Never Love a Highlander (McCabe Trilogy #3)(21)

Apart from assisting her onto her horse, he hadn’t acknowledged her at all since she’d overheard his words to Gannon earlier that morn.

“I don’t like him, Rionna,” James muttered beside her.

She jerked her head up to make sure Caelen hadn’t overheard the disloyal remark and then she turned to the young warrior. Beside him, Simon, his father, nodded his agreement.

“I don’t like him either, lass. The king and the McCabes have given us a bad turn. ’Twasn’t right what they did to your father.”

Rionna clenched her jaw until it ached. She could hardly reveal her true feelings. She couldn’t very well say that she didn’t like her new laird either, but she wasn’t about to go as far as to defend her father.

“ ’Tis best to give him a chance,” she murmured in a low voice, all the while keeping her gaze on Caelen’s back. “He seems a good and fair man.”

“He doesn’t treat you with the respect you’re due,” Arthur said angrily from her other side.

Rionna turned in surprise and then surveyed all the men who rode back from Caelen and Gannon. None of them looked happy to have Caelen lead them back to their home. Their mouths were set in firm lines and their eyes were angry and hard.

“ ’Tis the truth neither of us wanted this marriage,” she said. ’Twill be an adjustment for the both of us. He never considered that he’d be laird of our clan. Think you how you would feel if you attended your brother’s wedding only to end up being saddled with his unwanted bride.”

The men winced and James nodded his commiseration.

“Still, he has no cause to treat you as he’s done,” Simon argued. “The McCabe warriors have a reputation for being fair. Fierce but fair. You bring him much through your marriage. He should treat you gently as he would any other gently bred lady.”

Rionna snorted. “Well, now, there’s the rub. I’m no gently bred lady, remember?”

The men laughed around her and Caelen turned to look over his shoulder at the sudden noise. For a moment his gaze connected with Rionna’s and she stared back, unwilling to let him cow her.

After a time, he let his gaze slide away and he turned away from her once more.

“He has to prove himself to us,” Simon said. “I care naught what the king has decreed. If he is to be laird of our clan, he’ll have to prove he’s worthy of the mantle of leadership.”

“May he prove more worthy than my father,” Rionna whispered.

The others went silent, perhaps out of loyalty to the man they’d called laird for so many years. Rionna was through acting the dutiful daughter. She had plans for when she returned to her keep.

Whether her husband liked it or not, she intended to be a major force in the reshaping of her clan. For too long her people had suffered under the poor leadership of a greedy, belligerent fool.

Perhaps they’d traded one for another. She knew not yet. She hoped Caelen proved a good man and an even better warrior.

War was imminent. Ewan McCabe was preparing to fight Duncan Cameron and he was taking the whole of the highlands with him to battle.

Her clan wouldn’t be the sacrificial lamb on the battlefield, if she could help it.

CHAPTER 8

It was nearing dark when Caelen called a halt to the procession. Rionna was so cold that she’d long since lost feeling in her hands and feet. Her cheeks were numb and she felt cold on the inside.

She was sure she’d never be warm again. The fires of hell would be welcome at the moment.

She pried her hands from the reins and tucked them under the fur, hoping to rub some feeling back into them. She dreaded dismounting. She had no wish to set her feet into the snow. She had no wish to do anything that required movement.

With a fortifying breath, she gripped the saddle and started to dismount. Caelen appeared by her horse and reached up to assist her.

She was so pathetically grateful that she nearly tumbled into his arms.

Somehow she managed to put her hands on his shoulders and allow him to lift her down. But when her feet made contact with the ground, her legs buckled and she went down into the snow.

Caelen immediately reached for her, but when his hands came into contact with her icy skin, he swore a string of blasphemies that singed her ears.

As he swung her into his arms, he barked out orders for fires to be built and for shelter to be constructed.

“Caelen, I’m quite well. Just c—cold.”

She slapped her lips together as the last stammered out. ’Twas the truth she was so cold she burned.

“You’re not well,” he said in a grim voice. “God’s teeth, woman, are you just trying to kill yourself? Why aren’t you dressed for the cold? And why the hell didn’t you tell me you were so miserable?”

She would have bitten her tongue off before complaining to him of anything.

As soon as the fires were laid and began to burn, Caelen carried her and perched on a log as close to the flames as he could without singeing their clothing.

He opened his fur and put her directly against his chest, where only his tunic and hers separated them. Then he wrapped her firmly into his embrace and allowed some of his warmth to seep into her body.

Oh ’twas wondrous. For a moment.

As soon as some of the numbing chill began to wear off, her skin began to prickle like a thousand ants were eating her flesh. She whimpered and struggled against him but he only held her tighter and wrapped his arms around her so that she was trapped.