Never Love a Highlander (McCabe Trilogy #3)(31)

“Aye, I agree. It won’t be an easy task.”

Caelen grinned at his commander. “You said you desired a new challenge.”

Gannon shot him a disgruntled look. “When I said that, whipping an entire army into shape wasn’t what I had in mind.”

Caelen sighed. “Nor is it what I had in mind either. ’Tis the truth I don’t even know where to begin. The task before us is overwhelming in its enormity.”

Gannon laid a hand on Caelen’s shoulder. “A more able taskmaster I’ve never met. ’Tis the truth if anyone can do it, you can.”

Caelen scanned the sparring warriors and grimaced. He hoped Gannon was right. The next weeks would be grueling, and his only chance of success was in gaining the cooperation of his new clan.

So far no one had greeted him with anything but reserve and suspicion.

“Find Simon and Arlen,” he ordered Gannon. “I’ll be in the hall waiting.”

As he strode into the keep, he glanced at the serving women scurrying to and fro, in the midst of their chores. He searched for his wife but didn’t see her. But then neither did he spot Sarah, who’d promised to take Rionna under her wing and guide her with a gentle hand.

He entered the hall to find it barren. He frowned, knowing it was close to time for the noon meal. There was no activity to suggest such a thing was forthcoming. No fire burned in the hearth. No smells emanated from the kitchens. No places had been set at the table.

He didn’t even know the name of someone to summon to answer his questions. In disgust, he left the hall and walked in the direction of distant voices.

When he entered the room he could only suppose was where the women did the washing, he found his wife in a state of agitation, her hands on her hips and her face red as she stared back at Sarah.

The dress she wore was fine, if a bit worn. The bodice was a little—a lot—too tight and Rionna’s supple br**sts pushed up and over the embroidered neckline. She looked … beautiful. Dainty and feminine. He was hard-pressed to place her in the scruffy men’s clothing, with a dirt-smeared face, shapeless bosom, and hair tightly plastered to her head.

She looked every inch the elegant mistress of the keep. She rivaled Mairin and Keeley in beauty and form.

That was until she opened her mouth and cut loose with a string of blasphemies he was certain had never crossed his sisters-in-law’s mouths.

She was still cursing when she turned and saw him standing in the doorway. Her lips snapped shut and she glared at him as if peeved over his intrusion. He lifted one eyebrow when no request for pardon came forth.

Her palms dug deeper into her hips as she stared him down. Her eyes flashed, an odd mixture of amber and gold.

“Are you coming to check up on me, husband?”

His lips tightened and he pinned her with a glare of his own.

“I came to find out why no meal is being served in the great hall. It’s past the time for the noon meal. The soldiers have already put in a hard day’s work and will be hungry. As am I.”

Rionna stared at him, her brows drawn together in puzzlement. The other women stared at him as well, as if he’d said something utterly ridiculous.

Sarah was the first to speak. She glanced at Rionna and then took a step forward. “We don’t serve a meal at noon, Laird.”

He frowned again. “Any particular reason why not? ’Tis important for the men to eat. Their strength must be kept up, especially now that they’ll be training even harder.”

Rionna cleared her throat. “What she’s so delicately trying to say is that we don’t have the food. We break our fast with bread and cheese, when we have it to spare, and we end the day with whatever we’ve been able to hunt.”

“And when the hunt isn’t successful?”

“We don’t eat,” she said simply.

He shook his head. None of this made sense. The McDonalds might not be the best trained when it came to the might of their army, but they’d always been a well-placed clan.

“Your father wagered my brother three months’ worth of food from his stores.”

“He didn’t have it to wager,” Rionna said bitterly. “He left us with nothing to eat and no coin to trade with other clans.”

Caelen bit back a blaspheme of his own. “Show me your larder.”

With a shrug, Rionna turned and walked down the hallway away from the great hall and past the kitchens to a small, airless chamber. He walked in and glanced around, his stomach sinking as he took in the empty shelves.

If possible, the McDonald clan was in poorer circumstances than his own clan had been before his brother married Mairin.

“This is unacceptable,” he gritted out. “The clan must eat.”

“We’re used to surviving on little,” Rionna said matter-of-factly. “ ’Tis our way of life for some years now.”

“Was your father a complete wastrel?” he demanded.

“My father was only concerned with his own comfort and filling his own belly.”

“ ’Tis a wonder you haven’t been invaded long before now,” Caelen said in disgust. “You certainly would have been an easy conquest.”

Rionna’s mouth tightened and her eyes narrowed in fury. “ ’Tis your clan you speak of with such disdain.”

“Nay, ’tis not my clan I have such disdain for. ’Tis your father. ’Tis a sin for a man not to provide for his clan. Do your children go hungry as well? And what of your old and the sick?”