Read Online Caelen's Wife: Book One - A Murmur of Providence (Clan McDunnah Series 1) by Suzan Tisdale - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Suzan Tisdale
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“I’ll make an exception this one time, McDunnah, as ye’ll be bringin’ me the cattle I won fer drawin’ first blood. After that, I’ll no’ be so kind.”
Not wanting to give him the opportunity to respond, she turned her horse around and left as quickly as she could with Caelen McDunnah’s laughter trailing behind her.
Chapter 8
I t took three days for Caelen and Kenneth to question every man within and surrounding the keep. Not one could tell them anything about Fiona McPherson’s stolen sheep or how a McDunnah dagger and bit of cloth had been found at the site of the first attack. But they all had an opinion on what they thought of Caelen allowing Fiona McPherson to draw first blood. Even his grandminny was concerned.
“Did ye truly allow a woman to draw first blood?” she asked him when he came to visit her with the hopes that she had heard some bit of gossip that would shine some light on the matter.
“I didna allow it,” Caelen answered as honestly as he could. “She drew it fairly.” And I enjoyed every blissful moment of it.
They sat together at the table in Burunild’s cottage, sharing cider and bread. ’Twas an overcast day, one where the sun and clouds were playing a game of hide and seek.
Burunild clucked her tongue and shook her head. “I think she’s bewitched ye.”
Caelen raised a brow. “I do no’ mean to be disrespectful,” Caelen said. “But I think ye’ve gone mad.” So had half his clan for many had accused Fiona of bewitching him, either with a spell or her beauty. They appeared to be equally divided.
“Have I now?” Burunild said. “’Twas no’ mewho allowed a lovely young lass to draw first blood.”
Caelen took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “That lovely young lass happens to be chief of her own clan. She also happens to be quite skilled with knives and swords.”
“I’ve ne’er met a woman clan chief before,” Burunild said as she offered him another slice of bread. “I would verra much like to meet one before I leave this earth.”
Grateful for the change in subject, Caelen said, “She’s a fierce thing. I think ye’d like her.”
“As a granddaughter-in-law?”
He nearly choked on his cider. “Are ye daft, woman?” he asked angrily once he got his choking under control.
“Bah!” Burunild said a she scowled at him. “That be twice now that ye’ve disrespected yer grandminny!” She picked up the walking stick that rested against the table and shook it at him. “Ye be no’ too big fer me to beat ye senseless, ye heathen!”
He did not feel guilty for disrespecting her, but he did feel guilty for allowing her to goad him. Taking a deep breath, he promptly got his anger under control. “I did no’ mean to yell or be disrespectful,” he lied. “But ye are daft if ye think the woman has bewitched me or that I have any notions of marryin’ her.”
While he might have been tormented with dreams of bedding the woman, marriage was out of the question.
Burunild eyed him suspiciously for a moment. “Ye are afraid.”
Why was this woman intent on driving him mad? “Afraid?” he asked, appalled at the accusation. “Afraid of what?” He regretted asking the question the moment he heard it leaving his mouth.
The auld woman shook her head in disgust. “Ye be afraid of givin’ yer heart to her. Or to any woman fer that matter.” Looking away as if she were ashamed of him, she laid the walking stick across her lap. “How long will ye grieve fer a woman ye did no’ love?”
Insulted, he pushed himself away from the table. Close to being furious, he told himself to leave before he said something he might later regret.
“I loved me wife,” he said, pausing at the door. “I loved her verra much.”
Burunild pinned him in place with an icy glare of reproach. “Before she died or after?” she asked. “’Tis guilt that keeps ye grievin’, no’ love. Ye be afraid to love anyone fer fear ye’ll have to relive the
Not wanting to give him the opportunity to respond, she turned her horse around and left as quickly as she could with Caelen McDunnah’s laughter trailing behind her.
Chapter 8
I t took three days for Caelen and Kenneth to question every man within and surrounding the keep. Not one could tell them anything about Fiona McPherson’s stolen sheep or how a McDunnah dagger and bit of cloth had been found at the site of the first attack. But they all had an opinion on what they thought of Caelen allowing Fiona McPherson to draw first blood. Even his grandminny was concerned.
“Did ye truly allow a woman to draw first blood?” she asked him when he came to visit her with the hopes that she had heard some bit of gossip that would shine some light on the matter.
“I didna allow it,” Caelen answered as honestly as he could. “She drew it fairly.” And I enjoyed every blissful moment of it.
They sat together at the table in Burunild’s cottage, sharing cider and bread. ’Twas an overcast day, one where the sun and clouds were playing a game of hide and seek.
Burunild clucked her tongue and shook her head. “I think she’s bewitched ye.”
Caelen raised a brow. “I do no’ mean to be disrespectful,” Caelen said. “But I think ye’ve gone mad.” So had half his clan for many had accused Fiona of bewitching him, either with a spell or her beauty. They appeared to be equally divided.
“Have I now?” Burunild said. “’Twas no’ mewho allowed a lovely young lass to draw first blood.”
Caelen took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “That lovely young lass happens to be chief of her own clan. She also happens to be quite skilled with knives and swords.”
“I’ve ne’er met a woman clan chief before,” Burunild said as she offered him another slice of bread. “I would verra much like to meet one before I leave this earth.”
Grateful for the change in subject, Caelen said, “She’s a fierce thing. I think ye’d like her.”
“As a granddaughter-in-law?”
He nearly choked on his cider. “Are ye daft, woman?” he asked angrily once he got his choking under control.
“Bah!” Burunild said a she scowled at him. “That be twice now that ye’ve disrespected yer grandminny!” She picked up the walking stick that rested against the table and shook it at him. “Ye be no’ too big fer me to beat ye senseless, ye heathen!”
He did not feel guilty for disrespecting her, but he did feel guilty for allowing her to goad him. Taking a deep breath, he promptly got his anger under control. “I did no’ mean to yell or be disrespectful,” he lied. “But ye are daft if ye think the woman has bewitched me or that I have any notions of marryin’ her.”
While he might have been tormented with dreams of bedding the woman, marriage was out of the question.
Burunild eyed him suspiciously for a moment. “Ye are afraid.”
Why was this woman intent on driving him mad? “Afraid?” he asked, appalled at the accusation. “Afraid of what?” He regretted asking the question the moment he heard it leaving his mouth.
The auld woman shook her head in disgust. “Ye be afraid of givin’ yer heart to her. Or to any woman fer that matter.” Looking away as if she were ashamed of him, she laid the walking stick across her lap. “How long will ye grieve fer a woman ye did no’ love?”
Insulted, he pushed himself away from the table. Close to being furious, he told himself to leave before he said something he might later regret.
“I loved me wife,” he said, pausing at the door. “I loved her verra much.”
Burunild pinned him in place with an icy glare of reproach. “Before she died or after?” she asked. “’Tis guilt that keeps ye grievin’, no’ love. Ye be afraid to love anyone fer fear ye’ll have to relive the
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