Page 29 of His Forgotten Highland Bride

Chapter Eleven

Once again, Ronan was surprised by his wife. Not just for her beauty—yes, she was more lovely than the last time he’d seen her—but for her courage. After he’d treated her so poorly the night before, he expected her to be absent from the meal tonight.

He was glad he’d been wrong, for he’d found himself looking for glimpses of her throughout the day.

His uncle had also been absent, so Ronan could not question him about what had happened in the forest that morning. But he would have his answers soon enough. He sat next to Brenna, and she offered him a strained smile. She acted like he might roar at her any moment, and he couldn’t blame her. He needed to atone for his earlier behavior.

“You look lovely this evening,” he said, surprising her with a pretty blush. He noticed her hands on her lap, fingers clenched. Was she nervous or frightened?

“Thank you, my laird,” she whispered.

She said nothing else as the maids served the meal and poured their wine.

“The boy is settled,” she said, and at the same time, he said, “How is the boy?”

She smiled more easily this time, and her smile forced his grin. “Please, you first,” he insisted.

“He—Matthew is fine.”

He nodded. “Good. And how did you spend the rest of your day?”

She seemed frozen as she set her glass down. Did she think the question was a trap of some sort?

“I am only curious,” he said, unsure why he needed to assure her.

She gave a nod before speaking. “I spent the early morning hunting, and then the afternoon and the rest of the day, I helped the ladies in the kitchen when I wasn’t seeing to wee Matthew. Geordie always teased me for working in the kitchen like a maid, but I like to be useful, and I enjoy their company. They were the only friends I had here after…”

She looked away, but he thought he knew what she’d meant to say.

She’d been alone in a new home with a new clan. An outsider. Could he not have spared a few days to settle her before leaving her there? What a selfish arse he’d been to run off on their wedding night as he had.

He’d been so eager to get to France and the glory of war. But there had been no glory. He’d not become a hero in France, and he’s undoubtedly not been Brenna’s hero in recent years.

He smiled and tried to think of something to say when the silence continued. She hadn’t said so much to him since he’d returned. He cursed himself again, for it was his fault she’d been wary to speak.

“You call my grandsire by his given name?” he asked because it wasn’t typical for the auld laird to allow such a thing.

“He allowed me to,” she answered quickly. His question had made her defensive. He wouldn’t forge a connection with his wife in this way.

“He must have held you in high regard. He allowed only a few such liberties.”

She pressed her lips together, and he wanted to hear the laugh she fought to hold in.

“What did I say?” he pressed.

“He didn’t permit me exactly. He was being cantankerous, and I just used it as a scold. You should have seen his face. He was so shocked. And then he burst out laughing. After that, we were thick as thieves, having faced each other down like wild cats.” Her smile faded.

“You miss him,” Ronan said, though it was apparent.

“Aye. I didn’t have a living grandfather, and my father was often vexed with me, but Geordie and I were very close. I often sat with him as he saw to business. He even asked my opinion on a few occasions.”

“My grandfather asked for your advice?” Ronan could hardly believe such a thing. The auld laird was so set in his ways that Ronan could scarcely believe he had room to hear anyone else’s thoughts but his own.

She nodded. “’Tis true. You can ask anyone if you don’t…” She didn’t finish the sentence; instead, she focused on her meal, but he knew what she didn’t say—If you don’t believe me.

Would this be how all their conversation would go? She started to say something but stopped so as not to rouse him to anger. He knew it was his doing but didn’t like it. He didn’t know what to believe. If this was a tale, it served no purpose to get anything from him. But he knew well enough a reason wasn’t strictly necessary for a lie. Some people held no hold on the truth. He’d spent his life with a mother who plotted and schemed to get what she wanted through manipulation and deceit. He’d come to expect it from all women, but he’d known there must be some who were not out for their gain.

He thought of Maria, Shane’s wife. She’d been faithful and steadfast. And Tory, his stepsister. She’d been a friend and always offered an ear when he needed to talk over a problem. In some ways, she probably knew him even better than Shane or had before they’d left for France.