Chapter Thirteen
Ronan hadn’t meant to share so much with Brenna, but after he’d half-strangled her, he felt responsible for seeing her cared for and explained that his actions hadn’t been about her.
But that hadn’t been the only reason. When she’d touched him, he’d felt grounded in a way he hadn’t in so long.
After she set down her empty glass of mead, he helped her up to their chamber and tucked her back into bed.
He fought the urge to join her when she snuggled under the covers and fell asleep.
He was exhausted but couldn’t risk putting her in danger.
Instead, he frowned at the woman and turned to go.
The sun was hinting at the horizon, so he went out for a ride to clear his head.
He didn’t trust himself to give in to sleep again.
He’d done enough damage already. His wife seemed pleasant enough, and he’d not seen any evidence that she’d betrayed him in any way other than banishing his uncle.
Even the soft smiles and kind words didn’t seem engineered to manipulate him.
But he would stay his distance until he was sure she wasn’t up to something.
He’d not risk his heart with a feckless woman.
And he’d not be led about by his cock in the way his stepfather was.
Brenna may have grown into a lovely woman, but she was still a stranger. He was guilty of leaving her, hurting her. But he’d learned over the years that everyone was guilty of something. What was his wife guilty of?
According to Ewan, the list was long. He needed to know for sure.
When he returned to the castle after his ride, he went to the hall to break his fast. Ewan wasn’t there, but his men were filling their plates while casting glances in his direction. It was time to set things right with them. He was their leader, and it was time for him to start leading.
“Is this all ye do, stuff your gobs?” Ronan asked with a smile as he sat with them at one of the low tables. A serving girl brought him his meal, and he dug in.
“We have already done two sets of drills this morning while you were off taking in the sights,” Will said, baiting him.
“Fair enough. I’ll let you put me through my paces when we finish eating.”
Hugh smiled with a touch of mischief. “I look forward to it.”
As Ronan laughed at the implied threat, Malcolm gasped.
Will’s smile was replaced by anger, his hands fisting on the table.
Gabe also looked up and sat back in shock, his mouth gaping open.
Ronan turned to see Brenna approaching. She wasn’t wearing anything that warranted this ill response.
Then he saw what his men had responded to.
The dark bruises on her neck were in the shape of his hand, and each finger was distinctly outlined.
Malcolm turned to him, his face tight with accusation. “Did ye not protect her from Ewan?”
To the others, the young warrior defended his lack of protection for their mistress. “I thought she’d be safe with him.”
Ronan shook his head, feeling the familiar wash of shame heat his blood. “’Twas not Ewan who caused that damage.”
Hugh slammed his fist on the table. “What the bloody hell did you do to her?”
Gabe stood and hurried over to Brenna as Ronan explained to the three men, glaring at him and snapping angrily.
“I had a nightmare, and the lass was unfortunate to be too close,” Ronan quickly explained, though as laird he wasn’t obliged to justify his actions. He did so because he didn’t want anyone to think he was capable of abusing his woman. Or any woman, for that matter.
“How did she end up too close?” Will pushed.
“She’s stayed clear of ye because you treated her worse than a beggar when ye arrived.
Is this how you plan to rule, laird? Strangling innocent women because they don’t suit ye?
Your grandfather would turn over in his grave to see you’ve touched the lass harshly. ”
“The facts are true as I’ve told them to you. She is my wife. It’s not uncommon to share a bed with one’s wife.”
Hugh’s anger seethed into disgust. “She’s not good enough to be treated kindly, but you’ll rut upon her to get a bloody heir.” He shook his head with a sneer.
Gabe returned and sat down. “Lady Brenna says the laird choked her while he was having a bad dream. She insists it’s not his fault.”
“Just as I said.” Ronan glared at his men.
Will let out a breath and relaxed slightly. “Fine. If the lass says that’s what happened, I believe ye.”
“But only because the lass said it was so?” He didn’t like being challenged by his men or for his word to be doubted.
“Aye.” Hugh met his gaze unflinchingly. “You’ve been gone a long time, laird. I don’t know your heart. And hearts have a way of turning dark with some people. I’ve seen it happen. Know this. I swear my fealty to you as my laird, but if you hurt the lass, I will defend her with my life.”
“Aye, and I, as well,” Will chimed in.
Malcolm and Gabe nodded in agreement from the other side of the table. Ronan didn’t think his men would ever side with a power-hungry tyrant. Unless Ewan was right and Brenna had bewitched his men to do her bidding. Still, no woman deserved to be mistreated, no matter how devious she may be.
A memory stole over him. A crisp spring day.
He was a lad, no more than eight summers, living here at Strathspey with his father.
But he’d gone to the village with his mother.
She’d said she needed to visit with a friend and told him to sit outside and wait for her.
But he hadn’t, not when he’d heard sounds and thought his mother was in distress.
He’d looked in the window and saw what he’d thought at that young age was a man struggling with his mother. He’d run as fast as his scrawny legs could carry him to fetch his father so he might help her.
But when he’d arrived back at the house with his da, his mother did not look distressed. She was kissing the man he’d seen her wrestling with. And his father had gone into a rage.
He’d grabbed her and practically dragged her off to the castle. Once there, they’d gone to their room. Once again, Ronan had been left outside the door. He’d heard the yelling, the slap of leather, and his mother’s wail.
His father left the room first, and Ronan went inside to see his mother. She’d been crying, and her lip had a bit of blood. He’d hurried to get a cloth to help her, but instead of accepting his offer, she’d snapped at him.
“This is your fault.”
For the few years before his father died, he heard the same sounds coming from their room, and in his youth, he’d thought it was his fault that his father hurt his mother because of him.
But later, when he knew to shed light on what had truly happened, he’d realized his mother had betrayed her vows. And instead of accepting the blame for her misdeeds, she’d held Ronan at fault.
Later, when he was thirteen and living at Cluny Castle with his new family, he’d seen his mother sneak off to another man’s home. Ronan had stayed far enough away to see but not close enough to hear the sounds coming from inside.
His mother smiled like a cat when she left the cottage to return to the castle. Ronan watched as his mother sat beside his stepfather with an adoring smile. She kissed him as if he were the only man holding her heart, and he foolishly believed all the sweet words.
It was a lesson he’d never forgotten. Women were deceitful. Women lied. Women blamed others for their wrongdoings. Only a fool believed he alone could win their heart.
But no matter their crimes, they should not be beaten.
“I would never deliberately hurt my wife. Ye have my word on it.”
The only answers from the table were a snort, a sniff, and a rolling of eyes. He’d already betrayed that vow to them and guessed it was true. He hadn’t tried to strangle her on purpose, but he had deliberately left her behind for five years.
The anger he’d seen in her eyes the night before was born of the pain he’d caused when he’d left. She’d likely thought the worst of his reasons. He needed to explain that his desertion had nothing to do with her. It was merely a temporary escape from the duty that had suffocated him.
He didn’t get to explain it during the morning meal, for she left the hall.
She hadn’t even broken her fast. Curiosity had him on his feet to follow her.
It didn’t take long for him to spot her when he stepped outside.
She didn’t appear to be in any hurry as she secured a basket under her arm and headed for the village.
She walked past the first two cottages along the path and knocked at the third.
A man opened the door. From how the morning sun shone in Ronan’s eyes, he could not tell if the man was young or old, but he could tell by his height it was a man.
Just moments ago, he remembered watching his mother sneak off to another man’s cottage, and now he was watching his own wife do the same thing. It seemed Ewan had been right that she’d taken a lover or many.
There was only one way to find out.
***
The mornings were Brenna’s favorite time of the day. Not only was she usually free of worrying about Ewan, but the mornings offered a fresh start—the chance to find happiness.
She greeted Mr. Campbell as the children gathered around her. By now, they knew her basket contained treats, and they waited with big eyes for her to dispense the tarts she’d managed to get from the kitchen while the women were busy with other things.
She didn’t want to have to explain what had happened to her throat. She’d seen the way her guards had reacted. Somehow, she expected the women of the kitchens to be even more fiercely protective than four strong warriors.
Brenna was handing out the first tart when she jumped at the sound of someone beating on the Campbells’ door. Her first worry was that Ewan had found her and would hurt this family because he knew Brenna cared for them. Had he sought her out to threaten her again? Or maybe worse.
“Open up!” a man bellowed, and the pounding continued.