Claiming the Highlander (8 page)

He laid his hand over his heart. “I shall. I will not disappoint you.”

* * * *

The lairdess found Brenna toiling over the kitchen rolls. Cook sat alongside her, talking about oats. Cook noticed her first. “Do ye require anyt’ing?”

“Nay. I need the countess.”

Brenna set down her quill. “I shall return.” She trailed behind her mother-in-law. Her lackluster gray hair was twisted in a haphazard braid. She had lost weight and she appeared more hunched every day. She dimmed as she watched her life partner die each day.

“With Rowen gone, you must oversee everything. I trained you as a child, so I have no concerns, but if you require my help, please come to me.”

“I shall.”

“I am also available for guidance.” When Brenna nodded, she said, “That is not the only reason. There is upheaval in the household. I need that to stay away from my husband and me.”

“Caelen and I shall see to it.”

“My son is included in that. Tavish is in the chamber now, telling my husband how Caelen has spilt the men.”

Brenna heard of nothing else. The castle folk had laid wagers already.

“He has not done such a thing. He has to show he can be a leader of this clan.” It took all of Brenna’s stubborn will to stop her from racing into the chamber and scream insults upon Tavish.

“Of course he can and will, but he must follow orders.”

“Follow orders from men who see him as a boy, a boy who left and only just returned.” She cocked a brow.

“That will pass.”

“Not as long as the council questions everything. Besides, with the new members and my father making demands, everything could erupt. If my father goes to the king and he demands a divorce, the lands and title will be taken away. What will happen to the clan then? Others would see this as a weakness and my father will war against us. These men will never be pleased with Caelen. When the laird dies, the clan will have unrest. So nay, he cannot follow their orders.”

“It will get worse. They are going to kill my husband.” She choked back her tears. The lairdess interlocked her fingers and clenched them until her knuckles whitened.

Brenna rested her hand over them. “I will do all I can to keep these problems from you both. I cannot promise you more than that.”

“Do what you must. I am placing my trust and hope with you, Brenna.”

* * * *

The shutters blocked fresh air and light from pouring in and caught the scent of blood in the stifling air. The healers were pleased they had brought down the laird’s fever. Those men and their doctoring only cared for the symptoms that flared up. For Caelen, it only increased his father’s suffering. From the pile of linens, Caelen knew his father rested beneath it all. He pulled up the stool and sat beside the bed.

His father rolled his head to the side. His eyes bulged from his thin-boned face and revealed the inner pain racking him and eating him from the inside out. Veins creased his skin and gave him more color than his pallid complexion. The same body that helped him defeat his enemies was destroying this man, who had fought raiders and battles.

“I should have died with my claymore in my hand and a blade in my gut. Instead, I’m wasting away, dying a shameful death.”

Caelen’s throat dried and closed up. He kept his hands on his thighs to still the tremors quaking through him. It no longer mattered that he was an Earl and heir. Sitting in this chamber and watching his father die turned Caelen into a boy.

“I should have summoned you sooner.” He struggled to breathe. The sound was nothing more than a wheeze. “I believed you would come back to face the talk.”

“I made a choice I believed was moral and just. I couldn’t destroy another based on what I decided.”

“You have always filled me with pride. My death is coming soon.” He fell silent, struggling for the scant breaths. Caelen could see him heaving for each one. He inched forward as if he could give his own chest expanding breath to his father.

“Swell Brenna with your child and you can retain the land, no matter what her father plots.”

“You think a bairn will stop this nonsense he is concocting.”

“It will give you time to play, and if the union is dissolved, then you shall get the child and land.”

Caelen dipped his head in semblance of a nod. Speaking was a hardship around the thick knot in his back of his mouth.

“You are the future of this clan. Be the man I know you are and lead.” He dragged out a thin-boned hand from beneath the covers. He struggled to lift a finger. Caelen grasped his hand. The bones jutted against his palm. He couldn’t feel his skin. Gone were the callouses and the muscles that thickened his large hand.

“I will do whatever needs to be done. The clan is safe with me and shall rise to dominance. I vow to you.”

One corner of his mouth lifted as his eyes drifted close. Caelen sat there, holding his father’s hand. His father would soon be gone. While his father rested, Caelen stood and watched for death.

* * * *

Manus hovered by the hearth. He stared down at the beautiful lass at his side. He even had a soft grin upon his face. Brenna had never seen such an expression on his face. She stared and that was why he caught her. It was then she saw the old man. He had his head bow, not seeing Brenna, but the lass’s eyes landed on Brenna. Her eyes widened as Brenna neared.

Manus presented them to her, filling in details about their lives. Poor lass, she didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, folding them before her, and then letting them drop to her side and burying her hands in the folds of her plaid. She darted glances at Brenna, and then grinned when Brenna looked at her. She pressed her lips together, but that did nothing to help. Manus presented the nervous lass and her father. Brenna grasped Alastronia’s hand to easy her nerves. “I have visited there recently.”

“Aye, my lady. The men who traveled wit’ ye are near us. I ha’e met one man—Oran.”

“I know him. He is a good man.”

Manus clutched his jaw. “How?”

Alastronia blinked at his curt tone. “I found his horse eatin’ its fill frae my garden. He was verra nice.”

“How nice?”

Her father aimed his gaze on his daughter. Any comment was cut short by Caelen’s arrival. Caelen cupped Brenna’s elbow. His face wore no expression. She was awed that one could show no expression when every emotion shined on her own face.

“Ah, brother, how goes the training?” Manus didn’t wait for a reply. He turned to his guest. “My brother has taken it upon himself to train five men. A friendly wager between him and my father’s commander. Your cousin, Reamon, is the leader of his group.”

“He must be honored to ha’e the opportunity,” Alastronia said, her voice stiff.

Caelen locked his gaze on her. Unlike Manus, Caelen didn’t wear a besotted look upon his face. Alastronia squirmed, avoiding his sharp regard. Caelen ambled away.

“I have never fished.” Brenna drew in Alastronia’s father to change the conversation. The topic turned to fishing and the sea. Brenna listened as he spoke of the water and listed the type of fish swimming in the lochs. With each detailed description of rolling waves, her stomach turned and flew into her throat. A fine sheen of sweat coated her forehead.

Tavish slid up to them. Brenna smiled, happy to see his hostile face. This time, he wore a smile. He was quite handsome, with his sun-kissed skin and sparkling, amber eyes.

“Donald has a great understanding wit’ the sea. He always has the greatest catches.”

“Tonight’s night meal is not fish,” Brenna said.

“Thank da Lord, I’m tired of fish,” Donald said.

Tavish drew Alastronia and her father into a conversation. Manus sidled up to Brenna. “Donald and Tavish have a history. During a battle, Donald saved Tavish’s life. Men had surrounded Tavish. He was drenched in blood, most of it his own. Well, Donald swooped in and together they fought. Tavish collapsed and Donald dragged him back though men chased after them.”

“Aye, the council cares much for Alastronia and her father. A marriage between us will bring peace between them and my brother. You must help me. Get Caelen to understand that and get the Grants away from her. We don’t need more trouble here.”

“Trouble from whom? The council, the clan, or the Grants?”

“The Grants are causing all of it. I can help put an end to all the grumblings. Grumblings that will get worse if he tries to court her.”

“Which you will stir up?”

“Your father is adding peat to the fire. With me on your side, I can use the influence I have with the council to press their ties to help your father get what he wants most. Gilroy has ties to people who have the king’s ear.”

“That goes against your father’s wishes. Once you wed the Stuart lass, I can call upon their ties to help me.”

“Perhaps, but before you make up your mind, think it through. I can be a help to you.”

Or not.

* * * *

From the battlements, Caelen watched Manus, along with some men, escort Alastronia and her father home. He had made a promise to his father. He had sat with him for a time. How long a time—that he couldn’t say. Even after, he had joined his wife, his mind centered on the conversation with his father.

A swathe of fading purple sky outlined the craggy mountaintops as it slipped away. Dense clouds blocked Caelen’s view of the rising moon. The wind blew against him. The flames of the castle’s beacon light flickered against the night’s increasing darkness. His nostrils filled with the scent of smoke, the salty scent of the loch, lichen, and moss.

With one last glance, he looked up to his parents’ chamber. A light glowed behind the hazy glass. Could he be dead? Nay, he would have been called. The time would be coming soon.

He made his way to the stairs when Tavish materialized from the darkness. “Are ye aware of what the countess has dun?”

“You’ll tell me.” Caelen had no wish to hear what the man had to say. He had enough talk for this day.

“She sent a messenger to her father.” He raised his chin. The haughty angle ignited an urge to punch the man on his chin.

“That isn’t unusual.” He crossed his arms.

“She hadna sent one before. The land those Grants are rentin’ are the same lands she brooght into yer union. Their workin’ it gaes the Grants a foothold here.”

“Ten and six men? They’ll need more than that.”

“But wit’ a divorce, Grant will plead to the king to bestow the lands to him as an appeasement fae yer abandonment.”

“You think she is plotting such a thing?” His arms dropped. Did he hate Brenna because she was his wife? It seemed likely.

“Na her. Her father cod. Since ye were a wee lad, ye dinna ken that Laird Grant petitioned fae the land to be granted to him since it came frae his wife—dead wife, aye, but his wife nonetheless. He believes he shod ha’e been granted all that came wit’ it.”

“And the king disagreed.”

Tavish nodded. “He felt Grant codna hold the land an’ his English ties unsettled him mae dan anything else.”

“A great deal of Scots have English ties.”

“The king doesn’t want any more English ties. Bad enough he wed the Sassenach king’s daughter.”

“You believe I can’t deal with him or other issues facing this clan.”

“Caelen, I dinna like ye but I ken ye can defend this clan. Men fear ye but respect ye…” He lifted a shoulder, letting the unspoken denial hang in the air. “Ye lack the skills to lead so stop fighting wit us an’ listen an’ learn.”

“The council wants me to take orders, that is all.”

“If ye had learned to do dat properly, my son wadna be dead.” Tavish strolled away, leaving the accusation hanging in the air.

Caelen fisted his hand to stop himself from punching the stone wall. With his anger still simmering, he stormed down the stairs, and then slowed when he reached the courtyard. On that night, he did what he believed what was right and just. That was until he had returned home with Diarmad’s lifeless body. The truth was, he was relieved to leave to the MacLean home. For years he lied to himself that if he stayed away the wounds would heal. He had fooled himself and failed to do his duty as heir. No longer.

Caelen slipped into the chamber with his head down. His hand lingered on the handle as he spotted Brenna. She sat on the bed, wrapped in a damp drying linen. Her feet peeked out from the bottom where they perched on the bed frame. Her round toes curled around the edge. He shut the door, trying not to disturb her. She looked up over her brows and gave him a soft, welcoming smile.

The bath linen drooped off one shoulder. She ran a comb through the edges of her wet hair that soaked the material. Her perfectly round nipples pressed against the fabric, revealing their pink flesh to his hungry gaze. She hummed a light sound that wasn’t from any song he recalled.

Caelen set his plaid on the hook, listening to her hum. He tossed his balled-up leine in the basket. His father’s words echoed in his mind. Isn’t that why he married her, to better the clan? And it had been the reason. She hadn’t repulsed him. The opposite in fact—he saw her beauty, no man could look at her and not be hypnotized by it. He liked her purposeful glide and the way her arms swung at her side. He liked the way she would blink and appear innocent, but he had gleamed the deep intelligence in her sable eyes and her ever present smile. He liked her smile. So, his wife wasn’t musically talented. He found himself drifting toward her. She raised her head.

Her flawless, rosy skin was scrubbed clean and emphasized the fullness of her lips. Brenna was delicate. His hand shook as he reached out to touch her He traced the feminine slope of her shoulder. Sure, he would leave a mark that would either brand her as his or mar her skin. He couldn’t stop. His caress smoothed up again to the base of her neck. He cradled the nape of her neck in his palm as his thumb brushed across her mouth.

“You are beautiful,” he said as if only just aware of it when it had been in the forefront of his mind.

Her lips parted. He heard the soft rush of air rather than felt it. Yet, he swore her breath breeze across his own mouth. He even though he smelled the sweet scent of her breath.