Fiona then lifted the clay cup of water. “This water comes from Sidh Chailleann. May ye drink from the cup the water that gives our clan life — and the finest whisky in all of Scotland.” The crowd laughed in agreement while Fiona held the cup to Collin’s lips. When he’d drunk all of it, Fiona placed the cup inside the box, next to the sgian dubh.
The slice of stale bread was next. “This bread is meant to nourish ye as well as remind ye that as chief, ye shall no’ eat like a king whilst yer clan eats gruel. Treat yer clan with a just, kind and generous hand, and ye shall never want.”
Collin ate it, and when he was done, he gave Fiona a wink and a smile.
Fiona carefully lifted the broadsword, one hand on the hilt, the other on the blade, and held it above her head. “Collin, may ye wear this broadsword with pride. If ye must ever use it, may yer aim be true and swift. May yer enemies fear yer strength and intelligence as much as they fear yer sword.” Her voice began to crack from the pride welling up inside. In a few moments, she would hand this sword off to her brother and a new era of Clan McPherson would begin.
She directed Collin to kneel on the bench before the altar.
“Collin McCray, do ye swear by all that is holy and truthful, before God and yer people, yer allegiance to Clan McPherson?” Fiona asked him.
“Aye, I do so swear,” he answered in a reverent tone.
“And do ye swear by all that is holy and truthful, before God, that as chief, ye will protect the people of Clan McPherson, that ye will keep them sheltered and fed, insomuch as ye are able?”
“Aye, I do so swear.”
Fiona swallowed back her tears of pride and continued. “Collin McCray, do ye swear by all that is holy and truthful, that ye will defend yer clan against any enemy, either from without or from within?”
“Aye, I do so swear.”
“And do ye also swear, that as chief, ye will fight to yer own death before ye allow Clan McPherson to fall?”
“Aye, I do so swear.”
A loud roar of cheers erupted throughout the kirk.
Collin McCray was now chief of Clan McPherson.
It took some time before the commotion settled down. People left the pews and swarmed the altar so that they could personally wish him well. Pushing his way through the crowd, he grabbed Mairi’s hand and pulled her up to the altar.
Raising his hand in the air, he shouted over the din of well-wishers.
“Me good people! Me clansmen!”
They quieted down to listen. “Me first order as chief is to send ye all back to yer seats so that we might see our lovely Fiona married to the less-than-lovely Caelen McDunnah!”
More cheers came up from the crowd before they took their seats.
Fiona and Caelen knelt side by side at the altar whilst the priest gave his first blessing over the couple.
“If anyone present this day objects to this fine couple marryin’, then speak now or forever keep it to yerself.” Father Paul told those gathered.
A cough came from the pews. A loud, hacking cough that drew the attention it desired.
Caelen knew that cough all too well. “Burunild,” he muttered as he closed his eyes.
The hacking continued, growing louder and more obnoxious.
“How the bloody hell did she get here?” Caelen whispered harshly to no one in particular.
Fiona gave him a gentle nudge. “Caelen, we be in the kirk! Watch yer language.”
Father Paul cleared his throat to draw Caelen’s attention. Without uttering a word, the priest was able to chastise Caelen with a simple look.
The coughing finally ceased and Caelen was able to breathe again. Confident he knew who was responsible for bringing his grandminny here, he made a mental note to kill Phillip and Kenneth when this was over.
“We shall continue,” Father Paul said happily before directing Caelen and Fiona to stand. Looking to Collin, who stood as Caelen’s best man, the priest took the ceremonial ribbon Collin had been holding.
Father Paul took Fiona’s left hand placed it into Caelen’s. As he wrapped the ribbon around their hands, he said a prayer over them. “May ye be blessed with understandin’, patience, and endurance,” he told them.
“Caelen McDunnah, do ye take Fiona McPherson to be yer wife? To honor her, protect her and keep yerself unto her until death do ye part?”
Caelen smiled proudly at Fiona as he answered. “I do.”
“Fiona McPherson, do ye take Caelen McDunnah, to honor and love and keep yerself unto him until death do ye part?”
“I do,” Fiona said, her voice cracking on the tears lodged in her throat. And even though ye did no’ mention it, I shall protect him as fiercely as I ken he’ll protect me.
With their vows exchanged and promises made, Father Paul gave Caelen permission to kiss his bride.
Happily, eagerly, Caelen wrapped his arms around Fiona, dipping her ever so slightly, he kissed her passionately, without regard for social protocol. Fiona did not mind in the least.
“Yer mine now,” he said as he stood her upright. “Now and ferever, Fiona.”
His. Forever. She could live with that.
There was no grand feast such as had been given for Alyse and Bhruic and neither bride nor groom cared. With Collin as their new chief, Fiona left it up to him entertain the guests and bid farewell to the other clans. Besides, ’twas no longer her responsibility. Instead, she chose to focus solely on her husband.
As soon as they made their way through the crowd of well-wishers, Caelen took her hand and together, they practically ran from the crowd. He refused to stop to thank anyone for any blessing or well wishes.
Fiona, smiling gleefully from ear-to-ear, simply called out ‘thank yous’ as they made their way across the courtyard, into the keep, and up to their bedchamber. Fiona was out of breath, more from anticipation than any physical drain as she made her way toward the bed.
Once inside, Caelen barred the door behind him and turned to look at his bride. Fiona could not suppress the giggle that came with seeing the expression on his face. She thought he very much resembled a starved wolf, though why he looked that way after the night and morning they’d shared together, she couldn’t quite understand.
The space between them evaporated in the blink of an eye. Hands and lips moved in frenzied motions, searching for any clothing that acted as barrier between them. In short order, she had divested Caelen of his weapons, tunic and trews.
As she pressed against him, her arms wrapped around his neck, Caelen untied the laces at the back of her dress. Between kisses, he lifted the dress up and over her head and tossed it over his shoulder.
In one fell swoop, he lifted her up off the floor. Fiona wrapped her legs around his waist and held on. A moment later, he had her against the wall.
Fiona soon learned there were many ways to join with a man.
And she enjoyed every single one of them.
7
He was beyond incensed, beyond furious.
When he’d received the news that Fiona McPherson and Caelen McDunnah were wed, he punched the messenger in the face twice, before gutting him with his broadsword. He didn’t give a rat’s arse what the rest of his men thought of his furious response. That would teach all of them to bring him bad news.
He ordered two of his men to dispose of the body, carefully. “I do no’ care if ye have to cut him into tiny chunks and serve him up as rabbit stew, get rid of him and do no’ let yerselves be caught!” he barked.
The marriage changed everything. Everything he’d worked so hard to obtain these past months. It had been just a hair’s breadth away, completely within his grasp, only to be yanked away at the last moment.
With her married to Caelen and living at the McDunnah keep, he’d no longer have unfettered access to her lands. The only possible hope he had left was that Caelen would keep the bargain made with Fiona.
If he didn’t, he’d take the bloody land from the McPhersons. He’d kill every last one of them if h
e had to.
8
Fiona and Caelen locked themselves away in her bedchamber for two solid days. Fiona had left instructions that they were to be disturbed only if the keep was on fire.
Meals were brought to her room and left just outside the door. Twice Caelen was forced to ask for a temporary halt to their loving so that he could rest and eat. Fiona felt quite proud that she had loved him to the point of exhaustion.
On the morning of their third day of wedded bliss, Fiona reluctantly agreed to going below stairs to break their fast. Caelen looked positively relieved. He had the look of a man who’d been through quite a physical trial. Somewhere along the way, he’d gained a slight limp. If his men were anything like her men and brothers, he was no doubt in for quite a ribbing.
Fiona glanced around the room, looking for Burunild. “I wonder where yer grandminny be this morn?”
“As long as she be no’ harpin’ at me, I do no’ really care.”
Fiona rolled her eyes. “Caelen! She be such a sweet auld woman. How can ye be so unkind toward her?”
“She only pretends to be a sweet auld woman. Wait until ye get to know her better. Ye’ll see then.”
“Yer daft.”
Caelen chuckled. “I be daft because she drives me mad. Ye’ll see.”
It was a rather odd sensation when they took seats at the head table. No longer did she sit at the center. Collin sat there now, with Mairi to his right. She was feeding Symon bits of egg and bread when Caelen escorted Fiona to her seat.
Mairi drew her lips in to keep from laughing aloud. “Good morn to ye,” she said, unable to look Caelen directly in the eye.
Collin wasn’t quite as kind as Mairi. “Yer limpin’,” he said, looking confused. “What happened?”
Fiona bit her bottom lip as she sat down. How were they to answer such a question? I loved me husband to the point of injury?
Caelen cleared his throat and said, “’Tis an auld war wound. It sometimes flares up when it rains.”
“It be no’ rainin’,” Collin said.
Mairi elbowed him in the ribs. “Wheesht, Collin.”
“Why?” he asked, looking rather unaware.
William and Isabelle entered the room, with Conner and Maggie in tow.
“Ah, look,” Caelen said as he carefully took his seat. “There be William and Isabelle.”
While they waited for William and Isabelle to approach, Mairi leaned in and whispered something to her husband. Collin’s eyes grew wide before he leaned forward to look at Fiona and Caelen. Fiona remained happily mute and Caelen did the same.
“Good morn to ye,” William said as he stepped aside to allow Isabelle up the steps. Conner and Maggie followed behind her.
“Good morn to ye,” Fiona smiled. “How be ye this day, Conner? Maggie?”
Conner didn’t look quite as gaunt as he had just a few short days ago. Fiona took that as a good sign. Maggie, however, still held that vacant look to her eyes.
“I be well,” Conner said softly as he took Maggie’s hand and helped her onto her seat.
“I hear Isabelle be takin’ good care of ye,” Fiona said as she helped herself to eggs and ham.
Conner’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Aye,” was all he said.
Time, Fiona told herself. The children simply need time and love.
“How auld are ye, Conner?” Caelen asked between bites of bread and ham.
“Nine.”
“Do ye ken how to hunt?”
That gained the boy’s attention. “Aye. I used to hunt with me da and uncle.”
Fiona watched closely, noticing a flash of something resembling guilt in the little boy’s eyes.
“William,” Caelen said as he leaned forward. “Mayhap this morn we could take young Conner here to hunt with us?”
“I think that be a verra good idea,” William said. “Ye and yer men seem to have incredibly large appetites.”
Fiona thought there was a hidden meaning behind William’s statement but decided against commenting. It warmed her heart to hear her husband offering to take Conner hunting. She reached under the table and gave his hand a tight squeeze and mouthed the words, thank you.
“I do no’ want to go huntin’,” Conner muttered as he rested his head on his fist.
“Why no’?” Caelen asked.
Conner stabbed at his bread with his index finger and shrugged his shoulders.
“I asked ye a question, Conner,” Caelen said as he turned to give the child his full attention. “I would appreciate ye givin’ me an answer.”
Another shrug before he answered. “Maggie needs me.”
Caelen was doubtful that that was the real reason. “Isabelle and Fiona will take care of Maggie.”
“I just do no’ want to,” Conner repeated. He didn’t sound angry or insolent, just sad and lost.
“Conner.” Caelen’s voice was firm but not harsh. “Conner, look at me.”
Conner glanced sideways at Caelen as he continued to poke at his food.
Caelen let out a short breath before turning the boy around in his seat. “Conner, when an adult asks ye a question, ye need to look them in the eye when ye answer.”
Fiona rested a hand on Caelen’s shoulder. “Caelen, please, be kind to him,” she whispered softly, sounding more than a bit worried.
Caelen ignored her and focused solely on the little boy. “Conner, I need ye to tell me the real reason ye do no’ wish to go with us. And do no’ worry yer answer will get ye into trouble.”
Conner’s eyes began to fill with tears. Caelen could see him fighting to hold them back. He could also sense the rest of the people at their table were staring at him, holding their breath, uncertain what he was doing.
“Da loved huntin’,” Conner choked out, his voice low and filled with fear and uncertainty. “I do no’ think I should be huntin’ or eatin’ or anythin’ else while me mum and da be dead.”
Caelen’s chest tightened when he saw the depths of the boy’s grief and guilt. He understood all too well what the lad was thinking and feeling, for he’d gone through much the same thing when he was a boy, after his grandsire passed away.
“Conner, ye need no’ feel guilty about enjoyin’ anythin’. I did no’ ken yer mum or da, but I’ve heard people speak verra fondly of them. I be told they loved ye verra much. Be that true?”
Conner nodded his head. One tear fell from his eye and trailed down his cheek.
“If yer da be as brave and good as everyone tells me, then yer disrepectin’ his memory by no’ livin’ and doin’ all the things he canna do anymore. Yer mum and da would want ye to go on livin’ and they’d want ye to be happy.”
The dam burst. The tears he’d been trying so valiantly to hold back, the guilt, the grief, all came rushing through. Conner leapt from his seat and flung himself into Caelen’s arms.
Caelen sat dumbfounded as the little boy wrapped his arms around Caelen’s waist and sobbed into his chest. “I hid like a c-coward,” Conner stammered through his tears. “I didna protect them!”
All eyes in the room were now on Caelen and the sobbing child. He’d never been this close to a child before, had spent the last sixteen years of his life avoiding such encounters.
He’d meant only to let the boy know that he shouldn’t be afraid to do those things that he had enjoyed before his parents deaths. Now, the little boy clung to him as if he were his confessor.
Slowly, Caelen placed a hand on the child’s back and patted him. “Wheesht now, lad. People be starin’,” he whispered.
“But I was a coward,” Conner muttered.
Caelen’s heart cracked a bit more as he understood all too well how the lad felt. Still, he could do no more than listen and pat the child’s back. “Nay, ye were no’ a coward, lad. Ye saved yer sister, aye?”
Conner looked up, his expression quite telling. He’d been guilt-stricken that he hadn’t saved his parents but had given no thought to the fact that he had saved his sister. “But
I didna save me mum or me da.”
Caelen continued to pat the child’s back. “Nay, but lad, there were at least five men there that night. Had ye tried to intervene, ye and Maggie would both be dead. Ye did the right thing. Ye listened to yer mum and ye saved yer sister.”
Conner hiccupped as he wiped his tears on his sleeves. There were a thousand questions in the little boy’s eyes, questions he was undoubtedly afraid to ask. Caelen began to feel awkward and uneasy. He didn’t quite know how to deal with small children. A hush had fallen over the room as people continued to watch them.
“Wheesht now, lad,” Caelen whispered.
Without asking permission, Conner climbed up onto Caelen’s knee and wrapped one arm around his neck. Caelen felt all the more ill at ease and awkwardly put one large hand on the boy’s waist to keep him from falling over.
Looking Caelen directly in the eye, Conner asked, “Do ye think da will fergive me fer hidin’?”
Lord almighty, Caelen thought. “Of course, lad. Yer da be verra proud that ye saved yer sister. Now, please, do no’ fash over it.”
Conner wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I was verra afraid and didna ken what to do.”
Caelen chanced a glance at his wife, who sat beside him with tears in her own eyes. She picked a fine time to become mute, Caelen thought.
“Do ye ever get afraid?” Conner asked quietly.
Bloody hell. He looked to Fiona for help but she was still quiet. A look of something quite odd befell her face. No doubt she thinks me a fool.
Caelen's Wife, Book Three Page 6
