Claiming the Highlander (7 page)

Caelen joined him. The man turned his face a fraction and peeked at Caelen. “What are they doing?”

“Trainin’, my lord.”

Caelen ignored his crisp tone. “Training. It seems more like dancing.”

Keir faced him. “MacKenzie men ha’e been training this way fae generations. The Viking Hammer”—he referred to Caelen’s grandfather—“trained this way an’ yer father, even ye ha’e trained this way.”

“My grandfather, father, nor myself have fought this way. You choose the five best men and I shall take the five worst and my men shall best yours in a fight.”

His nostrils flared. “Aye. Remember Caelen, men might call ye the Viking Highlander, but I ha’e fought mae than ye e’er had.”

“Because you are old. Call your men.”

Frustration notched up Keir’s volume as he called his five men forward. The men were broad as they were domineering, standing with their feet planted waist-length apart, as if they owned the parcel of earth beneath their feet. Their demeanor could spark fear in Sassenachs and their hard gazes reinforced their brutality.

Five men remained. They milled about, sharing looks. They weren’t scrawny men. Each seemed fit, with capable bodies. Yet, Caelen knew with a glance that each lacked direction. “The rest of you come here.”

They dragged their feet forward. Once they had gathered around, Keir explained the wager. “Ye two belong wit the earl.” He motioned them over with a tilt of his head.

The two hovered behind the others. “I na belong he’e. Ye didna ken us men, my lord.”

“The choice was Keir’s, not mine. What is your name?”

“Reamon.” He lifted his chin. Reamon appeared to be a strong lad with a long nose, pale skin, and nearly black hair chopped close to his head and spiked up.

“Since you spoke first, you are the leader of these men. You will be responsible for their actions, failures, and accomplishments. Can you handle that?”

“Aye.”

“You will answer to me and meet here every morn. We will train and I will not be easy on any of you. I demand your all and will not put up with anything less.”

The men nodded.

Keir walked up to him. “Do ye ken how ye hurt these men? They’ll only learn frae the better men.” He turned to the others. “Return to training.”

The men lingered. Keir glared and then faced them. “Did ye hear?”

Caelen gave the nod when his men looked to him for their order.

“Ye dinna ken wat ye have dun. I’ll show ye.”

* * * *

Oran had come from the fields. He was sweaty, dirty, and every muscle in his body burned from the day’s work. Nonetheless, he felt charged. And that was why he found himself walking to Alastronia’s cottar.

When he neared, it dawned on him that he should have cleaned up. It was the proper act of a man courting a woman, but he wanted to show her that he wasn’t afraid of work and could provide for her. He might not have much now, but he would.

She was in the vegetable garden, on her knees and a basket at her side. She greeted him as she shielded her eyes. She stood up and smiled at him.

“I hadna expected to see ye so soon.”

Oran blushed. “I ha’e spent too much time wit’ my friends an’ wished to look upon a pretty face.”

“Weel, ye ha’e looked. Farewell.” She scooped up her basket.

Oran grasped her arm. “Nay, I wish to speak as well.”

She squinted one eye and stared at him. Oran loosened his hold and his touch dropped away. She was going to send him on his way.

Her narrow shoulders slumped. “Verra weel.”

He took the basket from her. He looked down at the vegetables. “Makin’ a stew.”

“Aye, a fish stew. How is the planting comin’ along?”

“I am pleased wit the progress.”

“Ye take great pride in that.”

“On the old lands, I worked in the castle. The kitchens exactly, so I’ve love workin’ wit my hands an’ can cook many meals.”

“Most men wad na confess to such a skill.”

“I am na most men.” She gave him that look he had seen other men receive from interested women. Cait had looked at him like that in the beginning but it had turned to disappointment. He hadn’t been able to set up a household on the lands he was born and reared. What were his chances here in these new ones? Perhaps, he should leave her alone.

Not knowing whether to make an advance or not, he blurted, “I cared for the kitchen garden and loved growing my own ingredients.” He never shared that truth.

“I only think of it as another chore. You may come an’ care for my own. Ye may ha’e better luck wit’ it than I do. May I ask ye aboot a topic I am verra curious aboot?”

“Please.”

“The countess. What is she like? I ha’e never seen one. I’ve seen the lairdess.”

“Oh, Brenna is quiet nice.”

“Ye call her by name,” she said, her voice laced with awe.

A bit more swagger entered his step. “Aye.”

“Dinna stop. Wat else do ye ken?” Her elbow bumped against his. She didn’t move away.

He stared upon her beautiful face…her bright eyes sparkling with curiosity. “She is beautiful an verra much a lady. She loves her sweets.”

“Tell me mae.”

“She always has a bright disposition, but a temper. She never gives up until she gae wha’ever she desires. I think ye two wad be friends. Next time I am in her company, I can gat her to meet ye.”

She laid her hand on his arm. “Truly? I wod love that. Thank ye, Oran.” She ambled to her doorway. “The men ha’e come in.”

His throat closed, hoping her father didn’t send him off. The fishy scent, blended with sea air, reached his nostrils before the fishermen did. She looked over her shoulder to the rider approaching. As he neared, Oran recognized him. The laird’s son.

Manus leapt off his horse and approached Alastronia. “Forgive me for being tardy, but my duties required my attention.”

“I wasna aware ye planned to visit.” She scratched the nape of her neck.

“Nonsense. You know I come every day. You live at the far edge with no company of your own.”

Alastronia darted her gaze between Manus and him. She licked her lips and opened her mouth to speak only to close it. Manus snatched the basket from Oran. He grabbed her arm and slipped it down her slim forearm to let it hang on her elbow.

“However, I have a gift for you. I’m inviting both your father and yourself to feast at the great hall tomorrow eve, as my guests.”

“Oh.” Her free hand flew to her throat.

“Aye, it is exciting. Time has come for you to meet my brother and his wife.” He clasped her hand. She pulled away.

A sea-beaten man approached. His face was the same thickness of a cow’s hide, sun brown with patches of white, and cracked. His hair had lost the luster that his daughter still possessed, and had faded to a washed out copper. His lips smacked, resembling the fish he snared in his net daily. He was missing teeth. He wiped his hands on his trews.

Manus clapped him on the shoulder. He repeated his invite.

“We are honored.” Her father pushed between Oran and Alastronia and put his arm around her.

Manus failed to see Alastronia’s dull eyes. He wiped his hand on his plaid as he angled his chin. Oran wanted to punch him right on its center.

“Alastronia has wished fae naething else. She is most curious aboot the countess an’ ye ha’e granted her a great gift.” Her father squeezed her tight.

Oran stood outside. He permitted himself a look at Alastronia, and then walked away. Not that he gave up on winning her. Every path had a few rocks. He had to figure out how to clear it.

Chapter Four

Brenna had no other choice. To prevent her marriage from being dissolved, she had to make Caelen the man he needed to become. She saw greatness in him. His skill with a sword added to his power but now, it required more than brute force and a perfect swing. It required the one thing only a woman could give a man; power. Then she’d get her father the sherriffdom and spend the rest of her life at Caelen’s side.

That chore didn’t seem too overwhelming.

Fate favored her.

Rowen hurried down the stairs followed by two men bearing baggage. “Brenna, I’m glad you are here. I have been called to my aunt’s. I shall be gone for about a fortnight. You have to handle the castle chores and care for those three old men.”

“I shall oversee everything. Do not fret.”

Rowen raised one brow. “I am sure you will. Please try to seem as though you shall miss me.”

She chuckled. “I will miss you, but I cannot deny this is my chance.”

“Then I wish you the best.”

Caelen swaggered in, bringing in the scent of coming rain, and aimed his lowered brows at his sister. “You are departing.”

Rowen nodded. “Aye, though you do not have to sound accusatory. I am off to our aunt’s. She is in need of my assistance. I shall return.”

“You will be near MacLean and Lachlan.” The skin between his brows pleated. Brenna understood how men cowered at a glance of him. She trembled a little.

Rowen appeared bored. “That I will. Do you wish me to send a message on the chance I visit?”

“Aye, tell Lachlan to stay the hell away from you.”

She gave a tight smile. “Aye but what if I don’t stay away from him?”

“He is not the man for you.”

“Brenna, did you hear that? I believe he has respect for Lachlan.” She grinned.

“That he does. This Lachlan must be a good man.”

Caelen shook his head. “He is, but he cannot care for my sister properly.”

“Are you planning a marriage for me like Manus?” Rowen cocked her ear, waiting for him to speak.

Brenna squeezed her lips together to stop her from saying the wrong words. Rowen might have been acting playful but underneath, there was sadness.

“When I do, you shall do as ordered.” Caelen slammed his fisted hands on his slim hips.

“We shall see.” Rowen departed with a hug.

Caelen lowered his brows. “You appear pleased Rowen departed.”

“I am not pleased because of that, but this is our chance. I will be handling all the domestic duties.”

He inclined his head to appease her.

“That is where a woman shines. We will get what we need. The council will cease disturbing your father and my father can cease with his threats.”

Caelen cupped her face. His thumb stroked over her cheek. “Good. I know you shall prevail.”

She melted, luxuriating in the tenderness she yearned for. He bent his head and planted a kiss on her. She puckered her lips but he had pulled away. Her lips tingled from the supple feel of his mouth. Caelen was halfway out the door. He halted and sent her a playful smile. Her warrior had heart and showed it just for her. She stared at the shut door with a smile on her face.

Gilroy twisted his head so his face was in front of her own. “Why are you happy?”

“My husband is a good man.”

“That he is.”

Brenna spun around and followed him to the seats before the hearth. She wanted to blurt out the questions racing through her head. Gilroy rubbed his gnarled hands together before the fire. He grimaced and groaned as he sat back.

“Do you have medicine?”

He shot her a look. “I don’t need anything. I’m not old.”

Brenna was sure he walked these lands when Picts fought the Romans. “Perhaps a bit stubborn.”

“Just a wee bit.” He rubbed his curing stone between his gnarled hands. He grimaced and rubbed harder.

“You rest here and I will get you something for that. Just a wee something.”

She wagered he smiled since his beard trembled. Without wasting time, she headed into the workroom. She lit a candle in the dark, windowless room. The earthy scents blended with the muskiness of herbs. She set water to heat and gathered Juniper berries. She hummed as she mixed the oil and berries. When she finished, the water was ready and she set the holly leaves to steep. With the medicines prepared, she returned to Gilroy.

She found him hunched closer to the fire. She settled in the chair beside him. “Now Gilroy, you must rub this in morn and night.” She dripped some on his left hand. She massaged it in. The man closed his eyes as she applied it.

“Oh lass, that is heaven.”

She did the same with his right, listening to him sigh with relief. “You must care for yourself. Now, drink this.” She held up his cup.

He peeked inside before he accepted it. “Living up here I forget to take care of myself, but my wife, she insisted I stay here, as I had a duty, and we have our fourth grandbairn, so she is with my daughter to help. She just likes bairns.”

“Most women do.”

“You mean all women.” He shot a look at her, turning his head so fast his amulets clanged together.

“Don’t fret. There shall be an heir.”

He took a sip, and then another. He lowered the cup and said, “Forgive us for questioning you on that subject. With the laird dying, we fear for the future of the clan.”

She leapt to her feet. “You men are wrong. Caelen is this clan. He is a man of skill and influence, though he chooses not to use it. There is no better man.”

“He has not been here. We…I worry he doesn’t feel the bond with his clan. He returned home wearing a MacLean plaid. I’ve no doubt that you worry about his feelings for you. After all, he was not the one who sent for you.”

She hadn’t had such thoughts or worries. Since he brought it up, she wondered, and then shook it off. He cared for her. She possessed each letter he had sent to her through the years.

“Nonetheless, I am here.”

“Nevertheless, if we hadn’t, how long would it have taken him? I wouldn’t do that to my wife.”

His words were a strike in her chest, slicing through her to the bone. All of her rattled from it. She rested her hand on the wall to keep her on her feet. She didn’t know how long she stood there, but the touch of Gilroy’s fingers grasping her own brought her back. She swallowed, and needing to fill the silence, she informed him of Rowen’s departure. “You must come to me with all your needs.”

He drew his hand away. “I shall. My hands feel better, my lady.”

“I’m glad.” She pointed to the oil. “Remember, night and day.”