Never Love a Highlander (McCabe Trilogy 3)
Caelen’s nostrils flared as he viewed the dismay on Rionna’s face. He’d had enough of his new clan and their animosity. ’Twas as if they wanted to be conquered and destroyed. He’d never been so sorely tempted to take his wife and return to McCabe lands and let the lot of them rot.
It was time to take a much harder line. He’d coddled them too long. They’d either come around or they’d leave.
Some of the joy had dimmed from Rionna’s eyes as she watched her clan turn their backs on her. She stared for a long moment before Caelen gently guided her back inside the keep.
As soon as they walked in, Rionna tugged her hand from Caelen’s and tossed up her hands in disgust. “How can they be so foolish? If Cameron marches on us tomorrow, we wouldn’t have a chance. Our only hope is to hide behind a larger, stronger clan and allow them to do our fighting for us. ’Tis shameful. Never once have I been ashamed to call myself a McDonald, but today I weep over the disgrace.”
Caelen touched her shoulder in an effort to offer comfort. She didn’t need to be so distressed. Surely it couldn’t be good for the baby.
It was hard to stand there and offer support when he was so furious he could barely see straight.
She wrung her hands and paced back and forth on the landing above the stairs. “Maybe I should address them. I know you are against it, but perhaps I can make them see reason.”
Caelen held up his hand and waited for her to go quiet. “ ’Tis not your place to command these men, Rionna. I am their laird and we will not be a clan until they accept that. I cannot make them embrace their duty.”
“I would not blame you if you took your leave of this place and returned to your family,” she whispered. “Surely the McCabes can make a more honorable alliance than with my clan.”
He pulled her into his arms and rested his chin atop her head. “We have time. Ewan will not make war when the winter is so harsh around us. I’ll not quit my duty. ’Tis not just a matter of your clan and mine now. This is my son or daughter’s future and I’ll not walk away from that.”
“What will you do then?”
He pulled her away. “I want you to remain indoors. ’Tis cold today and a storm is brewing to the north.”
“And you?” she persisted.
“I have matters to attend to with the men.”
Rionna looked fearful, but he wouldn’t back down. Not even for her. ’Twas past time for him to beat some sense into his clansmen. Talking had done no good. Neither had explaining their inadequacies. ’Twas time to show them.
Leaving Rionna inside the keep, he strode out to the courtyard. “Assemble the men,” he said to Gannon. “I want every one accounted for. If one refuses, use whatever force necessary. Spare them no humiliation. ’Tis time to stop this senseless coddling.”
Gannon’s mouth twisted into a savage smile of satisfaction. “ ’Tis about bloody time.” He drew his sword and stalked away, shouting the order to assemble once again.
Caelen stood in the middle of the courtyard as the men gathered round, their expressions rife with speculation. He stared them down, his gaze stony and unyielding.
When Gannon gestured to him that the last man had assembled, Caelen drew his sword and leveled the point toward the crowd and turned so they were all included in his gesture.
“ ’Tis time to make a choice. If you are with me and accept me as your laird, you will step forward, make your pledge, and swear your allegiance. If you are nay accepting of me as your laird, then step forward with your challenge. If you are able to best me in battle, I’ll leave McDonald land and never return.”
A series of guffaws and sounds of disbelief spread through the crowd.
“You intend to challenge us all?”
The jeer came from the crowd.
Caelen’s lip curled into a snarl. “I intend to show you that one McCabe warrior is worth a hundred of you.”
“I’ll take that challenge,” Jamie McDonald said as he stepped forward.
He was a cocky lad, still afflicted by a brush of youth. He hadn’t yet proved himself a man, and Caelen shook his head.
“You’re starting easy on me, I see.”
Jamie’s face flushed a dull red, and before Caelen could draw his sword the boy ran at him with a yell. Caelen dodged the clumsy charge, drew his sword, and brought his fist down on the boy’s head as he stumbled past. The lad went sprawling, his sword flying several feet in the other direction.
Caelen shook his head in disgust. “No restraint. My wife wields a sword a hundred times better.”
Jamie picked himself up, his face a tight knot of fury at the insult.
“Hard to fight without a sword,” Gannon drawled. He bent to retrieve the weapon and then tossed it to the side. “Stand aside, lad. You’ve been bested already.”
As the afternoon wore on, the swords piled higher, with Gannon tossing aside one after another. As Caelen dispatched the men, they were directed to sit to the side and watch as the next clansmen took up the charge.
’Twas obvious the more skilled warriors waited until last, when Caelen was tiring. It took him longer than he had liked to dispatch Oren McDonald, and the man actually managed to stagger Caelen before Caelen sent his sword flying toward the discard pile.
When the next McDonald stepped forward, Caelen issued a silent groan. ’Twas Seamus McDonald, and he was a mountain of a man. Heavily muscled with legs and arms like tree trunks, a chest as broad as a boulder, and no neck to speak of.
He wasn’t terribly adept with a sword, but he could smash a man with his bare hands.