Never Love a Highlander (McCabe Trilogy 3)

“Hell yes, I yield or you’ll likely slice off what’s left of my cods.”

The strain in his voice and the pain creasing his forehead might have ordinarily concerned her, but then she remembered the hours of hell he’d just put her through and all sympathy disappeared.

Gannon stepped forward, wheezing with laughter. Caelen sent him a dark scowl.

“Shut the hell up, Gannon.”

Gannon let out another guffaw and then pounded Rionna on the back, nearly knocking her to the ground. “And that, my lady, is how you fell a warrior.”

“Did you tell her to rearrange my balls?” Caelen demanded.

“Nay. I only told her to go on the offensive. I’d say she thinks well on her feet.”

“Sweet Jesu,” Caelen said as he struggled to his feet. “I was rather fond of that portion of my anatomy, wife.”

Rionna grinned cheekily and then leaned close to Caelen so Gannon wouldn’t overhear. “So was I. I do hope there’s no permanent damage.”

“Disrespectful baggage,” Caelen complained. “ ’Tis a situation I’ll remedy later.”

Then he touched her cheek where one fading bruise still smudged her skin. “Do your injuries still pain you? Did you overreach today with your training?”

“Nay,” she whispered. “ ’Tis naught but a twinge now and then. ’Tis been a fortnight and I can see near to perfect from my eye again.”

“Laird! A messenger approaches the gates!”

Caelen shoved her against Gannon and picked up his sword from the snow. “Take her inside at once and alert the rest of the men.”

Knowing this wasn’t the time to protest, Rionna allowed Gannon to hustle her inside the keep. He relinquished her in the hall next to the fire and then he shouted orders that were echoed throughout the keep.

“My lady, what is about?” Sarah asked as she hurried into the hall.

“I know not, Sarah. A messenger approaches our gate. We’ll know when the laird tells us what is happening.”

“Sit then and let me bring you hot broth. You tremble with cold and your clothing is wet through. Warm yourself by the fire before you catch your death of cold.”

Rionna looked down at her bedraggled clothing and shook her head ruefully. She’d put in a hard day’s work. She hadn’t even registered the dampness spreading over her clothing, but now that Sarah had mentioned it, Rionna could feel the chill wrought by the wet material clinging to her body.

She moved closer to the fire and stretched out her hands as the keep buzzed with activity around her. She sighed as some of the heat thawed her fingertips and warmth traveled up her arms.

She turned when she heard her husband’s footsteps. How quickly she’d become attuned to him. She knew even with her back turned that he’d entered the room.

“Is aught amiss?” she asked.

“Nay. ’Twas a McCabe man bearing a message from my brother. He is to arrive soon and requested shelter. He travels to Neamh Álainn with Mairin, Crispen, and Isabel.”

“In this weather?”

It shocked Rionna that Ewan would chance traveling in such conditions when Isabel was so young.

“He fears waiting longer. I sent him word of your attack and the message they delivered. He wants them safely ensconced at Neamh Álainn where he can avail himself of the contingent of soldiers who have guarded the holding since Alexander’s death.”

“I would excuse myself to see to their arrival,” Rionna murmured.

Caelen nodded then turned to Gannon. The two men strode from the hall, deep in conversation. Rionna took a deep breath and tried to recall the few lessons that Sarah had imparted. She instructed the women to ready food and drink. Thank God, Caelen had been successful in his hunt. Now they wouldn’t shame Caelen in front of his kin by setting an inferior table.

She set several of the women to cleaning the hall. The fire was built up and the furs shoved aside to usher in cleaner, sweet-smelling air.

Content that the women knew their tasks and would perform them quickly, Rionna hurried up the stairs to her chamber to change her clothing.

She wet cloths in the washbasin and wiped the sweat and dirt from her face and body. She shivered as chill bumps dotted her damp flesh and she hurried to pull on a gown from her wardrobe. It was the first opportunity she’d had to wear one of the dresses Sarah and the other women had altered for her and she was well satisfied with the result.

Caelen would find no fault with her appearance. She looked every bit the lady of the keep. He had made concessions—important concessions—for her, and she felt compelled to do the same for him.

She sat by the fire and brushed out her hair until it sparkled and shone like liquid gold. Then she plaited the long tresses and used a leather tie to secure the end.

Satisfied that she looked presentable, she rose and hurried back down to oversee the preparations.

The hall was busy as the tables and floors were hurriedly cleaned. Just airing the room out had made a remarkable difference.

“Venison stew is being warmed and we have several loaves of bread leftover from the noon meal. We even have a bit of cheese left that I put back for just such an occasion,” Sarah told Rionna.

“And ale? Have we a sufficient amount for our guests? Have one of the men melt some snow for fresh water.”

Sarah nodded and hurried away once more.

An hour later, Caelen strode back into the hall and searched out Rionna. His eyes widened and the glint of approval warmed her to her toes.

“They’re riding to our gate now. Gannon and I will go out to greet them. You stay inside where it’s warm.”