Page 15 of His Forgotten Highland Bride

“Ewan!” he shouted as the man laughed. It was good to see a familiar face, even if it was significantly changed. The man had not aged well. His muscles had gone to waste. His eyes, once filled with mirth, were red-rimmed and bloodshot. Ronan knew this as the telltale trait of a man who spent too many hours in his cups.

Ronan recalled his wedding day and the way Ewan had been drunk. It seemed the man had spent much of the last five years in the same state.

“Nephew! I’d expected you’d be coming home this way. I’d hoped she’d sent word your dear grandsire has passed.”

“The laird wrote to me when he’d fallen ill. He told me it was dire that I come home but not much else.”

“Ah. Well, you’ve missed him. The funeral was long past, not that I was permitted to attend.”

Ronan moved slowly to dismount so he could look at his uncle and oldest friend. Before Ronan had spent all his days with Shane, he’d lived at Strathspey with Ewan, and the two of them were as close as brothers. They hugged, and then Ronan considered what Ewan had said.

“What do you mean you weren’t permitted to attend the funeral? Who would keep a man from mourning his father?”

“Your wife, or dare I say Queen of the Grants?”

Ronan didn’t understand. Surely, the slender lass he’d left wasn’t in charge of the clan.

“Much has changed here, Ro. Your woman is as slippery as your mother. She has honed the skill of manipulating men, and while she is not as beautiful as Deirdre, she knows how to get what she desires by casting favors on the men.”

Ronan nearly choked at the thought. His mother was a wily woman, but she’d only manipulated one man. The laird of the MacPhersons was obsessed with Ronan’s mother from the day they’d met and offered marriage the same day. Ever since, he’d done everything he could to make her happy.

Ronan had vowed never to allow a woman to claim him in the same way. Hearing his wife had learned such a skill made a chill crawl down his back.

“She did this.” Ewan pointed at the angry cut across his face. “Ones on my arm, wrist, and chest, too. I barely escaped her attack with my life. Like a venomous spider, she came to my chamber to rid herself of the only competition to her rule while I slept. Then had her men cast me out. Threatened a rope if I stepped back on Grant lands ever again. Left me with nothing. Not even a knife to hunt with or put myself out of my misery.”

“The slip of a lass I left here has done all this?” Ronan couldn’t believe it. Ewan might have been rowdy, but he’d never been one to lie. This story seemed beyond anything one could conjure up. So absurd, it must be true.

“You know well how women get when they are desperate. And how they come into their powers of seduction as they grow into womanhood.”

“Seduction? Brenna? You jest.”

But Ewan shook his head. “You left a knotted-haired mess of a girl when you escaped to France. You return to a bonny temptress.”

“And she’s seduced men while I was at war?” he asked, his blood churning as his anger grew. He’d spent years aching with need and held tight to his vows while she’d warmed her bed with his clansmen?

“Aye. I’m ashamed to say I almost fell for her charms but stopped myself because of my fealty to you, nephew.”

“And the rest of the Grants? Who do they pledge fealty to?”

Ewan rubbed his jaw and shook his head. “Her claws are sharp. Many are afraid to speak against her.”

“We make camp tonight, but tomorrow we arrive together to take down the witch who has claimed our clan.”

“You won’t want to show up with me. She’ll be furious. She and her loyal guard have banished me.”

“You are my blood. She has no right to throw you out of Strathspey. You will return with me to your home.”

“Then I shall go with you and serve as advisor so we might win back what is ours, or rather yours.”

“Aye.” And Ronan would make sure his wife understood who was in charge of the Grants.