Chapter 9
Fennella paced back and forth in front of the fire in the main hall, trying to tamp down the nerves that were permanently settled in her stomach. She did not like the feeling of dread that had settled the longer that Aleck was gone, anxious to see that he was not injured.
What did that mean? Fennella wasn’t sure. The man vexed her, drove her to distraction, but also, he sent her pulse racing and craving for his touch.
It was as if her heart was torn on whether or not he truly was her enemy any longer. He was a man, a man she should not trust. Hadn’t Dearg shown that men weren’t to be trusted, weren’t to be kind?
And her father. He was the reason she had half brothers to begin with. Fennella’s aunt had not shielded her niece from what her father had done to her mother, how he had broken her heart by his wandering eye, with no need to hide the truth from her.
Though they were only a few days into their marriage, Fennella was starting to feel her heart shift and tender feelings grow for Aleck.
It sickened her.
Pushing her hair out of her eyes, Fennella paused her pacing, standing before the fire.
She was at a loss of what to do.
“My lady?”
Fennella turned to see a young woman standing at the end of the long table, a tray in her hands. “Yes?”
The woman seemed to draw in a breath before approaching her, placing the tray on the table. “I’ve brought you a luncheon.”
Fennella’s stomach twisted at the sight of the food and the tankard of ale. She had no appetite. “Thank you,” she said instead.
The woman bowed her head in Fennella’s direction. “I have not had a moment to introduce myself to you. I am Aileene, the keep’s cook.”
Fennella looked over the woman who could not be much older than she was, her red hair tucked into a neat braid down the length of her back. Her features were quite lovely, marred by a large puckered scar that ran the length of her face, from brow to chin.
“I know I look quite young,” Aileene stated, a spark of fire in her eyes. “But I assure you, I am capable of running your kitchens my lady.”
Fennella liked her instantly. “How long have you been with the current laird?”
Aileene tucked her hands together in front of her. “For three years now in this position. My ma held the position before me.”
There was a note of sadness in her voice, but Fennella didn’t press. She too understood loss and the words could not be forced to tell a tale that a grieving person did not wish to relive.
“Your husband is a good, kind man,” Aileene continued, shifting the attention away from her. “His clan cares for him and what he has done to protect us.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Fennella asked cautiously. Did this woman feel the need to protect her laird for reasons that she was not saying?
Was she infatuated with Aleck? White hot jealousy shot through Fennella suddenly and she bit her lip, detesting that she had such feelings for him.
“I do not have designs on your husband, my lady,” Aileene stated, a wry smile on her lips. “At least not that Campbell.”
The moment the words passed through her lips, Aileene squeaked and clapped her hand over her mouth. “Forgive me,” she said in a rushed voice, her face turning red. “I dinnae mean...”
Fennella reached over and touched the young woman’s arm. “’Tis alright. There is no need to be embarrassed.”
Aileene cleared her throat. “I shouldn’t be talking to you like this. I will go.”
Fennella tightened her grip on her arm. “Please, don’t.” She was desperate for someone to talk with, someone besides her husband.
“If you insist,” Aileene murmured. Fennella gestured toward the chairs pushed to the table and both women sat, the tray between them. “Please help yourself,” Fennella stated, noting the small cuts of meat and cheese. “If you are hungry.”
Aileene shook her head. “That is kind of you my lady.”
“Fennella,” Fennella replied, reaching for the tankard of ale. “Tell me of your life, your clan.”
“Your clan,” Aileene corrected. “’Tis your clan now my...I mean, Fennella.”
“Aye,” she said softly, drinking the ale before her. She no longer belonged to Clan McPherson, but Clan Campbell.
The young woman dipped her head, her scar more prominent with the firelight on her face.
Fennella listened as she talked about the clan, pride in her voice.
“When Lachlan died, Aleck was distraught,” Aileene said softly, her eyes on the fire.
“To lose his father and his brother, it was unthinkable. He never thought he would be laird, yet he was thrust into the position far too soon.”
“And what of his brother?” Fennella prodded, ignoring the ache in the middle of her chest at what her husband had suffered through.
Aileene’s cheeks flushed once more, her mouth set in a firm line this time. “I have very little interaction with him.”
But enough for her to have developed a tendre for the younger Campbell, Fennella mused to herself.
“I hope you can find happiness here,” Aileene said after a moment, looking at Fennella. “Our laird, your husband, is one of the good ones. You are a fortunate woman to have made such a good match.”
Fennella glared into her tankard, detesting the warmth that spread through her limbs at the thought of her husband. Aleck had only shown kindness to her, seeing to her comfort and ensuring that she felt like his wife and not some woman to be tucked into a corner and promptly forgotten about.
The great doors burst open suddenly, startling both women. Fennella rose to her feet as she saw the wide-eyed stare of the guard. “What is it?” she asked immediately.
“There is a party coming,” he said, his words coming out in short gasps. “A raid party.”
Fear rose in Fennella’s throat as she looked at Aileene. “Go find Duncan.”
The young woman was already scrambling off the chair, running in the direction she came. Fennella let out a cleansing breath, setting her jaw before she looked back at the guard. She was the lady of the keep, the one who stepped in when the laird was not present. “Are the gates closed?”
He nodded. “By order of the laird.”
“Open them back up,” she stated firmly, watching as his eyes widened. “Get as many of the villagers inside as you can and then shut them again. I need archers on the wall and every able-bodied person given a sword in which to fight.”
The guard hesitated and Fennella clapped her hands. “Go! The lives of our clan depend on our actions!”
That got him moving. He hurried back out of the doors as Duncan arrived in the great hall, a panting Aileene at his heels. “Sister,” he stated, smoothing his hair down with his hands.
“Brother,” she answered with a nod of her head. Quickly she filled him in on her plans and was glad to see the agreement in his expression.
“We must keep them at the gate,” he finally said, his jaw clenched. “If they broach the gate.”
He didn’t need to finish his words. Fennella was well aware of what would happen if the party got past their defenses, and she had no wish to have Aleck come home to a burned keep and a dead clan.
“Come,” Duncan said, beckoning Fennella to follow him. “We must ensure your safety.”
Fennella did not move. “I am fighting with my clan,” she said stubbornly. She could wield a sword, shoot a bow, fight with the best of them. She was not going to be placed in safe holdings to await her fate.
Duncan looked at her for a long moment before a small smile graced his lips. “Aye, I wish my brother was here to hear those words pass your lips Fennella.”
She couldn’t help but agree.
Fennella climbed the ladder to the wall, her breeks allowing for easy movement along the catwalk as she dodged the readying soldiers already in place.
From her perch, she could see Duncan below, making the final preparations for the cluster of men that would defend the gate in case their assault from the air was unsuccessful.
The keep was closed tightly as well, the women, children, and the elderly tucked inside for safety.
If the walls were breached...well, Fennella didn’t want to think about that.
Turning back to the road below them, she could see the dust in the distance, dust from the horses as they approached the gate.
They had evacuated as many of the villagers as they could, the rest fleeing to the moors to hide until the fighting would cease.
She just hoped that when it did, Clan Campbell would be victorious.
Fennella placed her bow against the wall along with the bag of sharpened arrows, the feeling inside her intensifying as the dust cloud grew closer. Never had she been allowed to protect the McPherson keep before, her brother preferring her and her sisters to remain inside and out of the way.
Only in her bandit raids had she learned to properly shoot an arrow or wield a sword so that she could protect herself.
Now she was protecting a keep full of people she did not even know, people that had looked at her warily as she had ushered them inside and shut the door.
While she wasn’t one to need to feel the sense of belonging, a piece of her wanted this clan to trust her, trust that she had their best interests in her heart.
Just like her husband.
“Oh Husband,” Fennella whispered, her eyes scanning the horizon. “Please be safe.”
“Riders approach!”
The words reverberated in her soul as Fennella pulled an arrow out of the bag and readied it in her bow, pulling the string taunt before aiming it at the clearing in which the riders would burst from.
It was time to protect her clan.