Page 92 of His Forgotten Highland Bride

“Mother?”

She hadn’t changed much in the years since he’d seen her last. It was seeing her in a such a state that made it difficult. He’d rarely seen his mother with a hair out of place and in the best gowns his stepfather could afford.

Seeing her now, dirty, disheveled, and clearly ill, was a shock.

The smock she wore had once been light blue, but blood stained the front from the left shoulder to her slim waist. MacKenzie had said she’d taken a dagger when fleeing his home. From the grayish cast of her skin, it seemed that injury had festered and poisoned her.

“Ronan?” his mother said in a breathy voice. A smile graced her face briefly and, in that moment, he saw the mother of his memories, the one that got whatever she wanted with that smile, fake as it might be.

“What has happened?”

She looked down and shook her head. “I only fell on a branch…” She faded off with the lie when Ewan laughed.

“The MacKenzie didn’t take kindly to her plan to rob him, and she took a dagger. Your bride refused to treat her wounds.”

“That’s not true,” Deirdre spat.

Ronan wasn’t sure if he could believe anything either of them told him.

“Lady Brenna and Moira tended the wound and stitched it. It was just that your wife locked me up in a bed chamber for your return. So I escaped, and during my retreat, I was thrown from the horse, breaking the stitches.”

“You need to return to Strathspey so they can see to you,” he said as if this were an option. There was no way Ewan would allow his mother to ride off to the castle only to tell everyone where Ewan was hiding with the laird held his captive.

Instead of responding, she turned to Ewan. “Ye said you wouldn’t hurt him.” His mother pointed to Ronan’s hands, which were now covered in blood where the chains had dug into his skin.

Ronan wanted to laugh. For all his mother’s worldly pursuits, she was incredibly naive to think Ewan’s plans wouldn’t end in death for both of them.

“He caused those wounds himself,” Ewan said in a soothing voice. “He will be fine. We’ll use him to get the ransom as planned, and then you and I will escape to England. I’ll buy you the finest jewels. Just as I promised.”

His mother smiled and nodded rather wobbly. “Then let’s do it soon, for I don’t wish to sleep in the forest another night. I’ve grown chilled.”

Ronan wanted to point out she was most likely fevered as the day had grown warm. Instead, he tried to reason with her. “Mother, he doesn’t plan to ransom me off and leave Scotland. He wants to be laird, for whatever reason. He plans to kill me and take over the clan.”

His mother looked at Ewan with the shrewdness only another liar could muster.

“He is daft,” Ewan crooned. “Our plan is already underway.”

“Meaning you’ve sent a messenger to the castle demanding a price? Who? Who did you send, uncle? Did you send a note? Do you have a pot of ink and parchment here in your castle? Or mayhap a scribe since you never took much to writing.” Ronan taunted the man.

At the sharp kick to his ribs, he realized mockery probably wasn’t his best plan, but he needed his mother to see the truth. And if she couldn’t see it in its entirety, he would point out the smaller clues.

“Who do you plan to send?” Deirdre asked with wide eyes. She looked almost surprised that she hadn’t considered this. “I can’t sit a horse. How do you plan for us to ride off to England?”

Good. His mother was puzzling out the lies.

“God. He’s telling the truth. Ye plan to kill him and take over as heir of the Grants.”

“Stop your fussing, woman.” Ewan’s mask dropped, and the manipulating rogue was gone, leaving behind a feckless viper. His mother was in danger, and she was still observant enough to see it.

She immediately changed course. “You’re right. It makes no sense that you would want such a responsibility. Emptying their coffers and fleeing to live a life of luxury with me is a much better plan.”

Ronan wanted to point out how neither of the plans required Deirdre and that she was in a precarious position. Though he wouldn’t call out his mother for trying to save herself, he wanted her to know who she had sided with.

“This man killed your grandson. A defenseless babe, still in the womb.”

For a moment, it seemed his mother had turned away, not caring what Ronan had said. But then, with more energy than he thought she still managed, she turned back to Ewan with a dagger in hand.

A loud cry left her lips, the volume that would make even the strongest war chief proud, and she ran at Ewan, blade out.