The Highlander Series (90 page)

He promptly wrapped her in a fur and stood back from Caelen, his hand at her shoulder to keep her in place.

“My name is Caelen McCabe,” Caelen said in a calm, direct voice. “I’m Rionna’s husband and your new laird.”

There were gasps of surprise, exclamations rose, and then everyone began talking at once.

“Quiet!” Caelen roared.

“What happened to Gregor?” Nate McDonald called from the middle of the gathered clansmen.

Several others chimed in. “Aye, what happened?”

Caelen leveled a stare at the crowd. “He is no longer laird. That is all you need concern yourself with. From this day forward you will swear allegiance and loyalty to me or you’ll leave. My word is absolute. We have much work and training to do if we are to stand strong against the might of Duncan Cameron’s army. Our alliance with my brothers, Ewan and Alaric McCabe, as well as your neighboring clans will make us invincible. If you want to keep what is yours and raise your children in peace, then we must fight. And if we must fight, then we must be ready when the time comes.”

Her clansmen exchange wary, suspicious glances. They looked at Caelen and then beyond to her as if they expected her to speak up. She would have, too, if for nothing else than to ease their fears, but Caelen turned and fixed her with a glare that momentarily kept her silent.

As he turned back, she pulled from Gannon’s grasp and hurried forward to address her clan.

“ ’Tis an alliance that pleases our king. He blessed our marriage himself. The agreement was always for whomever I married to take over as laird of our clan. Instead of at the birth of my first child, Caelen McCabe takes the mantle of leadership now. We need him. We need his direction if we are to prove victorious against those who take our land and homes from us.”

Caelen turned his furious stare on her but she calmly faced her clan, taking in their indecision and their confusion.

“My father was without honor,” she said in a clear voice devoid of emotion. “ ’Tis my hope that under the leadership of a new laird we will regain what was lost. We will hold our heads high as we defend our legacy.”

“You will be silent,” Caelen said in a low, dangerous voice. “Go into the keep. Now.”

The look in his eyes would have made a warrior tuck tail and run. But Rionna turned stiffly, her shoulders straight, and walked at a sedate pace toward the keep as if it had been her intention to do so all along after she finished with her speech.

As soon as she entered the keep, her legs sagged and she faltered her way into the hall. Sarah hurried to greet her, placing her gnarled hands on Rionna’s shoulders with a grip that made Rionna wince.

“Tell me all, lass. What’s this about you marrying Caelen McCabe and him replacing our laird? Where’s your father? And our men!”

Rionna carefully pulled Sarah’s hands away and then sank wearily into one of the chairs at the table. “ ’Tis a long story, Sarah.”

“Well now, seems to me I’ve got nothing better to do than listen if I’m to know what’s about here. How on earth did you find yourself married to Caelen McCabe? ’Tis common enough knowledge he’s foresworn to never marry. He was a young lad when he made the vow. Fresh after a betrayal by a lass he loved.”

Rionna emitted a gloomy sigh. Wonderful. Foresworn to never marry and yet he’d sacrificed himself for an emotion he had no use for. Love. Alaric’s and Keeley’s love.

Maybe he’d decided it mattered naught if he never had plans to give his heart to another woman.

“Do you know the story, Sarah? Why did his love betray him?”

“You’re supposed to be telling me a story, lass.”

“And I will,” Rionna cut in impatiently. “Right now I’m more interested in this vow my husband made and why.”

Sarah blew out her breath, then looked around. “All
right. I’ll tell you what I know. Eight years ago Caelen McCabe fell in love with Elsepeth Cameron. ’Tis the truth she seduced him. She was a wee bit older than the lad. More worldly, if you know what I mean.”

Rionna didn’t but she wasn’t about to admit it.

“All along she was in league with her kinsman, Duncan Cameron. She drugged the soldiers and opened the gate for Cameron’s men. ’Twas a horrible massacre. Caelen lost his father in the attack and Ewan McCabe lost his young wife. The brothers were away at the time of the attack, and when they returned, they found the keep in ruins and their kin murdered. ’Twas a terrible thing.”

“Aye,” Rionna murmured. “So the dolt now believes all women are evil and has vowed never to open his heart to another.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Why are men so stupid?”

Sarah threw back her head and laughed. “Well now, lass, that’s the question, isn’t it? You’ve a tough path ahead of you, but if anyone can convince the laddie that a woman’s heart is true and loyal, you can. There’s no more loyal or fierce a lass than yourself.”

Unfortunately, Caelen thought her to be the price he had to pay for his brother’s happiness and his clan’s welfare.

“Now tell me what transpired at the McCabes and why your father has not returned nor all of our men.”

Rionna quickly related all that had occurred while they had sojourned at the McCabes. Including Caelen’s demand that her father cede the leadership of his clan to him and her father’s subsequent departure.

“I wonder how many of the men would have chosen to follow my father had they not wives and children back home. The men who left with my father had no close kin to worry over seeing again.”

“ ’Tis more a concern what they are about now,”
Sarah said carefully. “Your father is a vain man and not one to suffer insult lightly.”

“He’s a fool,” Rionna hissed. “A lecherous old fool who placed his wants and desires above his clan’s. He deserved to be removed as laird.”

Sarah patted Rionna’s hand comfortingly. “There, there, lass. No need to get worked up over a foolish old man. His time is over. ’Tis time to look to the future. The McCabes are a fierce clan. It took them long to rebuild but I believe Ewan to be honorable. I can only imagine his brothers would be the same. Perhaps Caelen is just what this clan needs if we are to survive the coming hard times.”

Rionna didn’t doubt that Caelen McCabe would be good for her clan. He was a fierce warrior with no equal on the battlefield. He commanded respect from the men around him. She knew the McDonald soldiers weren’t the fittest. Nor were they the worst. But she’d seen firsthand the might of the McCabe warriors and she wanted that for the McDonalds. Aye, Caelen was a better choice than even Alaric McCabe.

She just wished that she could be equally sure that he’d be a good husband and father to her children.

If he’d already closed his heart, what chance did Rionna have of opening it?

Rionna didn’t see her husband for the remainder of the day. He didn’t even come in to sup, and Rionna ate in the cold great hall alone.

She hated the feeling that she didn’t know her place among her own clan. She’d remained in the keep ever since he’d ordered her inside. Not because he’d told her to, but because she simply had no idea what to do or what to say to her clan.

Her cowardice made her choke. The food she’d tried to consume stuck in her throat and she couldn’t force it down no matter how hard she tried.

She alternated between wanting Caelen to put in an appearance so she could dress him down for humiliating her in front of her kinsmen and wanting him to stay as far away as possible so she didn’t have to face him. Not until she regained her courage and decided her next course.

Disgusted with her sudden timidity, she pushed aside her food and backed from the table. She wasn’t going to sit around arguing with herself about whether she wanted to see her husband. He could rot. She was tired. Beyond exhausted. It was past time she sought her bed.

She braced herself for the cold when she swung her door open. Her room lacked a hearth for a fire, but there
were no windows so no wind blew through the chamber. She collected two candles and returned to the hall to light them from one of the torches lining the walls.

The meager light brightened the tiny chamber and the warm glow chased away some of the chill, although it was all in the perception. The half-burned candles could hardly provide enough warmth to make a difference. But still, they cheered her and made her feel a little warmer.

’Twas cold enough that she decided to leave her clothing on. All she did was remove her boots and then she donned her one luxury. A pair of wool stockings that Sarah had darned for her.

She sighed as the soft, warm material slid over her feet. She flexed her toes and then climbed beneath the furs on her bed.

Her eyes closed immediately but she didn’t fall asleep. Her mind was too occupied with all that had transpired in the last fortnight.

If she were honest with herself, she’d admit to more than just passing trepidation. She was afraid of her future. Afraid for the future of her clan.

No matter that she’d always dressed as a man and indulged in swordplay while other girls dreamed of marriage and children. She harbored secret girlish dreams of her own. She imagined beautiful dresses and a warrior with no equal falling to one knee in front of her to pledge his undying love and loyalty.

She smiled dreamily and snuggled deeper into the covers. Aye, ’twas a nice fantasy. Her warrior wouldn’t only love her beyond reason. He’d accept her faults and he’d be proud of her accomplishments in warfare. He’d boast to his men that his wife was a warrior. A warrior princess with unrivaled beauty and accomplishment.

They’d fight side by side and then return to the keep where she’d dress in fine gowns gifted to her by her
husband. She’d serve him a fine meal directed by her own hand. Then they’d sit by the fire and sip fine ale before retiring to their chamber where he’d hold her and whisper words of love to her.

“You’re an idiot,” she muttered, self-loathing suddenly consuming her. No man would ever accept one such as her. A man wanted someone like Keeley. All soft and gentle with traits acceptable to a gentle lady. Like healing. Or needlework. Or a woman who could run a keep and always have a fine meal on the table.

All Rionna could do was cause injuries that required women of Keeley’s skill to patch them up and send them back into battle. Rionna had neither a gentle touch nor womanly softness.

She frowned but kept her eyes shut. So what if she wasn’t as other women? She wasn’t lacking. Nor was she less. She was simply … different. Aye, she was different and a good man would celebrate those differences. If Caelen McCabe couldn’t appreciate his wife the way she was, then he could sit on his sword and have a good spin.

The room was suspiciously warm. And the bed was softer and more luxurious than what she was accustomed to. She was aware that something was entirely different, but she couldn’t force herself awake long enough to take stock of the situation.

Determined not to ruin a perfectly good dream, she snuggled deeper into the warm haven and sighed.

A soft chuckle intruded on her euphoria just as a lingering brush along the swell of her breast sent a shiver racing through her belly.

Her breast? She’d gone to bed with them bound. Indeed, she hadn’t undressed. She’d fallen into bed fully clothed and had been asleep in a matter of minutes.

She cracked one eye open to see her husband undressing
a mere foot from where she lay. She wasn’t in her chamber. Nor was she in her father’s. Best she could tell she was in one of the chambers reserved for honored guests. Not that there had ever been many of those at the McDonald keep.

Rather than bolt upward and demand how she’d gotten from her chamber to here, she silently observed Caelen as he removed his tunic.

His back was to her and his muscles rippled as he pulled the material over his head and tossed it aside. He spent a moment stretching before he began to divest himself of his trews.

Her cheeks burned when his buttocks came into view. Hard but with enough shape to appeal to her feminine senses. Paler than the rest of his body and supported by two tree trunks for legs. There wasn’t a spare inch of flesh anywhere that she could see. All tight muscles, hair roughened and dark.

She shivered again but it had naught to do with being cold.

He was a beautiful warrior. All that a woman like herself admired. Not perfect. But beautiful still.

Scars ran the length of his body, from his ankles to his nape. She found herself eager to explore each of them with her fingers and her … mouth.

Would he enjoy the same attentions as he’d given her on their wedding night? The idea of kissing and tasting him so intimately tightened areas of her body that didn’t bear mentioning.

She glanced down, once again cognizant of the fact that she was naked. Not a single stitch of clothing remained.

The furs felt sensual against her bare skin. Her entire body was in a state of heightened sensitivity. Her nipples were hard points, thrusting upward as if begging for her husband’s mouth.

She almost groaned. He did indeed possess a wicked, wicked mouth. And tongue. She couldn’t forget the wonders of that talented tongue.