Caelen's Wife, Book Three Read online

  Fiona gasped and for a long moment she was left speechless. “By whom?”

  Collin handed the note to Fiona. “Gelis Farquar.”

  War was inevitable.

  Fiona was just as surprised as Collin and Caelen with what they had learned from Bhruic. There was more than one betrayer afoot, more than one person responsible for the attacks and murders.

  Edgar MacKinnon’s greed would be his undoing. Fiona would see to that.

  Although Edgar hadn’t been the mastermind behind the attacks and murders, as far as Fiona was concerned, he was just as guilty as Gelis Farquar. He could have stepped forward and put a stop to it before anyone had been killed. Instead, he chose to align himself with the likes of Gelis Farquar.

  And Gelis Farquar had kidnapped her brother, William.

  She’d see them both dead and rotting in hell.

  11

  “The bloody hell ye will.”

  Caelen stood before his wife in their bedchamber. His skull throbbed. If he wasn’t already having an apoplexy, he would surely have one if his wife did not listen to reason.

  “The bloody hell I won’t,” Fiona ground out.

  “Ye are no’ goin’ into battle. I forbid it.”

  Fiona’s eyes grew wide with astonishment. Who the bloody hell did he think he was, forbidding her to do anything? “Did ye, or did ye no’ promise me that ye’d never try to take me weapons away?”

  A tic began to form in his right eye. Surely that was a sign of the impending apoplexy. “I said I’d never take yer weapons from ye. But I never said I’d allow ye to go into battle!”

  Fiona scowled at him. “’Tis the same thing!”

  “’Tis no’ the same thing!”

  “If ye think I’ll stay behind like a dutiful, subservient wife while ye all hie off to rescue me brother and kill Gelis Farquar, then ye be as mad as people say ye be.”

  Caelen drew his lips into a hard line as he crossed his arms over his chest and gave her his fiercest scowl. “I be no’ askin’ ye to be dutiful or subservient. I be tellin’ ye yer no’ goin’ and ’tis fer yer own safety.”

  “I can take care of meself, Caelen.”

  “I have no doubt that ye can, Fiona. But ye’ve never seen war. Aye, ye’ve practiced fer many years, but livin’ through it? ’Tis no’ the same as sparrin’ with yer brothers.” He had no doubt that Fiona could defend herself and her keep if necessary, but only if the numbers were in her favor. A full-out war, which is what their current situation was turning out to be, was an entirely different matter.

  “I will no’ stay behind, Caelen,” she told him.

  “Ye will no’ go either.”

  She tilted her head slightly. “Either with ye or alone, I be goin’ and ye’ll no’ stop me.”

  He knew then that she was quite serious. He had two options. Allow her to go with him so that he could keep a close eye on her or throw her in the dungeon until he returned. The latter was impossible, for knowing his wife, she’d find a way out, hunt him down and kill him. He could not relent just yet. He was determined to convince her that he was right.

  “Fiona, I do no’ want ye to get hurt. ’Tis no’ me male pride, but me love fer ye that wants to see ye safe and out of harm’s way.” He hoped to appeal to her good sense and heart.

  “I be no’ askin’ to lead the charge, Caelen. I only be askin’ fer an opportunity to be there, to fight alongside me men.”

  “They be no’ yer men any more. They be Collin’s,” he pointed out to her.

  Her eyes turned dark and furious. “They were my men long before they were Collin’s.”

  He hadn’t meant to insult her and now regretted saying anything. “Fiona, ye ken what I mean, lass.”

  He didn’t think it possible for her eyes to grow darker or more furious, but they did. “I be no’ some simple-headed lass,” she told him. “I be yer wife and I be a warrior.”

  The throbbing in his skull increased. There was no way around it, no way to convince her she should stay behind. He pressed his fingers to his temples and rubbed.

  “Caelen, there will be other women goin’,” she told him. “Our healers will be goin’ to take care of the wounded. Why do ye no’ mind that they go?”

  “Because they be no’ goin’ to fight. They’ll no’ be anywhere near the battles.” ’Twas far different being a mile or more from where the fighting was taking place than being in the heat of battle.

  “Caelen, I ken ye love me and do no’ want to see me hurt. But I have to do this, do ye no’ see? If I do no’ go, then everythin’ I’ve done or said these past two years is nothin’ but a lie.”

  Fiona’s pride, her deep sense of honor had been just two of the things that had first attracted him to her. Now she stood before him, resolute and determined. ’Twas her brother who had been kidnapped, her people who had been killed. She wanted a part in getting her brother back and justice for those innocent people. Eight of her people were now dead. Her best friend, Stephan and Mildred, and as of sometime last night, five of her men. Men who had been patrolling their borders with William.

  In short, she wanted the same things he would have wanted were their roles reversed.

  “Fi,” he said, his tone growing softer, more understanding. “I could no’ live with meself if anythin’ happened to ye.”

  Her scowl softened to a warm, sincere smile. “I ken that, Caelen,” she said as she placed a palm against his cheek.

  “If ye go,” he began.

  Fiona raised a brow. “If?”

  He took in a deep breath. “Ye canna be on the front lines. Ye can be at the rear. If I ken ye be wieldin’ a sword, or tryin’ to battle anyone, I will no’ be able to concentrate on keepin’ me own head on me own shoulders.”

  Her expression changed from ferocious warrior to concerned wife. Caelen knew then that she understood the implications of her being on the battlefield.

  “Verra well. I shall remain at the rear. Mayhap I can help with strategy,” she told him.

  His shoulders sagged in relief. He would keep her surrounded by his own men at all times when he could not be there. If he knew she was well protected, he would not worry over her so much.

  “Thank ye, Fiona,” he told her as he wrapped his arms around her and drew her against his chest. “I canna bear the thought of losin’ ye, Fiona. I love ye far too much.”

  Fiona rested her head against his chest. “And I ye, Caelen.”

  ’Twas just before dawn when Caelen’s best fighting men arrived at the McPherson keep. Some four hundred expertly-trained, fiercely-loyal men on horseback, along with an entourage of cooks, healers, and smithies stood outside their gates.

  Neither Caelen nor Fiona, nor anyone else for that matter, had gotten much sleep as they prepared for war against Clan Farquar. Caelen and Brodie met with Phillip and Kenneth just inside the walls.

  “We be ready,” Kenneth told Caelen as he dismounted. “Our men, it seems, would like a wee piece of Gelis Farquar and John McRamey, fer makin’ us look like thieves and murderers.”

  Caelen chuckled slightly as he gave a sound pat against Kenneth’s back. “Ye told them then?”

  “Well, they did ask why we were goin’ against the man,” Kenneth said with a sheepish smile. “They’ll follow ye anywhere, ye ken that. But they do like to ken why.”

  Fiona came bounding down the steps of the keep, with Collin beside her. Kenneth took one look at her — dressed in leather and mail, armed to the teeth — and his smile evaporated instantly. “What the bloody,” he stopped, shook his head and looked to Caelen. “Do no’ tell me yer takin’ yer wife into battle?”

  Fiona smiled as she approached Kenneth. “Do no’ look so terrified, Kenneth,” she told him. “’Tis no’ yer head I want on a pike.”

  Kenneth was plainly disgusted with the thought of taking a woman into battle. “Are we so desperate now, that we take women with us? What next, Caelen? Will we arm the children?”

  “Of course not, Kenneth,” Fion
a answered for her husband. “Do no’ fash yerself. ’Tis no’ like I’ll be on the front lines. I’ll be in the rear helpin’ with strategy.”

  His expression said he didn’t care where she’d be. The mere fact that she was going was enough to make him angry enough to bite through his own sword.

  “Ye be mad,” he muttered to Caelen. “All these years, I’ve defended ye, sayin’ ye were no’ truly tetched. Today, I’ve been proven wrong.”

  In less than an hour of their arrival, the McDunnah and McPherson fighting forces were on their way to Farquar lands. Andrew had been left behind with some seventy-five McDunnah men and a handful of McPhersons, to defend the keep if necessary.

  While it would take less than five hours to reach Farquar lands, it would take another two hours to reach their keep. Undoubtedly, they would have doubled their men along their borders. If all went as planned, however, the McDunnah and McPhersons would be able to take care of those men in short order.

  A quiet pall draped over the six hundred men and women. No one uttered a word. The only sounds were the clomping of hoofs against soft earth, the rattling of bits and bridles, the jangling of mail, and the grinding of wagon wheels.

  Fiona rode next to her husband. Brodie rode to her left, his eyes constantly scanning the horizon. She knew he was worried about William, as was she.

  Behind them, Collin, Seamus and Richard led the McPherson men. Occasionally, Fiona would glance back at them. Never had she seen her brother or advisors — former advisors she reminded herself — looking quite so serious or determined.

  Without a doubt, they would get her brother William back. Or they’d die trying.

  12

  As predicted, the Farquar had increased his patrols. What hadn’t been predicted were their numbers. They had been expecting mayhap a dozen men. Instead, they were met by more than fifty Farquar men along their western border.

  It hadn’t taken much for the McDunnah and McPherson men to overtake the Farquars. But they had put up a good fight. Sadly, Collin lost two of his men before they could dispatch the bastards.

  There was no time to bury the dead. Instead, they were left for the wagons that followed behind them. Fiona’s anger increased a thousandfold, making her more determined to see Gelis Farquar hang.

  They pushed on, the air around them thick with mist and the sense of foreboding that comes with impending battle. Fiona glanced at all the men around her and wondered if they thought about what lay ahead. Did any of them think that this could be the last day they walked God’s earth? Did they wonder if they’d make it home again? She dared not ask.

  The soft earth turned to mud the closer they got to the Farquar keep. Mist turned to light rain, the terrain became rockier. Steel gray skies hung overhead, the air feeling thick and hot against Fiona’s skin. It felt as though she were breathing through a wet blanket, though no one else seemed to notice.

  At one point, the wagon carrying the dead became stuck in the mud. Caelen ordered a few of his men to stay behind to help pull it out. Scouts were sent on ahead and some behind. Fiona began to understand the seriousness of war and knew only horrors lay ahead.

  Soon, they were carefully riding through a dense forest that seemed to have no end. With the sunless sky and thick canopy hanging overhead, the woods held an ominous air. She could smell the wet earth as the horses kicked it up, dank and damp. Birds took flight, as if they knew death lay ahead and they wanted no part in it.

  Finally, and to Fiona’s great relief, they began to spill out of the forest. Ahead lay grassy hills and beyond those, just a few miles ahead, they would find the Farquar keep.

  The Farquar keep stood in the center of a wide, open piece of flat land. That was the only remarkable thing about it. No natural defenses, no rocky abutments from which to hold off any invaders. Fiona thought it an odd location to build a keep. ’Twould be quite easy for them to overtake it.

  Three stories tall, surrounded by a curtain wall with crenellations, the keep was much larger than her own and nearly as tall and grand as Caelen’s.

  As if he could read her mind, Caelen said, “Do no’ let its appearance fool ye, Fiona. The keep is well-fortified and will no’ be taken as easily as ye think.”

  Fiona simply nodded and said nothing.

  “Ye will stay here,” Caelen told her as she dismounted. “We’ll set up camp and prepare for war.”

  Fiona scrunched her brow in confusion. “Will ye no’ send messengers to let him ken we be here?”

  “He already kens we be here. But aye, we will send messengers,” Caelen said as he grabbed the reins of their horses walked away.

  She was mightily confused as she followed after her husband. Men were already busy setting up tents, tending to their horses, and readying themselves for battle.

  “Caelen,” Fiona said as she caught up to him. “What be yer plan? What will the messages say?”

  “The plan is to kill him. The messages will tell him just that,” Caelen said as they made their way to a clearing where they would tether the horses.

  Fiona was growing more and more confused. “But what of William?” she asked, unable to mask her worry.

  “That be part of the message, Fiona. If the Farquar wishes to keep his own heart beatin’ he’ll turn over William.” Caelen began removing the saddle from his own mount.

  “But what if that angers him? Do we no’ negotiate the terms of William’s release?”

  Caelen was doing his best to keep his frustration in check. Fiona had never experienced war before. Though she could wield a sword quite well, she had very little training or experience in strategy. He hefted the saddle from his mount and looked for a place to put it. “Fiona, that be the negotiations. William’s life in exchange fer Farquar’s. ’Tis quite simple.”

  Fiona didn’t think so and told him just that. She went to her mount and removed the bridle. “Ye believe that the Farquar will just hand William over to avoid war?”

  Caelen found a felled tree not far from the horses and placed his saddle on it before returning to Fiona. “Nay, he will no’.”

  “Mayhap it be me nerves or lack of sleep, but yer no’ makin’ much sense right now,” she said as she undid the saddle straps.

  Caelen hefted the saddle off for her. “War oft makes little sense. Our aim is to let the Farquar ken well that if he harms William, he forfeits his own life. Plain and simple.”

  That made sense to Fiona. She rather liked the idea of warning the Farquar ahead of time, to plant a seed of doubt into his thick, greedy skull. She could only hope it would work.

  Two messengers were sent to the gates of the Farquar keep. Fiona set to work, helping wherever she could, to set up their encampment. A large tent was set in the center of the land they’d temporarily claimed. A large table, a few chairs, and pallets were removed from one of the wagons and set inside. This would be Caelen and Collin’s war tent, where they would strategize together on the best way to take the keep.

  The entire camp was a whirlwind of activity and the air nearly buzzed with anticipation. ’Twasn’t necessarily a happy or jovial atmosphere, however. Nay, ’twas more that the men were mentally preparing themselves for whatever lay ahead.

  Fiona had to keep her hands busy. If she kept busy then she could not think about what might happen, either to her husband, her brothers or their men. The entire experience thus far was nothing like she had imagined it would be. It irked her slightly that Caelen had been right, but she was determined never to tell him.

  Someone had prepared a light meal of bread, meat, cheese and fruit, and set it on the table in the war tent. Fiona had not eaten since that morning and though she knew she should eat to keep up her strength, she had to force herself to eat a small bit of bread.

  She and Caelen were sitting across from one another on one of the pallets while Collin studied a map spread out on the table when the messengers returned.

  Collin lifted his head as the men approached. Caelen shot to his feet to join him. One of
the young men handed Collin a parchment that had been rolled up.

  “And how, pray tell, did Farquar take the news?” Caelen asked the young men.

  “He’s an arrogant bastard,” the shorter of the two men said.

  Collin unrolled the parchment and read it.

  “What does he say to our demands?” Caelen asked.

  Collin looked up from the parchment. “He says we should start diggin’ graves because that be where we’ll end up.”

  Caelen threw his head back and laughed heartily while a wry grin formed on Collin’s face.

  Fiona found nothing amusing with the Farquar’s warning. She pushed herself to her feet and came to stand between her brother and husband. “Why do ye find this warnin’ so amusin’?” she asked.

  “Because the Farquar be full of shite,” Collin said. “We have him outnumbered and we be far more determined to free our brother than he is to keep him. ’Tis bluster.”

  The taller messenger cleared his throat. “I do no’ think we outnumber them,” he said.

  Collin asked him to explain.

  “The MacKinnons be inside Farquar’s walls. We saw them. We also caught a glimpse of John McRamey.”

  Collin and Caelen cast each other a knowing look, their humor fading away rapidly. “Well, then,” Caelen said as if he were not bothered by this bit of information. “’Twill make it a little more sportin’ fer us then.”

  The two young men broke out into smiles and agreed. Collin grabbed his quill and ink and began to scratch out another message for the Farquar.

  “What are ye tellin’ him?” Fiona asked.

  Collin looked up briefly to answer her. “War begins at dawn.”

  13

  Fiona slept next to her husband on the pallet in the war tent. She felt bone-tired and mentally worn out. ’Twas the first time since marrying him that they did not make love before falling asleep. Instead, Caelen wrapped his arms around her and held her close all night long. There were a hundred things she wanted to tell him, but could find neither the courage nor the strength. Instead, she kept them to herself with the promise that when this ordeal was finished, she’d share with him all that was in her heart.