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

by Suzan Tisdale

  Quite simply, the kiss stole her breath away, along with her good senses. James had never kissed her in public, let alone with such abandon and passion. This was unlike any other kiss she’d ever experienced. Thrilling and intense in its simplicity. Her heart skipped along quite happily with her fluttering stomach.

  For a brief moment, Fiona forgot where and who she was.

  But only for a brief moment.

  Certain she was that he’d meant only to disarm her and believing there was no meaning to the kiss other than to put her off balance mentally, she allowed the kiss to intensify.

  His tongue caressed her bottom lip, begging entry, which she allowed. Were she not lying on her back in front of her brothers and men she might very well have given in to the warm feelings rising up in her belly, or the quivering taking place in her nether regions.

  Before she lost complete control, she made a quick decision. She drew Caelen’s lower lip betwixt her own and bit.

  Hard.

  Stunned, he groaned in pain and withdrew, and grabbed his bottom lip with his fingers.

  Fiona smiled triumphantly when he withdrew his fingers and stared in disbelief.

  “I drew first blood.”

  A few heartbeats later, he threw back his head and laughed.

  Fiona wasn’t quite certain what to make of his laughter and decided to hold judgment, at least for now. It could be he laughed because he was as deranged as people claimed him to be. There was also a possibility that the manner in which she returned the kiss was laughable. Deep down she prayed it was the former for her womanly pride might not be able to withstand the latter.

  Caelen looked up at his men, and with a smile, he declared Fiona the winner. “She drew first blood, lads!”

  A rather loud protest went up amongst his men, while Fiona’s stood in stunned silence for a long moment.

  Caelen stood and offered Fiona his hand. Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet. I pray me face is no’ as red as it feels. Glancing at him briefly, she was afraid he might be able to see in her eyes all that she was thinking and feeling. He seemed genuinely pleased to raise her hand in the air and announce her “the winner.”

  Silence fell across their men as confused, bewildered eyes stared at the two of them. Brodie and Andrew stood with mouths agape. Caelen’s man, Kenneth, looked as though he were staring at a three-headed monster that had just crawled up from the bowels of the earth.

  Caelen turned to her, still smiling. “Ye did good, lass! Ye drew first blood.” He leaned in, whispering into her ear. “’Twas a quite delightful way to be defeated.”

  Any kind feelings she may have had for him fell away in the blink of an eye. She’d not allow him to charm away her common sense or make her forget why they were here to begin with. Fiona McPherson was not a senseless young girl who could be fooled by a handsome smile or kiss that made her toes curl. Nay, she was the chief of her clan and she’d not allow Caelen McDunnah to forget that.

  Pushing aside all tender feelings, she pulled her hand away and headed toward her horse, with her men quickly following. She mounted and called down to Caelen. “I’ll expect me cattle by the end of the week.”

  Caelen was still smiling as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “I thought we were no’ allowed on McPherson land?”

  Resisting the desire to kick him in his head for being such an arrogant arse, she said, “I’ll make an exception this one time, McDunnah, as ye’ll be bringin’ me the cattle I won fer drawin’ first blood. After that, I’ll no’ be so kind.”

  Not wanting to give him the opportunity to respond, she turned her horse around and left as quickly as she could with Caelen McDunnah’s laughter trailing behind her.

  Chapter 8

  It took three days for Caelen and Kenneth to question every man within and surrounding the keep. Not one could tell them anything about Fiona McPherson’s stolen sheep or how a McDunnah dagger and bit of cloth had been found at the site of the first attack. But they all had an opinion on what they thought of Caelen allowing Fiona McPherson to draw first blood. Even his grandminny was concerned.

  “Did ye truly allow a woman to draw first blood?” she asked him when he came to visit her with the hopes that she had heard some bit of gossip that would shine some light on the matter.

  “I didna allow it,” Caelen answered as honestly as he could. “She drew it fairly.” And I enjoyed every blissful moment of it.

  They sat together at the table in Burunild’s cottage, sharing cider and bread. ’Twas an overcast day, one where the sun and clouds were playing a game of hide and seek.

  Burunild clucked her tongue and shook her head. “I think she’s bewitched ye.”

  Caelen raised a brow. “I do no’ mean to be disrespectful,” Caelen said. “But I think ye’ve gone mad.” So had half his clan for many had accused Fiona of bewitching him, either with a spell or her beauty. They appeared to be equally divided.

  “Have I now?” Burunild said. “’Twas no’ me who allowed a lovely young lass to draw first blood.”

  Caelen took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “That lovely young lass happens to be chief of her own clan. She also happens to be quite skilled with knives and swords.”

  “I’ve ne’er met a woman clan chief before,” Burunild said as she offered him another slice of bread. “I would verra much like to meet one before I leave this earth.”

  Grateful for the change in subject, Caelen said, “She’s a fierce thing. I think ye’d like her.”

  “As a granddaughter-in-law?”

  He nearly choked on his cider. “Are ye daft, woman?” he asked angrily once he got his choking under control.

  “Bah!” Burunild said a she scowled at him. “That be twice now that ye’ve disrespected yer grandminny!” She picked up the walking stick that rested against the table and shook it at him. “Ye be no’ too big fer me to beat ye senseless, ye heathen!”

  He did not feel guilty for disrespecting her, but he did feel guilty for allowing her to goad him. Taking a deep breath, he promptly got his anger under control. “I did no’ mean to yell or be disrespectful,” he lied. “But ye are daft if ye think the woman has bewitched me or that I have any notions of marryin’ her.”

  While he might have been tormented with dreams of bedding the woman, marriage was out of the question.

  Burunild eyed him suspiciously for a moment. “Ye are afraid.”

  Why was this woman intent on driving him mad? “Afraid?” he asked, appalled at the accusation. “Afraid of what?” He regretted asking the question the moment he heard it leaving his mouth.

  The auld woman shook her head in disgust. “Ye be afraid of givin’ yer heart to her. Or to any woman fer that matter.” Looking away as if she were ashamed of him, she laid the walking stick across her lap. “How long will ye grieve fer a woman ye did no’ love?”

  Insulted, he pushed himself away from the table. Close to being furious, he told himself to leave before he said something he might later regret.

  “I loved me wife,” he said, pausing at the door. “I loved her verra much.”

  Burunild pinned him in place with an icy glare of reproach. “Before she died or after?” she asked. “’Tis guilt that keeps ye grievin’, no’ love. Ye be afraid to love anyone fer fear ye’ll have to relive the nightmare of losin’ another wife or babe. ’Tis guilt that kept ye even from namin’ yer son and ’tis guilt over no’ bein’ there for them that keeps ye so rooted in the past.”

  It mattered not to Caelen that Burunild spoke the truth. Guilt, remorse, and grief had kept him from naming his son. It also kept him from ever considering taking another wife. But he’d rather have his eyes pulled out of their sockets by rats than to admit such to his grandminny.

  “I thank ye fer the cider and bread,” he said as he pulled the door open. “I’ll be quite busy fer a time. I’ll send someone to look in on ye.”

  Burunild called after him. “If ye do no’ rid yers
elf of that guilt, Caelen McDunnah, ye’ll die all alone! A sad, lonely man!”

  Ignoring her, he left the cottage, quietly shutting the door behind him.

  His grandminny was correct in one regard. He would die alone. But he’d not die sad or lonely. Aye, he’d have regrets and tried to convince himself that no man could leave God’s earth without them.

  Angry with his grandminny, Caelen left her cottage and headed back toward his keep. He’d have to consume vast amounts of whisky in order to forget the conversation that had just taken place. However, getting drunk was out of the question. He’d need to keep his wits about him if he were to get himself out of this current predicament.

  Caelen’s gut told him his men were innocent. Someone wanted it to appear that the McDunnahs had stolen McPherson sheep. But why? To what end? Who would want the McDunnahs and McPhersons at war with one another? None of it made sense.

  Since he could not find the answers amongst his own people, mayhap they lie with the McPhersons and there was only one way to find out. He went in search of Kenneth.

  He had found Kenneth in the main gathering room, going over plans for their new granary with several carpenters. Caelen tried to feign interest in the plans, but his heart was not in it. His grandminny’s words reverberated in his mind. It was difficult to push her words away, for, as much as he hated to admit it, they were nothing but the truth.

  Once they finished discussing the new granary, Caelen pulled Kenneth into his private study.

  “I’ve been thinkin’ about our problem,” Caelen told him as he poured ale into two cups.

  “Which one?” Kenneth asked as he took a cup. “The fact that ye let a wee lass best ye? The fact that same lass has bewitched ye? Or the fact that someone wants us at war with the McPhersons?”

  Caelen sighed angrily. “Why is it everyone believes I let Fiona win? And why is everyone convinced she has bewitched me?” He tossed back the entire mug of ale and slammed the empty cup down onto his desk.

  Ignoring his cousin’s anger, Kenneth pressed onward. “Well, ‘twasn’t me that allowed a woman to best me, to draw first blood. I be no’ the one besotted with her.”

  Stunned, he could not speak for several long moments. “Besotted?” he growled. “Has this entire clan gone mad?”

  Kenneth shrugged his shoulders. “If the clan has gone mad, ’tis because their chief has.”

  “What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?” He was growing weary of the accusations that he was besotted or bewitched. If anything, he was quite bewildered at how his people had formed such conclusions.

  “It means that I saw how ye looked at the woman. I saw with me own eyes how ye stared after her as if ye were a man dyin’ of thirst. ’Tis why ye let her win.”

  “Oh for the love of God!” Caelen shouted. “I did no’ let her win!”

  Kenneth set his cup down, crossed his broad arms over his chest and stared at his chief. “The Caelen McDunnah I know, would have drawn first blood in one swipe of his sword, just to prove he could do it.”

  “But ’twas no’ a man I was up against!” What had they expected him to do? Slice her throat from ear to ear? What good would that have done?

  “Nay, ’twas no’ a man ye were up against, but a right bonny lass.”

  “Bonny or no’, she is still a woman and the chief of the McPhersons. And that has nothin’ to do with the fact that someone wants us at war with one another.”

  “I can only hope that ye let her win because she is a woman and you were tryin’ to avoid a clan war.”

  Caelen imagined he could stand on top of his keep and shout out to the world that he hadn’t let Fiona McPherson win. Winning had not been the point in making his challenge that day.

  “I challenged Fiona to keep one of me men from doin’ it. They’d no’ have shown any restraint, fer they were far too angry with her.”

  “Then why, pray tell, did ye kiss her? ’Twas it all part of yer devious plan to catch her unawares? Were ye plannin’ on kissin’ her into submission?”

  He had no explanation, at least not one that would put him in a good light.

  Fiona had been on her back, pinned beneath him, as he had been imagining far too often. He’d been unable to resist the urge and now he was living to regret it.

  “It matters no’ why I kissed her.”

  “I think it does,” Kenneth argued. “If ye kissed her because yer a devious bastard, then I applaud ye. But if ye kissed her because ye are besotted with her, then I fear we are in a grave amount of danger.”

  “What do ye mean, danger?” Mayhap his cousin had lost his mind.

  With a heavy sigh and shake of his head, Kenneth answered. “If someone is tryin’ to get us to go to war with the McPhersons, and we instead form an alliance …” he let his words trail off.

  Kenneth’s worry had some merit to it. There were too many unknowns at the moment. He had no idea who was behind the raids on McPherson lands or why they wanted it to appear that the McDunnahs were responsible.

  “I kissed Fiona McPherson because I am a devious bastard,” Caelen said, which was not a complete lie. “And contrary to popular belief, I have no’ lost me mind, nor am I bewitched or besotted.”

  Kenneth’s face was awash in doubt and Caelen knew there was probably very little he could say at the moment to disprove his cousin’s theories.

  “We need to find out who is stealing McPherson sheep and why they want us to be blamed,” Caelen said with the hope that Kenneth would begin to focus on something other than lasses who cast spells.

  Kenneth gave a nod of agreement. “Who hates us the most at the moment?”

  Caelen smiled deviously. “Well, now, Kenneth, that be a right long list. Our list of allies is much shorter.”

  Chapter 9

  One of the first matters Fiona addressed after becoming chief was to ensure that the women were properly trained in knives, archery, and swords. Only a handful of men had protested. It had taken a good amount of work to prove to the men that the world would not end if a woman picked up a quiver and bow, or a knife to use for something other than slicing bread.

  ’Twasn’t an easy task she had set upon nearly two years ago but she hadn’t for a moment thought it would be.

  In the beginning, many of the men refused to pick up the slack and pitch in to help with chores they thought beneath them — fit only for a woman. But after time, when the men saw how happy their women folk were as well as how well they took to archery, knives, and sword, a slow change began to take place.

  Three mornings a week, the women would take to the training fields whilst the men tended to hearth and home. What once threatened to tear the clan apart eventually brought them all closer together. The women knew there were three ways to a man’s heart and his thick skull. Food, coin, and loving.

  ’Twas a beautiful summer morn with the sun shining warmly and the sky a painted a brilliant blue. Fiona and Bridgett were on the training fields along with two dozen McPherson women. At the northern part of the fields, six women practiced shooting arrows at targets set some one hundred yards away.

  At the opposite end were another half dozen women working with knives, throwing them at small targets set at various distances.

  Between the two, were Fiona and Bridgett, surrounded by a group of women as they practiced hand to hand combat with wooden knives. Passionate and competitive, it had taken only one incident, early on, to show them that training with real knives was mayhap a mistake. Both women bore scars from that day and it was a mistake neither woman desired to repeat.

  Both women were dressed for battle, with leather breastplates over mail, designed specifically for each woman, full helms, leather gauntlets, and knee boots.

  “Tell, me again,” Bridgett said as she lunged at Fiona with the wooden knife. Fiona blocked it with her knives crossed. “How did ye draw first blood?”

  Fiona knew Bridgett was trying to distract her into making a mistake, still, it irked her that her friend had be
en teasing her for days in regard to how she had won against Caelen McDunnah.

  “How did the kiss feel?” Bridgett taunted

  It felt as though all the world had stopped and we were the only two in it. “’Twas decent, as far as kisses go,” Fiona answered as she swiped at Bridgett, the wooden knife just barely landing across the stomach area of the leather armor.

  Bridgett laughed, “Me thinks ye lie.”

  Fiona was not about to admit the truth for she knew Bridgett would never allow her to forget. And she very much wanted to forget about that kiss.

  Brodie and William greeted Caelen and his men at the gates of the McPherson keep. As promised, Caelen had brought the five cattle Fiona had won earlier in the week.

  “Good day to ye, Caelen,” Brodie said after the gates were lifted and the brothers walked out to meet them. Brodie shot a wry smile up to Caelen. “I see ye made good on the wager.”

  Caelen chuckled as he slid down from his horse. “I worried that if I didna, yer sister would have me head on a pike.”

  Brodie and William agreed and responded in unison,“Yer probably right.”

  William gave a cursory inspection of the cattle, running his hands along the side of the largest heifer. “These are verra nice cattle, McDunnah. Our clan is grateful to ye.”

  “Yer sister warned me to bring only fine cattle, no’ any sickly ones,” Caelen told him with a smile.

  Introductions were made between Caelen’s men and the McCray brothers. While William gave instructions on where to take the five cattle, Brodie led Caelen through the heavy wooden gates and into the cobblestone courtyard.

  Young boys came to take the McDunnah horses to the stables. Caelen thanked them as he took in his surroundings.

  It had been decades since last he was at the McPherson keep. He could fit ten of these keeps inside his own, with room to spare. Small, but in good repair, the keep was made of large gray stones. Furs had been pulled away from most of the small windows to allow in the fresh, warm summer air. ’Twas only two stories in height and he reckoned that was all the small clan needed.