“Aye,” Brodie nodded. “Apparently fer water.”
Caelen pursed his lips together and gave some thought on the matter. “That still does no’ tell us who is stealin’ yer sheep nor why they’re tryin’ to make it look like the McDunnahs be at fault.”
Apparently, none of the men had a theory on that matter.
“Mayhap they worry that
ye
will propose and Fiona will accept,” Phillip offered.
Without thinking, Caelen said, “She said nay.”
Kenneth came close to choking to death on his ale. Phillip stared at Caelen as if the man had just confessed he was the true King of Scotia. Brodie sat with mouth agape, unable to form a single word.
“Ye asked Fiona McPherson to marry ye?” Kenneth asked loudly. He poured another cup of ale and drank it all down in one pull. “Ye jest!” he said as he slammed the cup down.
“Calm yerself, Kenneth,” Caelen told him. “I didna ask
her in the true sense. She turned me down before I had the chance.”
“Ye’ve lost yer mind,” Kenneth told him, pouring yet another cup of ale.
“And what, pray tell, would be so wrong with him marryin’ me sister?”
Caelen answered before Kenneth had a chance. “Brodie,” he paused for a moment, poured himself more ale, and leaned forward. “Brodie, I care verra much fer yer sister. But I fear she’ll no’ have me. I believe she cares fer me, but she, like all good clan chiefs, is puttin’ the needs of her clan ahead of her own. I also believe she worries that yer clan would be absorbed into another, were she to marry anyone outside of the McPhersons. She worries ye’d all be lost to it and she will no’ allow that to happen.”
Brodie knew Caelen was right in his assumptions. “Aye, Caelen, that would be true. She made promises to both James and his da, when they each lay dyin’, that she’d never allow the McPhersons to be lost, either by misdeed or misfortune. She’d rather die than break her word.”
Fiona’s honor was one of the many things Caelen admired about her.
“How did James and his da die?”
Brodie wasn’t sure why that was important, but answered anyway. “Well, Paul, that be James’ da, he died not long after James, from the wastin’ disease.”
“And James? How did he die?”
“An illness. He’d been in Edinburgh fer a time and when he returned, he was already quite ill. Ragin’ fevers, vomitin’, and he had an awful pain in his stomach. I dunnae ken much more than that.”
“And he and Fiona never had a child?” Phillip asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.
Brodie shook his head. “Unfortunately, nay.”
Kenneth felt the need then to turn the discussion back to the who
and why
that remained unanswered. “Still, we do no’ ken who is behind the reivin’ and why they want the McDunnahs blamed.”
“Mayhap there be more than just water they seek?” Phillip asked.
“Such as?” Caelen asked.
“That, lad, I do no’ ken. But I fear there has to be more to this than men who want magic water.”
There wasn’t another man in the room who didn’t feel the same way.
W
ith still no
word from Brodie, and the fact that she hadn’t seen Caelen in days, sleep did not come easy for Fiona. Even with Symon sleeping through the night, now that the two new teeth had come in, sleep was evasive.
It had been weeks since the last reiving. In William’s mind that proved that Caelen McDunnah was behind it all.
“It seems that once he befriended ye,” William said as they sat at the high table for their evening meal, “the reivin’ stopped. I say he was behind it from the beginnin’.”
Fiona was less certain than her brother. “It proves only that whoever was doin’ the reivin’, they have stopped fer the time bein’. I have no proof that ’twas actually the McDunnah or his men.”
“What of the dirk and plaid?” William asked.
“William,” his wife said, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Please, leave Fiona be.”
“Why?” William asked as he took another helping of fish.
Fiona could not hear what Isabelle whispered into William’s ear. She didn’t have to. Isabelle knew, thanks to Bridgett’s wagging tongue, that Fiona had strong feelings for Caelen McDunnah. Feelings she refused to act on.
William spun his head around to look at Fiona so quickly, that she was surprised he didn’t break his own neck. “Does Isabelle speak the truth?” he demanded. “That ye have feelin’s fer the McDunnah?” He made no attempt to hide either his surprise or his disgust.
“William!” Isabelle chastised. “Leave her be!”
“William,” Fiona said, mustering all the calmness she could manage. “I’d advise ye to hold yer tongue or I’ll pin it to the table with me dirk.”
William looked aghast. “Fi!”
“I warned ye once,” Fiona said as she pushed her trencher away. “I’ll no’ warn ye again and I swear, I’ll no’ count before I do it!”
“But, Fi,” William said, his voice a bit softer now. “The McDunnah?”
Fiona turned to face her brother. ’Twas all she could do to keep from screaming
Aye! The McDunnah! I have fallen in love with the man but it means nothin’ because first I am chief of this clan!
Instead, she said, “William, ye need no’ worry over much. I am first, chief of this clan. I’ll no’ risk the clan fallin’ apart or becomin’ part of another. I promised James. I promised Paul. I made an oath to this clan, to our people, and I intend to keep it.”
William sat silently as he slowly shook his head in utter disbelief. Then he thought about what Brodie had said, weeks ago. About how it was no’ fair to Fiona that she live the rest of her life alone whilst everyone around her lived happy lives, with wives and bairns. He suddenly felt quite guilty for being so selfish.
“Fi,” he said in a low whisper. “I be sorry. I did no’ mean to hurt ye. Mayhap the McDunnah is no’ behind the raids.” He tried to sound hopeful and optimistic.
“What does it matter?” Fiona asked, though she didn’t truly expect an answer. “Whether he be responsible or no’, we will never be anythin’ more than allies.”
Not wanting to discuss the matter any further, Fiona pushed away from the table and stood to leave. She stopped and placed a hand on William’s shoulder. “I love ye, William and I be glad to have ye as a brother. I’ll keep watch over the sheep with ye tonight.”
“Nay, ye need no’ do that, Fi,” he said, looking quite guilty and sad.
Fiona laughed slightly at his forlorn expression. “I fear I be no’ sleepin’ anyway. I might as well do somethin’ productive. I’ll meet ye out of doors after nightfall.”
F
iona had changed
out of her dress and into her tunic, trews, leather armor, and boots. Though she felt somewhat certain that no one would try to raid their sheep this night, she would not go out unprepared or unarmed.
In the belt around her waist, she tucked two dirks at her back and two in the front.
Sgian dubhs
were tucked into each boot before she donned another belt that would hold her sword.
Properly armed, she grabbed her leather gloves along with a heavy plaid in case it rained, and left her room.
Bridgett was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. She, too, looked as though she were ready to ride into battle.
Fiona cast a curious look at her friend. “What goes on here?” she asked. “Are we at war and no one told me?”
Bridgett gave a wan smile. “So yer talkin’ to me again?”
Fiona’s brow drew into a fine knot. “I was no’ aware I was no’ talkin’ to ye.”
“The last time we talked, ye threatened to make me clean privies and chamber pots.”
Fiona gave a slight laugh. “Aye, I did, but only if ye brought up the subject of Caelen McDunnah. As long as ye stay clear of that, we can talk about anythin’ yer heart desires, me friend.”
A look of relief came to Bridgett’s face. “Good! Now, I hear ye be on watch this night. Would ye care fer company?”
Fiona gave Bridgett a warm hug. “Aye, I would! As long as yer sure ye can tolerate William!”
“Och!” Bridgett said as they headed out of doors. “He is such a serious lout all the time!”
“True,” Fiona said as she pulled open the large wooden door. “But he means well.”
C
risp night air
held the promise of rain. Fiona shivered as the cool air tickled at her cheeks and neck.
“There be a chill in the air,” Bridgett said as she pulled a plaid around her own shoulders. “I hope ’tis no’ an omen,” she jested as they headed toward the stables.
“I do no’ believe in omens,” Fiona told her.
“Yet ye believe in fairies,” Bridgett pointed out.
“Aye, I do. Fairies ye can see. Omens? Nay, ye canna see
an omen.”
“Ye’ve seen fairies, then, have ye?” Bridgett asked even though she knew the answer. Friends since childhood, Bridgett had heard the story dozens of times over the years, but never tired of it.
“Ye ken I have,” Fiona said as they crossed the courtyard. Black iron brackets affixed to the stone walls of the keep held lit torches. Their flames sizzled and crackled in the misty air as they helped light the way to the stables.
Seamus McPherson was waiting for them inside the warm, dry stables. Seamus had been stablemaster for as long as Fiona could remember. He was also one of her most trusted advisors.
He was adjusting the saddle straps on Fiona’s mount when he heard the two women walk in. Seeing Bridgett dressed as she was, he said, “I didna ken ye’d be goin’ out on watch this night.”
“I was no’ sure that I was until a few moments ago, Seamus.”
Seamus was large in stature and in heart, though he rarely allowed anyone a glimpse at his softer side. Fiona and Bridgett knew the man held a special place for both of them in his heart.
“I’ll saddle a mount fer ye then,” he said with a wink.
The two women thanked him and waited patiently for him to pull a brown and white Highland pony out of a stall and saddle it for Bridgett.
“William and the others are waitin’ fer ye down at the southern end of the pasture.” Seamus informed them as he gently tossed a saddle blanket onto the pony’s back. “Have ye heard from Brodie yet?” he asked as he grabbed a saddle and placed it on the pony’s back.
“Nay,” Fiona said as she plucked a bit of straw from a fresh pile near the entrance. “I do no’ think to hear from him fer a few more days.”
“Knowin’ Brodie,” Seamus said as he cinched the straps securely in place, “he’s fergotten what ye’ve sent him fer and he’s busy romancin’ women of questionable repute.”
Bridgett and Fiona laughed at his jest. Brodie did have a way with women, but Fiona seriously doubted he had forgotten what she had sent him for.
Soon, the women were mounted and heading through the gates of the keep.
“I wish there were a full moon this night,” Bridgett said.
Fiona looked at the sliver of moon that hung above them. Dark clouds rolled across the sky ominously, frequently blocking what little light the moon offered. The further they rode from the keep, the darker the night sky.
“I be certain that William will have fires lit for us, Bridgett.” Fiona tried to comfort her friend, who she knew did not like the dark.
“I wish we’d grabbed a torch,” Bridgett whispered. “I do no’ ken how ye see on a night like this!”
“We’ll be there soon enough, Bridgett.”
“I ken!” Bridgett said, sounding frustrated.
“Ye do no’ have to go,” Fiona told her. “I ken ye do no’ like the dark.”
Bridgett shook her head. “I would no’ make a verra good warrior, would I?” she asked with a slight giggle. “I truly need to get over me fear of the dark. I’m a woman full grown fer heaven’s sake!”
“Yer as good as any man with knives,” Fiona praised her. “Ye make a fine warrior, Bridgett.”
“I’d make a finer one if I were more fond of the night.”
Fiona laughed, and tried to offer words of encouragement. “Ye do fine, Bridgett. Do no’ worry it.”
They rode in silence the remainder of the way.
W
illiam did
in fact have a fire built near the southern end of the pasture. He, along with Richard Wallace and Andrew McFee, sat around the fire. Fiona could just make out the murmur of their voices as she and Bridgett approached.
“See?” Fiona said. “’Tis no’ so dark with the fire, aye?”
Bridgett’s nervousness faded the closer they drew to the men and the fire.
Fiona called out a friendly warning to her brother so that he wouldn’t by chance shoot an arrow into her heart. “William! ’Tis me, Fiona, and I have Bridgett with me!”
The men stood and waited for the women to approach. “I heard ye comin’, Fi,” William said as the women dismounted and tied their horses to the branches of a bush. “Ye were never a quiet one, were ye?”
Fiona laughed, pulled off her gloves and went to warm them by the fire. Bridgett joined her, more for the light the fire offered than the warmth. The low flames flickered and hissed as one of the logs burned in two and fell into the embers.
“Have ye heard from Brodie?” Richard asked as he sat down on a thick plaid.
“Nay,” Fiona told him. “I imagine ’twill be a few more days. Mayhap a week.”
“I fer one,” Andrew said as he sat on his own plaid and stretched his legs out, “hope he finds out who is behind the raids.”
William nodded in agreement. “One way or another, we’ll find out who it is.”
Richard cocked his head to one side. “I thought ye believed ’twas the McDunnah behind the raids?”
William cleared his throat nervously before answering. “I be no’ so certain anymore.”
Fiona was about to offer her own opinion, when the sound of charging hoof beats broke through the quiet night.
I
t had
all happened so quickly! One moment they were sitting around a fire, and the next, they were being attacked.
Some fifteen men on horseback charged at them with swords drawn. The horrifying sound of war cries and pounding hoof beats tore through the air.
Fiona had never been in battle. Aye, she had practiced nearly every day for this moment, but in truth, she never thought she would be forced to put her skills to use.
She barely had time to draw her sword when one of the attackers charged at her at a full run. Jumping out of his way before the horse could trample her, she managed to slice through his calf as he rode by.
William and the other men had their weapons drawn, defending themselves as one rider after another came bounding by.
“Bridgett!” Fiona called out as she quickly scanned the area for her friend. Bridgett was close by, sword drawn, hacking away at two riders who were doing their best to trample her.
Bridgett held her own. Her sword sliced through the air and landed on the ankle of one of the attackers. The man screamed in agony as he pulled on the reins of his mount and headed away.
“Fiona!” William shouted at her over the clamor of battle.
Fiona spun around in time to defend herself against a man on foot. He was coming at her with a mace, twirling it in the air, fully intent on crashing it against her skull. Instinct and years of training kicked in. She waited until the last possible moment before falling to the ground and rolling away. The mace came down hard on the damp earth where her head had been only a heartbeat before.
Before the man had time to raise his mace again, Fiona was on her feet and thrusting her sword deep into his back. Blood oozed down his back as he fell to his knees. A heartbeat later, he dropped the mace and fell forward.
Spinning around to assess the situation, Fiona caught sight of something that made her blood freeze in her veins.
Against the backdrop of the night sky, she saw a rider less than thirty paces from where she stood.
He carried a McDunnah battle banner in one hand, a sword in the other.
And he was wearing a wolf’s head on top of his own.
Caelen!
F
iona had seen
it only once, on her only visit to the McDunnah keep. It had been on display, over the mantel, along with the bloodied swords and the McDunnah crest.
All sense of time came to a halt. Her heart ceased to beat. The world quit spinning as she stared in utter disbelief.
He lied. The bastard lied!
Fury boiled.
Raising her sword over her head, she ran towards Caelen, screaming, “Ye bloody bastard!”
Before she could reach him, she was tackled to the ground, and found herself rolling across the damp earth. Her sword slipped from her hands as she came to a stop on her back.
She did not know the face staring down at her. Battle-crazed eyes stared into her own as he raised his dirk to plunge it into her heart. A moment later, someone came flying from her left, grabbed the man around his waist, and flung him off her. ’Twas Richard who had come to her rescue.
Jumping to her feet, she withdrew both knives from the back of her belt. Scanning the area, she could see William fending off a mounted attacker. Fiona took aim and sent her dirk flying through the air. She had been aiming for his side, but at the last moment, the horse reared. The dirk instead landed in the man’s thigh, just above his knee. He cursed, pulled rein, and went running off into the night.