Chapter Nineteen
Brenna nearly collapsed in relief, so glad Ronan had believed her even before Ewan had shown his colors and outed himself. But something still bothered her about the exchange with Ewan in the stables.
He’d said he should be laird.
Until then he’d always said he should be laird over Brenna because he was blood and she was not. While it wasn’t pleasant, Brenna at least understood why he might think that. She’d questioned the laird’s choice because she was not a Grant by blood and had only lived with the clan for five years.
But now it sounded like Ewan thought he should be laird over Ronan.
The laird’s son as opposed to his grandson.
However, that wasn’t how these things worked.
Ronan was the firstborn son of the firstborn son—the rightful heir of the clan.
Geordie had once told her he always favored Edward, Ronan’s father, because he’d been born of the laird’s first wife, who also happened to be the love of his life, while Ewan had been born of his third wife.
Because of this, Ronan had been favored simply because he was all that was left of the bond between Geordie and his beloved wife. Had Ewan known and resented it? The auld laird was not shy about saying such things. Perhaps this had turned Ewan against Ronan as well as her.
“I would ask that you be careful, husband,” Brenna said.
“Me? You need protection, and I’ll see your guards are given a proper reward for keeping you safe.”
“Thank you,” she answered, grateful he understood. He now seemed set on whatever was required to keep her safe. Which meant she would be free to watch over him.
It was clear Ewan’s interruption had doused their earlier kisses.
Ronan offered to escort her to the kitchens’ safety so he could speak to his men, though she’d have rather spent the day in their chamber.
Instead, she would spend the afternoon with the ladies as usual.
Even if so much about her felt different.
“No rabbits today?” Jane noticed right away.
“Oh, uh…” Brenna should have had a ready excuse, but she’d had much to consider.
“Why has her face gone to red like that?” Corinne asked.
“It appears there is a juicy reason why she has no rabbits today,” Ada commented. “Perhaps the laird accompanied her on the hunt this morning.”
As much as Brenna tried to think of something else, she could feel her face get even hotter, causing Corinne to squeal with glee.
“I don’t think they spent their time hunting. Are your lips swollen from his kisses, lass?”
Brenna instinctively put her fingers to her lips to feel for herself, but it only proved Corinne’s assumption correct. She’d fallen for the trick.
“Tell us everything. Did he make up for lost time?” Ada asked.
“Girls, don’t trouble the mistress. She may be our friend, but she is the lady of the castle and deserves privacy,” Jane came to Brenna’s defense.
“Oh, poo, Jane. The laird’s been away for five years. I would expect nothing less than for our lady of the castle to walk straight for a few days.”
Their ribald humor was always amusing until it was focused on her. Fortunately, Jane changed the subject and moved their focus to the tarts they planned to make that day.
Other than a few comments, Brenna made it through the day unscathed.
At dinner time, the laird escorted her to their table. When Ewan came to take his seat next to Ronan, the laird shook his head.
“Please move down, Ewan. This seat should be for my war chief. Will should be along shortly.”
If Brenna thought her face had been red under the scrutiny of the women, her cheeks couldn’t have come close to the purple of Ewan’s flesh when he was forced to move to the end of the table to make room for the guard.
The glare he sent in her direction spoke of his unfettered hatred for her.
“And uncle…” Ronan added once Ewan was seated. “If you don’t stay away from my wife, you’ll take your meals in the dungeon. Do ye understand?”
“What has the witch said about me? She lies to turn you against your blood.”
“She told me nothing. Perhaps when you threaten people in the stables, you’d be wise to see they are alone first.”
All the blood that had turned Ewan’s face purple seemed to flush from his body as he went pale and wide-eyed. He jumped from his seat a moment later and rushed from the hall, moving faster than Brenna had seen him manage.
“All the better,” Ronan said as he patted her hand and welcomed Will to take his rightful spot at the laird’s right hand; the rest of the warriors filled in. Hugh was next to Will. Malcolm and Gabe were next to her.
“What has happened?” Gabe asked as Malcolm leaned across him to hear.
“I told Ronan the truth, and he believed me.”
“It’s about bloody time.”
“Aye,” Ronan said. “I will see you and Gabe rewarded for doing what I didn’t see to do myself. I’ll be forever in your debt for your protection of my wife.”
“It was an honor, my laird,” Malcolm said.
They continued with the meal, and Brenna relaxed, grateful to have the people she cared for at the table with her—even better because Ewan was gone.
The maids continued to bring food and drink to the table as the men quickly worked on the venison stew being served.
But one of the maids Brenna didn’t know well came to the table to fill their glasses and stopped as if frozen in place.
At first, Brenna thought the girl was just nervous about serving those at the high table, but as the girl finally came closer and picked up Ronan’s glass to refill it, her hands began to shake, and she broke into tears.
“Larrie?” Brenna said, thinking that was her name. She and her young sister Amie had come to them from the Gordon clan. Their aunt was a Grant, and Larrie and Amie had come to live with her after their parents died last winter. She was always shy, but not like this. “What is the matter?”
“I canna do it,” the girl gasped.
“I can help you.” Brenna found her husband intimidating, but not enough for this reaction. But when Brenna reached for the pitcher to help the lass fill the glass, Larrie held tight.
“Nay. It’s poisoned.” That last part was whispered.
Brenna pulled her hand back as if the earthenware pitcher contained a snake.
“Poisoned? Why would it be poisoned? Who poisoned it?” So many questions.
Tears ran down Larrie’s rosy cheeks.
“A note said Amie would be harmed if I didn’t poison the laird’s glass. I love my sister and would do anything for her, but I can’t kill the laird.”
Having heard her outburst, Ronan took the pitcher from the girl and set it far from him. “Where is the letter?”
She pulled it from her apron and held it out with trembling fingers. Ronan took it. Brenna watched his eyes move as he read the letter while Larrie explained.
“I canna read. I had to have one of the other maids read it to me. But they told me it says harm will come to my wee sister if I don’t pour the vial’s contents into the laird’s drink.”
“Who would do such a thing?” Brenna said, looking into Ronan’s startled face. Before she asked the question, she knew who had done it.
Ewan. He’d been outed for the traitor he was, and now he was retaliating in the worst way.
Ronan folded the missive and answered slowly. “According to the note, the order came from you, wife.”
Brenna wished she was the type to swoon because now would have been the perfect time to melt away.
***
Ronan watched his wife’s eyes go large in surprise. If he’d had any niggling doubt she had nothing to do with this attempt on his life, it would have vanished at seeing the shock across her face.
He’d learned recently that his wife was not a skilled liar. She preferred to blurt out the truth when asked whether he was prepared for it. With the threat coming only an hour after he’d sent his uncle away from the table, Ronan didn’t have to guess who might want to poison him.
“Ronan, I swear I didn’t do this to you.” His wife’s hand on his arm thrilled him despite the ill-timing.
It brought forth the memories from that morning of them kissing in the forest. How heated they’d become for each other. But that was ill-timed as well. As much as he would have enjoyed frolicking in the woods with his tree sprite, it wasn’t the honorable way to reunite with one’s wife.
“I know it wasn’t you. I didn’t think about it for a minute.
And not only because you have sat next to me through the whole meal.
When would you have had an opportunity to do such a thing?
We’ll deal with Ewan soon enough. Right now, we must find Amie and make sure she is safe.
Would he injure a child?” Ronan would like to think his uncle above such hideousness, but something had changed in Ewan over the years. Ronan had been away, and now…
“I’m not sure.”
Ronan turned to Will, who immediately organized the men to start the search for the girl. Larrie described her sister to aid in the task, and the men were off—except for Malcolm and Gabe, who stood by Brenna with matching expressions of obstinance Ronan had come to expect from the brothers.
In the past, he’d been irritated by their constant presence, but now he realized why his grandsire had sworn them to this duty, and he was ashamed he’d not seen the truth sooner.
“Brenna, will you take Larrie to the solar so these men can better protect you?”
She nodded, and he appreciated her easy agreement. He was sure she would have argued to come with them if not for the poor maid crying on his wife’s shoulder.
Whatever the reason, he would be glad to know she was safe. She reached out her hand and squeezed his fingers. “Please be careful.”
Her concern took him aback. It wasn’t uncommon for a wife to worry over her husband.
She sent him letters when he’d first arrived in Spain with the army.
He’d never read them, unable to shoulder the guilt her words would bring, but he always liked to think she’d ended each message with those words of affection that showed she cared for his health and well-being.
And as he stowed the letter in his sporran unread, he sent out the same hope for her.
With a smile, he squeezed her fingers to reassure her. “I will. I promise.”
With a nod to her guards, he followed Will and Hugh out of the hall to start the search.
“You know Ewan is behind this plot. Which means he’s trying to gain control of the clan,” Will said. “It would probably be best if you stayed with Brenna.”
Did his men expect him to hide away in the lady’s solar while his brother blustered and threw a childish fit?
“I’ll see he is punished for this.”
“That is just it. He is like a brother to ye. When the time comes, can you do what needs to be done?” Hugh asked.
“What needs to be done is that he be captured and locked in the dungeon until we can question him. Do ye understand?”
He gazed around the ranks of warriors to be sure they all heard him.
They nodded their agreement.
“Find the girl and bring Ewan to me. I want to look into his eyes when he explains why he has done this.”
As they dispersed, he heard one of the men mumble to another, “He wants to be the bloody laird; that’s why he’s done this.”
It seemed a plausible reason, except that Ewan had not seemed to care about being laird when they’d been childhood friends.
Yes, they’d both been trained for the duty, as any heir and spare had been.
But that day at the loch, when Ronan had nearly drowned and Ewan had saved him, didn’t speak of a person wanting to remove his competition.
Something in his stomach twisted at the memory. He worried he would be faced with acknowledging Ewan’s betrayal soon enough. He took a moment to mount his horse, rubbing at his aching leg, and rode out of the gates with Will at his side.
They would find Ewan. What happened after that would be up to Ronan.
Will’s earlier question still plagued him.
Would Ronan be able to punish Ewan? Ronan thought that he could, and the reason surprised him.
It wasn’t that Ewan had tried to poison him, but it was for the fear he’d seen in Brenna’s eyes earlier that day in the stable.
The knowledge that she had lived in such fear all these years.
The man needed to be stopped. And Ronan planned to stop him.