Caelen's Wife: Book One - A Murmur of Providence (Clan McDunnah Series 1)

by Suzan Tisdale

  Caelen had seen the riders first.

  McPhersons.

  A quick scan of the group was all it took to spot Fiona. In the images and dreams that had bedeviled him, he had envisioned her riding naked atop a snow-white mare, her hair billowing in the wind behind her, her green eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

  She was far from naked this day. Resplendent, nonetheless, as she rode a big bay. Dressed for battle it seemed, what with her chainmail, leather armor and trews, and full face helm. He knew it was her, for she was the smallest of all the riders and her brothers and men rode on either side of her. Naked or dressed in full battle regalia, the effect on his person was the same. Desire didn’t just flicker in his groin. It burned, and were he a less experienced man, it might very well have exploded.

  Caelen felt his chest tighten, not with dread or fear, but of want and desire. Realizing what those sensations were was what made him want to run and hide like a lad not yet old enough to grow a beard. That, in turn, made him feel like a fool, which quickly made him quite angry with himself.

  It amazed him to no end how a woman — this particular woman — could crack open the old, thick wall he had built around his heart. But crack it she had. Ever hopeful he could mend that crack before any real damage was done, he swallowed hard and pretended he hadn’t seen her.

  “Bloody hell,” Kenneth muttered when he saw who approached. “Gird yer loins, lad,” he whispered to Caelen. “The Devil approaches disguised as a woman.”

  Caelen acted as though he hadn’t heard the man’s warning.

  Kenneth shivered. “Is it me, or has the air gone quite cold?”

  “Shut up, Kenneth,” Caelen told him.

  Kenneth glanced at his chief, studied him closely for a moment and grimaced before turning his attention back to the riders.

  Fiona, her brothers and her men approached the encampment slowly, as if they were simply out for a quiet ride and had not a care in the world. Outward appearances could oft be deceiving. Her face, what of it that could be seen, held no sign of the fury she truly felt.

  Pulling her horse and men to a halt at the edge of Caelen McDunnah’s encampment, Fiona gave a quick scan of the area for signs of men hidden in the scattered trees. It appeared as though these were nothing more than men on a hunt. She refused to let her guard down for it had appeared days ago that Caelen McDunnah meant neither her nor her people any harm. Last night’s raid told a different story.

  A quick head count put the McDunnah numbers at nine. Fiona had thirteen men with her. Though they might not be as skilled or battle-honed as the McDunnah men, they would be able to hold their own if necessary.

  In truth, she did not want a war with the McDunnahs. After living in peace for more than one hundred years, she didn’t want to be the one who led her people to trouble or war. However, she was not about to cower in fear. She would defend her people and their land if she had to.

  “McDunnah,” she greeted him before she and her men dismounted. As always, they fell in around her.

  Caelen stepped forward, smiled, and bowed. “Me Lady,” he said.

  She found the bow and his greeting quite odd, for any other chief would have extended his arm to her as if she were a man. The bow she surmised was meant to disarm her senses. It worked, albeit for a fleeting moment. She pushed the tickling sensation that fluttered in her stomach aside and decided to ignore the fact he called her Me Lady.

  “What brings ye to McDunnah lands this day?” Caelen asked.

  Fiona watched as the man she remembered as Kenneth fell in beside his chief. She made a mental note to keep a close eye on that one. There was something about the man … she couldn’t quite put her finger to it, but she didn’t quite trust him.

  Never one to tip-toe around an issue, Fiona went straight to the point. “When last I saw ye, Caelen, I thought we had an understandin’.”

  Caelen cocked his head slightly, his brow furrowed, but said nothing.

  Although his confusion looked genuine, Fiona was far too angry to believe he had no idea to what she was referring. “I told ye and yer men to stay off me lands, McDunnah.”

  Caelen righted himself, crossed his arms over his chest and spread his feet apart. “Neither I nor me men have been on yer lands.”

  “Then have ye taken to usin’ yer women and bairns to reive?” she asked bluntly.

  Fury flickered briefly behind his dark brown eyes. He glowered down at her, little wrinkles forming around his eyes. Were she not so bloody angry with him, she might have found him quite attractive. Nay, not even she believed that lie. She did find him exceedingly handsome, even whilst glowering down at her.

  “I told ye before and I tell ye again. We’ve no’ reived any sheep from ye. And I thank ye kindly to keep yer insults to a minimum.”

  Fiona tilted her head ever so slightly and took another step forward. “Last night, at least ten of yer men came onto me land and stole twenty-five more sheep. One of them left a message fer me.”

  “A message?” Caelen asked.

  “Aye,” Fiona answered before recounting what she’d been told. “Caelen McDunnah sends his regards.” She let him think on it for a moment. “Be it possible that ye have men raidin’ that yer no’ aware of?” She’d only asked that question because Brodie had made her promise to at least give it some consideration.

  Behind his fierce glower, Fiona caught a glimpse of something. Mayhap he hadn’t given that possibility any prior consideration. Either it spoke to his rumored insanity, or he cared for his people so much he could not begin to think ill of them.

  Fiona took a step back and spoke loud enough that those around her could hear her words of warning. “I want no quarrel with ye McDunnah. Keep yer people off me lands.”

  One of Caelen’s younger men, a boy really, for he didn’t look to be older than six and ten at the most, apparently took some offense to her warning. “Or what?” he challenged.

  Fiona cast a glance his way. “Or else ye’ll start a clan war.”

  The boy threw his head back and laughed, as did one of his comrades.

  Without warning, Fiona withdrew two dirks from her belt and sent them flying toward the two young men. One blade barely missed the shorter boy’s left ear, the other tore through the sleeve of the taller boy’s shirt, pinning him to the tree behind him.

  The McDunnah warriors immediately advanced, drawing swords and cursing loudly. The McPherson men did the same.

  Caelen and Fiona each held up an arm, calling their men to halt.

  The boy pinned to the tree looked positively stunned. “Ye could have killed me!” he protested with a loud yet quavering voice. The other lad was stunned into muteness as he held a hand to his ear in disbelief.

  “If I wanted ye dead, ye’d be dead,” Fiona politely informed both young men.

  Caelen stepped between Fiona and the young men. Brodie, Collin, and William were on either side of Fiona in less than a heartbeat’s time.

  Caelen bent slightly at the waist, his hands on his hips. “Lass, ’twas a foolish thing ye just did. Me men could have killed ye all.”

  Fiona did not back down. “Ye warn yer men I’ll no’ be trifled with and I’ll no’ be laughed at.”

  Laughter broke out amongst the men standing behind Caelen. “Yer clan is nearly as wee as ye are!” came a voice over the laughter.

  Fiona did her best to ignore the taunt. Keeping her focus solely on Caelen, she warned him again. “Warn yer men, Caelen.”

  “Might I remind ye that ’twas ye who just now threw two dirks at unarmed men?”

  Fiona raised her voice loud enough that all could hear her. “Again, we want no quarrel with the McDunnahs. Stay off our lands and leave our sheep be.”

  Another round of laughter ensued. ’Twas all she could do not to call her men to battle.

  “Is that a challenge?” The same voice called out.

  Brodie put a hand on Fiona’s arm in an attempt to stop her from doing something foolish. She stepped away from
Caelen and looked at his men. They varied in age, size, and stature. Even though she knew they were highly skilled and well-trained warriors, she would not turn and run and be made a fool of. “Would any one of ye like to challenge me?” she asked calmly, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword.

  “Battle a woman?” one of the older men asked.

  Fiona smiled. “Are ye afraid I might hurt ye?”

  More laughter, although this time it was not quite as strong.

  She heard Caelen’s voice speaking over her shoulder.

  “I’ll challenge ye.”

  A quiver of excitement started in her stomach and spread to her fingertips.

  He had made the challenge for two important reasons. One, he could not be certain his men would show any kind of restraint. And two, he simply could not resist.

  Slowly, Fiona turned around to face him. Though her lips only gave a slight hint to her eagerness, her eyes told the entire story. She was downright gleeful with the prospect.

  “To first blood?” she asked him as she stepped toward her brothers. They did not look at all pleased by this turn of events.

  “To first blood,” Caelen said as he and Kenneth stepped away.

  “Have ye lost yer bloody mind?” Kenneth asked in a harsh whisper as they walked toward Caelen’s horse.

  “Mayhap,” Caelen said as he placed a hand on Kenneth’s shoulder. “Should the lass be as good as I think she is, I want me body buried on the north side of the loch.”

  Kenneth’s eyes nearly leapt out of their sockets. “What do ye mean ye want … Caelen, I swear to ye that if ye go through with this and survive, I’ll kill ye with me bare hands.”

  Caelen smiled. “If I’m to die this day, I prefer it be at her hands,” he said with a nod over his shoulder. “Can ye think of a better way to die?”

  Kenneth shook his head in disgust. “Ye have lost yer mind.”

  Caelen continued to smile. “Mayhap I have, Kenneth, mayhap I have.”

  “Fiona, I beg ye to stop this,” Collin said through clenched teeth. “’Tis madness!”

  Fiona shrugged his protest away as she tightened the belt around her waist and did a mental count of her weaponry; one sword, a dirk in each boot, another at the back of her belt, one strapped to her forearm and hidden under her sleeve. The two dirks she’d thrown earlier were still imbedded in the tree. “Remind me to get me dirks out of the tree before we leave, Collin.”

  His dark curly locks bounced when he shook his head in dismay. “If we get to leave this place.”

  “Ye fash worse than a mother over her first bairn, Collin,” Fiona said as she debated on whether or not to wear her helm. “We’ll leave,” she told him. Before he could protest, she said, “And we’ll leave alive.”

  “Ye canna mean to do this,” William chimed in. “’Tis madness!”

  Fiona was growing weary of the prevailing doubt as it pertained to her madness. “Why? Are ye worried I’ll no’ draw first blood?”

  Her three brothers stared at her with mouths agape. Collin answered her question. “Do ye ferget who Caelen McDunnah be?”

  “Of course I have no’ forgotten,” she replied.

  Collin shook his head again. To his brothers he said, “’Tis the end, lads. ’Tis been a pleasure callin’ ye brothers. I wonder if I have time to write me last words on a bit of somethin’. I’d like me body to be buried next to Da.”

  Fiona rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Ye have no faith in me, Collin? Or ye, William? Brodie?”

  Her brothers’ silence told her more than words could. Smiling at the three of them she said, “I wager the three of ye that I will draw first blood.”

  Brodie finally spoke, his curiosity piqued. “Wager what?”

  Fiona never knew a Scotsman who could turn down a wager, no matter how ill-conceived or odd the wager might be. “The three of ye will clean the gatherin’ room after the evenin’ meal for the next sennight.”

  Collin sighed. “I’ll make the wager but ’twill no’ matter fer we’re all sure to die here this day, regardless of which of them draws first blood.”

  Fiona tilted her head to one side. “Explain what ye mean by that.”

  “If the McDunnah draws first blood, I fear I’ll no’ be able to contain the rest of the men from tryin’ to seek vengeance. And if ye draw Caelen McDunnah’s blood, I ken with a certainty his men will want yer head mounted on a pike.”

  Fiona giggled at her brother. “We shall see, lads. We shall see.”

  A circle of men formed around Caelen and Fiona. The McDunnah men stood behind Caelen while Fiona’s men stood behind her. The two opponents stood some ten feet apart from one another, each sizing up the other.

  “Do ye care to make a wager before we begin?” Fiona asked with a smile.

  “A wager?” Caelen asked. “What do ye have in mind?”

  Fiona pretended to think on it for a moment. “Five head of cattle,” she said. “Five of yer best cattle. I’ll no’ want any of yer auld and sickly cattle.”

  Caelen smiled widely. “And if I win?”

  “Ye won’t,” Fiona said with an air of confidence that Caelen found rather enticing.

  “Yer so certain?”

  “Aye, I am.”

  “Then it should no’ matter what ye wager,” he challenged.

  “True,” she agreed. “If ye win, I’ll let ye keep the twenty-five sheep yer men took from me last night.”

  Caelen shook his head. “I didna take yer sheep and neither did me men.”

  “So ye say.”

  “Are ye tryin’ to delay the inevitable?” Caelen asked as he unsheathed his sword.

  Fiona’s skin turned to gooseflesh at the sound. There was something exciting, something that thrilled her to her very marrow whenever she heard that seductive sound of a sword against the leather sheath. ’Twas as enticing a sound as a lover’s kiss upon bare flesh, or so she imagined.

  Withdrawing her own, she continued to smile at him. “Fine. If ye win, I’ll give ye twenty-five sheep.”

  She heard her brothers groan behind her. They couldn’t afford to lose five sheep, let alone five times that. Why, oh why do they no’ trust me?

  Caelen and Fiona circled one another, their swords glinting in the late afternoon sun. Although she was taller than most women, Caelen was taller than she by six inches. All muscle and cunning. Were it a battle of fisticuffs, she’d lose after the first punch.

  But this was sword against sword.

  A battle of wits, strategy, and skill.

  The odds might not be in her favor, but Fiona McPherson was never one to back down from a challenge.

  Caelen was the first to strike, albeit rather weakly. That was his first mistake, for she knew then, without a doubt, he would do nothing to harm her. Chivalry and ignorance could be a deadly combination. In truth, she wouldn’t do anything to maim the man, but teaching him a lesson that he was not likely soon to forget? The thought sent a shiver of excitement up and down her spine.

  She blocked each of his thrusts. One of two things was at play. Either he was merely sizing her up, testing her abilities, or he was trying to wear her down. Physically, she was as sound as could be and rarely tired easily. Mentally, she was growing weary of his weak swordplay.

  “McDunnah?” she asked, blocking yet another weak thrust. “Were I a man, would ye still be fightin’ like a young lad who canna yet grow a beard?”

  He raised a brow adding a bit more strength to his next thrust.

  ’Twas time to call his feeble swordplay to an end. If he would not voluntarily treat her as an equal, she would force the issue.

  On his next strike, Caelen grasped the hilt with both hands and swung sideways. As soon as she saw the manner in which he grasped his sword, Fiona crouched down, planted both hands firmly on the earth, and spun one leg out. Her foot caught Caelen just so on the side of his foot, and his legs went out from under him.

  A cheer came up from her men, whilst a loud gasp of surprise came f
rom Caelen’s.

  Caelen landed on his back and before he had time to recover, Fiona was straddled atop him. He looked positively stunned. Fiona masked her glee well as she grabbed his wrists and pinned him to the ground.

  She felt something hard under her bottom and knew full well it was his dagger. Still, she wanted to torment him for being so bloody nice instead of actually challenging her abilities.

  Feigning surprise, a wide smile formed on her lips. She wriggled her bottom against the dagger for emphasis. “Och! Caelen! Be it the fightin’ that excites ye so, or is it me?”

  The woman made him daft with feelings and thoughts that were best left unfelt and unthought. For her own good as well as his.

  Truthfully, he hadn’t wanted to harm so much as a hair on her head. He knew she was good with knives, for she’d proved it twice before. He should have known she’d be just as skilled with a sword. He knew he had frustrated her by throwing weak jabs and thrusts but hadn’t realized until she had kicked his feet out from under him, just how serious she was taking his challenge.

  And now, she straddled him, and was taunting him in more ways than she realized. Aye, she was a stubborn woman, chief of her own clan, but there was something quite innocent hidden behind those beautiful green eyes of hers. There was no doubt in his mind that she did not realize the effect she had on him.

  And when she asked, Be it the fightin’ that excites ye so, or is it me? It nearly did him in.

  In one swift move, he rolled her over and onto her back, switching positions. A position he wished he could share with her in the privacy of his bedchamber, sans clothing.

  “I must admit lass,” he smiled down at her, “it be a wee bit of both.”

  What he did next surprised not only himself, but every other man and woman in attendance.

  With her pinned beneath him, he slowly lowered his lips to hers.