Claiming the Highlander (23 page)

Caelen hesitated. “I do not know. The household isn’t my concern.”

She raised her hand to her mouth. He still heard the giggle. “See Caelen, you are the man in the letters. You may not know such things.”

“Brenna, I did not pen anything in those missives.”

“I know. Your mother and my father did.”

“How did you learn that?”

“I can deduce things as well. I figured it was her because there are parts of you in there only a mother could know. You haven’t figured that part out yet.”

“What haven’t I figured out?”

“That you are the man in the letters.”

“We have come to that conclusion, but who is this man that I am?”

“You have a kind heart and you do love me.” She rose to her toes and kissed him. She gave him a pat on his chest before she left him standing alone in the room.

He stared down at where the imprint of her hand still heated him. He had come in here to settle a dispute, not be told that he loved his wife. Of course, he cared for her. He had been raised to protect her, provide her with the life befitting her station, and be a husband to her.

This was why men didn’t bother with the household.

* * * *

Rowen’s chamber was empty. Brenna shut the door and made her way to the great hall. Gilroy and Finian stood over the table, staring down at rolls spread about the table. Guards milled about, quenching their thirst. Not finding the lairdess, she continued to the garden. The sweet scent of blooming flowers and freshly churned earth hung thickly in the air. She strolled along the small path to the stone bench beside the rose bushes.

The lairdess knelt before one bush, trimming roses. She added a bloom to the basket. Brenna’s shadow fell across her, and the lairdess peered over her shoulder. She sat back on her heels. She rose, wiping her hands on the linen covering her clothing.

“I never meant to make you feel unwanted. I should have asked you before…I only wished to ease your burden. Can you please forgive me?”

“Dear, there is nothing to forgive. I am being foolish. You are now chatelaine of this home. With Kenneth gone, I do not know what to do. My life has been this place and him. I have lost everything. I have lost my life as well. I am no longer the lairdess. This place no longer falls under my command. My constant companion has left me, and I have nothing. What will my life be now that I am alone?”

“This is your home before it is mine. And you are not alone. Caelen is here, and I am sure the clan needs you, and I need you.”

“You do not understand. If you were to lose Caelen, what would your life be like?”

Her breath caught in her throat, choking her. An uncontrollable tremor quaked through her as a frosty chill turned her blood to ice. Such a possibility seemed to be coming true if her father won. She could not allow that to happen.

“I suppose you understand my plight more than I have given you credit for. A connection between your maternal line and the MacBeth line has been discovered.”

“Truly?” she whispered on a half-breath.

“The MacBeth line is still being established. Some rolls have been lost in a fire. Gilroy says that one line of the MacBeth chieftain’s end after a line of deaths and another continues on to this day.”

“That knowledge my father possesses.”

“As well as the elderly of the MacBeth clan,” she said. “Which was why Caelen sent a messenger to them this morn.”

“That is but one reason why this is still your home,” she said, to herself and to the lairdess. “I shall take your guidance in all things in this household and much more.”

She gave a hollow laugh. “Unnecessary. I have trained you properly.” She patted Brenna’s hand. “Though, I would like some chores to fill my day.”

“Perhaps, you would care to see to the kitchen stores.”

“Nay, I do not wish to count eggs.”

Chapter Twelve

Oran dipped the ladle in the bucket and drank every drop of the fresh water. He let the water dribble down his chin. It cooled him before blending with his sweat. He dropped the ladle into the water and returned to his task. He slapped some more mortar on the stone. Hunching down, he lifted the heavy stone with a grunt and a strain. He plopped it down atop the other, shifting it until it was in place. He dusted off his arms, spreading the small smears of blood along his arms and hands. Soon, he’d have a home.

He got back to work, getting into a pattern while ignoring the sweat and the body aches. This meant too much to him. Thirsty, he headed to the bucket and drank from the ladle five times. He looked up to see Alastronia. He grinned.

“I brought ye some food.” She held out a linen covered bowl. “’Tis nat much, but shod fill ye belly.”

He whipped off the linen. “Aye, I ha’ena halted this morn.” He lifted the bowl to his mouth.

“Ye ha’e much of it dun.” She stood back and took in his home.

Oran hitched up one hip, pretending to be at ease when he wanted to raise his hand in the air in triumph. “Aye, the men gaed off to check the crops but shod return soon, so it shod be finished today. Wan’ a peek inside?”

“Aye.” She lifted her skirts to her ankles and darted inside. He sprinted after her.

“I’m a needin’ a door.” He slapped the stone. “I was thinkin’ that this is a nice size fae living, especially wit the window. The animals cod fit in ere. I just closed this off.”

“’Tis lovely.” Her gaze danced about, taking everything in. Sunlight caught the fiery strands of her hair. Her blue eyes glittered like the first summer sun hitting the loch’s surface. She would never look as beautiful as she did now. He would never love her more than he did now. Oran planned to change both those truths.

“Ye be needin’ some furniture.”

“An’ a few ither things.” He closed the distance between them. Her lips parted. She folded her hands before her. His throat closed up.

“Alastronia…” He cleared his throat as his voice hitched. “I am buildin’ this home fae my family. I want a wife an’ bairns. I want ye to be my wife…I love ye. Will ye marry me?”

Rising male voices sounded outside. Alastronia peeked at the doorway. “Meet wit me tonight.”

Oran hung his head.

“I ha’e na said nay.”

“Ye ha’ena said aye either.”

A dreamy smile spread her lips.

“But I think ye may like my answer.” She gave him a quick peck. He didn’t have time to pucker before she pulled away. His lips still tingled from the pliant feel of her lips.

He trailed behind her and watched as she walked away. He stared until she was gone from his view. With renewed energy, he went back to work. The end of the day came before he wished. This night was his turn to cook the evening meal. At least, there would be something edible.

He came upon the cottar. Taran and Neasan stood off to the side, and when they spotted him they grew quiet. Oran lifted his hand in greeting and then Oran headed inside. The stew had been cooking over the hearth all day. Oran added a few more ingredients and stirred.

He caught the sound of Taran’s raspy voice first. “The patrols come frae the west. Manus an his men are always passin’ that lass’s home.”

“Aye, but if we kidnap Manus, then Laird Grant has something to hold over MacKenzie. That is the better plan.”

“We might na be needin’ it if the line is proven. Ye ha’e the roll?”

“Aye, tis hidden in my bags,” Neasan said.

Oran hurried to the hearth and pretended to be stirring the pot. He glanced up when they entered.

The rest of the men filed in with raised voices and guffaws. Talk turned to the crops and the progress of Oran’s home. Since there were a limited number of bowls, the men ate in shifts. Oran, Taran, and Neasan ate first.

“Visiting the lass this night?” Taran asked around a laugh.

Oran nodded.

“He’s a building a hame fae her. Ye like it ’ere.” Neasan handed his empty bowl off.

“Itherwise, I wodna cam. Isn’t that the reason we all ’ere?”

“Aye, a new life,” Taran said.

“Did ye weave a spell aboot the lass? Manus the Black has claimed her. Ye willna gae her.” Neasan nudged Taran with his elbow.

Oran spent the rest of the evening being gnawed by the knowledge of their plans. The walls of the dim space closed in on him. Taran and Neasan avoided each other, talking with the men or seeing to chores for the next day.

Oran jumped from his seat as the last light lost its battle against the night. Without the aid of candlelight, he hunched beside Neasan. He lain curled up on the makeshift bed he constructed from grass stuffed in worn linen. His bags leaned against the wall over his head. One wrong move and the bag would fall atop of Neasan’s head.

With one hand, he held the bag, and with the other, he dipped his hand inside. All he felt was fabric. He dug around and felt the smooth parchment of the roll. He pulled it free, dragging leines with him. He stuffed them back in. On silent feet, he left the cottar. In the thick mirk of the night, he made his way to Alastronia’s home. He kept peeking over his shoulder. His racing heart beat roared in his ears so he couldn’t trust his own hearing.

He heard Alastronia call his name before he saw her. She jumped into his arms. “Everyane is talkin’ aboot yer hame. My father gae a nod of approval. That’s a grand feat fae him. Wat is wrong?”

“I maun gae to Brenna.”

“Tell me, Oran.” She clutched his forearm.

He shared all the details of the conversation and pulled out the roll from inside his liene. “See I maun gae to the castle an’ gie her this.”

“If ye go, the others will realize. Ye canna go. I can.” She grabbed the other end.

“Nay, I dinna want ye in danger.”

“I willna. Besides, no ane will think anything of it. Probably think I am seein’ Manus. Ye ken that I’m correct. Ye ken I’m right. This is fae us, too.”

“I ken ye are right.”

“After this, we can be together. My father will see yer loyalty to the clan.”

“So, ye marry me?”

“Aye, I shall.” He swept her into his arms, stirring up the scent of grass and filling his senses with her feminine scent that smelled like home. The moonlight strained to reach the ground, but he felt the fullness of her breast pressing against his chest, her arms wrapped securely around him. Her hips pressed to his. He kissed her and she returned his kiss with a passion that he knew would never be quenched, even after a lifetime of sampling her mouth.

Oran pushed Alastronia behind him at the stomping footsteps. His eyesight adjusted to the darkness so he saw shapes, mostly the shape of a man charging toward him. Manus and his five men lined up behind him.

“Alastronia, ga hame.”

She jumped before Oran, her arms spread wide. “Ye willna hurt him.”

Manus covered his mouth as he spoke over his shoulder. One of the men vanished into the night. Oran knew where he was heading. At the knocking of the door, Alastronia slapped Manus in the chest.

“Ye are no good. I ken wat ye wanna do.”

He grasped her by the wrist.

“Release her.” Oran clenched his fist.

“Alastronia,” her father’s demanding voice rang out.

She yanked her hand free. Her father grabbed her about the shoulders. “Wat are ye doing? Ye belang home.”

“Nay, da. I willna leave until Manus does.”

“Ye’ll come naw. Leave the men to their business.”

“Gae, Alastronia,” Oran said.

“Nay, I’ll na be leaving the man I will marry. Aye, Manus, I willna be weddin’ ye.”

Her father dragged her away, screaming at her to cease with her nonsense.

At the echo of the door closing, Manus said, “You won’t be around to wed her.” He swung. Oran backed up, but felt the shift of the air as his fist brushed by his face. The other fist connected with his temple.

Dazed, Oran covered his head. More blows landed on his forearms and rocked through him. He threw a punch and connected with Manus. Manus grunted. Oran threw another. Manus tackled him to the ground. Oran rolled over, getting the upper hand. Manus chopped him in the throat and got the better of him. Oran swung his left, opening his chin for the perfect strike. Manus’ fist landed right there, and then there was black.

* * * *

Brenna was supposed to be working on a tapestry or other such noblewoman’s duties. Instead, she stood in the stables, before the lairdess’s mount, to be exact. Gilroy had traveled to visit with MacBeth’s
seanachaidh
, an ancient man who liked his
uisge beathe
and good conversation, not that the man ever let another speak. There were a few other complaints Gilroy expressed, but Brenna ceased to listen to him. Her sympathetic frown appeased him.

Her tight smile did nothing to appease the horse. He barely looked at her.

“I suppose you do not mind me at all,” Brenna said.

“My lady.” Alastronia picked up her skirts and raced down the aisle. “I maun speak to ye.”

Brenna caught her before she ran into her. “Whatever is wrong?” Her bright, blue eyes widened and darted about. She put her arm around Alastronia’s stiff shoulders.

“Oran learned something last night.”

“Tell me.”

“Taran an Neasan ha’e been plottin wit yer father. Here is this.”

Brenna opened the roll. The castle was sketched out hastily with reports of patrols and guards. “What? How?”

On one long exhale, Alastronia explained how those two had learned about the clan’s defenses and weaknesses. “That is not all. Manus has attacked Oran. I wod ha’e tod ye sooner, but my father had my aunts lock me away.”

“Come with me.” She took Alastronia’s hand. Darting around carts, servants, and animals, she made her way from the castle proper to where Caelen trained with the men. Grunts and clashes of swords sounded about. The loch’s waves striking the lichen-covered rocks as high tide came in. Sun glinted off Caelen’s sword as he raised the weighty weapon in an arc.

“Build up your strength so you can free your other hand and strike.” Caelen delivered a blow to Miach, Raemon’s trusted friend.

Brenna broke through the men watching. Caelen lowered the sword, not letting the blade touch the grassy ground.