Claiming the Highlander (13 page)

“Brenna! Brenna!”

She heard the panic in his voice. She lifted her hand and awoke every nerve in her and flooded her with pain again. She moaned. At least, she knew she would live.

He grasped her hand. Even that pained her. “Open your eyes!”

“Nay…it hurts.”

“Brenna, open your eyes.”

She peeled her eyes open. His brow wrinkled. His neck muscles strained. His veins cut stark against his skin.

“I’m going to check you. Do not move until I say to.” Caelen ran his hand over her head and down along her shoulders to her arms. She groaned and that sent a wave of pounding through her. He flinched back and cut his gaze to her face. He froze. His hands hovered about her waist. She regretted moaning. The man looked so worried. His eyes were wide. His pale coloring lost the little it possessed. She even saw his hands shake a little. She gave him a tight smile. Not that he moved. After a while, he gingerly moved to her torso, running his touch along her beyond her breast to over her stomach and downward, not stopping until he inspected her legs even her feet.

“I’m going to roll you over.”

She scrunched up her face. She wanted to tell him to leave her alone but she knew he would not listen to her. He slipped his arms beneath her waist and shoulders and rolled her to her side. He ran his hand along her back. She whimpered.

He finally finished his inspection, and then laid her back again.

“Nothing is broken. You can sit up if you wish.”

He grasped her hands. Tenderly and slowly, he drew her up. She let out a mixture of cries and moans.

He wrapped a supportive arm around her. She liked his attention, but wished she didn’t have to fly off the horse to get it. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere.”

“Does one place hurt more than the other?”

She scrunched up her face as she did a mental inspection of all her body parts. “Nay.”

“Good, you shall be bruised and sore but you will get back on the horse.” He brushed dirt off her sleeve.

“Is that my punishment for borrowing Thor?”

“Never. I would never treat you badly.” He settled beside her.

“Look at Thor just standing there, swinging his tail back and forth. Can I get back on the horse another day?”

“Are you walking back?”

She nibbled on the inside of her mouth. “Nay. Can I lead, though?”

“That’s my brave Countess.” With a supportive arm around her, he lifted her to her feet.

“One day, I may have to ride out to defend our home. It will look so much more intimidating if I’m on a horse.” She dusted off the grass and dirt.

“Let’s hope the day never comes.”

She limped her way to Thor and let Caelen lift her up. When Caelen mounted, she took the reins. She tapped her heels.

“A little harder,” he offered.

A harder tap and Thor was on his way.

“Loosen the reins. More—there. Relax your wrist. You lead, remember that. He will listen to you.”

She snorted but did as instructed. He pushed aside her hair and gave her a kiss on her neck.

To embarrass her, Thor listened to her. The ride home ended quickly. She drew Thor to a stop.

“Excellent. You have learned to stop him.”

“After my dismount, I remember what I must do and shall never forget.”

“Neither shall I.” Caelen dismounted first and swung her down. She was thankful for being off the beast, though.

Coinneach came over, still holding the egg.

“That will start to smell and you cannot keep giving eggs away.” She spotted a mule in the stable. “Who does that belong to?”

Coinneach looked over his shoulder. “Father Murray is here.”

She tossed the reins to Caelen. He stayed her with a touch. “We shall enter together. See to the horse.”

“I must look a fright. This is not good. Why has he come?” She gripped his plaid.

“I cannot disagree with that, but we shall face it together. Besides, he may be here to give my father last rites. Come, it is time we went inside.”

She tried to hold onto Caelen’s words. She hoped it was for his father’s soul as unforgiving as that thought was. She brushed off as much of the dirt and scraps. From Caelen’s cocked brows, she had failed to look presentable. Oh well. Together they stepped inside.

Father Murray sat among the council, speaking of news in the Highlands. There were marriages and deaths, feuds and fighting.

“Father Murray, welcome to Mackenzie Castle,” Caelen said.

“Thank you. Lady Wester Ross, you look injured.”

She waved away his words. “My husband was teaching me to ride, and I took a spill. No injuries, though.”

“Do you think that a good idea?” Gilroy started. “She could have been harmed or killed. She might even be with child now.” He stared at her middle.

Brenna’s welcoming grin tightened at his words.

“Don’t you think so? Tavish? Finian?”

“I’m surprised she canna ride. How did she travel ’ere?” Finian glanced about for an answer.

“I rode, though that isn’t a pressing matter. Father Murray, have you come for the laird?”

“In part, I heard the dogs howled all night. Though, as a man of the cloth I mustn’t put much stock in that, but as a highlander myself, I cannot deny it.”

“The other reason?” Caelen crossed his arms.

“I have been sent by the Bishop to see about this…complaint I suppose, that Laird Grant has raised.”

“What has he complained about,” Caelen asked.

“He says this union is unholy since there is blood relationship between the countess and yourself.”

“I know of no relation,” Brenna said.

“He claims it’s on your maternal line. Your grandfather and the lady. Though, inquiries are being made to the line of the generation.”

“That doesn’t explain your presence.”

Brenna grasped Caelen’s hand and gave him a slight rap on the back. “My husband does not mean to question you in such a manner. Forgive him.”

“Aye I do. Tell me why?”

“The king feels if the marriage possesses martial affection, then the laird is grasping for any excuse to get what he wants. He wishes to know the truth. I have visited Laird Grant.”

“All is well?” Brenna had no care to hear the answer.

“All is.”

That was all he said. Two small words when her life could fall apart. She hated not having her questions answered. Oh, she had to learn all.

“Father, you are most welcome, and please let me see to your needs. I shall return.” She found a servant, ordered a chamber made ready, and then set off to the kitchen to order another setting for the evening meal.

Her father would not tear them apart. She’d show everyone how wonderful this union was.

* * * *

When Father Murray departed to wash up, Caelen joined the council. He would follow his father’s advice and work with them, or else fight against them. He decided to do both.

“Gilroy, you are the Seanachaidh.”

The three men leaned forward.

“Aye, you want me to go through the records and find if ’tis true or false?” Gilroy dropped his voice to a whisper, his voice thickening.

“If we can prove there is no relation between Brenna and myself, then we can stop this foolishness,” Caelen said. “I don’t want anyone to learn of this, especially my father.”

“He is laird,” Tavish said.

“He is dying. He doesn’t need to pass on to his reward worrying about the clan. You will have to deal with me. Can you do it without hostilities?”

Finian and Gilroy sent inquiring looks at Tavish. “If I must,” Tavish answered. “Can ye do the same?”

Caelen wished otherwise, to rid himself of these men. He couldn’t. He brought up the tense truce between them. “If I must.”

“Wat aboot her ladyship?” Finian asked.

“I shall handle her.”

Finian snorted. “Ye think ye can because it dinna appear tha way.”

“She wants this marriage as much as—we do.” Caelen caught himself before he revealed his desire for this marriage, and more importantly, his wife. He liked having her about. She wasn’t fearless, but she didn’t cower from her fears. She acted from her heart. Caelen believed it was reckless, yet he liked it in Brenna. More important, he respected her for it.

“Can she be trusted?” Finian asked.

“Has she proven otherwise?”

“The letter she sent to her father. Who ken wat she penned?” Tavish shook his head. “If we ken wat her father wrote, perhaps we’d ha’e an idea aboot w’ere she stands.”

Caelen wished to know what it said. He had seen her hide it in the bottom of her trunk.

“We have no reason not to trust her.” Caelen sickened at breaking her trust.

“And these men, wat aboot them? Maybe ten an’ six men are enough.” Tavish pointed at Caelen.

“The men can be watched. Give that duty to Manus. He’s chasin’ around the lass anyway,” Finian added.

Caelen nodded. “I will see to that.”

“In the meantime, Father Murray’s presence means we must be careful about how we do this,” Gilroy said. “Can you handle treating your wife as an enemy?”

“I don’t see her as such. But I know my duty.” To both his wife and clan. Brenna came in from the rear of the great hall. She rolled her shoulders and grimaced. “I do not mean to disturb, but the servants are coming to prepare for the midday meal.”

“Good.” Finian rubbed his belly. “I am hungry.”

“Did you not have your mid-morning meal?”

“Aye, ’tis na enough.”

Gilroy laughed. “’Tis never enough. Kathleen always complained about your eating.”

“Surprised he hasna searched more out,” Tavish said.

“You must let me know all your needs. I shall have more served for you.” A warm flush of pink swathed across her cheeks.

“Och, you may spoil him, my lady, and he’d never return home.” Gilroy slapped his hands together at his joke.

“He is home.”

“Don’t offer that so soon, Brenna.”

She laughed, a light sound. Caelen smiled, though he hated that the very sound had him rushing with joy that he laughed at it.

“I shall clean up before the meal.” Brenna departed. Her walk was stiff and slowed. He had almost lost her because he didn’t want her to end up with her neck twisted at an odd angle. It was not as if he could order her to stop riding; she balked at such things and only saw it as a dare to disobey. Even now, he vividly saw her flying through the air, and the thought of her loss shook him. If he had been alone with her, he would have held her close till the chills vanished.

He started to the stairs to assist her, but Manus’ appearance turned him away from it. He called him over, and together they returned to the council.

“Manus, we have a duty for you.” His instinct told him this plan might go against him. He pushed them back, desperate to fix this. His father needed peace, and he’d bear the weight of this. He explained what he wanted from Manus.

“Those Grants are stirring up trouble.”

“Wat do ye mean?” Finian pursed his lips.

“At first, just their being here. The farmers who once toiled the land had to give it up for them, so they are not happy about that. Second, they’re keeping to themselves, apart from the rest of the clan, and seem hostile toward everyone.”

“How hostile?” Caelen crinkled his brow.

“So far, it’s been some looks and some comments. It should escalate soon, especially now that they wear Mackenzie plaids.”

“Wat?” Tavish jumped to his feet.

“Aye, Brenna has given them plaids.”

“Did ye ken aboot this?” Finian turned his incredulous gaze to Caelen.

“Nay.” He rubbed his chin. He knew, now, why she stole his horse. “Do all wear them?”

“All but two.” Manus held up two fingers. “That Oran wears his.”

“That’s the one chasin’ Alastronia,” Tavish said.

“He seems to be their leader and has a close relationship with Brenna.” Manus raised a black brow at Caelen.

“He worked in the kitchens.” One image crossed his mind—Brenna and Oran with their heads together. What were they plotting? “Watch him, but I’m interested in the two who don’t wear the plaids.”

“Fine, I shall watch out for all three.”

“Wat aboot Brenna?”

Finian looked at Caelen. He raised his brows waiting for his answer. “I shall.”

Gilroy shook his head. “I cannot believe she would do that. She’s a sweet soul. Someone is drawing her in and counting on her sweet disposition.”

Caelen hung his head as Manus said, “It has to be those men. She traveled with them. Naturally, she must feel a loyalty to them and her clan. She’s a female. They don’t understand such plots.”

Caelen never heard such nonsense. Women understood men’s machinations since they tended to be in the center of it. He didn’t doubt where her loyalties lay. But he had to do what was best for the clan. Wasn’t that the reason for the marriage?

* * * *

Brenna climbed the dais along with Father Murray. Between the dull ache of her body and her jumpy nerves, she lost her appetite. She lowered in the chair. Her bones cracked and her muscles rebelled. She lifted her cup of wine and drank deeply.

When she set it down, she saw Caelen’s attention fixed on her.

“After this you shall rest,” he ordered.

Brenna patted his hand and smiled at Father Murray. “You see how he cares for me. He is a good husband.”

Father Murray smiled. “You do not have to prove that to me.”

Brenna was unsure what he meant. Did he see the properness of the marriage? Maybe, he believed he needed to dissolve it? She opened her mouth to ask him, but Father Murray bowed his head. While the father asked to bless the food and expressed gratitude, Brenna pleaded that the king saw the righteousness of this union.

“Was the riding lesson a success?” Father Murray asked after raising his head.

Brenna killed the twitch of her lips as her neck heated. “Until I flew off the horse.”

“You fell more than flew,” Caelen added as he speared a choice of meat. He held out the dirk to her.

“No matter, I still ended up on the ground. I liked it until that point.” She closed her mouth around the morsel. She watched as his pupil dilated. The blue of his eyes glistened brighter against the dark circle. His gaze dipped to her mouth. She tilted her head for the kiss she knew was coming.