Page 87 of His Forgotten Highland Bride

“Aye. A dagger. I was…attacked while trying to escape the MacKenzie laird. He’d captured me and meant to force me into a marriage. I barely escaped my fate.”

“It sounds as if it was the MacKenzie laird who escaped being shackled to a witch like you,” Moira muttered loud enough to be heard by everyone.

Brenna gasped in surprise. She’d never heard Moira speak so. But then Ronan hadn’t spared flowery words for his mother, either.

Deirdre reminded Brenna much of Hannah and, as such, Brenna was reluctant to believe the woman except for the fact she’d taken a dagger to the shoulder. And only after she’d inspected the wound and saw for a fact it was from a dagger.

Who stabbed her, or for what reason, was yet to be determined.

They worked on the woman for over an hour. Moira was happy to tend to the stitching after she learned Deirdre didn’t wish to be knocked out with a dram.

Brenna watched briefly to ensure the woman wasn’t making it intentionally more painful. She felt Deirdre’s gaze on her and did her best not to cringe under the woman’s thorough inspection.

“What is it?” Brenna asked when the woman continued to stare at her.

“I would have expected Ronan would have had his pick of any laird’s daughter in the Highlands. I expected he would have chosen someone more…” She let the sentence hang there as if Brenna couldn’t understand her meaning. Then she cursed Moira to the devil for a particular sharp needle poke.

Brenna silently thanked Moira for taking up for her even if it wasn’t the kindly thing to do.

“If ye must know, Ronan didn’t choose me. Geordie did. An alliance was needed because Ewan had accidently killed one of my clansmen.” Though for years now she’d wondered if it had been an accident at all. Ewan was more than capable of cold-blooded murder.

“That makes a good deal more sen— Christ, Moira! I don’t need a stitch down to my liver, and don’t think I don’t know ye did that on purpose, you spiteful shrew.”

Moira chuckled and winked at Brenna.

“Lady Brenna is a better wife than Ronan deserves, I can tell you that.”

“I’m sure that isn’t so,” Brenna said in Ronan’s defense.

Deirdre chuckled, the sound coming off sinister.

“Ah, lass, you’ve gone and fell in love with him, haven’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”

Brenna shifted under the woman’s scrutiny and didn’t attempt to lie, though she didn’t confirm Deirdre’s accusation, either.

“You lose all your power when you fall in love, lass. The moment they know you won’t leave them is the moment they realize they can do whatever they want and you’ll stand for it.”

Brenna couldn’t argue. So far, Ronan had done what he wanted and she was still there at the keep, waiting and hoping for his return. She’d felt most powerful after loving Ronan with all her heart. So perhaps the woman was wrong, and true power was only found when one gave themselves up to another person, trusting that it was safe to do so without question.

Suddenly, she felt it again as she considered her situation. Ronan had left but made it clear to Malcolm to tell her why and where he’d gone. And that he would return soon. They may have serious and painful things to discuss when he returned, but she knew he would return, and they would face it together, because he cared for her.

She laughed at the joy in knowing her place as his wife was secure even when things were strained between them. Surely, there was nothing so powerful as that knowledge. Deirdre was staring at her as if she thought Brenna daft. Perhaps she was, but Brenna simply smiled at the woman.

“I do love Ronan, but there is nothing so powerful as that.”

Moira winked at her, and when Deirdre opened her mouth to no doubt say something scathing, Moira set the needle again, and Deirdre shouted another curse.

Despite Deirdre’s desire to stay awake, she quickly succumbed to the pain and lapsed into unconsciousness for the duration of the stitching. Brenna thought it was probably for the best.

“What do you intend to do with her now?” Moira asked when they were washing up from the procedure.

“Ronan went to the MacKenzies’ to intercept her. If he hasn’t seen her, it wouldn’t do to let her leave,” Brenna reasoned. “But I can’t very well throw her in the dungeon.”

“Why not?” Moira asked as if the idea was not to be cast away too quickly.

But Brenna wouldn’t treat her mother as a common criminal even if it was deserved, for the same reason she hadn’t had Ewan hanged. It was for Ronan to decide their fate.

She had Deirdre moved to the tower’s top floor and put two men on the door. And there she would stay until her husband returned. Brenna only hoped she wouldn’t live to regret this as she had with hanging Ewan.