Caelen's Wife: Book One - A Murmur of Providence (Clan McDunnah Series 1) Read Online Free

man’s eyes grow wide with surprise and confusion. He turned on his heel and raced away. Moments later, another man appeared atop the wall. He was older than the first, sporting a long beard and a scowl. He asked the same question: what did they want with the McDunnah.
    “I’ve come to discuss Caelen McDunnah’s proposal of marriage,” Fiona repeated.
    From the way the color drained from his face and how his eyes widened, she could see the man was bewildered by her statement. Mayhap the McDunnah hadn’t shared his intentions with anyone yet. No matter, she mused. She knew the truth and that was all that mattered. Better to catch them all unaware than to allow them time to plan any further deviousness.

    C uriosity trumped Kenneth McDunnah’s good sense.
    He knew Caelen was in his room, sleeping off his once-a-year drunk that he felt honored the death of his wife and son. But when the McPhersons said they were here to discuss Caelen’s marriage proposal, he couldn’t help himself. He had to find out what the bloody hell these people were about.
    Caelen had returned to McDunnah lands three days ago. He’d been gone for more than a year, fighting the good fight against the English. He had returned, as he had done nearly every year for the past sixteen, just in time for the anniversary of Fiona’s and the babe’s deaths. Caelen’s way of memorializing his wife and child was to get good and bloody drunk.
    Now, a group of McPhersons waited at the gates, talking of a marriage proposal. Kenneth couldn’t help but wonder what exactly his chief and cousin had gotten himself into whilst he was away.
    Kenneth raced into the keep, up the tower stairs and barged into Caelen’s chamber. The foul aroma of sweat, whisky, and heartache stopped him just inside the door. He shook his head and let out a frustrated sigh when he saw Caelen — sprawled out sideways on the bed, lying on his stomach with one arm dangling toward the floor and an empty tankard lying not far from his fingertips. Shirtless and bootless and if Kenneth had surmised his chief’s current state of mental health correctly, away with the fairies.
    Sighing again, he first went to the window and pulled back the fur to allow more sunlight and fresh air into the room.
    “Caelen,” he said as he gave him a good shake. “Caelen, ye fool, wake up!”
    Not so much as a moan of reproach from the man.
    Kenneth rolled him over to his back. Several days’ worth of whiskers lined Caelen’s cheeks and chin and his dark hair was matted to the side of his face that bore no scar. ’Twas depressing a sight as there ever was, Kenneth reckoned.
    “Caelen!” He shouted and shook him again. “The McPhersons are at the gate sayin’ ye made a proposal of marriage!”
    Caelen opened his eyes, albeit slowly, and stared up at Kenneth. “What?” he asked, his voice thick and scratchy from a whisky induced slumber.
    Kenneth nodded and crossed his hands over his broad chest. “Aye. Ye’ve apparently proposed to someone.”

    C aelen hadn’t quite slept off enough of the drink he’d consumed the day before. Shaking his head, he closed his eyes. “Quit jestin’, Kenneth, and go away,” he said through thick tongue and throat.
    Next to the fireplace was a table that held a pitcher and bowl. Kenneth stomped over, poured cold water onto a cloth and returned to Caelen’s side. “I be no’ jestin’ with ye, Caelen,” he said as he tossed the cloth at Caelen so it landed on his face.
    “The McPhersons are here and they say ye’ve proposed marriage to someone.”
    The words marriage and proposed worked as well as a bucket of icy water to break through the fog of whisky. Caelen opened his eyes again and tossed the cloth aside. It was painful enough to feel the sun burning against his orbs. But what pained him even more was the look on Kenneth’s face. The man wasn’t jesting.
    Kenneth was quite serious — as serious as an apoplexy or the pain pounding in Caelen’s