Page 86 of His Forgotten Highland Bride

Chapter Thirty-One

With Ronan away, Brenna was in charge of the clan once more. It meant she couldn’t sneak away that morning as she usually did to hunt and ride. Instead, she was pulled away to deal with a squabble between two older men who should have known better.

Her patience was in short supply when the guard on the gate called out, “Rider!”

Brenna’s heart gave a kick at the announcement. Had Ronan returned so soon? And if so, how would she address him? “What flag do they fly?”

The guard shook his head. “No flag, my lady. It looks to be a lone woman.”

“Let her in,” Brenna said, keeping her disappointment reined in. The fact that she was disappointed spoke of how much she had wished it was Ronan.

Brenna awaited the lone rider, curious to who it could be. Hannah would never set a horse, let alone ride any long distance without a proper carriage. When the woman entered, Brenna was momentarily baffled, for she recognized the woman, though they’d never met. It was amazing Brenna had made the connection at all given how different Ronan’s mother looked now compared to the painting hanging in the solar.

Deirdre was pale and ragged looking. Her perfectly coifed gold hair from the painting hung in lank clumps down her back. At Brenna’s nod, Malcolm left her side to go assist the woman down from her horse before she fell. But instead of standing, the woman crumbled. Gabe hurried to assist Malcolm in gathering the woman up.

As Brenna stepped forward to offer a greeting, she noticed the dark cloak the woman wore was shiny with moisture at the shoulder. She pulled the garment away to see the vast amount of blood.

“Hurry, bring her inside and fetch Moira straight away.” Brenna gave her orders, which her men followed without question.

“Who are you?” the woman asked.

Brenna realized that while she recognized the woman, Deirdre wouldn’t know her. “I am Lady Grant. You may call me Brenna.”

“You are married to Ronan?”

“Aye.”

“Then it seems you may call me Mother.”

Brenna should have known Ronan wouldn’t have informed his mother of his marriage. Not five years ago when they’d first been wed, and not more recently, either, it seemed. What Brenna didn’t know was if it was because Ronan didn’t want to share the information that he was married or because he hadn’t spoken to his mother in all that time.

From what Ronan had said about Deirdre, Brenna thought it could be the latter. Malcolm had told her Ronan rode for the MacKenzies to find his mother. But if she was here, where was Ronan?

Deciding there’d be plenty of time later for questions so long as the woman survived the day, she set to care for the woman’s injuries first.

“If it’s all the same, I shall call ye Deirdre for now. Please lie back so I can see to your wound.”

Deirdre looked like she might object but instead did as Brenna ordered.

“Do not give me a dram that will put me out. I prefer to be awake.”

“Very well.” Brenna doubted she would wish to be awake when the wound was stitched or sealed, but that was an argument for later. First, Brenna had to examine the wound to determine the care needed.

Moira entered through the far door, and as she came closer, she sniffed.

“I was called to come help you heal someone, but ye must know I don’t tend to serpents or the devil.”

“Hello, Moira. I thought I’d looked on you my last. I’m sorry to say I was wrong about that.” Deirdre’s words were said through a tightly clamped jaw as she panted in clear pain, but still she held a certain level of authority and dignity.

Brenna might have been impressed if she hadn’t already been annoyed by the posturing. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the women.

“Perhaps we could put aside our pettiness until after the woman has stopped bleeding all over my hall like a stuck boar.”

Deirdre seemed to take offense to being likened to a pig, but she kept her mouth shut and offered only a tight nod.

“What kind of wound is it?” Moira asked while still keeping her distance.

“I believe it was a dagger?” Brenna guessed and looked at Deirdre for confirmation.