Chapter Two
Brenna pulled back from the door and covered her mouth. She’d been punished more than a few times for eavesdropping, but seeing her future husband enter his grandfather’s room and leave the door cracked proved too great a temptation.
“Eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves,” her mother always scolded. She had never heard something so wretched as the instructions for Ronan. Bed her and forget her? How appalling.
She knew that her prospects were limited as a laird’s daughter. To be married off to create an alliance was the only thing waiting for her. But she’d hoped for a kind man, not to become a broodmare while her husband warmed the bed of lasses high and low.
Forget about her.
Was that to be her fate?
She shook her head and returned to her bed chamber.
She briefly looked at the window, wondering if she could escape from this height.
But what would she do then? Fortunately, there was another way.
She could escape this destiny by telling her father what else she’d heard at the door.
Something this Ewan had done that would bring the clans to war if it were found out.
Surely, that would change her father’s mind about shackling her to such a horrid clan.
War wasn’t something she’d enjoy starting, but wouldn’t it be better than marrying a man who seemed to despise her?
Who wouldn’t be faithful to his vows? She called for her maid to help her dress in her second-best gown as she considered her options.
Brenna still hadn’t come up with a solution as she went down to the great hall to sit next to the man who may or may not become her husband.
She presented a curtsey at his bow, not relatively as low as before because of the corset, and directly met his warm, brown eyes. His lips pulled up into a smile. She could only think he was heartened by the lack of flora spilling from her hair.
“I must apologize for earlier,” she said quietly when everyone was seated and the food served.
“You do not always rush into the bailey riding Satan’s beast in breeches?”
She cleared her throat. To say no would be a lie. While this man held secrets, too, she did not have to stoop to such a level. Telling him the truth would be the easier way to do that rather than spur war between their clans.
“I do. However, I don’t often do so in anticipation of visitors. And I’m rarely late.”
His smile grew into a full grin. If she thought telling the truth would force him to back down, it appeared she’d need to try harder.
“I see. And as for calling me Henry?”
“In truth, your name was not told to me. I should have thought to ask. I was so excited by the news, I didn’t stop to take in the details.” This seemed to surprise him.
“You’re excited to wed a stranger?”
She swallowed and stuck to her plan to tell him the truth. She granted him a nod. The truth without elaboration. “I take it you are not excited to be marrying me.”
He opened his mouth to refute her insinuation, but she put up a hand to stop him.
“Ye don’t need to deny it. I know I’m rather plain.” Her brown hair was rather dull. Her eyes were the color of green mud. Her stature was without the soft curves other women had. And if all of this wasn’t enough, standing next to her sister was so much worse as if in contrast.
“May I ask something?”
He squinted and nodded.
“We do not know each other yet. It won't be easy to learn about the other if we don’t speak the truth. Attempting to spare my feelings won’t get the job done. Promise me we will at least offer one another honesty.”
“Honesty.” Ronan’s throat bobbed with the word, and he met her eyes. “Aye.”
She smiled and held out her hand to shake his.
With a laugh and a shake of his head, he took it and gave it a firm shake.
When her groom smiled as he did then, he was charming.
A dimple pulled along the crease of his cheek, and his white teeth sparkled in the light from the sconces.
Those brown eyes became deep pools of warmth, beckoning her closer.
Being this close to him, she realized how tall he was.
His shoulders, broad with muscle, fit well on his lean body.
When he blinked in what she guessed was confusion, she noticed she’d been leaning closer than was typical for two people during a meal.
Clearing his throat, he pulled away and focused on his food instead. She did the same, realizing she was now even more uncertain about how to proceed than she’d been before.
“Brimstone.”
“Excuse me?”
“Ye said my horse was from Satan. His name is Brimstone.”
“I see.” He frowned. “May I ask, why is your horse so large? Is your father unable to purchase a fitting horse for a lady?”
She tilted her head to the side. “I assure you he is quite fitting for this lady.”
He looked her over and shook his head. “He is too large for you. And too spirited. You’ll be thrown to your death. I’ll get you something suitable.”
“Might I point out that if I am thrown to my death after the wedding, you’ll be free without needing to bother with the effort of forgetting me?” As soon as the words were out, she realized her error. She looked up into his horror-stricken face.
“You were listening?” His whisper was almost too low to make out in the busy hall.
“I—I happened by and overheard…”
“How much did you overhear?”
“Enough.” She shrugged. Hadn’t she been the one to suggest honesty between them? “I know it’s marriage or war with the Innes clan.”
“And what do you plan to do with this information?”
It was a fitting question. She’d been weighing her options as she was scrubbed and prodded into the image of a proper lady, and she’d come to no conclusions.
Telling her father would put an end to her marriage before they’d spoken their vows. They could be launched directly into war, and she’d be forced to wait for the next match.
And if none came?
She would stay here, trying to be someone she wasn’t and failing miserably.
Or…she could follow through with this marriage and move to the Grants’ stronghold where she might have the opportunity to find a home or make a family who’d like her for who she was.
The chances weren’t good, having heard how much her betrothed wished to marry Hannah instead of her. But he’d smiled at her moments ago, and she felt warmed by the sincerity in his eyes.
She let out a sigh and shook her head before answering his question. “I’m not sure yet.”
***
Ronan was married, though he still wasn’t sure why she’d gone through with it.
But as Brenna smiled up at him with a wreath of flowers on her head, he felt a silly bit of pride that she had.
She’d called herself plain, and while he’d thought of arguing the notion at the time, he had to agree with her.
But she’d asked for honesty, so he hadn’t offered her flattery.
It wasn’t that she was unsightly. She was just rather ordinary.
None of the features of her face stood out as bonny.
But now, with the pleased smile lighting her bright, hazel eyes, he found she was not as plain as he’d initially considered.
Next to her angelic sister, Brenna was subdued by the brightness of Lady Hannah.
But here, next to him, with happiness lighting her from within and flora purposely twisted in her wild curls, Brenna was striking.
It would be no difficulty to take her to his bed, which would be soon.
After their handfasting, the rest of the morning was spent in the hall celebrating with a moderate feast. Laird and Lady Innes spoke of their eldest daughter’s pending nuptials as if they’d be the year's festivities. Ronan wondered how his new wife bore it, having her special day overshadowed by her sister. But there she smiled as if nothing would mar this moment, knowing it was a collection of paupers compared to what would be done for Lady Hannah’s wedding.
He marveled at the strength to keep that smile in place, knowing what she’d heard the evening before. Shame brought heat to his cheeks as he recalled his grandsire’s recommendation to bed and forget her.
Ronan watched Brenna bubbling over in happy chatter as those closest to her rolled their eyes at her antics. Sympathy spurred defensiveness in his heart, and he reached for her hand.
“Shall we be on our way? We’ll want to get to Strathspey before dark,” he announced. It was true enough, but he wanted to leave for another reason—to get her away from these people who should have cared for her and so clearly didn’t. Not that he’d do much better, but at least he had a reason.
“Aye,” his wife answered. “I’ve already packed my things, and the trunk has been loaded onto the wagon.”
Not only had she stood up with him to become his wife, but she was eager to go to his home. He was amazed by her courage and saddened she must be so desperate to leave this place.
Her parents, while not patient, didn’t seem cruel.
The sister seemed to take great amusement in embarrassing Brenna at every opportunity.
Had he initially thought Hannah was bonny?
Seeing her as he knew her after this short time, he found her lacking, even possibly lacking a soul.
A better man would have encouraged Brenna to tell her father why his grandsire requested the alliance. But Ronan was not a better man.
It wasn’t only that a war between the Grants and the Innes clan would delay his plans to go to France with Shane, but that Ronan wanted to take his new bride away from this place that, for whatever reason, she was eager to leave. And then what?
Shaking off any thoughts beyond tonight, he escorted his bride to the bailey, where they’d say their goodbyes to her family.
Their horses had been brought around. His large destrier, Merlin, was dwarfed by his wife’s Brimstone.
Another gelding had been brought around, though Ronan wasn’t sure why.
A tug on his sleeve pulled his attention from the horses to his wife, who was sheepishly looking up at him.
“You seemed to think Brimstone was too large for me, so I thought I would give him to you as a wedding gift.”
His eyes went wide at her generosity. Then his brows pulled together. Hasty as this union had been, he’d not gotten his wife a wedding gift. He’d not even considered it, as opposed to it as he’d been. But now, in light of her gift, he felt unworthy. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling.
Digging about in his sporran, he found something that meant a great deal to him. He placed the brooch in her palm. “For ye, wife.”
She squinted at the bit of metal in her hand and looked up at him.
“’Tis the MacPherson crest.”
“Aye. I was raised half my life with Grants and half with MacPhersons. I think myself both.”
She smiled. “Then I shall be both as well. Thank ye.”
It didn’t pass his notice she hadn’t owned to being loyal to three clans.
The one she’d just spent the last nineteen years with had been tossed aside without further thought.
They walked to Brimstone so she could introduce them.
When she moved to take the reins of the gelding, he couldn’t help but feel like she didn’t belong on such a mundane beast.
“Wait.” He shook his head. “Perhaps you’d prefer my Merlin. He may not be as wicked as your beast, but he’ll keep your ride interesting.”
Her smile nearly took over her face as she nodded. Reaching up to pet the red horse between the eyes, she looked back at him. “Thank ye, husband.”
With warm cheeks, he nodded and cleared his throat. “Let us go home.”
His wife didn’t make a single complaint as they pushed to make their return by nightfall.
As they crested the final hill, the view took his breath.
The sun was deeply rested on the far horizon, coloring the sky in pink and orange.
The white stone castle seemed to glow in the last of the day’s light.
After the initial feeling of relief, he was overwhelmed with the slithering feeling of dread. He felt as if something was choking him. He couldn’t breathe. He knew the thing would never go away, having suffered with it much of his life.
Duty.
Ronan was the laird’s heir. He’d known the weight of that since he’d known his father had passed.
For all his ten and eight years, he’d been trained and groomed to one day become laird of clan Grant.
There was no escape. It mattered not what he might have wanted for his life.
His dreams were dismissed, overshadowed by his responsibilities.
Now his duty to his clan had forced him to marry this stranger. But he’d gained a reprieve. He only needed to get through this night, and he’d be free again for at least a while. He’d allow his people their proper feast and bed his new bride, but come morning, his life would be his own once more.