Claiming the Highlander (16 page)

She ran her hands along her arms. Her chin was tucked to her chest. It shook. He watched her, waiting for her to look at him, or for him to gather the words to comfort her.

She turned away without a glance and went to the door. She hovered just inside the threshold. “I would have shown you my father’s message.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I foolishly believed you trusted me, and you never asked.” She closed the door.

He cringed at the scrape of metal against metal of the door handle slipping into place. He stood surrounded by letters and garments strewn at his feet.

He departed the chamber and didn’t halt until he entered Rowen’s. His mother sat at the bed’s edge.

“Brenna showed me the letters. Why did you write them, Mother?”

She took the letter from him and read it. “You would write me and I would pen all the details of your life then add some sweet words. I always knew you cared for her. She was your wife and you would do no less.”

“Answer the question,” he ordered.

She stared down at the letter, clutched in her fingers. “At first, it was to deepen the bond between you two, and then we needed her loyalty. Laird Grant was in full agreement, purchasing gifts for her and presenting them in your name. Your father had used his influence to get him the office, but Comyn had other ideas, putting his favorites in power. You should be glad about this.”

“Glad.” He spat out. “Why would I be? She’s hurt. I’ve hurt her.
This
hurt her. To her, everything is a lie.”

“I am sorry for that. But look what is happening—her father is now contesting the union, but she has chosen you. Imagine the turmoil that can happen. We can lose this land and the title, and think of the fighting that will occur. If you had done your duty, this would not be necessary.”

Caelen flinched from the blow of her comment and her blade-sharp gaze.

“Forgive me, Caelen. I did not mean to lash out.”

“Brenna knows the truth.”

“Then win back her love and trust,” she said as she returned the letter to him.

“I do not know if I can.”

“Then you both will live unhappy lives.”

How could a man rebuild trust after a betrayal? He wasn’t sure he deserved it.

Chapter Eight

The full moon pushed the sun from the sky. Its beams danced across the earth. The lapping of waves blended along with the rustle of leaves. Alastronia waited. She dared not light a candle and disturb her father. Though the day had been long, slumber failed to come. She was too primed to close her eyes. She listened to her father’s breathing. She had tossed her covers off and laid there with her hands on her stomach, drumming her fingers.

Then she heard the animal call once, and then again. She sat up and peeked at her father. Carefully, she rose from the bed and made her way to the door. After she opened it, she peeked out her head.

Oran stood at the door and waved her out. She slipped outside and ran into his arms. He lifted her face. He fitted his lips to hers. She melted into the kiss. He pressed his lips more firmly against her own before he slipped his tongue between the crease of her lips.

He tasted of pure maleness and something more hedonistic. This was her first true kiss—one with pure passion for the person she was and not for her beauty. With aching slowness, he pulled away, only to give her a chaste kiss.

He cupped her face. His fingers tangled in her hair. “I can kiss ye forever.” Passion thickened his voice.

She held onto him. She would have crumbled at his feet if his steady hold left her. She licked her lips and tasted him again.

“My love, life will gat harder fae us. Na because of ye an’ me but because of others. Dinna turn away frae me.”

“Wat will happen? Tell me. I beg of ye.”

“I owe much to her ladyship an I beg ye na to think I am against the clan or ye. Please say ye shall na give up faith an’ belief that we shall be together.”

“I willna.” She took his hand and gave him a squeeze, putting all her support into the touch. In the darkness, they stood locked in an embrace. Holding each other was enough for them.

“I wish I hadna told ye,” he said, rubbing his cheek against the top of her head. “I dinna want ye harmed frae this.”

“I canna ask ye to desert this plan of yers. Ye are too honorable a man. I ask fae one thing, please dinna put yerself in harm’s way. I canna lose ye now that I found ye.”

“I canna tell ye nay but I shall try. That is all I can give ye.”

“I shallna ask fae more.”

A snap of branch turned their heads. Both peered into the copse of trees, and then looked away after seeing nothing.

* * * *

The three days of
caoine
finally ended. The pounding behind Brenna’s eyes hadn’t lessened between the scent of wine and
uisge beatha.
She could only smell a staleness that irritated her nostrils and stuck in her nose.

She forced her eyes open. The next three days would be hectic ones, dealing with the feasts and games in the laird’s honor. She gathered the servants and the clan members who aided this endeavor.

“Men please finish seeing to the ensemble of the games. Are the tents prepared?”

“Aye, my lady. There is ane fae the family an the aither for the council an gentlemen of the clan.”

“Very good.” She turned to the kitchen staff. “Please bring out the food before we are to depart. It would not be good to have insects about.”

She went over a few more details. After she dismissed everyone, the lairdess appeared.

“You have finished with the servants.” Her eyes danced about the empty hall.

Brenna beamed. “Aye, all has been seen to so you may rest.”

She let out a gusty sigh. “There is nothing for me to do.”

“You can rest and do not worry. I have everything in hand.”

“That I see.”

The sound of hurried steps heralded Keir’s entrance into the hall. “Laird Grant is approaching.”

“My father,” she said.

“Aye.” He shared a look with the lairdess.

Brenna watched her, seeing her face hardened with the coming denial.

“Give them entrance,” Caelen said as he joined them.

Keir departed. The closing door cut off his scream to open the gate.

Brenna couldn’t understand the reason for his arrival. He would say he came to pay his respect to the laird. She knew he had another reason. Everyone did. After yesterday’s events, she knew Caelen would look at her with distrust. She saw it now with his quick glance before he looked to the doorway.

Every instinct in her demanded she react but she stifled it. She had no reason to be on the defensive. She was not guilty.

“Prepare a chamber for him, Brenna.”

“The servants are busy,” she answered. “But I shall find one.”

“Nay, I will handle it. Brenna must greet her father.” The lairdess went off in search of one.

She watched him swagger toward her. Right in her heart, she felt a stabbing pain that almost had her bent over. She yearned for nothing more than to hold him, bury her face in his chest. This urge in her to have his love and loyalty weaken the strength she had carried with her throughout life. All worsened with her father and his arrival and any scheme he planned. Both Caelen and her father wanted power. She wanted love.

“Do you think it is wise to have him here?”

“Aye, I want him to see us and watch him.”

She ached to turn away, but his confidence in her raised her hope.

“Come, Brenna.” He offered his arm.

She accepted it. The simple touch soothed her. Such a simple act of a gentleman, and she was ready to forgive all.

Arm in arm, they waited atop the castle stairs. Grant guards came in first. In the center of the column, Laird Grant rode in. He halted his horse. She watched him dismount and amble toward them.

He was still a handsome man, and the women whispered this about him. His light brown hair was touched with gold. He was still as fit as men half his age and strong enough to wield his claymore. He squinted, deepening the lines about his eyes and hiding the sapphire blue hue. What most did not know was that his eyesight was failing him.

He greeted Caelen. “Brenna.” His thin lips spread, showing how he had charmed many, including his current wife. He embraced her.

“Father.” His plaid muffled her reply.

“You look well.”

“Good, since all is.”

He searched her face and then remembered Caelen was beside her. Terse condolences were given. “A chamber is being prepared. Come inside and wash up from your journey.” Brenna stepped back for him to enter.

He swept inside and looked about. He ambled to the laird.

The vein in the center of Caelen’s forehead throbbed. It was his only sign of annoyance. Brenna felt hollow. She was caught between these two men and had bestowed her loyalty to both, which pulled her in two directions. Soon, she’d break apart.

Her father turned back. “The hall appears empty.”

“We are preparing for the games and the feast.” She led him to the enclave where a bowl and a ewer filled with rosewater sat, along with a linen to dry. “How is your wife? Why didn’t she accompany you?”

“She is well. She’s with child again.” He gave a boastful grin before he splashed his face.

He needed the sheriffdom more than ever. He had a legacy to build and it started with that position. Brenna hid her thoughts by pouring him wine.

“Good lass,” he said, as he swept up the cup.

Brenna watched his throat move as he swallowed.

He set the cup down. “You have settled nicely.”

“Aye. I have been helping the lairdess.”

Father’s brows pinched at the last word. He wiped away his expression. “Good. Good. It’s important you are a value in the household.”

Caelen’s mouth thinned.

Brenna blinked at his snide comment. “As I was schooled. How was your journey?” She had no care about his travels. He hadn’t come to pay his tributes. Nay, Father was assessing where he stood, but more importantly, her standing. They sat around and shared drink, speaking of nothing that held any importance.

“I rode whiplash fast. News had spread and as we are kin, I pushed my horse and men.”

“We are honored by your presence and loyalty,” Caelen said.

Their gazes locked on each other and held. Brenna’s mind scurried for something to say but nothing came to her. She knew the weather would not turn these two men from their stare down. Two men of the garrison entered, stopped short, and then departed.

“I am honored to be welcomed in to your home.” His tone was flat and he wore a tight smile that never reached his eyes.

A servant hurried over. She peeked at Caelen, and then at Brenna’s father. “The chamber is ready, my lady,” she whispered hurriedly.

“Father, allow me to show you to your chamber.”

Caelen stood. He laid his hand flat on the table. Before Brenna disappeared up the stairs, she looked back at Caelen. He slammed his hand flat against the table.

She led the way to the chamber. Prickles broke out along her neck and down her spine from her father’s steady gaze. She never glanced back.

At the chamber, she pushed open the door and lingered outside. Her father motioned her inside with a sweep of his hand.

She gulped back her hesitation and dragged her feet across the threshold. He shut the door and then leaned against it.

“Nice chamber.” He hadn’t bothered to look away from her. “Brenna, you look much changed.”

She blinked then looked down at herself. “It seems fitting. My life is much changed.”

He smiled. “You were always happy here. When you returned after being fostered, you talked about nothing else. Truth was, I grew to detest your stories.”

“Aye, you tended to groan when I repeated them.” Her insides felt like jelly.

“I knew each one by heart, but then I encouraged it.”

“That you did with the letters.” Her eyes began to burn. She blinked away the wetness.

“Ah.” He pressed his lips together, looking sheepish. “You have learned the truth. Laird and Lairdess MacKenzie, as well as I, thought it best. You were naught but a wee lass, no bigger than my leg, and you became fearful—nay—uneasy about the union. To stop your fears, we set off on that course of action. Besides, you were like most lasses, you wanted love.”

“So, you lied about it, made me a fool.”

“Nay. Love can come after marriage. It did with your mother and I.”

“Yet you are willing to take it away from me.”

“The laird’s death endangers our clan.”

“I do not believe so.” She folded her hands together and hid them among her pleats.

“The Frasers are stirring up trouble. They are stealing cattle and raiding the village. Our men are fighting with them. If I am sheriff, then I have the power to quell it and build up the clan.” He shook his head. “Caelen does not have the influence his father held.”

“Caelen is an earl.”

“Thanks to your mother,” he sneered, curling his upper lip.

“My mother, whom you now believe has blood ties with my husband. If the king had granted you the land, you would have never believed such a thing.”

“I would not need it.”

“Well, Father Murray is here to report to the bishop. But, Father, you forget one fact. Caelen holds influence with powerful clans and men. Scots do not forget, and that includes their king.”

“I have been waiting since you were a wee lass. The office is still not mine.”

“If you proceed with this action, you may never get your deepest desire.”

“Watch what you say to me.” He grabbed her by the arm.

She pushed off his hold. “Then watch how you treat me. I am a countess, and if this union is dissolved, I imagine the king will have much to say about my next marriage. Where shall that leave your ambitions?”

* * * *

Caelen stood at the window and gazed out to the bridge. He hadn’t been in the garrison tower since he was a small boy. He loved being here, hearing the naughty jokes and manly talk. He never cared that it smelled of sweat, oil, and dust or that the light was lacking.