“Instructions? What instructions?”

Rionna swung her feet over the edge, still clutching the furs to her naked body.

Sarah smiled. “The laird wants me and the other women to instruct you on the duties of the lady of the keep. He said ’tis obvious you have no knowledge of such, and now that you are wife to the laird ’tis time for you to take your place.”

Rionna sat in the tub, water up to her ears, silently fuming. After a night of pure heaven, a night when she was sure that she and Caelen would start anew, that he would actually act as though he cared something for her, he’d gotten up from their bed and ordered her to start acting like his meek little wife.

To make matters worse, Sarah was sitting by the tub, ticking off the list of instructions from Caelen.

She was not to dress as a man. She was not to indulge in activities unbecoming a lady, and he went on to specify swordplay, fighting, or any other activity assigned to a warrior. She wasn’t to bind her breasts.

That directive had Rionna turning scarlet, her cheeks so scorched that the steaming water suddenly seemed tepid. Could he have humiliated her any further?

“Now, lass, don’t look like that,” Sarah soothed. “ ’Tis not as if he told the entire keep. He pulled me aside, he did. Told me his wishes and instructed me not to say a word to anyone.”

“If he had anything to say, he should have spoken to me,” Rionna hissed.

Sarah snorted. “And you would have ignored him and gone about your usual practices.”

Rionna bared her teeth. “What is so wrong with my usual practices?”

Sarah poured a bucket of water over Rionna’s head and then shoved her underneath the water. Rionna came up sputtering and glaring at Sarah, who sat grinning with a look of satisfaction.

“ ’Tis the truth, I’ve waited a long time to get my hands on you, lass. Your father cared naught how you behaved even though he disapproved. He was a lazy man who should have taken you in hand long before you reached the age you are now. And your mother should have taught you the ways of the lady of the keep, but she was too busy keeping your father away from the other lasses. You’ve not had a good example to be sure, but that’s all going to come to an end starting today. I’m going to mold you into the finest lady of the keep the McDonald clan has ever seen.”

The determination in the older woman’s eyes made Rionna’s shoulders sag in resignation. There was unholy delight in Sarah’s gaze. She was practically rubbing her hands in glee.

“First we’re going to measure you for new gowns. The bodices of your current dresses will never fit you with those breasts out of bondage. I’ve already got three of the women altering one of the dresses that your mother wore. A few stitches here and there and you’ll have dresses you can wear until we can outfit you in a new wardrobe.”

“We haven’t the funds to outfit me in a new wardrobe,” Rionna said darkly.

Sarah shook her head. “You’re not to worry over that. The laird is expecting all manner of supplies from his brother in the next fortnight. He told me himself that he specifically sent word that you needed warm clothing and all the trappings befitting a lady.”

“ ‘All the trappings befitting a lady,’ ” Rionna mimicked.

“Hush now. The water’s growing cold. Your grumbling doesn’t change the fact that you’ve a lot of learning ahead of you. ’Twill be better for all if you go about it with a good attitude.”

“Oh let me sulk a bit,” Rionna said. “I know you have the right of it, but ’tis the truth I have no liking for the task.”

Sarah smiled and reached over to pat Rionna’s cheek. “I love you like you were my own bairn. And I’m going to treat you like my bairn, which means I’ll cuff you on the back of the head if you give me any sass.”

Rionna grinned and then sobered. “What think you of the new laird?”

Sarah cocked her head as she gave the matter consideration.

“I think he’s a gruff man, but I think he’s fair. He’s hard, and he likes things a certain way. It might take the clan a bit to grow accustomed to his ways, but I think we’ll be a better clan for it.”

“I do, too,” Rionna said grudgingly. “I just want …”

“What do you want, lass?”

Rionna pressed her lips together, determined not to show weakness in front of Sarah. What she wanted were things a girl wanted. Dreams a girl dreamed. Not what a woman full grown with a responsibility to her clan spent her day being foolish over.

“ ’Tis no matter what I want,” she said quietly. “ ’Tis what the laird wants that matters.”

Caelen stood in the courtyard, arms crossed, expression stony as he surveyed the McDonald soldiers training. Gannon stood beside him and every once in awhile shook his head in dismay.

“We’ve not time to shape these men into a decent army,” Gannon said. “We won’t stand a chance against Cameron.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Caelen said grimly. “They have the skill. They just haven’t had the proper training.”

“Their best warrior is a woman,” Gannon said in disgust. “Rionna bested Diormid, remember?”

Caelen scowled. He didn’t need a reminder of his wife’s prowess with a sword. He had no intention of allowing her to get herself killed. The sooner he got her with child, the sooner she’d settle down and turn her attention to more womanly pursuits. Then he wouldn’t have to worry over what trouble she got into.

“Find me the leaders,” Caelen said to Gannon. “ ’Tis obvious they have no regard for my authority yet. I’ll make my case to the most senior men and let them know I’m no threat to their leadership.”

“I’ve been watching,” Gannon murmured. “Simon McDonald wields much influence within his clan. The men listen to him and look to him for guidance. Arlen McDonald is another elder whom the younger soldiers look to for guidance. He’s adept with a sword.”

“Tell them I want a meeting with them in the great hall. Invite them to have the noon meal and we’ll talk then. We’ll have need to break the men into smaller groups for training purposes. I’ll need the help of the McDonald men in positions of leadership if we are to accomplish all we need to.”

“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 breasts 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?”

Rionna gave a weary sigh. “ ’Tis no use venting your outrage, husband. The man to whom you have need to direct your anger is not here. My clan has suffered long enough. We don’t deserve your censure.”

Caelen blew out his breath in disgust and turned to stalk from the room.

“Where do you go?” she called after him.

“Hunting,” he bit out.

CHAPTER 13

“Change the order,” Caelen said to Gannon when he found his commander in the courtyard. “Have Simon and Arlen pick their best hunters and pack the horses.”

Gannon looked at him curiously but went immediately to do his laird’s bidding.

A moment later, Gannon returned with a small group of warriors.

“We go hunting, McCabe?” Simon asked.

Caelen’s eyes narrowed at the slight. Now wasn’t the time to show any softness with his new clan. If he did, he’d lose any and all credibility. They didn’t have to like him, but they damn well better respect him.

He drew his sword before the other men could blink and he sliced the blade through the air, a bare inch from the older man’s neck.