Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ronan opened his mouth to speak, to maybe call out to his wife as she rode away from him, but he couldn’t manage any words to defend himself.
He was shaken to his core with shock, grief, and guilt.
Even if he’d somehow found the words to speak, his wife had left him standing there alone in front of their son’s grave.
The guilt he’d felt at receiving Brenna’s letters was nothing compared to the weight he felt now.
He’d kept her letters in his pack unread.
He always worried they’d contain words that would make him long to come home.
At the time, he didn’t think he could bear it, for he had also wanted to come home.
But this. This was so much worse than he’d ever considered.
He turned to see her riding away. He wanted to go after her, to beg for her forgiveness, but he didn’t know how to begin.
Instead, he fell to his knees before his son’s grave and wept for the child he never knew.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there staring at the blank stone before Hugh came up next to him.
“I didn’t know,” he told his friend.
“You didn’t get her letters?”
He looked up at the sky wishing he’d opened the bloody letters. Had he known, nothing would have stopped him from returning home to her. “I didn’t read them.”
Hugh didn’t need to say anything. His silence spoke louder than any words he might have said in judgment.
“I was a fool.”
“About so many things,” Hugh added.
All Ronan could do was nod in agreement.
“What happened?” Ronan asked, grateful this man could provide the details he needed.
“Moira isn’t certain. Everything was going along fine.
Brenna only had a few months left to go.
One night the entire castle was roused by her screaming.
I wasn’t in the room—it isn’t a place for a man—but I was outside in the hall, and I will never forget the sounds of her…
” He shook his head. “It haunts me still all these years later. She was clearly in a great deal of pain with the birth, and it was too soon for the babe to come. She told me months later that he’d breathed a few times as she held him, but then he was gone.
And so was she for a long time after. She was there, but not. ”
“Alone.”
“Aye. Even surrounded by all of us. Of course, Ewan used it to taunt her. He told her how disappointed you would be that she’d lost the babe. As if the lass didn’t blame herself enough already.”
“Just now, as I stepped up, she’d apologized. She thinks she’s responsible.” Ronan wanted to find Ewan and break his neck with his bare hands. But doing so wouldn’t do anything to alleviate his true anger with himself.
“She was so afraid to write to you and tell you what happened because Ewan had convinced her you would want to cast her away. Geordie and the rest of us told her the opposite, but we all know the bad things are easiest for us to believe, especially when we already think them true ourselves.”
And after she’d worked up the courage to write him, in the midst of her own grief, he’d not had the decency to read her letters for fear she would make him feel guilty for leaving her?
As if that amount of guilt was anything in comparison to what he was feeling now.
Every bit of it earned because he’d left his wife without so much as a word and not been there when she’d needed him most.
“I don’t even know how to begin to make this right,” he whispered more to himself as he looked down at the blank stone. “Why is it blank?” he asked the warrior.
Hugh shook his head. “I canna say. She called the babe Marcas for it was your father’s middle name, but she never had the stone etched. It seemed she was waiting.”
He clasped the man on the shoulder. “Thank ye, for watching over her.” It was true enough the men that guarded her served her better than Ronan ever had. He was ashamed of how selfish he’d been.
Ronan rode back to the keep and handed Brimstone over to a lad to see to him. Ronan normally cared for his horse, but today he had other things to do.
Pushing his leg harder than he should, he rushed upstairs; passing his chamber, he continued to the chamber he’d first shared with Brenna when he’d arrived home. Going to the trunk at the foot of the bed, he opened it and searched until he found his knapsack.
The four letters from Brenna were neatly stacked in the bottom. He’d kept them in order, so opening the first one was easy.
Dearest husband,
I hope this letter finds you safe and healthy. As you can see, I’ve learned to write, as well as read. Your grandsire has been so kind with his impatient pupil.
I have some other wonderful news to share. I am with child. To be sure we know when the babe was conceived, so it’s easy enough to know the bairn will arrive near the end of February.
I understand you did not wish to wed me, but I hope you are pleased to become a father. Geordie said you would be excited as he is by the news.
Please be safe. I look forward to seeing you soon.
Your wife,
Brenna Grant
The guilt he’d expected filled his chest as he took in the bold slash across the “T” at the end of her name.
He felt the happiness in those lines on the page.
The hope in each word. He read through the other two letters where she’d shared castle news as well as how the babe was moving and the clothes she and the ladies had started making in preparation. It was clear she was excited.
She’d asked him what he wished to name the child and suggested Marcas in honor of his father. Ronan ached knowing that she’d waited for an answer that never came.
The last letter was sent just before Christmastide. He noticed the blurry marks where the ink had smudged, as if it had been written outside in the rain. It didn’t take him long to realize the drops hadn’t been made by weather, but by his wife’s tears.
Dear Ronan,
I’ve lost the babe. He was a beautiful, strong boy who held on to life for a few breaths despite his early arrival.
Geordie and Moira insist it’s not my fault, that these things happen, but I should have been stronger. I should have fought harder against my body when it betrayed me and pushed our son out into the world before he was able to survive.
He was buried yesterday, and it feels as if my heart was placed in the ground with him.
I will await your confirmation before I have the name carved into the stone, in case you do not approve of the name I suggested.
I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.
His tears dripped onto the paper, some overlapping hers from years ago.
She hadn’t signed her name, and he crumbled to the floor from the emptiness she must have felt back then.
The stone he’d seen between his father and grandfather still remained blank.
Still awaiting his approval. God, how selfish he’d been.
He hadn’t even been able to give her that one simple thing.
He needed to remedy this wrong immediately. He left the castle and hurried to the village until he found the stonemason, practically dragging the man and his tools off to the kirkyard. He watched as the man carved the name of his child into the stone.
Marcus James Innes Grant
James was Ronan’s own middle name, and he wanted the boy to have it, as well.
When the stone mason left him, he sat in the grass until the sun dipped in the western sky, telling his son all the things he wanted him to know. But especially how sorry he was that he wasn’t there when Marcus came into the world and left it too soon.
It was late when he walked back to the castle. Rudy, one of his older guards, was waiting to speak to him. The man had just gotten word from his daughter who’d married a MacKenzie that Deirdre was there and planned to marry the MacKenzie laird.
He could hardly believe how quickly his mother moved around the Highlands.
She’d been the wife of the MacPherson laird for many years before he left her widowed several months ago.
Then he’d gotten word she’d married the MacColl laird only to run off with the contents of his coffers.
He was struck down by the MacPhersons, leaving Deirdre a widow yet again.
And now she planned to marry the MacKenzie laird, no doubt planning to rob him and leave him soon enough. Shane was looking for Deirdre, and now Ronan knew where she was.
Well, Ronan would gladly help his brother recover his coin and stop Deirdre from victimizing another clan. He would stop her, not just because he despised what his mother was doing, but because it would give him a wanted distraction from facing his own wife, at least for a short time.
Ronan knew a few days wouldn’t resolve anything. He’d not be able to find the words of apology to offer his wife, for no mere words could impart how sick he was with regret over what he’d done. He could give her a few days to not have to look at him.
With that thought, he gathered a few men, and after telling Malcolm and Gabe where he was going and asking them to watch over his wife, he rode out just an hour before dark. They wouldn’t get far that evening, but at least he would be gone.
***
Brenna spent most of the day sitting by the window in the solar, looking out over the fields and the crofters tending them. How many hours had she spent sitting by the window in the other chamber? At least she couldn’t see the kirk from this room.
Was Ronan still standing there? She couldn’t bring herself to care at the moment.
She’d already cried for her baby until she’d had no tears left, but they collected in her eyes now and leaked down her cheeks. She grieved for her child, but thankfully he was in the loving arms of his grandparents, safe from his father’s disinterest.
Her tears today marked her loss of a husband she’d never had.
She’d been a fool over him from the first day she saw him as she’d slid down from her mount in her father’s courtyard.
She’d known before they were wed that he didn’t want her, but she’d thought she could change his mind.
That if only he’d give her a chance, she might win his love, but that was never going to happen.
He hadn’t cared enough about her to even read her letters.
She’d poured her heart out to him, and it had been all for naught.
Another sob escaped, and she knew she needed to leave this room.
She made her way to the kitchens. Once inside, she crumbled from the weight of her sorrow.
But her friends gathered to help ease her pain.
She remained while the late meal was served.
She may have been hiding from her husband, but she wasn’t ready to face him.
She was angry, desolate, and ashamed in equal measure.
“You have a right to be sad and even more so to be angry, but you’ll not think yourself responsible for what happened,” Corrine said. “These things happen. There was nothing you could have done differently. It just was.”
“I canna believe he wouldn’t have read your letters. I can’t wait a second to open a missive on the rare occasion I get one from my lad. How did he not go mad from not knowing what they said?” Ada shook her head.
“I expect he thought I had written to chastise him for leaving the way he did.”
“As you had the right to do. It was shameful the way he slunk out of the keep under cover of darkness like a thief in the night.” Jane scowled.
These women were always quick to defend her, and in the past, she had appreciated it greatly. But now, knowing Ronan better and knowing how he regretted leaving and staying away so long, she felt the need to defend him.
And defending him forced her to see things through his eyes.
“I think he wanted to come home, and had he read my letters filled with all the tales of the castle, it might have made him want to come home all the more. And he couldn’t leave.
It would have been torture.” Regardless of why he hadn’t read her letters, it meant he was just today finding out he’d had a son that was lost.
What sadness must he be dealing with?
“Excuse me,” she said and left the kitchen just as Malcolm was coming toward her from the hall.
“Mistress,” he said with a bow.
“Good evening, Malcolm. Do you know where my husband is?”
He pressed his lips together and gave a nod.
“Aye. He has left for the MacKenzie stronghold. He received a letter that his mother is reported to be there. He asked me to watch over you.”
She pressed a hand to her chest from the surprise.
“He left?”
“Aye.”
She nodded. He’d left her alone yet again.