Caelen's Wife, Book Three

by Suzan Tisdale

  Collin, ever tolerant of her, even when she was driving him mad, cast her a slight smile before turning to their people. “Aye, we all ken I be far more patient than me sister,” he told them. “In truth, I did no’ think I’d be takin’ Fiona’s place, or at least no’ fer a verra long while. But I am ready to step forward and do me duty to all of ye, if ye’ll have me.”

  One of the younger women shouted from the back of the room. “I’d rather have Brodie, but no’ as chief!”

  The women giggled and cackled at her jest, while the men rolled their eyes. Fiona caught a glimpse of Brodie out of the corner of her eye. As always, he had that devilish grin that the lasses found quite difficult to refuse.

  One of the aulder women stepped forward. “I have a more serious question, Fiona,” she said.

  Fiona smiled and bade her to ask it.

  “Do we ken yet who killed Bridgett or Stephan and Mildred?”

  The mood in the room turned far more serious with her question. “Nay, we do no’ ken yet who be responsible,” Fiona told her. “But ye have me word, whether I be chief or no’, we will find out who it was and we will avenge those deaths.”

  “Ye have me word as well,” Collin promised. “All of ye do. If it takes the rest of me life, we will no’ stop lookin’ fer those responsible and they will be held accountable.”

  Their promises seemed to appease many in the room. They were not empty words and Fiona knew that her entire family meant to keep their words.

  Fiona hid her excitement and nervousness behind a hopeful smile. As she looked at her people, crowded into the gathering room, she felt a sense of melancholy wash over her. She was stepping down as their chief — if her people agreed to it, that is.

  ’Twasn’t that she was regretting her decision, or even questioning it. She wanted to be with Caelen, as his wife and his partner. They’d build a life together, as husband and wife, and she sincerely looked forward to it.

  She was not the first woman to ever become chief of a clan, still, ’twas rare. It hadn’t been easy, but neither had it been difficult to be chief of Clan McPherson. There had been tests and trials along the way, but she’d met them head-on, dealt with them with grace and dignity. Fiona was proud of what she — nay, she had to give most of the credit to her people — for all they had accomplished.

  When she looked at it from all angles, she realized two things. One, she hoped no one would say that the only reason she was stepping down was because she was running scared after the attacks on her people. Hopefully, by remaining with Clan McPherson until the bastards were caught, would prove she wasn’t running scared.

  Two, she was truly going to miss being the person in charge.

  ’Twasn’t the power of being chief that she’d miss. Well, mayhap a little. She had to admit there were moments when some of the men in her clan had behaved like horses’ arses and there was a glimmer of satisfaction that came with reminding them who exactly was in charge. But those moments had been few and far between.

  It was knowing that she was leading her people, caring for them and making sure things ran as smoothly as possible that she loved most. ’Twas the pride she took in knowing they made the finest whisky in all of Scotland, as well as some of the finest wool.

  In truth, there were many things she enjoyed as their chief.

  She chanced a glance at her betrothed, who was standing near the hearth with his men. Lord almighty, but he was a handsome devil, even if he was a bit stubborn. She stifled a giggle for she knew she was just as, if not more, stubborn than Caelen.

  As he stood there, in an intense discussion, Fiona took the time to study him closely. What did she like most about this man? Was it his wicked sense of humor or his honor that she loved most about him? Was it his intelligence? His tenacity? ’Twas all those things, she reckoned.

  There was also something in the way he often stood, with his arms crossed over his chest, his muscular legs spread apart. There was a confidence to him that made him all the more desirable. There were moments, like these, when she wished she was brave enough to tell him exactly what was on her mind.

  Oh, if she were truly brave, she’d glide over to him and whisper something wicked in his ear, something along the lines of ‘take me to bed now, Caelen McDunnah, and show me once again how me womanly parts be no’ broken.’

  Her cheeks grew warm with the images of him sprawled across her bed and as naked as the day he was born, those dark brown eyes shimmering in the candlelight, smoldering with desire. He did things to her body she didn’t think would be considered proper. Decadent, wonderfully sinful things.

  As she stood there, practically drooling over him, he must have felt her eyes burning into him, for he glanced up and smiled, that wicked, devious smile that she found endearing. Embarrassed, she felt her cheeks grow warm and quickly looked away. She needn’t look at him to know he bore a proud smile on his face.

  For the next hour, Fiona and Collin answered questions and addressed the concerns of their people. In the end, the McPhersons who were in favor of Fiona marrying Caelen and Collin being made chief far outweighed those who were against it, but they did need reassurances. Especially the women. Before they would vote in favor of any changes, they not only needed Collin’s word that he would continue to allow the women to train three days a week, they insisted his promises be put into writing.

  Once the women had Collin’s signature, the vote began. Fiona was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief, whilst Caelen smiled proudly, as though he’d just been crowned King of the Scots.

  While he would have preferred to hie off to the kirk and exchange their vows immediately, the clan insisted on something a bit more formal. “At least allow Fiona to put on a pretty dress. Ye want yer bride to look beautiful, don’ ye?” Mairi insisted.

  To which Caelen murmured something wicked into Fiona’s ear, about how he thought her most beautiful when she was wearing nothing at all.

  Fiona, feeling she owed her clan a never-ending debt of gratitude felt it best to give them at least a few of the things they wanted. They had, after all, just given her permission to marry the man she loved.

  Mairi, Deana and a handful of other women, stole Fiona away to her chamber above stairs to prepare for her wedding. Caelen, having sent Kenneth and Phillip back to McDunnah lands the day before, was left to rely on his future brothers-in-law to lend him clean clothes, though he would have stood at the altar naked if he’d had to.

  6

  Dressed to the satisfaction of her sisters-in-law and the other women who’d spent the time to help primp her, Fiona breathed a sigh of relief. She stood before them in a dark blue silk dress with tapered sleeves and trimmed in fine silver brocade. Draped over her shoulder was a length of McDunnah plaid, held in place by Caelen’s broach. Her blonde hair was gathered at her nape with a length of blue silk and left flowing down her back. A silver belt was draped around her waist. Much to Mairi and Isabelle’s vexation, she strapped a sgian dubh to her left arm. One could never be too careful or unarmed.

  “Ye look so verra beautiful, Fi!” Mairi exclaimed proudly as she wrapped her in a tight hug.

  “Yer groom will no’ be able to keep his hands off ye,” one of the older women giggled.

  “I fear he’ll no’ be me groom if we do no’ leave fer the kirk soon,” Fiona said.

  “Bah!” Isabelle scoffed. “I’ve seen the way he looks at ye. He’ll no’ be goin’ anywhere.”

  Collin stood in the doorway and cleared his throat. “Ye look quite bonny today, Fi,” he said before entering.

  Fiona beamed at her brother and for once in her life, she didn’t roll her eyes or threaten him with bodily harm for offering a compliment. He looked quite regal himself, dressed in his finest tunic, dark trews, and the McPherson plaid draped over his shoulder. She noticed how the hilt of his broadsword glimmered in the candlelight and realized he must have polished it for the two special occasions that were to take place this very afternoon. “Thank ye, Collin.”r />
  “Be ye ready?” Collin asked, as he held out a hand.

  “Aye,” Fiona answered as she took his hand.

  Isabelle began shooing the women out of the bedchamber. “I will get Conner and Maggie and take them to the kirk.”

  Fiona was glad that Isabelle had taken on the role of surrogate mother to the children. However, she wished she could have taken a more active role with them herself. Mayhap, after all the excitement of installing a new chief and two weddings died down, she could spend more time with them.

  Once everyone had left the room, Collin stood in front of Fiona. He wore a most serious expression.

  “What be the matter, Collin?” she asked.

  “Are ye certain ye want to do this, Fi? To give up bein’ chief and marryin’ Caelen?”

  She thought it a little late to be asking that question now. The decisions had already been made. They were moments away from heading to the kirk, where she’d pass the chiefdom on to him before marrying Caelen.

  “Aye, I be certain, Collin. But are ye? Do ye have doubts about bein’ chief?”

  “In truth?” he asked with a quirked brow. “I never thought I’d ever be chief. The only reason I agreed to stand in yer stead was because I thought ye’d always be chief.”

  A sudden surge of dread coursed through her veins. Was he telling her he had changed his mind? If he did not want to be chief, she would not force it upon him. Frustration crept in.

  “I am no’ sayin’ I do no’ want to be chief, Fi. ’Twill take some gettin’ used to is all. And I want to make certain this be what ye want, that ye’ll no’ have any regrets in the future.”

  Fiona closed her eyes and quietly exhaled the breath she’d been holding. When she opened her eyes, Collin was smiling warmly at her. “Ye thought I was goin’ to tell ye I did no’ want to be chief. Ye looked positively terrified. I ken now that this be truly what ye want.” He took her hands in his and gave them a gentle squeeze.

  “Aye, Collin,” she said, returning his smile. “This be what I truly want.”

  Collin led the way down the stairs and into the gathering room. Waiting below stairs were Mairi, who was bouncing Symon on her hip. William and Brodie stood behind her, their eyes growing wide as Fiona floated gracefully down the stairs.

  “Och!” William said with a proud smile. “Do no’ gut me, Fi, but ye look radiant this day!”

  Fiona grinned and rolled her eyes. “Thank ye, kindly William.”

  In truth, she did feel quite lovely today, which was a rare event indeed. There had been so many changes these past short months, not just within her clan, but within herself that there were times she almost didn’t recognize herself.

  Brodie chimed in with a whistle and a bow. “I have to agree with William,” he said with a broad smile. “Ye be the prettiest bride I’ve ever seen.”

  “Thank ye,” Fiona said, feeling her cheeks grow warm. A few short weeks ago, she’d have scoffed at such compliments. Wanting to change the subject she asked, “Where be Caelen?”

  Before anyone in the room could answer, an old, somewhat gravelly voice coming from near the doorway said, “I’d like to ken that verra thing.”

  All eyes in the room turned to face the source. There, standing in the doorway, was an auld woman that Fiona did not recognize. Tiny, with a slight hunch to her back, she was walking toward them, her gnarled fingers wrapped around a walking stick. Her gray hair was twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck and she was wrapped in an arisaid made of McDunnah plaid.

  Behind the auld woman stood a beautiful young woman, with brown hair and big, bright eyes. She, too, wore an arisaid of McDunnah plaid, wrapped around a pale green dress.

  Before Fiona could think to ask who the two women were, Phillip and Kenneth came rushing up behind them.

  “Fer an auld woman who says she’s no’ long fer this world, ye move mighty fast, Burunild!” Phillip said with more than a hint of frustration.

  The auld woman shrugged her shoulders, unbothered by his vexation. “I have to move quickly at times, fer I do no’ ken when I’ll draw me last breath, Phillip.”

  Burunild. Fiona recognized the name. From the way the auld woman spoke and that twinkle in her aged eyes, Fiona had no doubt in her mind that this was Caelen’s grandminny.

  Fiona found herself smiling as she walked toward her. “Burunild? Ye must be Caelen’s grandminny,” she said. “Caelen has oft spoken of ye.”

  Burunild raised a scrutinizing brow as she studied Fiona closely. “I be certain none of it was good.”

  Fiona could not help but laugh and found she instantly liked this spirited auld woman. “Nay, ’twas all good, I promise ye.”

  “Bah!” she said with a wave of her hand. “I ken me grandson better than that. Now, tell me where I can find this woman warrior he be marryin’.”

  Fiona smiled brightly as she said, “I be Fiona McPherson.”

  Burunild looked her up and down. “I thought ye’d be taller,” she said, sounding almost disappointed. “And I thought ye only wore leather and mail?”

  “Well, I thought today called fer somethin’ a wee more flatterin’,” Fiona said playfully. “I’ll save me leather and mail fer when I battle with yer stubborn grandson.”

  Burunild broke into a loud cackle, her wee shoulders shaking with delight. “I like ye, warrior woman! Ye might just be the one to tame that stubborn grandson of mine!”

  “I’ll do me best,” Fiona said with a giggle.

  “If anyone can, it be her,” Kenneth mumbled.

  Fiona looked up and smiled at him. “’Tis good to see ye, Kenneth,” she said with a nod. “And ye as well, Phillip. I did no’ think anyone from Caelen’s clan would be here.”

  “Bah!” Kenneth said. “The moment I told Burunild that ye had agreed to marry Caelen, she threatened to die on me on purpose if I did no’ bring her here.”

  Burunild ignored Kenneth. “I would no’ have missed this day fer all the world.”

  “I be so verra glad to have ye here,” Fiona told her before turning her attention to the young woman who had thus far remained silent.

  “And who might ye be?” Fiona asked.

  “That be Nola McDunnah,” Burunild answered for her. “She be the healer that took care of that verra handsome brother of yers.”

  Fiona offered the young woman a smile before turning to seek out her verra handsome brother. Brodie was still standing next to William. His face bore the oddest expression … he reminded her of how Caelen sometimes looked at her. Oh, dear. Her brother was in love.

  “’Tis a pleasure to meet ye,” Nola said with a warm smile. “I have heard many things about ye.”

  “Ye have?” Fiona asked as she turned once again to look at Brodie. “’Tis quite odd that Brodie didna mention how beautiful ye were.”

  Brodie clenched his jaw and glared at Fiona. He be in love but does no’ want to admit it, she thought.

  “How be yer leg?” Nola asked as she looked across the room at Brodie.

  “Verra well,” he said. Fiona knew he was not telling the truth.

  Collin came to his brother’s rescue. “We were about to head to the kirk, m’lady,” he said to Burunild. “Caelen waits fer us there.”

  Something quite devious flashed in the auld woman’s eyes. In that brief moment, Fiona knew unequivocally where her soon-to-be husband learned that look.

  “Aye, I would verra much like to witness me grandson wed this bonny young woman.”

  Brodie and William were sworn to secrecy, per Burunild’s threat to whack them in their knees if they told Caelen she was here. First things first, however, they would swear Collin in as chief.

  The tiny kirk was filled to capacity and their clansmen flowed out into the courtyard. Traditionally, Caelen wouldn’t have gotten a glimpse of his bride until she walked down the aisle to marry him. But these were special circumstances.

  Collin walked beside Fiona, leading the way to the altar. William, Brodie and Mairi followed behind. Fat
her Paul, the priest who had just the day before married Alyse and Bhruic, would help to perform the oath of allegiance which would be followed by Fiona and Caelen’s wedding. At the priest’s signal, everyone in attendance rose to their feet and watched as the family made their way down the aisle.

  A table, cloaked with McPherson plaid, sat in front of the altar. In its center was a small wooden box, a McPherson broadsword, helm, sgian dubh, and an old, worn cloak made of plain, un-dyed wool. Next to that was a clay cup filled with water and a slice of stale bread.

  An ancient kneeling bench had been placed in front of the table. The bench was a significant piece of McPherson history, dating back some two hundred years. Made from an old yew tree, it had been used in every oath ceremony by every McPherson chief since the clan’s beginning.

  Reaching the altar, William and Brodie stood to Collin’s right, with Mairi standing beside him. Fiona joined the priest at the altar.

  “Collin McCray,” Fiona began, speaking loud enough that everyone could hear. “Ye come before us this day, to swear yer allegiance to Clan McPherson as its chief. Do ye come of yer own free will?”

  “I do,” Collin said proudly.

  Carefully, Fiona lifted the cloak, made of plain wool, and stepped forward to wrap it around Collin’s shoulders. “Ye wear this cloak of simple wool, to remind ye that a chief does no’ wear silk whilst his people wear rags. ’Tis meant to symbolize that ye must first keep yer people warm before ye be warm.”

  Next, she lifted the helm and placed it upon his head. “This helm symbolizes that ye will never hide while yer people defend their lands. It is also meant to remind ye to never let yer head get too big to wear it.”

  The crowd chuckled at her jest. Fiona then took the sgian dubh and the cloth it had been resting upon. Collin held out his hand, palm up. Fiona took his hand and sliced across the skin, just deep enough to draw blood. Collin didn’t even flinch — doing a much better job of it than she had done two years prior. She held the sgian dubh above her head for all to see. “Collin gives his blood fer his clan,” she told the witnesses and onlookers. “Ye shall never clean this sgian dubh, Collin. Let the blood remind ye of yer oath.” She placed the small knife inside the wooden box then wrapped the cloth around Collin’s hand.