and low.

He certainly didn’t sound
angry, but mayhap he was better at masking his feelings than she realized.

Fiona cleared her throat before answering. “Me heart? ’Tis full of sadness and sorrow, as well as shame and guilt. I should never have said those things, Caelen. I should never have accused ye. Were I truly yer friend, I would have asked ye first. But I was so bloody angry that I could no’ see clearly. I accused ye, found ye guilty, and set ye to hang, all in the span of one heartbeat. Fer all of that, I am most sincerely sorry.”

“Did Brodie tell ye that I’ve already fergiven ye?” he asked as he took another step toward her.

Fiona nodded her head for she had suddenly become mute. The knots in her stomach grew and were now firmly lodged in her throat.

“I take it ye didna believe him,” he said as he took one more step.

Fiona shook her head. “I do no’ understand how ye could,” her voice was but a whisper now. The closer he drew, the more nervous she became. “I behaved so horribly.”

“Aye,” he said. “Ye did. But I understand the why of it, Fiona, and I canna blame ye.”

Her legs began to shake and for the life of her, she did not know why. That was a complete lie. She knew why they shook. They shook because he was but a step away, close enough to touch, and he looked so … so handsome and desirable that it made her mouth go horribly dry. She cursed inwardly for feeling that way about him for she had no right to. Not after everything that had happened.

“If ye hear it from me own lips, will ye believe it?”

Somehow, she managed to scratch out a very weak
aye.

“Fiona, I fergive ye.”

She might have said thank you, but she couldn’t be sure because he was now close enough that she could feel his breath against her face.

“Would ye like to ken what is in me heart?”

She might have nodded aye, but again, she couldn’t be certain, for she seemed to have lost complete control of her senses. For the life of her, she could not take her eyes from his. She could not move, couldn’t speak, nay, she could barely breath at this point.

“Fiona, I love ye.”

C
aelen reaffirmed
his declaration with a kiss.

’Twas sweet at first. Soft, tender, just a whisper of a kiss.

Fiona’s knees practically knocked together.

With great care, he placed a large hand at the small of her back and with the other, he cupped her cheek, and ever so gently he pulled her closer. He’d garner no complaint from her.

Then the kiss turned from something sweet and tender to heated and passionate. Heat, from his body or hers, or both, either way, it felt much like when a fresh log is added to the hearth; a quiet
swoosh
just before bursting into flames.

’Twas a promise of things that could happen if she allowed the kiss to progress. At the moment she did not have the wherewithal to tell him to stop. She found she rather liked the way her stomach tingled and tightened and the way her toes tickled.

His tongue traced along the gap between her lips, demanding entry. Deciding she did not want the kiss to end, she gave passage. She sucked in a deep breath when the tip of his tongue touched hers. Her skin turned to gooseflesh and that odd, tingling sensation moved from her stomach to parts of her she hadn’t been aware she owned until that moment.

James had never kissed her like this, with such wanton abandon. James had never made her feel so alive and excited.

James.

Oh, no, this would not work!

No matter how alive and utterly female she felt at the moment, she had to stop before things went as far as she so desperately wanted them to.

Taking a deep breath, she placed her palms against Caelen’s chest and pulled away from his glorious and magnificent mouth.

“Please, stop,” she said as she gasped for air.

She could not quite describe the smile he offered her. ’Twas a combination of deviousness and pride. He gave a slow shake of his head. “I do no’ think ye truly wish fer me to stop. I ken that I do no’ wish to.”

How was she to respond to that? ’Twas only the truth he spoke. Truly, she had no desire for him to cease. If anything, she wanted to let her drying cloth fall to the floor and then have him carry her to that very warm-looking and rather inviting bed that was just a step or two away.

Nay! She had to be strong, had to put her foot down and had to behave like a logical thinking woman. She could not give in.

Her eyes soaked in all of him. Those dark brown eyes of his sparkled with what could only be described as desire. And those lips … she had tasted those lips and knew all too well how they could make her feel. Her eyes fell to his chest. She had felt that hard-as-stone chest pressed against her own and wondered what he might look like sans the light blue tunic he now wore.

“Do ye truly wish me to stop, Fiona?” Caelen asked. His voice was soft, his tone sincere.

Did she? Did she
truly
want this to end here? Now?

Yer a woman full grown for heaven’s sake! Yer a widow, no’ some innocent, calf-eyed lass with delusions of grandeur or illusions of a lifetime of moments like these. There are no more moments like this in yer future. ’Tis now or never, Fiona McPherson.

She swallowed once, then again, before answering. “Nay, Caelen, I do no’ wish fer ye to stop.”

’
T
was
true that Fiona did not want him to stop.

Promises of untold pleasures could be found in those sparkling brown eyes of his. She hoped Caelen could not hear her thundering heart as it beat against her breast, or that he would not notice the way her body quaked with uncertainty.

Caelen did not give her any time in which to change her mind. Wrapping his big hands around her waist, he pulled her closer. His lips felt hot yet soft against hers, making her breaths jagged and harsh. She clung to him, fighting to keep from falling apart in his arms.

Countless new sensations tickled her inside to out, turning her skin to gooseflesh. His calloused hands turned to silk as his fingertips trailed up her back and down again. Breathing became increasingly difficult; thinking any coherent thought impossible.

His lips left hers, leaving her breathless and wanting. He left trails of heat behind with those glorious, magnificent lips, from her cheek, down her neck, to that very tender spot behind her ear.

Nay, it had never felt like this with James. James had never taken his time like this with hot tender kisses, soft caresses. Nay, joining with James had never taken much time. There’d been no careful exploration of her body; it had simply been a man doing his duty, trying to get his wife with child, nothing more. Afterwards, she’d always felt ashamed, severely lacking on so many levels, and broken.

This, this was entirely different. Exhilarating, wondrous and intoxicating.

Still, doubts crept in. Mayhap she should warn him now, before he got far too excited, before
she
became far too excited and they both ended up disappointed.

“Caelen,” she whispered, not recognizing her own voice.

“Hmmm?” he hummed against her neck as his fingertips gently touched her shoulders.

“I,” she needed to tell him something, but couldn’t remember once his fingertips found their way to her breasts. Oh, she could not think when he did that. But there was something she needed to tell him. Something important.

His attentions turned to the other side of her neck then, his fingers dancing tenderly across her skin. Good Lord she was going to faint soon, she just knew it. And what was she doing just standing there? Shouldn’t she be kissing him? Touching him? Her mind was a jumbled, incoherent mess.

Ever so tenderly, he took her hands in his and placed sweet kisses on each of her fingertips before he started to pull her toward the bed. The bed. The big, empty, inviting bed. A flood of depressing memories came crashing in then, pulling her out of her stupor.

“Wait!” she cried out as she pulled her hands away from his.

Caelen stared at her with a most confused expression. “Have ye changed yer mind?” he asked, looking as though he was praying she hadn’t.

“Nay,” she said, swallowing hard and doing her best to get her breathing back under control.

He let out the breath he’d been holding as a smile erupted on his face. “Good,” he said happily. “Fer I fear the loch be nowhere cold enough to quench me desire fer ye.”

When he took a step toward her, she jumped back and held up one hand. “Wait!”

He stopped, held his hands up in defeat. “What be the matter, Fiona?”

“I need to tell ye somethin’,” she said as she looked around for her drying cloth. It was on the floor by Caelen’s feet. “I need the dryin’ cloth,” she said, indicating with her head the spot near his feet.

“Why?” he asked with a raised brow.

“Because I be naked,” she said, covering her breasts with her arms.

His smile turned quite devious. “I like ye that way.”

“But I have to tell ye somethin’, and I would prefer no’ to tell ye whilst I be naked.”

He sighed, scooped up the drying cloth and stepped toward her. Again, she jumped back and away as if he was a dangerous animal. Mayhap he was.

“Fiona, please, lass, ye can tell me anythin’,” he said as he stretched out his arm and offered her the cloth. “Naked or fully clothed, ye can tell me anythin’.”

Oh, how she prayed he meant what he said. She took the cloth and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders. It didn’t help her unease. She stared at him, suddenly wishing for a place to hide, to run, to avoid the embarrassment she was about to face. Mayhap he would be kind and not laugh at her. She couldn’t bear to have him laugh at her.

He waited. And he waited. And he waited. Finally, he blew out a long breath and sat on the edge of the bed. “What is it ye wanted to tell me?”

Fiona cleared her throat and took a fortifying breath. “May I please have yer promise that ye’ll no’ yell at me, or worse yet, laugh?”

His brows furrowed as he cocked his head to one side. “Aye, I do so promise.”

“If ye yell or laugh, so help me Caelen, I’ll run ye through with me sword and every
sgian dubh
in me possession.”

She saw a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “I swear I will,” she told him.

“I promise, I’ll no’ yell, laugh or do anythin’ else to upset ye.”

She searched his eyes again and felt he meant to keep his word. The words poured out, so quickly that even she didn’t quite understand what she had said. “Me womanly parts be broken!”

He looked at her with such an odd expression that she felt as though every square inch of her skin burned with embarrassment. “Beg yer pardon?”

Frustration took hold. “Me womanly parts be broken!” she repeated, as if that clarified everything. He continued to look puzzled. “They do no’ work proper.”

“At the risk of being gutted, can ye please explain what ye mean that they
do no’ work proper?
”

She swallowed hard before answering. “They do no’ work proper, like other women ye may have known.”

Caelen sighed and shook his head. “I fear I do no’ ken what ye mean, Fiona.”

“I—” ’twas too humiliating to put to voice, but she knew she must. “I have never found me woman’s release.”

He was as still as a stone obelisk.

“That does no’ mean that we can no’ —” she paused, her humiliation growing by leaps and bounds. “That does no’ mean that we can no’, or that is to say, that you can no’ enjoy me company, if ye still want to that is. I ken it can be verra frustratin’ fer a man, when his woman can no’, that is, when she be unable to enjoy the experience as much as he. I mean, ’twas frustratin’ fer James, and after a few times, he quit tryin’, but yer no’ James and I really should no’ be thinkin’ of him now, but I felt I should warn ye, so that when I do no’, ye will no’ be frustrated to the point of anger.” She took a deep breath, lowered her voice and her eyes. “I could no’ bear that.”

Before she knew it, he was standing before her, his hands on her shoulders. “Fiona, ye mean ye’ve never? Not once?”

Tears pooled in her eyes and she could not bear to look at him. “I think I was close once, but nay, I’ve no’.”

When she heard him chuckle softly, her eyes and mouth flew open, her anger quite apparent. “Ye promised ye’d no’ laugh!”

“Fiona, ye need no’ be ashamed or embarrassed. Some women just need a little extra time to find it, is all.”

She scrunched her brow and looked for signs of deception.

“And there be a number of different ways to help ye.”

She didn’t dare ask him for clarification. ’Twas humiliating enough to admit her defect, let alone ask him for clarification.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips. “And I’m perfectly willin’ to explore all those different ways with ye.”

Her stomach lurched, tightened, and grew warm. Everything about the man held a promise, from his deep, soft voice to his fingertips.

“I have me hands,” he said as he carefully took a breast into each of his palms. “I have me fingers, too.” He caressed and teased with his fingertips. “And I have me mouth and tongue,” he said, as his mouth found hers again.

In that kiss, Fiona knew that being with Caelen would not remotely resemble anything she’d ever done with James.

F
iona woke hours later
, with Caelen’s arms wrapped around her and one heavy leg tossed over hers. Her head rested quite comfortably against his chest. The fur that covered the window flapped lazily, battling against the strong breeze. The warm afternoon air smelled of Bog Myrtle and bluebells and it tickled her skin. Over the soft crackle of low burning embers she could hear children laughing somewhere out of doors.

Soft steady breaths signified Caelen was in a deep sleep. His heart beat steadily and ’twas more beautiful than any bard’s song she’d ever heard. His scent, a combination of smoke, leather and soap, was more intoxicating than the finest Spanish wine. Searching her memory for a time in her life when she felt this content and satisfied, she came up blank. Add
that
to the long list of things she’d never before experienced.

Letting loose a soft sigh of satisfaction and peace, she snuggled in more closely. Aye, these past few hours were the things dreams were made of. Now she understood completely what all the excitement over joining with a man was about. In the future, when the women of her clan bespoke of all the excitement, fun, and joy that could be found in a man’s bed — or his floor, chair or windowsill — she’d know full well what they meant.

Och! To wake up like this each morn, or to fall asleep in his arms each night? ‘Twould be a dream come true.

Reality set in the moment she allowed her mind to wander to those forbidden places of her heart. The longing she felt when she realized this would be the one and only time in her life that she would wake up next to this most amazing man was like a hard slap to her face.

Nay, she told herself. ’Twas just this once, Fiona and ye take with ye but a memory. Nothin’ more than that.

She’d not feel guilty for what she’d done, for what had taken place between them. Nay, the only regret she had was knowing that it was only once.

She felt Caelen raise his head for a moment before settling back into his pillow. Hugging her tightly, he kissed the top of her head. “Fer a moment, I feared I was dreamin’.”

The soft timbre of his voice broke through the silence and stabbed at her heart. She had hoped to leave before he woke. Knowing full well ’twould have been a cowardly thing to do, she remained quiet, selfishly wanting to linger for just a few moments more.

“’Twill be a great honor and privilege to wake up to ye like this each morn, Fiona.”

Fiona pulled away from his embrace, sat up and looked into his eyes. He was so handsome, even with that long jagged scar that ran from his forehead to his waist. She had no idea how he’d come by it and regretted the harsh reality of knowing she’d never find out. His brown eyes sparkled with delight for a moment, until he read her face. The smile faded, replaced with confusion.

He loved her, of that there was no doubt. Caelen genuinely meant the words he’d spoken earlier, that he adored her, found her beautiful and irresistible. She would give almost anything in the world to wake up to him each morn.
Almost
anything.

Words and tears were lodged in her throat as they began a battle to see which would free themselves first. She left the bed and padded across the room to her clothes. Hurriedly, she began to dress before either the tears or words had a chance to escape.

“Fiona?” Caelen said as he left the bed. “What be the matter?”

The matter? Aye, he is as daft as he is handsome and experienced in the ways of lovin’.
She couldn’t manage to utter a word, could only shake her head as she pushed her arms into her under shirt.

He was beside her then with a comforting hand resting on her arm. She couldn’t bear to look at him. Quickly, she pulled the tunic on then grabbed her trews.

“Fiona?” His voice remained calm, soft and low, but she found no comfort in it. “Please, lass, tell me why ye look so sad?”

The tears she had tried so valiantly to hold at bay came rushing out along with her voice. “Caelen, I canna marry ye.”

He took a step back and cocked his head. “Why no’? Do ye no’ love me?”

Love him? With every fiber of her being she loved him, but knew nothing could come of it. “It matters no’ how I feel, Caelen. I canna marry ye,” she told him as she thrust one leg into her trews, then the other. The room seemed to grow smaller with each moment that passed whilst the ache in her heart intensified.

“Do ye love me or no’?” he asked, his voice calmly demanding an honest answer.

Fiona choked back a sob and nodded her head in affirmation. “Aye, I do, Caelen, but that changes nothin’. I canna marry ye.” Needing out of the room, she jumped to her feet and searched for her belt and sword, looking at everything but
him.
He was naked and she knew that a naked Caelen was far more dangerous than a fully-clothed and armed Caelen.

She located her belt on the floor next to the hearth, grabbed it and wrapped it around her waist. “I must return home,” she told him, unable to concentrate on anything more than the ache in her heart.

Daggers.
She needed her daggers. Finding them on the mantel she began tucking those into her boots and belt.

“Why can ye no’ marry me?”

Without thinking, she answered him harshly. “I canna and will no’ sacrifice me clan fer ye, or any other man, Caelen. I’ll no’ do that to them.”

“Why must ye sacrifice yer clan to be with me? To be me wife?”

She took a step forward, rallying the courage to finally look at him. If she kept her eyes on his, she’d be able to make it out of the room with some of her dignity intact. If she lowered them to his broad, hard chest, or parts further south, she would be doomed and damned.

“If I marry ye, my clan will be absorbed into yers. I’ll no’ let that happen.”

From his expression she knew he was silently questioning her sanity. “And what would be wrong with that?”

“I made a
vow
, Caelen, much like ye did when ye were made chief. I made a vow to protect me clan, me people at all costs. I also made a vow to James and to his father that I would never allow Clan McPherson to fall.”

“And ye think that by joinin’ with Clan McDunnah, it falls?”

“Aye, it means just that.” All at once she felt angry, broken and miserable.