“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.