Chapter Twenty-Eight
Brenna woke alone. It wasn’t uncommon to find Ronan sitting by the window if he’d suffered a terror and couldn’t get back to sleep. But looking across the room, she didn’t see him there, either.
She washed and dressed quickly, wanting to see him and put off her unease.
Downstairs, she didn’t find him in the hall, and her heat began to pound in earnest now.
She was about to turn for the stables to set out looking for him when he stepped inside the hall.
She nearly collapsed from the relief of seeing him whole and hearty.
But as she stepped closer, she saw all was not well.
“What has happened? Your skin is chilled, and your hair is wet. Were you swimming?” Everyone knew Ronan didn’t swim for fear of drowning. He bathed in the shallow stream behind the castle.
“Aye. My dreams revealed the truth, and while I doubt I’ll never be one for swimming, I realized my drowning was not without help from Ewan.”
Brenna gasped. “He tried to…?”
“Aye. All this time I thought he’d saved my life.” Ronan shook his head.
“He’s a monster.”
“I saw him today, by the lake.” This was said so low she thought she’d misheard.
“He is still nearby? He’s not gone from here as we had hoped.” She clenched her fingers into tight fists, wishing she could face the devil that moment to put an end to this.
“He made it clear he still plans to take over the clan.”
Brenna glared toward the gate, wanting to go hunt Ewan down herself. He might be larger, but she was so full of rage that she was sure she could best him.
She was distracted from her anger by a messenger she recognized as being from Cluny Castle. The message was most likely from Ronan’s MacPherson brother. “Have they found your mother?”
Ronan shook his head and let out a breath. “No, my mother’s destruction continues across the Highlands, it would seem. She married the MacColl laird of all people and escaped from him with all of his funds.”
“Oh my. Why ever does she need so much coin?”
Ronan’s gaze flickered over her, and she suddenly felt embarrassed in her common wool gown without the smallest amount of frippery. She’d not really cared how plain her gowns were until then. They but served a purpose. She didn’t need anything fancy.
“I know that look, wife, and you have nothing to worry about. I’m aroused by you, not your clothes, as evident by how hard you make me while wearing men’s trews.”
She laughed and felt more at ease as he explained.
“Some women must purchase the charms they lack and will pay a high price for such things to distract men. While others, such as yourself, come by them naturally.” He made a point to leer at her until her cheeks turned pink. “Lovely.”
Suddenly, she was irritated with her gown for a different reason because it was in the way.
“Now you’ve gone and done it,” Ronan said.
“Done what?”
“You’ve licked your bottom lip in that way that means you wish we were alone.”
How could he have known that from such a simple gesture? Not that she cared as he bent to brush his lips over the shell of her ear.
“Come, there must be something you wish to show me in our chambers.”
Brenna thought they’d need a better excuse, but not right now. She turned and followed him to their room.
***
The next day, Brenna spent much of the day with Jane and the other women taking stock of their larders and estimating their expected harvest. She knocked on the door to the study before entering to find Ronan looking over the ledgers.
She placed a piece of parchment down before him.
“This is what we can spare from the kitchens.”
He rubbed his temple and offered her a smile. “Thank you. Ye are as giving as you are lovely.”
“They are your family. I like to think you’re more like the MacPhersons than the Grants.”
“I hope I am not like my uncle.”
She came to sit on his uninjured leg and kissed his lips. She placed her forehead against his so grateful he was the man he was.
“You are nothing like Ewan. If you were, I would have let that arrow find you.”
Ronan laughed at her jest as he leaned in and placed a kiss on the scar at her collarbone.
“Does it still pain you?” he asked.
“No. It makes me angry that he is still on our lands, making his threats and keeping us from enjoying a walk or a hunt.” She felt like a prisoner being forced to live behind the castle walls.
She was grateful the truth was known, but with Ewan still out there, the danger was too great.
It surprised her when Ronan sat back and looked her in the eyes.
“Tomorrow, we go out early to hunt and enjoy a lovely walk.”
“With plenty of guards,” she added.
“Aye. With plenty of guards. We will not cower away inside the keep.”
“Do you hope to lure him out in the open?”
He laughed again. “You are too wise, wife.”
“I only considered it because it is what I would do in your position.”
The following morning promised a beautiful day. She and Ronan dressed quickly, her in her trews and he in his kilt. With a dozen warriors to offer protection, they were ready to ride out when Angus came into the bailey complaining of someone taking one of his cows.
“I think if Ewan knew how often he would need to deal with Angus’ complaints, we’d not need protection for he’d realize how much work this job is and would run fast and far from it.”
She smiled at his joke, though it wasn’t funny. The truth of it was Ewan only wanted the power the job offered. He would have no intention of seeing to clan affairs or the responsibilities that came with being laird. “I’ll stay with you.”
“Nay. It is a beautiful morning. I’ll not have you miss it. My men will watch over you, and I’ll join you as soon as I’m done with him.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I want to give you a head start so I have an excuse as to why you got more rabbits than me.”
She laughed as he kissed her right on the lips in front of everyone gathered in the bailey.
“Come, Angus, you’re keeping me from frolicking in the forest with my wife.” He waved as he ushered the old man into the hall.
She rode with the men through the gate and then announced her desire to stop at the kirkyard before hunting. One of the men held onto her horse, the others spread out searching for possible dangers, while Malcolm and Gabe stayed close to her as she gathered heather.
With her proper bundles, she meandered to the kirkyard and stopped before the newest grave that had not yet grown over with grass.
“I miss ye, Geordie. You would be pleased to know Angus is pestering Ronan about his cattle as he did you. Ronan is a fine laird. If only we could deal with Ewan, I think we could find happiness.”
She placed her second bunch of heather on the small, blank stone next to Geordie’s.
As was common, tears pricked at her eyes, and her throat grew tight to see the stone with no name.
She may have asked Ronan about his wishes, but they had yet to discuss the matter, and she hadn’t the courage to bring it up as yet.
She placed a kiss to her fingers and pressed them to the cool stone.
“I’m sorry. I love ye, Marcas.”
She hadn’t realized Ronan had joined her until he spoke. She jumped from the surprise as much as his anger.
“Who the bloody hell is this Marcus ye love? And why did ye plant the bastard between my grandsire and my father in our clan’s kirkyard?” He scowled down at the stone.
Anger surged over her in a wave so fierce she imagined her eyes must be throwing sparks as she clenched her fist, ready to strike him. Instead, she opened her mouth and let him have it.
“He was not a bastard!” she screamed. “He had a father! Though I’m sure you didn’t want to be his father any more than you’d wanted to be my husband. But it didn’t matter what you wanted. He was your son, you bloody arse!”
She gave his chest a right shove, not that he moved, but it made her feel slightly better to cause him some small discomfort for the pain he had just caused her.
He didn’t budge or say anything. He stared at her with his mouth hanging slightly open. She probably should have stood down, but she was caught up in her anger and continued her rant. She was a mother warrior protecting her child or at least the memory of her child.
“Whatever you want to say about me and my failures, go ahead. But you will not say anything about Marcas. He was an innocent baby.”
“My son?” Ronan managed to say. “This grave is for my son?”
Her brows pulled together, her chest still heaving with her anger, but she calmed slightly. “Aye.”
“I had no idea. I didn’t know.” He looked at her in confusion, but it was she that was confused. How could he not know?
“Did you not get my letters?”
He swallowed and looked away, guilt clear on his face.
She drew a shaky breath and put an unsteady hand to her chest. She had read the truth in his eyes. Her shoulders fell in defeat. She worried she wouldn’t have the strength to stand. She must have swayed, for he put his hand out to steady her, but she slapped it away.
“I fretted over every line and curve, hoping you wouldn’t find my writing lacking.
” She tossed a hand. “When I had to write to tell you I’d lost the babe, it was nearly as difficult as the birth, but you needed to know.
” Her voice grew quieter, no longer able to muster the energy to yell.
“You hated me so much you didn’t even read my letters.
When I thought I was alone in this pain, I truly was. ”
With that, she retrieved her horse and rode back to the castle without him.