Chapter 5
Fennella pulled her cloak tighter around her, knowing that it wouldn’t help ward off the rain.
She was soaked to the bone, her clothing heavy and chilling her skin.
The rain had not let up since they left the keep and for that, Fennella was glad.
Her companions would not see the tears that she shed for having to leave her sisters behind.
It was the hardest thing she had ever done, riding away without giving them a parting glance.
Now their fates would be in the hands of Dearg. The thought caused her to shiver.
Fennella glanced over at her husband, thinking of his words before they had left the keep. He had promised to keep her sisters safe, but how could he?
She didn’t believe him. He would have said anything to have her come away with him.
She was his wife, a Campbell.
No longer was she a McPherson, her father’s namesake, nor was she going to be the savior of her clan any longer.
Fennella had discussed the very fact with Will in the shadow of the keep after her run-in with the Scot, her nerves still rattled from the encounter.
Will had expressed the same things her sisters had, that they could hide her, get her out of this situation, and she would not have to marry anyone or leave her home.
Instead, Fennella had told Will not to do anything. Just as she said to her sisters, she could not have Dearg’s wrath be inflicted on them or the clan.
No, it was best that she go through with this plan, no matter how painful it may be. While her life had not been what she would have liked, it was still her home, her family, her clan.
Now she had nothing. Fennella was on her way to a new home, a new clan that would likely look at her with disdain in their eyes when they heard where she had come from.
While there had been peaceful existence between the McPherson and Campbell clans for many years, longer than she had been alive, the past would still be bitter to some.
Shifting on the saddle, Fennella clenched the reins tightly in her hands, numb from the cold rain.
They had yet to cross the border between the two lands and she could feel the tension in her companions for not yet doing so.
Likely they felt that her brother would cross them in some way, or that she was some sort of bait to take them prisoner.
If so, Fennella would have thought Dearg would not have allowed the wedding to take place this morning. She wasn’t even sure what Dearg was getting out of the union yet, but something told her that her brother had thoughts that he had not shared in her presence.
That alone made her afraid.
“Are ye alright lass?”
Fennella moved her horse over the ruts in the road, its hooves sinking into the mud and muck. “Alright? I’m soaked to the bone.”
Her husband chuckled. “Aye, we all are, but I must get back tae mah clan.”
“I will be surprised if we don’t contract the ague trying to do so,” she lamented, keeping her eyes on the road ahead. “Or perhaps that is your plan, to have a short marriage.”
His companion barked with laughter. “She got ye there, Aleck.”
“I would not have ridden all this way if I intended tae kill ye the moment I said mah vows, lass,” the Scot remarked, his horse riding close to hers.
While Fennella had never felt intimidated by any man, he made her feel nervous and small.
She still couldn’t believe that this man, this large Scot, was her husband.
“Why did you come all this way?” she asked. “Are there no bonnie lasses in your clan?”
He chuckled, much to her surprise. “Aye, there are, but I am looking for more than just a lovely face.”
There it was, that tingling all over her body when he said things like that. It was as if he wanted her to like him, that this was more than just an alliance between two clans, but a real union.
Well, the Scot was going to find out she had no interest in trusting him, much less liking him. He was a man, like all others, and his agenda for this union she had yet to figure out. But she would.
“Do ye not have anything tae say, Wife?” the Scot asked.
Fennella straightened her shoulders, a difficult feat with her cloak and sodden clothes weighing her down, and spurred her horse ahead, not caring if the hooves splashed mud up at the Scot.
He would find out that she was not a biddable wife in the least and it was going to take more than just a few flowery words to turn her head.
Her heart would never be his.
They rode for hours, crossing the border shortly before nightfall. It wasn’t long after that the Scot declared them to stop for the night near an outcropping, with a ledge that would shield them from the rain.
While her husband went in search of firewood, Fennella busied herself with her horse, ensuring her comfort before stepping into the small space.
The other Scot was seated against the wall, his long legs stretched out before him, his sword resting in his lap.
He wasn’t as handsome as her husband, but Fennella could make out the hard lines of his face, how his lean body filled out his clothing.
Neither he nor her husband had the paunch that her brother had started to grow around his middle.
She imagined that wherever she touched, she would find hard muscle.
Her cheeks heated and she tucked her hands in her cloak, ashamed for even thinking such things. She would not be touching her husband in any manner. No matter how much he wished to do his duty to her with his body, she would not enjoy the act.
She would not enjoy him.
“As much as I appreciate a bonnie lass staring at me, I have to say I do not wish it to be you.”
Her cheeks now aflame, Fennella met the curious eyes of the other Scot. “I was not staring.”
He let out a laugh. “You could have bore a hole in my forehead with your eyes, lass.”
She huffed as she moved to the other side of the shelter, sitting down on the opposite wall. “Shouldn’t you be protecting your laird?”
“My laird needs no protection,” he responded, winking. “He can more than care for himself.”
Fennella glared at him, not wanting him to think she was up for making any sort of friends. She might be doing a duty, one that had not been her choice, but this clan and its people would never be her family. “As can I.”
The man regarded her for a moment, a spark of approval in his eyes. “Aye, you can. He would not have wed you otherwise.”
Interesting. “He did not want a biddable wife?”
“Nae,” he answered. “A biddable wife would bore him. Aleck needs someone to challenge him, to keep him coming back, and I believe that person is you, lass.” He then frowned. “I guess I should be calling you Lady Fennella now.”
“Just Fennella,” she found herself saying, not wanting to be reminded of her new title and duty.
“Malcolm,” he responded, pressing his fist to his chest. “I will also protect you with my life.”
It felt odd to have him pledging to do so for her, a woman he did not even know, but she believed him all the same. “My thanks.”
His nod was all that Fennella got as Aleck returned, dropping a load of wet wood on the dirt flooring. “’Tis all I can find,” he grumbled, shedding his fur cloak. “Start the fire, Malcolm.”
“Yes Laird,” Malcolm grinned, rising from his position.
Fennella watched as Malcolm did as requested, hugging herself about the waist to ward off the cold until he got the fire going. Aleck moved close to her and she froze, her mind whirling with thoughts, none of which were good.
Would he claim her body now, in front of his man? Surely not. While he was a brute, she didn’t picture him to be like that.
When his cloak dropped on her shoulders, she jerked under its weight, the smell of wet fur and a woodsy scent assaulting her senses.
While the cloak was wet, the inside was warm from his body heat and though Fennella wanted to throw it off her shoulders, she found herself sinking into the warmth, a small sigh escaping her.
Malcolm got the fire started somehow and Aleck moved closer, his large frame illuminated by the growing flames. “Come Fennella,” he said, holding his hands out over the fire. “Get warm before ye catch the ague.”
As much as she wanted to decline, Fennella stood and walked over to the fire, doing the same. “Well,” Malcolm stated after a moment. “This is cozy.”
Fennella bit back a smile, her hands thawing. She should not feel this at ease with either Scot, but she did not fear them either.
After all, she was married to one and supposedly the ruler of another.
Aleck moved to the pile of things from the horses and started to root around, pulling out a blanket a moment later. When he turned toward her, Fennella shrank back and he frowned, holding out the blanket. “Ye need tae get out of yer wet clothes,” he stated.
She eyed the blanket. “I do not like an audience.”
“I’m not going tae take ye tonight,” Aleck bit out, thrusting the blanket toward her. “And we would have more blankets and shelter had our wagon not been taken from us.”
Malcolm choked on his laughter, walking out into the rain without another word as Fennella colored, realizing that she was the reason they were cold and wet, and that Aleck knew it. Reaching out, she took the blanket and Aleck immediately turned his back on her, giving her the privacy she wanted.
First the cloak, now the blanket. Her husband was a confusing one, that was certain.
Did he care about her? Fennella was not certain. She did not know much about her husband, with only his interactions with Dearg and the man that he was traveling with the only things for her to judge his character with.
Nowhere near enough to judge a man’s character, her brother did have a charming side, though it was reserved for those that he needed something from and when they did not yield, he took it by force anyway.
Her teeth chattering, Fennella disrobed quickly, removing her clothing down to her shift before wrapping her body in the coarse blanket, tucking it carefully to keep her body hidden.
Next she unplaited her hair, letting it fall about her shoulders so that it would dry.
Her hair was the one vain part of her body that Fennella coveted.
She had been told that she had the color of her mother’s hair, and the stories that had been told to her by the older villagers was that it had been her mother’s hair that had drawn her father’s attention to her.
“Are ye decent lass?”
“Yes,” Fennella stated, her voice trembling. “You may turn around.”
When he did, Fennella wanted to tell him to turn back around, the intensity in his eyes nearly too much to bear. Her entire body warmed immediately as his eyes roved over her blanket-clad form, from her unbound hair to her bare feet, almost like it was his hands instead.
When he groaned, she colored, making motions to move closer to the fire. “Thank you for the blanket.”
“Yer welcome lass,” he said quickly, reaching into his bag. “I have some food if ye are hungry.”
Fennella didn’t want to be nice to him. She wanted to keep her anger at the forefront, to remind herself what he had done to her and her sisters.
Her stomach thought otherwise, rumbling loudly in the space. “I would like some, yes,” she forced out, cursing her own body for betraying her.
Aleck handed her a bit of cheese, an apple, and some hard bread, presumably from her own keep, and Fennella’s eyes clouded with tears.
She was suddenly homesick. What were her sisters doing right now?
Were they missing her? What was Dearg doing?
She hoped staying away from her sisters for if he hurt them in any way, she would gut him.
Snatching the food out of his hands, she crossed over to the spot that Malcolm had vacated, maneuvering herself to the floor and keeping her body covered with the blanket.
Aleck sat across from her, his long legs stretched out before him as he tore a piece of the bread off.
Malcolm joined them a moment later, grabbing some of the food that Aleck had laid out, his hair wet from the misting rain.
“I hope tomorrow will be an easier trek,” he stated before taking a bite of the apple in his hand.
“For we will drown in this weather if it continues.”
“How much longer do we have?” Fennella asked.
“A half a day or so,” Malcolm supplied, crunching on the apple. “’Tis too dangerous to travel in the dark.”
Fennella nodded. Traveling at night was dangerous indeed, with the moors unable to be easily seen even to the most ardent traveler. Many a story had been shared of men being lost.
“Aleck doesn’t like to travel at night,” he continued, grinning at his laird, “because he is scared of owls.”
“I am not,” Aleck grumbled, rubbing his chin. “Those fool creatures just surprise me, ’tis all.”
“You are scared of them,” Malcolm stated once more, giving Fennella a wink. “When we were boys, I used to dare him to set foot in the horse stables because I knew one resided in there. He refused, sending his brothers in to get his horse.”
Fennella giggled, attempting to picture her husband afraid of a night creature. “You know there are worse things than an owl.”
“Oh he knows.” Malcolm grinned. “He just chooses to be deathly afraid of them.”
“Enough,” Aleck growled. “We need sleep.”
Fennella was still smiling when she picked a place to lay down, keeping the blanket tightly around her. The Scot was afraid of a mere bird. She would have never guessed he would be scared of anything.
Sometime after she had been asleep, Fennella jerked awake, her heart racing.
The dream had been one she had frequently, watching as her sisters were taken from her, helpless to stop it.
A sound rumbled in her ear and Fennella froze, realizing that the Scot, her husband, was pressed against her like a wall to block the wind from the entrance.
His body was warming hers unlike any fire could, and while Fennella was considering moving away, she couldn’t.
Not that he was stopping her. That would have been easy for him to do.
It was because she didn’t want to.