Page 35 of His Forgotten Highland Bride

“You are always welcome,” Mr. Campbell offered. The man was nearing sixty. His five children and his first wife were grown and had families. Now, he was raising these five with a younger wife who suffered from spells of melancholy.

“Have you eaten today, Sarah?” Brenna asked the woman, huddled in a bed tucked in the corner of the tiny home.

Sarah shook her head.

“I think you will feel better if you eat a bit,” Brenna said, stopping by the fire to ladle some stew into a bowl. As she handed it to the woman, the baby began to cry. Mr. Campbell had already gone out to get Ronan’s drink, so Brenna took the baby from the girl and plopped him in Ronan’s arms.

He looked stricken. “What am I to do with him?”

“Walk around and give him a little pat on his arse until he stops crying.”

To her surprise, Ronan followed her directions perfectly as she helped Sarah sit up and take some nourishment. “He’s soon going to need to feed. Will you try?” she encouraged the mother.

Sarah nodded and even tried to smile. Brenna had seen it before. Some women grew sad after giving birth, even to a healthy bairn. Brenna didn’t understand why a woman wouldn’t be thrilled beyond reason to have a child, but it didn’t always work that way.

The baby stopped crying for a moment. When he started again, Brenna took the babe and held him out to Sarah, who fitted him to her breast like a woman who’d already had four bairns. Mr. Campbell came in and put a cup in Ronan’s hands. The laird gave a nod of thanks and smiled at the other children, who were staring up at him.

“Who is this man? Why is he so big?” the older of the boys asked.

“This is the laird of clan Grant, Thomas. And he is big because he is a fierce warrior,” Mr. Campbell said.

“Can I be a warrior someday?” the boy asked, not daunted by Ronan’s solemn expression.

“Of course you can, lad,” Ronan said, pulling the boy into his lap. “I would be happy to have a man as courageous as you to make sure the people of our clan are safe.”

“I keep my mama and papa safe.”

“I’m sure you do,” Ronan said.

“Does your leg pain you?” the boy asked, and Brenna gasped, not wanting Ronan to be angry with the child for pointing out his weakness.

But the laird just smiled and nodded. “Aye. It hurts me today. I was walking on it faster than I’m used to.”

Was she mistaken, or did he look over at her—almost in accusation—as he said that? She walked quickly; perhaps her husband had not easily kept up with her as he’d followed her this morning. She hid a smile.

“You should let Lady Grant look at it for you. Last summer, I fell from a tree and broke my leg. She fixed it up so it dinna hurt anymore. I could still do my chores.”

“Are ye a healer, then?” Ronan asked, keeping his eyes on her.

“I just help out. Moira is getting older and can’t keep up with all these fine bairns.” Brenna smiled and picked up wee Joey, who was only three.

After she’d passed out the bannocks she’d brought and rechecked on Sarah and the babe, she picked up her basket and said her farewells.

The children came to the door to wave, and Mr. Campbell gave her a little bow. “I don’t know what I would do if not for you,” the man said. “She was much improved today. Thank ye, mistress.”

“I’m glad she’s in better spirits. Take care. I’ll check in on you again soon.” She headed back toward the castle with Ronan close behind. “Did ye follow me here?” she asked when they were alone. She knew the answer but wanted to see if he would admit it.

“Aye.”

“I’ve told you already, I have no lover.” She gave him an even look and glanced down at his leg when he winced, taking a step. “I’ll make ye some ointment.”

“Nay. Don’t bother. It smells bad.” His nose scrunched up, making her chuckle.

She knew the smell wasn’t the real reason, or at least the only one. He’d been at war, and from the tales she’d heard, war didn’t smell like a rose garden.

“It’s my experience that not many things in healing smell good.”

“True enough.”