Chapter Ten #2
“Who do you think Ronan will believe if you tell him tales? He and I are blood, and you are an obligation he was forced into. He hates you and wishes you’d died while he was away.
He told me as much, and I was ashamed I hadn’t managed to do the deed and rid him of you.
I’ll never forgive myself for what he sacrificed for me by taking on the likes of you. ”
Ewan rarely spoke a true word, but she wondered if Ronan had wished she’d died so he could come home and marry whomever he chose. Did he realize how close she’d come after he’d left?
Her eyes watered as much from the pain of that memory as from the foul odor of the man’s breath.
“Just keep your fool mouth shut, and things will be fine for all of us.” He pushed her clear of him. When she turned, he was already gone. She wiped at her face, wanting to rid her skin of his touch.
No. She didn’t believe he wanted her to be part of the family, but he had given something away.
He was worried Ronan might not believe him and he’d lose his footing as Ronan’s right hand.
She needed to be patient and wait for Ronan to see his kin for what he truly was. Perhaps there was hope after all.
She hurried to the kitchens and breathed a sigh of relief when she was safe inside the warm room filled with the smells of roasted meat and simmering vegetables.
This was one of her favorite places in the keep.
The women had all treated her as a friend, and if Ewan dared show his face there, the room had plenty of knives and hot pokers available.
“You look like the devil himself was chasing ye,” Jane said, causing the other women to look her way.
“You are not far off,” Brenna responded, brushing a loose curl away from her eyes.
“Ewan? Doesn’t he grow weary of pestering you day after day? Where is your guard?”
“I asked Malcolm to clean up some rabbits I took this morning. I was only walking to the kitchen. It is ridiculous that I cannot go anywhere without Ewan lurking about.”
“You should have hung him when you had the chance,” Corinne said as if they hung people every day at Strathspey, which was far from the truth. It was a rare necessity.
“You are not the first person to point that out, and I regret I didn’t see it done more and more each hour.
But it’s too late now, and Ronan seems to believe Ewan’s lies.
He doesn’t know me well enough to decide if I am to be trusted, so it makes sense that he listened to Ewan over me, even if his uncle is an unholy fiend. ”
All the women crossed themselves at those words. It didn’t hurt to be careful.
“Ronan is a wise lad. He’ll see the truth soon enough,” Ada assured them.
“I believe Ewan is afraid of that as well. He told me he wanted to put everything that happened between us aside and start off as family.”
The women laughed.
“Lord, you need to warn a person so I don’t choke on my sampling,” Corinne said with her hand over her chest.
“Don’t you let your guard down for a minute. It’s sure to be a trick.”
“Aye. I wish I knew what game he was playing. I’ll be watchful,” Brenna said, hating that she always needed to watch out for danger and have guards with her everywhere she went. The horrid weasel had even found a way to ruin the small peace she’d found in the early mornings.
They went on with their work after Malcolm brought in the rabbits and left again.
“The whole clan is a-chatter about what happened at the meal last eve,” Ada whispered loud enough for everyone to hear.
Brenna’s cheeks went hot in embarrassment.
“Don’t fash, lass. Everyone is wondering what was wrong with the laird to treat ye as such.
There’s no shame for you to bear. You’ve been a fine wife, better than he deserves if he plans to treat you the way he did last night.
” Corinne was known to speak her mind as much as the truth.
“We all remember how things were when he left.”
Brenna remembered as well. After that first morning when she came down to find out he’d left, she felt lost in a new clan with no one to help her find her way. She’d wanted to start over with a new clan, but she hadn’t realized she would be so alone to do so.
She’d spent days in her room, hiding from the unknown. She couldn’t even miss Ronan properly because she didn’t know him well enough to have missed him. Still, it hurt that she’d been eager to start a life with him, and he’d…gone off and forgotten her.
But, eventually, she’d made friends with many of the people here, including the laird.
For the next several months, she thought she would be fine.
But then she was forced to face something so horrible she was sure she would die.
And in those darkest moments, she found herself wishing he’d been there, hating him because he wasn’t.
That hatred had rooted deep.
The other women frowned at Corrine’s mention of those lost months she’d spent in agony.
“Ronan just needs some time to know ye as we do. All will be well. You’ll see,” Jane announced, motioning everyone back to work. Brenna shook off the memory of that pain and busied herself to help her friends until one of the maids came in with wide eyes.
“Ye must come quick.”
***
Sweat trickled down Ronan’s spine as he shifted in his seat. A laird had many duties, and ruling over his people was one that Ronan most dreaded. Having heard this second disagreement between feuding crofters, he had no answer.
“I will consider the matter and give you my ruling tomorrow,” Ronan said again. It was the same decision he’d given the first time.
The hall broke into murmuring and pointed stares in his direction.
“Ye must give your judgment,” Ewan whispered in his ear. The scent of sour ale twisted the unease in Ronan’s already unsettled stomach. “Ye are the laird.”
“I know that,” Ronan said as he clenched his fingers. “And I wish to think further before making a rash decision.” He knew well enough what came from making the wrong choice.
“It is a bit of grain that surely belongs to the older man.”
“I wish to think on it. Next!” Ronan called, though he wished he could say he was done for the day.
When a small boy was pushed before him, Ronan rubbed his temple. The rounded man with the pinched face spoke his displeasure.
“This lad stole my bread.”
Ronan stared at the trembling boy, wondering if his thin arms could hold a loaf of bread or if his scrawny legs could carry him and a loaf away.
“Is this true?” Ronan asked, giving the boy the chance to explain. But he only looked up at the table with wide brown eyes. Tears streaked down his dirty face as he bobbed his head in a nod.
“Ye must take his hand,” Ewan whispered next to him. Ronan wondered if the hiss of his voice was similar to what Eve experienced from the serpent in the Garden. Then his words sunk into Ronan’s thoughts.
“His hand?”
“Thieves have their hands cut off. Do you need a blade?” The man seemed almost eager to see a child’s hand severed from his body.
“Nay. That is much too extreme,” Ronan said louder than he’d meant to.
“He needs to be punished severely. Otherwise, everyone will know the Grants accept stealing, and all law will be abandoned.”
A few “ayes” caused Ronan to swallow and gaze across the people waiting for him to act.
“I should think on it and—”
“My laird, with all respect, letting him go now will allow him to run away without justice being served,” the man, likely the baker, said with his beady eyes narrowed on the boy.
Ronan wanted to ask the man if he, with his ample belly, couldn’t spare a single loaf of bread for a hungry child, but he also heard Ewan’s words.
Where would the line be drawn if such things were allowed?
Didn’t the baker deserve to be compensated?
Making bread was his livelihood, after all.
But he’d not take a boy’s hand for trying to feed himself.
There was no good answer. He needed more time to think.
“Fifty lashes, then.” Ewan offered another equally distasteful alternative. This child would not manage fifty lashes. The baker nodded his approval of this option.
Ronan’s mind began to buzz from one option to the next.
A night in the dungeon might satisfy the salivating wolves while ensuring the boy had a fit meal.
But how could he condemn a poor boy to a night in the dark?
And what other prisoners were down there?
No. That won’t do, but it was undoubtedly better than a beating or losing a hand and perhaps having the boy work off the debt.
But looking at the man who had forced him here, it didn’t seem likely he would be kind to the child.
Ronan remained silent despite all the noise going on in his head. He must say something. He must act. It was his duty.
“I—I—” But as he opened his mouth to try to do more than stutter, his wife rushed up to the dais.
“This clan does not whip hungry children. The auld laird would not stand for such a thing, nor will I.” Brenna fairly sparked with her fury as she glared at him, or perhaps she was glaring at Ewan next to him.
“You are the laird. Ye must not let a lass overthrow your ruling.”
Ronan didn’t know what to say, for he agreed with his wife. He couldn’t imagine his grandsire allowing a wee lad to be thrashed, let alone doing the thrashing himself.
“Where are your parents, lad?” she asked, her voice softening as she placed a hand on the boy’s slim shoulders.
The boy shook his head. This child was alone.
He was fending for himself to fill his belly.
Ronan remembered the children who moved with the armies, looking for scraps.
He was left behind by men who had died and women who’d left them to find better prospects alone.
How was it fair that Ronan had two families when this child had none?
“Go to the kitchen and tell them Lady Grant has sent you. They will give you a meal.”
“This is unacceptable, nephew. Stop this before you lose all control.”