A Wife for the Highlander

He didn't see the humor. "Let the bastards come again tonight," he said, his voice deadly. "If they do, I'll see them roasting them over the same spit." He turned to his men. "Brann, you and Cathall look around. Find out where their defenses need strengthening, what weapons they have, who can fight, and who needs training."

Just having Keane here made her feel safer and her dark mood improved. "I doubt they will taste as good as the chicken. They're probably tough and stringy."

"What?" he asked, his attention returning to her as his men moved off to do his bidding, but then he chuckled. "We'll feed them to the dogs then."

The rest of the day, Keane strode about the grounds, his sword prominently displayed as he chopped wood, fetched water, and performed all manner of tasks that were beneath him.

When she questioned his actions, he agreed. "They are, but it lets watching eyes see me... and the source of my vengeance," he rumbled as he placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.

For the next three days Keane was in constant motion, making himself seen, and there were no more attacks. During the day Fianna displayed calm confidence, but at night he could hear her weeping in her bedchamber or wandering about the manor in the dark. He longed to take her into his arm, to offer her what comfort he could for her loss, but she remained distantly cool and respectful, seeking no comfort from him.

On the fourth day he announced that he was riding to Cyulkein the next day to settle accounts with the fish merchant after his long absence. It was near a full day's ride to the town, he meant to spend the night there, and then return the next day after he completed his business. Her blood ran cold with the news. She was starting to feel secure with Keane's presence, but the thought of another night without him there filled her with dread.

He saw the anxiety play across her face even as she struggled to show no emotion. "I'll have a few of my men join you before nightfall tomorrow. Adding them to your staff, you should be safe enough for one night," Keane said confidently. "I'll send a runner to fetch them tomorrow before I leave."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Keane."

He took her hands into his own. "I gave my word to Boadhagh that no harm will come to you. It's an oath I take seriously."

She allowed him to hold her hands for a moment before she pulled them away. His hands were warm, strong, and gentle, just like Boadhagh's were... had been. "I'm sorry for being so weak," she murmured.

"Fianna, you're not weak. You're beautiful, smart, kind, and strong. Boadhagh was lucky to have a woman such as you for a wife."

"And what of you? Why haven't you taken a wife?"

He chuckled. "I can find no woman that will have me, and I refuse to have one picked for me. I, and I alone, will choose who shares my bed and my life."

She looked away from his intense gaze as she smiled. "I find that difficult to believe. All the maidens are scheming to take to your bed."

"Is that so?" he asked with a crooked smile. "And how would the Lady of the house know such things?"

"The Lady of the house must be aware of all things that go on in her home," she said her tiny smile spreading slightly. "I think you'll find Alison most agreeable and eager to please."

His smile slowly faded. There is only one woman in this house that he wanted, but he feared she was forever lost to him.

True to his word, Keane sent one of the stable boys to fetch five of his most capable men from his own manor as he and his three men prepared for the journey to Cyulkein, but as night began to fall and the men hadn't arrived, Fianna began to worry.

"Gather everyone into the main house," she ordered, staring at the setting sun as it touched the sea. "Have the men bring what weapons we have."

All during the night, she and those under her protection heard an unknown number of men as they yelled and jeered outside the manor, throwing rocks at the boarded windows, and challenging the men to come out. They trampled their gardens, stole their livestock, and tried to batter their way into the house through the two doors.

Just before dawn, the thieves, after stealing all that could be easily taken, attacked the manor in earnest, throwing torches at the doors and windows to set them ablaze, forcing the men to open the manor to combat the flames. The old men and boys defend the house gallantly with pikes, knives, and Boadhagh's sword, but with most of their young, able men still not home from their battle with the English, they were very nearly over matched. She'd huddled the women and children into the small room and was standing in the door between the two rooms, terrified that her servants' gallant efforts to protect them were going to fail. Seeing a man trying to squeeze through a window, his presence unnoticed by the men defending the doors, Fianna rushed into the center room, picked up Boadhagh's sword from the floor where it'd fallen after Niall had been grievously wounded, and with a shriek of rage and terror, brought it down upon the man's wrist, nearly cleaving it from his arm.

The man shrieked in pain as he tumbled into the room, blood gushing from his wound as the men waiting to enter behind him fell back. Still screaming, his face twisted with horror, the blackguard rose to his knees, gripping his nearly severed hand as he tried to stop the bleeding. Fianna swung the sword in a wild arc, nearly cutting her mason in the process, before burying the blade in the man's neck. Her actions, little though they were compared to what the men had given and endured, seemed to break the momentum of the attack. As the servants began to turn the tide of the battle, she pulled the sword from the dying man's neck as he writhed on the floor with blood gushing from the mortal wound. Sobbing in terror, she backed away, dragged the sword along the stone floor as she moved to cower in a corner farthest from the man, her long tunic splattered with blood.

"My Lady! My Lady! Fianna! My Lady!" Nighean called, shaking her. "Are you injured?"

Fianna was sitting in the corner, the sword laying on the floor beside her, as she stared at nothing. Finally Nighean's frantic shaking and calling of her name penetrated and she slowly became aware of her handmaid.

"What? I'm fine, Nighean," she whispered as she realized the fighting had stopped.

The door was closed again, and women and young boys were helping, and dragging, the injured away from where they'd stood against the attackers. The moans and cries of pain from injured men and the older boys were loud, both from this room and the smaller room where the women and children had sheltered during the attack.

"What of the others?"

"They've been driven off."

Fianna sat, trying to move, trying to take charge of her house, but after a moment she burst into tears as her terror gradually bled out of her. After a long moment of shoulder shaking sobbing, she gathered herself.

"The men? Anyone killed?" she sniffed, her eyes burning as she wiped at them with the back of her blood-stained hands.

"Only one of ours," her handmaid said softly. "Niall. All the others are wounded, some more seriously than others. We're making them as comfortable as we can, and at first light we'll send for the wise woman. Perhaps she can help them... or at least make them comfortable."

Wiping her eyes furiously, Fianna forced herself to her feet. "Yes, of course," she said, staring at the carnage at the front of the central room. "Tend to the badly injured as best you can, and have those least injured maintain their guard. The night isn't over yet."

When Keane arrived late that day, the house seemed quiet and in order. He, nor his men, noticed the trampled garden or the absence of chickens. He didn't begin to worry until no stable boy arrived to take his mount. Quickly tying off his horse, he strode into the manor, his heart clamped in a cold hand. As he entered, he saw Fianna, her eyes sunken, her normally immaculate hair in disarray as she staggered into the central room with a bucket of water. Most alarming was her blood-soaked tunic.

"Fianna!" Keane shouted as he rushed to her. "What happened here?"

"You said you'd protect us," she murmured as she stepped past him, set her bucket down, and knelt to the stone floor. Only then did he notice the floor was wet, and the water had a tinge of red.

"Fianna, tell me what happened!" he demanded, taking her by her arm and pulling her to her feet.

"You weren't here to protect us. We were attacked during the night," she explained calmly, clearly exhausted and in shock. "Niall and Roderick are dead. Tavish will probably not last the night." She paused, so tired she could barely think. "Una, the wise woman, is tending them best she can, but she believes Herne and Newlin will also die." Her eyes slowly rose to his"Your men, they didn't come. You said you'd protect us, but you weren't here."

A rage unlike he'd ever experience, even with Boadhagh's death, began to fill him. "I'll kill the bastards. All of them," he snarled, his voice deadly calm. "On that you have my word as a MacNobaill."

He turned on his heel and stomped out of the house to tend his horse. He'd kill every man in Scotland if that's what it took to protect Fianna, and he'd start with his own men for failing to follow his orders. After tending his horse, he and his men returned to the house to help where they could, his guardsmen fetching water, helping tend the wounded, and setting the fireplaces to roaring to warm the chill of the house.

"Fianna, when did you sleep last?" he asked as Fianna and one of her maidens resolutely scrubbed at the floor, Fianna's motions slow and without apparent purpose.

"Two nights hence, my Lord," the maiden answered when Fianna didn't. "She ordered us to rest, but refuses to do so herself." She stared at Keane, her face frightened. "She takes her turn tending the wounded, or fetching cloth and water, but when her turn is over, when it's her turn to rest, she returns here to scrub."

He glared at the young woman and she shrank back in fear. He ground his teeth. "Fear not. I, above all others, know how stubborn the Lady can be." He glanced around the room. "My men will take over the duties of aiding the wise woman. Gather the most rested maidens and finish here, send the rest to bed."

"Yes, my Lord," the woman said, leaving behind her pail of water and wad of red stained linen.

Keane reached down and pulled Fianna to her feet. "Fianna, you need to sleep," he says softly.

"I can't. I have--"

"I am Lord of this manor and you will do as I say!" he roared, causing her to start and cringe back before his wrath.

"Yes, my Lord," she whispered, lowering her head in submission.

As she turned away, she wobbled before putting her hand against a wall to steady herself. His mouth hard, he didn't believe she had the strength left to climb the stairs to her chamber, so he scooped into his arms and carried her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head against his shoulder, too exhausted to protest. As he turned, she stirred, panic urging her into action. "Boadhagh's sword! Where's Boadhagh's sword? I had it... but it's not here! I must find it!" she cried as she squirmed, trying to escape his embrace.

He tightened his grip on her. "You had Boadhagh's sword?" he asked, pausing to look around as she struggled to free herself.

"After I... killed the man. I don't remember where I left it. I need it."

"I'll find it, don't worry. You're safe now." He stepped into the second room. "You!" he barked, looking at a woman he'd seen tending Fianna. Everyone looked at him with fear in their eyes after his bellow at Fianna in the other room. "You're one of the Lady's handmaidens?"

"Yes, my Lord," the woman said, leaving the man she was tending.

"Come. Tend to your Lady," he growled as he turned and carried Fianna up the steps and then into her chamber. He saw the girl stiffen as he entered Fianna's chamber, but he didn't care. He carried Fianna to her bed where he, as gently as possible, placed her on the mattress, the bed smelling of sweet hay and crackling softly as he slowly released her weight. She stirred but didn't waken. "Make her comfortable, then stay at her side."

"But--" the girl began before falling silent and dipping her head when he glared at her. "Yes, my Lord."

Late that night, Keane ignited as many torches as he could find, placing them well in front of the manor before stomping back and forth at the edge of the torch's glow, roaring into the night with his sword in his right hand and Boadhagh's in his left, challenging any who would harm those he watched over to come forth and meet their death. He would welcome any challenger one on one, but he wasn't foolish, and his three guardsmen were discreetly hidden to both sides and at his back with arrows nocked. Their arrows weren't needed as n one accept Keane's invitation.

The next morning, slightly groggy from his several hours of bellowing challenges the night before, he'd ordered his horse saddled before riding out at as soon as there was enough light, his sword plainly displayed on his saddle in silent warning. His mood was as dark and foul as the drizzly morning and he intended to heap swift and severe retribution on those who'd failed to follow his orders. He rode for a time until, near the halfway point of his journey, his horse became skittish. He instantly became alert for danger. He'd left his men at Boadhagh's manor, unafraid on the short, daylight ride this deep in his clan's territory, and he'd welcome a chance to heap his frothing rage upon any highwayman who might be foolish enough to trifle with him. He turned his horse in a circle, his eyes searching for threats, but the only sign of trouble was a bit of bright red in the ditch to the side of the road, the same bright red as the tunic Dougal was wearing the morning he'd sent him on his errand.

His heart sinking, he dismounted and approached carefully, wary of a trap. There was no trap, only young Dougal with a deep slice across his throat and his tunic stained with his blood. His eyes again surveyed the area, watching for a trap, but he was alone with the boy. To strike at his stableboy so brazenly in the heart of his lands was beyond reckless, and when he found the man or men responsible, he would make an example of him that no one would soon forget. His jaws clenched tight, he picked up the cold, lifeless, body and gently placed it across his horse before turning back for the boy's home.

When he arrived at the manor, one of the grooms, his arm and shoulder wrapped in cloth with a worrisome amount of blood showing through, held his horse with his good hand as Keane carefully pulled the dead boy from the horse.

"You, boy," Keane said as a young groom in training peeked around the edge of a stall. "Run to the manor and alert the Lady. Tell her I request her presence at the stable at once, and be quick about it."

"Yes, my Lord!" the boy cried as he spun and left in a run.

When Fianna arrived she still had a haunted look in her eyes, but she was once again neatly dressed and her flaming hair was clean and tidily woven. She must have known what she was going to find as she approached on swift feet, stopping just inside the stable door to glance at the sides.

"Ohhh... Dougal," she murmured as she crouched and placed her hand to the boy's cold and ashen face. She glanced up to Keane. "He's Nighean's son."

He watched as silent tears crawled down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Fianna."

"So much death," she murmured as she rose, wiping her cheeks and sniffing, her eyes never leaving the boy's body.

" But no more. No more of those that I watch over," he growled, his voice as hard as the iron of his sword. "They thought clan MacNobaill was weakened by Boadhagh's death. We have lost much, but our clan is strong, and they will soon learn how wrong they were. They have struck at me deep in my lands, taken from me and those I care about, and tested my resolve. I will find them, Fianna, and they will pay dearly for what they've done. I swore an oath to Boadhagh to keep you safe, and I will not fail."

Fianna sat in the central room with Keane, picking over a simple dinner that she and one of the maids prepared. She'd released most of the servants to grieve their losses, especially Nighean, having lost both her husband Tavish, and her son Dougal.

"Fianna," he said, his voice soft. "I've been thinking. I can't adequately protect this estate and mine, therefore I'm going to consolidate the estates... as is my right."

"Yes, my Lord," she murmured. Despite his words when he arrived with Boadhagh's body, she knew he wouldn't, couldn't, allow her to stay in the manor.

"Don't fret, Fianna. This will always be your home," he continued, his voice soft and kind. "This manor is larger and easier to defended with only three sides of approach. I will close my house and bring my staff here. We'll add additional space as needed to accommodate. I'm sure I can place most of my house staff with good families. The rest, the masons, carpenters, and the like, I'll keep. The lands won't be any smaller."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Fianna... I promised you this house would always be yours. I stand by that promise."

"For how long, my Lord? Until you marry? Will your wife allow me to stay then? A manor can have only one Lady of the house."

"I will not cast you out," he said firmly.

"Then I will be reduced in rank, to chambermaid perhaps, or to the kitchen, or perhaps to slopping the pigs under your wife's watchful eye? Better to be cast out. I was low born, and low born I can be again. Perhaps I can find a place with another family, maybe as a cook or gardener, but there I won't be seen as a rival."

She refused to look at him, her gaze resolutely on her bowl. "I will not allow that to happen."

"How will you prevent it, my Lord? Will you meddle in the affairs of the manor? Will you slight the duties of the Lady to elevate me above you own wife?"

"There will be no Lady other than you!" he snapped as he slammed his fist on the table.

She quickly looked up and held his gaze, her blue eyes searching his face. "You... want me to marry you?" she asked, her shock and surprise clear in her expression and tone.

Now it was his turn to look down, unable to meet her gaze. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"But is it true? You want to take me as your wife?"

He was quiet for a long moment. "It's true. It's been true since before Boadhagh took your hand."

"Yet you haven't ordered me to your bed. You haven't asked for my hand."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I want you to come to me of your own volition. I don't want just your hand, Fianna, I also want your heart."

She searched his face for a lie. "Why haven't you told me this before? For five years, you've kept this secret?"

"Your heart belonged to Boadhagh. You were happy, and you made Boadhagh happy." He looked away. "I was content with that."

"And before that? Before Boadhagh asked for my hand?"

He shrugged. "I was young and in awe of Boadhagh. He'd taken notice of you even before Reaghan died. The MacNobaill are fishermen, Fianna. Did you really think that Boadhagh would be interested in raising sheep except that your father was a wool merchant?"

She flushed. She'd often wondered why the chief of a fishing clan had taken an interest in raising and shearing sheep, and now she knew. If Keane was right, he hadn't been interested in producing wool, he'd been interested in her.

"And now?" she whispered

"I fear your heart will always belong to Boadhagh, but I vowed to keep you safe from harm until you can once again be with your love."