Page 4 of His Forgotten Highland Bride

Chapter Two

Brenna pulled back from the door and covered her mouth. She’d been punished more than a few times for eavesdropping, but seeing her future husband enter his grandfather’s room and leave the door cracked proved too great a temptation.

“Eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves,” her mother always scolded. She had never heard something so wretched as the instructions for Ronan. Bed her and forget her? How appalling.

She knew that her prospects were limited as a laird’s daughter. To be married off to create an alliance was the only thing waiting for her. But she’d hoped for a kind man, not to become a broodmare while her husband warmed the bed of lasses high and low.

Forget about her.

Was that to be her fate?

She shook her head and returned to her bed chamber. She briefly looked at the window, wondering if she could escape from this height. But what would she do then? Fortunately, there was another way. She could escape this destiny by telling her father what else she’d heard at the door. Something this Ewan had done that would bring the clans to war if it were found out. Surely, that would change her father’s mind about shackling her to such a horrid clan.

War wasn’t something she’d enjoy starting, but wouldn’t it be better than marrying a man who seemed to despise her? Who wouldn’t be faithful to his vows? She called for her maid to help her dress in her second-best gown as she considered her options. Brenna still hadn’t come up with a solution as she went down to the great hall to sit next to the man who may or may not become her husband.

She presented a curtsey at his bow, not relatively as low as before because of the corset, and directly met his warm, brown eyes. His lips pulled up into a smile. She could only think he was heartened by the lack of flora spilling from her hair.

“I must apologize for earlier,” she said quietly when everyone was seated and the food served.

“You do not always rush into the bailey riding Satan’s beast in breeches?”

She cleared her throat. To say no would be a lie. While this man held secrets, too, she did not have to stoop to such a level. Telling him the truth would be the easier way to do that rather than spur war between their clans.

“I do. However, I don’t often do so in anticipation of visitors. And I’m rarely late.”

His smile grew into a full grin. If she thought telling the truth would force him to back down, it appeared she’d need to try harder.

“I see. And as for calling me Henry?”

“In truth, your name was not told to me. I should have thought to ask. I was so excited by the news, I didn’t stop to take in the details.” This seemed to surprise him.

“You’re excited to wed a stranger?”

She swallowed and stuck to her plan to tell him the truth. She granted him a nod. The truth without elaboration. “I take it you are not excited to be marrying me.”

He opened his mouth to refute her insinuation, but she put up a hand to stop him.

“Ye don’t need to deny it. I know I’m rather plain.” Her brown hair was rather dull. Her eyes were the color of green mud. Her stature was without the soft curves other women had. And if all of this wasn’t enough, standing next to her sister was so much worse as if in contrast.

“May I ask something?”

He squinted and nodded.

“We do not know each other yet. It won't be easy to learn about the other if we don’t speak the truth. Attempting to spare my feelings won’t get the job done. Promise me we will at least offer one another honesty.”

“Honesty.” Ronan’s throat bobbed with the word, and he met her eyes. “Aye.”

She smiled and held out her hand to shake his. With a laugh and a shake of his head, he took it and gave it a firm shake. When her groom smiled as he did then, he was charming. A dimple pulled along the crease of his cheek, and his white teeth sparkled in the light from the sconces. Those brown eyes became deep pools of warmth, beckoning her closer. Being this close to him, she realized how tall he was. His shoulders, broad with muscle, fit well on his lean body.

When he blinked in what she guessed was confusion, she noticed she’d been leaning closer than was typical for two people during a meal.

Clearing his throat, he pulled away and focused on his food instead. She did the same, realizing she was now even more uncertain about how to proceed than she’d been before.

“Brimstone.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ye said my horse was from Satan. His name is Brimstone.”