Chapter Twenty-Five
After a long nap, Brenna woke feeling more like herself and dressed to go down for the evening meal.
Ronan was already at the table speaking to his men. “Has the messenger returned from Innes?” he asked.
“Nay. Not as yet, my laird.”
Perhaps they had already found Ewan and were preparing to transport him back to Strathspey. It would be lucky indeed if they had captured the fiend. It would be strange to go out anytime she wished without fearing the man.
They’d just finished speaking of the messenger when a lad entered the hall. He bowed before the high table, looking slightly nervous to have such an essential duty.
“I was sent for ye, my laird. Someone approaches the castle in a carriage.”
A carriage… It could only mean a prisoner.
Brenna stood next to Ronan in the bailey as the carriage entered the courtyard and came to a stop. She recognized the Innes crest on the carriage’s door. The Grant messenger was sitting atop the conveyance.
Her body tensed in preparation for seeing the man of her nightmares.
This time, though, she had Ronan at her side.
He would see that no danger came to her.
The door was opened, and Brenna forced her gaze to remain on the occupant rather than skitter away in fear.
But when a satin-slippered foot exited the carriage following a silk gown of gold and blue, Brenna’s fear shifted to the possibility of a different threat.
Her heart pounded, and she felt her palms go damp as the beauty came into view.
“My, little sister, you do look pale,” Hannah said with her familiar frown of distaste. Then the other woman turned her gaze on Ronan. “My laird, it is so wonderful to see you well.”
How did anyone make such a small word as “well” hold so much…heat?
Hannah’s sparkling green eyes flared with interest as she sashayed closer to Ronan, and Brenna wished it had been Ewan.
“Whatever are you doing here?” It was only after she’d asked the question that Brenna realized it probably sounded impolite.
Hannah went on without an apparent offense.
“I was visiting Mother and Father at Innes House when the Grant messenger brought news of your mishap. Of course, I had to come immediately to assist.”
A snicker escaped Brenna’s lips as she pictured Hannah, rather than Countess MacIntosh, assisting someone injured or sick. Brenna stifled the laugh in a cough.
“And it is only right that I welcome the new laird home from war.” Hannah’s gaze worked up and down Brenna’s husband, missing nothing.
Brenna stepped closer, worried Ronan’s clothes might melt from his body from Hannah’s thorough inspection. She recalled the last time she’d seen her sister. Five years ago, when Brenna and Ronan were married, Hannah tucked her arm into Ronan’s as if he were hers.
She’d forgotten this feeling.
***
It seemed time had been kind to Hannah Innes, Lady MacIntosh. She was as beautiful as Ronan had remembered her being the day he’d married Brenna. Hannah’s coy smile and sultry smirk had been alluring to Ronan when he first met her.
But now, he knew he had been blessed with a better sister. His Brenna wasn’t only lovely in her way, but she was witty and brave. He didn’t doubt Hannah would not have survived with Ewan all this time. And he knew without a doubt there would have been no chance of Hannah keeping her vows.
The vixen would have probably had a man in her bed before he’d made it to the Grant borders.
Brenna stepped to his side and slid her arm through his in the most territorial way.
He felt his wife stiffen at Hannah’s extended perusal.
Of course, she had commented to undercut Brenna first. Hannah wasn’t wrong.
Brenna was still quite pale after her ordeal.
But considering she’d been shot by an arrow just a few days ago, he was grateful for her presence next to him regardless of her pallor.
Things could have been so different. He could have lost her. The thought sent a shiver of fear up his spine. He looked down at the woman who had become so important to him quickly. He would do anything to protect her. Strike down any foe to ensure her safety.
Feeling the tension in his wife’s grip at the presence of her sister, it would seem at the moment that his protection would not come from clashing swords or bruised knuckles. Instead, he would stand behind her as she stepped into battle and protect her luscious flanks.
“We’ve just finished our meal, but I shall have something brought out. You must be hungry after your travels.”
“I would appreciate it, though remember I don’t eat as much as you. I prefer to keep a trim figure.”
“Of course,” Brenna said, and Ronan feared for his wife’s teeth. It was possible they’d be ground down to nothing before Hannah left Strathspey.
“You’ve come at an opportune time,” Brenna went on. “I am to plan a wedding for one of my guards and his bride. You love planning such things. Perhaps you could assist me.”
Hannah chuckled. “I might be able to offer some ideas, but such a meager match hardly seems worthy of such a grand affair. Could a guard and his bride be handfasted?”
How had Ronan ever thought this viper to be superior? He frowned at her response.
“Gabe is a Grant and dear to me and my wife. He has done much to keep Brenna safe while I was away fighting. He has my gratitude, and he is doing an honorable thing. For those reasons alone, he deserves a grand wedding feast.”
“One could say he didn’t guard her well if her injury is as serious as it seems.”
“It was just an arrow,” Brenna said, causing Hannah to gape.
“You were shot with an arrow?”
“Aye. But Ronan saved me.”
“I had expected you to have challenges, but I’d not considered the Grants would dislike you so much as to shoot you.”
Ronan wanted to defend his clan and Gabe’s skills as a protector, but Ronan spotted the sticky web this woman had weaved around them. Any way he moved, he would be trapped.
“Well, to the hall to feed ye, sister,” Ronan emphasized the last word before smiling. “You’re looking rather thin.”
***
Hannah was here in Brenna’s home.
Brenna could hardly believe it as the woman chattered away about plans for a wedding far too elaborate for Gabe and Isabelle. But rather than say so, Brenna went along with it as if every wedding held at Strathspey was grand.
Hannah had not spared time to visit in all the years Ronan had been away, but here she was in all her glory while Brenna was…pale. It was an apt word that had described her since she was born. Brenna was always pale in comparison to Hannah’s bold countenance.
“Come, sister, it grows late, and you must be tired. Let me see you to a room and bring your maid for you.”
“We can have Jane see to it,” Ronan said with worry creasing his brow. “You were shot recently. You should still be resting.”
“Thank you for your concern, but it is nothing.” Brenna brushed his worry aside despite being nearly exhausted—not just physically but emotionally. Having to be ready for verbal spears aimed at her heart grew tiring.
Ronan nodded, but the crease remained as Brenna and Hannah left for the stairs. He could likely see how weary she was.
“This way.” She addressed Hannah and noticed the lustful look she spared for Ronan as they crossed the hall.
Hannah inspected every person and thing in the large room with her shrewd gaze. “A bit gloomy, but nothing some more colorful tapestries couldn’t remedy,” Hannah mentioned almost as if to herself.
“It is clean and filled with memories of previous lairds,” Brenna defended the room. “Besides, it is full of light in the mornings. All halls are gloomy when the sun has gone down.”
“And where is the lady’s solar?” Hannah asked as they took the stairs.
Brenna had wanted nothing more than to dispatch her sister to a guest room for the night. But despite the late hour, she seemed expected to give a castle tour. If she’d known, she should have taken her husband’s suggestion to have Jane see Hannah for the rest of the evening.
With a sigh, she showed Hannah to the solar.
It was her favorite room in the castle. Or it had been until she and Ronan had made such good use of the laird’s chamber.
One wall was a window that let in the daylight, which one could use to read or sew.
Or sit and look out at the hills, wishing a particular soldier would crest the outcropping of stone on his quest for home.
Clearing her throat, she turned back to Hannah, who was testing the fabric of the heavy drapes between her fingers with a frown. “I see you’ve not kept up on the latest fashions for yourself or your home.”
“You know I’ve never been one for fashion sister. One gown is as good as any other. I feel the same about drapes.”
“Do you still go about in men’s clothing?” Hannah laughed, a perfect tinkling sound like she’d spent many hours practicing it.
“Shall we sit? I’ll have wine brought up.” She hurried to the door and asked a guard to fetch a maid to bring them the wine. If Brenna could keep Hannah’s mouth filled with drink, she wouldn’t have to answer her questions.
Hannah continued her inspection but sat across from Brenna when the wine arrived. Brenna fairly gulped her first glass while Hannah took delicate sips. It seemed the perfect example of their differences.
“I was sorry to hear of your earl, Hannah. It must be difficult being widowed so young.” Brenna hadn’t meant the comment as a sting, but Hannah’s gaze narrowed as she set her glass down.
Hannah’s husband had died from a fever two years ago. Brenna had sent a note of sympathy but had received no reply. Brenna assumed Hannah to have been overcome with grief as Brenna would have been if she’d received word of Ronan’s demise in France.
Hannah waved her hand dismissively. “My only regret is that I didn’t beget an heir so that I might keep my place at Castle Wenlock. Instead, the earldom fell to a distant cousin. Though meager, he’s seen fit to bestow an allowance.”