“I knew it!” Fiona said exasperatedly as she spied the whisky in front of Collin. She grabbed it and filled her tankard halfway. “’Tis a good thing those women be married to me brothers or else I’d be sorely tempted to banish them fer their interference.”
Collin chuckled and nodded in agreement. “I love me wife, I truly do,” he said before turning quite thoughtful. “She means well, Fi. She wants to see ye happy, as we all do.”
Fiona cast him a look that said she did not care what Mairi wanted for her. “How did she even ken about Bhruic or Edgar’s proposal?” Fiona hadn’t told anyone about Edgar MacKinnon’s offer.
Collin quirked a curious brow. “What about Bhruic? What proposal?”
Fiona stared at him and sensed that he truly did not know about her earlier conversation with Edgar or his suggestion that she marry Bhruic. She looked away and took a drink of their fine whisky. “We will speak of it later.”
Thankfully, Collin let the matter rest but Fiona knew he’d not forget or leave it rest for too long.
“I thank ye fer invitin’ me to dine at yer table this night,” Bhruic said.
Fiona began to count backwards from ten before turning to respond. He was quite handsome, if one liked blonde men with big, sparkling blue eyes. “Yer verra welcome,” she said flatly.
A moment passed before Bhruic leaned in to speak in a low voice. “I have a feelin’ ye were no’ expectin’ me.”
How astute, she mused. And bluntly honest. Fiona could appreciate that in a person. “In truth?” she asked. “Nay, I was no’.”
Bhruic smiled warmly. “I will apologize on behalf of me uncle’s rudeness. He sometimes fergets he’s only the chief of his clan, no’ the king of Scotia.”
She admired a man who was blunt and to the point and could not resist returning his smile. “I fear many a man suffers from the same affliction.” She glanced down the table at her sisters-in-law. They looked positively gleeful as they pretended not to be watching her and Bhruic. “I also fear me sisters-in-law ferget they be no’ the Queen.”
Bhruic followed Fiona’s gaze to the other end of the table. He laughed when Isabelle and Mairi found themselves caught. Their cheeks flamed red before they quickly turned away.
“Or the daughters of Cupid, aye?” Bhruic said with a chuckle.
Fiona laughed at his intuitive comment. “I suppose they mean well,” Fiona said as she began to relax.
“I wish I could say the same fer me uncle,” Bhruic said. “I fear he has ulterior motives.”
Fiona’s brow raised sharply. “Such as?”
Bhruic laughed and took another drink of ale. “Nothin’ ugly, I can assure ye. I fear he wishes to be nothin’ more than a hero of sorts.”
Edgar MacKinnon, a hero? ’Twas as confusing a notion as any.
Bhruic explained himself further. “He kens yer plight, me lady, what with the raids and senseless murder of one of yer women—”
“Ye may call me Fiona,” she interjected. “And her name was Bridgett.” Her smile faded. Collin nudged her with one elbow, offering her the platter of venison. Fiona declined with a raised hand.
“Verra well,” Bhruic replied as he took the platter Collin offered. “As I was sayin’, me uncle does have ulterior motives, ye see.” He took two slices of venison and dropped them onto his trencher before handing it off to his uncle.
“He wants to be a hero?” Fiona asked quietly.
“Aye,” Bhruic answered as he cut the venison into smaller bites. “He thinks that if he can stop the raids or more senseless murders, he’ll be looked upon as a hero.”
Fiona swallowed a laugh behind a drink of warm whisky. Aye, if anyone could stop the raids and root out who was behind them, then aye, they’d be a hero in her eyes. She could not help but wonder, however, if heroic deeds were Edgar’s only motivation.
“Do ye always serve such fine fare as this?” Bhruic asked as he savored the tender venison.
“Nay, we do no’,” she said. “I fear me family wanted to make a good impression on our guests.” Even if it meant an empty larder when the night was done.
“I fear I’d much prefer a simpler meal, one without all the pageantry and pretense,” Bhruic said. “Although, I must admit, yer cook has done quite well. Ye should try the venison,” he said as he cut a piece from what little was left on his trencher and placed it onto hers.
The gesture of sharing his food with her was far too intimate for her liking. Aye, it might have been born out of simple kindness and the fact that he did not know her well. She could feel Isabelle and Mairi staring at her, watching her every move. Knowing the two women as she did, if she were to eat the bit of offered meat they’d take it as a proposal of marriage and would immediately set out making plans for a wedding. “Thank ye, but I do no’ care fer venison.” While ’twasn’t necessarily her favorite choice in meat, she would not have turned it down under different circumstances. Being raised as she had, any meat was a welcome addition to any meal. This was different. ’Twas merely her way of letting him know she was not some delicate flower who needed to be fed or have her meat cut.
Without saying a word, Bhruic took the meat back and plopped it into his own mouth. “Good,” he said as he chewed. “I didna want to share it with ye anyway.”
Then he winked at her, signifying he was only being playful.
Fiona wasn’t quite sure what to make of this man. He was being blunt, open, and mayhap a bit bold in treating her as if they had been friends since they were weans. Either ’twas simply his nature to be so open with someone he did not know or he was trying to impress her. She’d wait to pass judgment.
* * *
Over the course of the meal, Fiona’s appetite began to return. Bhruic seemed to be a pleasant enough fellow. While most of his attention was focused on her, he did manage to have a conversation with Collin about sheep. She only half-listened as her mind tried to work out if anyone in the room might be the bastard responsible for Bridgett’s murder.
Was there one among the dozens gathered here dumb enough or arrogant enough to kill Bridgett only to turn around and sit at Fiona’s table? Kill then partake of the festivities?
The only one with the appropriate amount of arrogance was Aric MacElroy. But Fiona had serious doubts that he’d have the intestinal fortitude necessary to kill anyone. Nay, he’d not want to mess up his fine silk tunic or his carefully manicured hands. He might, however, be inclined to have one of his own men do such a horrendous deed. Mayhap he had hired mercenaries? Nay, he’d not part with his precious coin. Still, she would not put the man past doing such a thing.
“What be yer opinion on the matter, Fiona?” ’Twas Collin who asked the question, drawing her out of her meandering thoughts.
“I be afraid I was no’ listenin’,” she told him.
Before Collin could comment, Bhruic touched her forearm and said, “I was just askin’ why a bonny woman such as ye was no’ already married.”
Fiona heard Collin and Mairi take a collective breath and hold it.
Bhruic smiled, unaware of her extreme dislike of untrue compliments. She was reaching for the sgian dubh hidden under the long sleeve of her dress when Collin stopped her with a firm hand on hers.
It took a few moments of uneasy silence before Bhruic realized something was the matter. His smile changed to a look of perplexity. “What?” he finally asked.
Fiona removed her hand from Collin’s with a yank and turned to look at Bhruic. Before she could utter a word, Mairi spoke up. “Fergive her Bhruic, but me sister-in-law does no’ like compliments.”
Fiona stared at Mairi as if she’d lost her mind. ’Twas a tremendous understatement on her part.
Bhruic looked even more confused. “I do no’ understand?” He looked Fiona directly in the eye. “I meant no offense, me lady, only to compliment ye.”
Fiona began counting to one hundred.
“Fi, he was only bein’ kind,” Collin whispered, his voice warning her to keep her tem
per.
“By lyin’?” Fiona asked harshly.
Bhruic’s shoulders drew back as he scowled at her insult. “I was no’ lyin’, my lady. I do find ye quite bonny and why ye’d take that as an insult is beyond me comprehension.”
“I be no’ some naive young lass, Bhruic, who needs her feminine ego caressed. Ye can take yer false compliments and—”
Before she could tell him exactly where he could put his false compliments, Mairi jumped to her feet and came to pull Fiona away from the table. “Fiona,” she said, sounding quite frustrated. “Ye need to come with me fer a moment.”
Fiona looked up at Mairi who looked quite determined to get her away from the table. Isabelle was soon standing next to her. Each of them pleaded silently for Fiona to follow.
“Verra well,” she said as she pushed away from the table and stood. Before leaving, she looked first to Bhruic then to Collin. Collin looked as though he wanted to say something but thought better of it. “Explain the way of things to him,” she told her oldest brother as she gestured at Bhruic. “And make sure he understands.”
William was on his feet and whispering something to his wife. Fiona thought his countenance odd for his face held a look of fear. What on earth was the matter with him? They looked to be in a heated discussion but over what, she didn’t rightly know. She ignored them as she followed Mairi out of the gathering room and up the stairs.
* * *
Mairi led the way down the hall and into Fiona’s private chambers. There was no doubt that she was upset, but over what, Fiona could not begin to guess.
“It be time ye put away yer ridiculous belief that yer no’ bonny,” Mairi said as she stood next to the hearth. Her jaw was set, her voice firm, and the fiery resolve in her eyes unmistakable.
“Mairi—” she tried to speak, but Mairi would have none of it.
“Hear me out, please.” ’Twas more of a demand she made than a request. “I be quite serious about this, Fiona. ’Tis time ye knew the truth—”
Before she could finish, Isabelle came rushing into the room with William in fast pursuit. Isabelle slammed the door shut, pulled down the bar before turning around, out of breath.
“Did ye tell her yet?” Isabelle asked while William pounded on the door, demanding entry.
“I was just about to,” Mairi answered.
“Isabelle!” William bellowed. “Open this door this instant.”
“Nay!” Isabelle shouted back. “Be gone with ye!”
Mairi glanced at the door and cringed as William continued to shout and pound his fists against the heavy wooden door. Isabelle rolled her eyes, keeping her back pressed tightly against the door, as if her wee frame could keep her husband from knocking the door down. “Ye best hurry, Mairi!” Isabelle said. “I do no’ ken how long I can hold him at bay!”
“I swear, Isabelle, when I get me hands on ye, ye’ll no’ be able to sit fer a week!” William bellowed from the other side.
Isabelle rolled her eyes and scoffed at his threat and yelled at him through the door. “Bah! Ye’ll do no such thing, William McCray! Yer sister would have yer head if ye so much as think of layin’ an angry finger to me!” She turned back to Mairi. “Ye best hurry!”
Fiona was quite certain the three of them had lost their minds. “Yer all daft,” she told them.
“Fiona,” Mairi said as she rushed across the room and took Fiona’s hands in hers. “I need ye to listen, but first I need ye to promise ye’ll no’ take anyone’s life.”
“Not bloody likely,” Fiona countered. William was now pounding against the door with such force that it jostled Isabelle. “Let the eejit in, Isabelle. Now.”
“But he doesna want us to tell ye!” Isabelle argued.
“Now.” Fiona had reached the end of her patience.
“But—” Isabelle continued to protest. Once she realized Fiona was not going to listen, her shoulders sagged as she let loose a sorrowful sigh. Slowly she unbarred the door and opened it.
William, his face red with anger, came rushing into the room. “No matter what they told ye, ’tis a lie!”
Aye, they’d all lost their minds, Fiona was quiet certain of it. “Yer all bein’ quite ridiculous,” she said before turning to look at Mairi. “Now, what is it that ye want to tell me that me brother does no’ want me to hear?”
William stepped forward, “They’ve nothin’ to tell ye—”
Mairi cut him off. “William, she needs to ken and she needs to ken now. ’Tis absurd what ye and yer family have done to her all these years! She verra well could have killed that man below stairs, and fer what? A foolish lie!”
Fiona hid her bewilderment and curiosity behind a fierce scowl. “I have had enough. William, if ye utter another word, I shall cut out yer tongue,” she looked directly at her brother. He rolled his eyes in defeat and sat down on the edge of Fiona’s bed.
Fiona turned back to Mairi and Isabelle. With a nod of her head, she bade them to continue.
Mairi took a deep breath and began to wring her fingers together nervously. “I ken ye think yer no’ bonny, Fiona, but that be no’ true.”
Good Lord, Fiona thought to herself.
“But ye see, that be no’ necessarily true,” Isabelle added, looking just as nervous as Mairi.
“Aye, it be no’ true at all.” Mairi agreed.
Her patience gone, the subject of their discussion beyond humiliating, Fiona threw her hands in the air. “All of ye are daft! I’ve no desire to discuss whether or no’ I be bonny. ’Tis absolutely of no import to me.”
Mairi and Isabelle cast wary glances at one another. Mairi took a step toward Fiona. “But ye need to ken the truth of it, Fiona, if only so ye do no’ feel moved to killin’ a man over a simple compliment.”
Fiona let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. I be as bonny as the day be long. Are ye happy?”
From behind her, William groaned his frustration. “Fiona,” he said as he stood up and walked toward her. “What Isabelle and Mairi are tryin’ to tell ye is that ye are quite bonny.”
’Twas the first time in her whole life that her brother ever said such a thing. There was no way to hide her stunned surprise.
“Ye see, when ye were born, ye were so verra bonny. Everyone remarked about it. Anyone who came to see ye said the same thing What a beautiful babe, she’ll never want fer anythin’.”
She could not have been more stunned had he just told her she was the bastard child of Robert the Bruce. Knitting her brows together, she said, “Nay, I ken the truth, William. I was no’ a bonny babe. Everyone said so.”
William shook his head in disagreement. “Nay, our mum said so.”
Fiona stood there, stunned into temporary silence. A long moment passed between them as Fiona tried to make sense of what he was saying. She was unsuccessful. “I fear I do no’ understand. Why on earth would mum say such a thing? For what end?”
William raked a hand through his dark hair and let out a breath of frustration. His blue eyes held a sadness that she’d never witnessed before. “Mayhap we should sit,” he said as he guided her toward the hearth. After arranging the two chairs to face one another, he sat his sister down.
“Before I begin, ye must ken that mum meant well. She had good reasons fer doin’ what she did.”
Fiona sat with her shoulders back, trying to mentally prepare herself for whatever her brother was about to tell her.
“Our mum had a sister, Ariana was her name,” William began.
Fiona tried to pull some memory from her past where the name Ariana was mentioned. Her mother had come from Clan Maclan and rarely spoke of her family. Fiona had always assumed her mother’s lack of speaking about her family meant she’d not had the best of upbringings and never pushed her mother to tell more.
“Mum was the youngest of three daughters, ye see. Margaret was the oldest, then Ariana, then our mum. Accordin’ to mum, Ariana was spoiled beyond belief by their parents, our grandparents. Ariana was a beautiful child who g
rew into an even more beautiful young woman. Her entire life, anyone could speak of was Ariana’s beauty. She had thick dark hair and mesmerizin’ emerald green eyes.”
Their mum had been breathtakingly beautiful. It was difficult for Fiona to imagine a beauty to rival hers.
“Now, mum and Margaret were verra close to one another. They tried to be close to Ariana, but accordin’ to our mum, Ariana had a black heart that her parents chose to ignore and it only grew blacker as she grew. I be no’ sayin’ that mum and Margaret were abused or neglected fer they were no’. Their parents were good people, but their da, well, there was just somethin’ about Ariana. When Margaret was seventeen, she fell verra much in love with Charles Maclan, the second born son of their chief. Charles loved Margaret too, loved her verra much. One night, he came to see mum’s da and ask fer Margaret’s hand. Ariana was verra jealous that Margaret might marry the son of their chief. Ye see, Charles older brother Rolph was already married. Ariana’s only hope at marryin’ into the chief’s family was through Charles. She wanted the status more than the man. So she made an accusation that Charles had seduced her and she carried his babe.”
The story was making Fiona’s head swim. Why had her mother never shared any of this with her, her only daughter?
“Of course Margaret didna believe Ariana, but their da did. He refused to allow Margaret to marry the man who supposedly took advantage of his innocent, beautiful Ariana. He went straight to their chief that verra night and insisted Charles marry Ariana. Och, she put on such a gallant show, according to our mum, all teary-eyed, contrite and ashamed. The chief chose to believe his son over Ariana. Their da flew into a rage that the chief would call his Ariana a liar. Before anyone could react, their da drew his sword and plunged it into their chief’s belly. A moment later, Charles killed mum’s da, our grandda.”
William nodded when Fiona gasped and covered her mouth with her fingers. “Aye, ’twas a horrible event.”
“Good, lord, what happened next?” Fiona managed to ask.
Caelen's Wife, Book Two Page 6
