Chapter Ten
In the hall, Ronan looked around for his wife and didn’t see her among the people finishing their morning meal. He grabbed a few bannocks and made his way out to the bailey.
His leg always pained him in the mornings until he got it moving easily again.
He worked to hide his limp despite the stiffness.
Outside in the bright morning sun, the young lads worked through drills, with Will leading the warriors and Hugh instructing them in holding a proper stance. But his wife was not with them.
He halted a maid who was rushing toward the kitchens. “Do ye know where the mistress is this morning?”
The befuddled girl gasped and offered a quick curtsey, having realized who he was. “Aye, my laird. That is I suspect she is where she is most mornings. Either in the kirkyard on the hill or in the neighboring forest.”
At Ronan’s frown, she squeaked and hurried away.
Ronan should have done better to ease the lass, but it was too late.
He knew the kirk she’d mentioned well. His father was buried there, and he imagined his grandsire had also been buried there.
It was not that far to walk, but Ronan wasn’t up for it this morning with the pain in his leg.
Besides, it promised to be a bright July day, and he wished to ride on his lands and take in the views he’d barely remembered.
At the stable, he had one of the lads saddle Brimstone, and Ronan held in a gasp of pain as he mounted the beast and rode through the gates.
It didn’t take long for him to settle into his seat, and he tilted his face to the sun’s warmth.
The mountains to the north seemed to have grown taller in the time he was away.
Everything was washed in the green of summer, and the heather bloomed purple, splashing the rocky hills with bright color.
He headed toward the kirk, wondering what he might find his wife doing. He slowed Brimstone at the bottom of the hill and made his way to the kirkyard on foot. Until he was up the rise, his leg had eased somewhat.
No one was there, but a bundle of freshly picked heather rested on the stone that bore his grandsire’s name. His father’s mother—whom Ronan had never met—was buried on one side of the laird, just as he had wanted. His second wife, Ewan’s mother, was buried further down the line.
Ronan would have expected his grandsire would have been buried next to Ronan’s father, but another stone had been placed between the two men.
The stone was blank except for a border of thistle around the edge, and a smaller bundle of heather was placed below it.
So far, this morning only bore more questions and no answers.
Looking to the east, he saw a familiar horse tied to a tree at the edge of the woods.
Merlin grazed peacefully and raised his head as if in greeting as Ronan came near.
What was his wife doing in the woods? Had Brenna come to rendezvous with a lover?
He stepped into the coolness of the forest and listened for voices or… noises.
He heard nothing but the birds high in the trees and the small scurrying of little animals escaping to their burrows and holes.
He breathed in the rich smell of dark earth and leaves.
As he stepped deeper into the woods, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimness in the shade of the trees.
He spotted movement off to his left and froze as Brenna lifted a bow and nocked an arrow.
She drew the weapon back in perfect form.
With a soft thump, the arrow hit its mark.
She hurried across the small clearing and picked up a rabbit.
After tying it to a line with two others, she checked her arrow and moved deeper into the forest. He followed behind silently.
Occasionally, a stick would snap, but she was too busy concentrating on her hunt to notice.
She was obviously accustomed to hunting here.
She barely made a sound as she followed a thin path.
He lost track of her after she’d collected the sixth rabbit.
He followed again, causing a larger stick to crack.
“Ewan?” she called out. He froze, cursing his leg for catching on the branch. He remained quiet, waiting to see what she would say next, wondering why she expected Ewan to follow her.
“I know you’re there,” she said louder. “Do you not remember my promise to ye?” she asked, irritation lining her voice. Or was it fear? “I told you I’d give you no more scars. If you come near me again, I’d bury my dagger in your heart without a second thought.”
Good God. Ronan knew his wife didn’t care for his uncle, enough to banish him, but to threaten death?
Despite her threat, he heard the underlying fear in her voice.
What would cause a woman to promise such a thing unless she had been frightened?
Rather than confront her about it, he decided to start with Ewan for answers.
And this time, he would watch the man closely and look for a possible lie.
He slipped out of the woods without another word, glad he wouldn’t meet up with his wife and her deadly dagger.
***
At the sound of retreating horse’s hooves, Brenna hurried out of the woods with her dagger drawn, but Ewan had already fled. She took a few deep breaths to calm her pounding heart. How had he risen so early?
He was not one to be up and about before noon after a night of drinking.
She almost wished he would have confronted her.
She’d have been glad to have it done with.
One way or the other. However, Ronan would never trust her if she killed his beloved uncle.
With a sigh, she gathered her things and returned to the castle.
Jane would be happy with Brenna’s catch.
And Brenna hoped the woman would be willing to give her some needed advice in exchange for a meatier stew.
When she returned, the men were still working in the bailey. Upon seeing her, Malcolm nodded to his brother and approached closer. “You didn’t tell us you were leaving the castle,” he said with only the slightest hint of accusation.
“I’m sure you were still abed when I left this morning. Besides, you know Ewan is no threat so early in the day.” She refrained from mentioning the run-in she’d had with him in the forest. Nothing had come of it. She’d managed to scare him, so it was nothing for them to worry over.
“I thought you were still in your bed chamber with…the laird.”
She glanced over to see him looking her over. She’d seen such an inspection before when he’d been worried Ewan had caused her harm.
“He didn’t hurt me.”
“Did he…” He shook his head as if he was unable to finish his question.
“He didn’t force himself upon me, either.”
She held his gaze for a moment until he nodded and went on.
“I’m sure it is none of my business. That’s why we left your door unguarded for the night.
Surely, Ewan wouldn’t try another attack while the laird was close.
Besides, Will told us Ewan was passed out in the hall.
I think it would be wise not to go out unprotected. ”
“I’m glad you and your brother could get a good night’s rest for once, but I will take your suggestion under advisement.”
“That’s a fair number of rabbits,” he said, quickly changing the subject. “Do ye wish me to clean them for you?”
“That would be appreciated. Bring them to the kitchens to be added to tonight’s meal.”
As Malcolm left to take care of the rabbits, Brenna continued to the kitchens.
She wanted to ask the women how she should handle her returned husband.
Sleeping next to him had muddled her thoughts.
She’d been angry at him for so long. It was an easy thing to hold onto because the pain was so intense.
But seeing him deal with his pain had undermined her plans to keep him at a distance.
And having him in bed next to her had also caused her to remember the night she’d thought she’d long barred from her memories—their wedding night when the man who’d not wanted to marry her had been sweet and kind.
He’d made her feel things she’d never thought to feel, and then he’d held her afterward.
She recalled the swiftness of his heartbeat and the way he trailed his fingertips over her heated skin until she’d been lulled to sleep.
And then, when she slumbered into the deep sleep of the sated, he’d left her.
She was finding it difficult to hold on to the anger that had filled her heart since that morning.
She hadn’t been paying attention as she walked past the stables and was completely surprised when someone yanked her behind the building. She pulled in a breath to scream, but a dirty hand had clasped tight over her mouth.
“If you scream, I’ll slice your throat,” Ewan said. “I want to talk, nothing more.”
Brenna didn’t think he would kill her any more than she would have killed him. And for the same reason. How would either of them explain their actions to Ronan? But she didn’t trust Ewan. She would scream as soon as he gave her the chance. He must have known as much, for he didn’t release her.
“Listen.” He gave her a harsh shake. “I wish to call a truce. Ronan has returned to run the clan, which is his place. I want to put everything that happened behind us and move forward as family.”
Was the man still in his cups, or had he finally gone completely mad?
He’d never treated her as family, even though the laird had.
Ewan had refused to accept the laird’s rule for her to run the clan until Ronan returned.
And she knew he wanted to be laird himself.
She didn’t trust him any more than she could tolerate his stench.