Page 93 of His Forgotten Highland Bride

“Mother, no!” Ronan yelled, having seen the knife Ewan held at the ready. But it was too late to change the path she was on. Her dagger was deflected, causing only a cut along Ewan’s arm while his sunk deep in his mother’s chest.

She dropped to the stone a few feet from Ronan. “I’m sorry, lad. Sorry for it all.” She blinked. “You were never to blame for what happened.”

And with that, her eyes—the color of the Highland skies in September—hazed over in death.

“It was a merciful thing,” Ewan spoke, barely breaking the silence that had fallen over them when his mother’s raspy breaths had stopped. “The wound to her shoulder had poisoned her blood. She’d not have lived much longer anyway.”

Ronan had seen the pallor of death on many men in France, and for once Ewan was not lying. He’d known his mother was not long for this world. But he’d not allow Ewan to pretend he’d done anything for the mercy of another human being.

Rather than argue with the lout, Ronan closed his eyes and thought of all the happy times he’d had with his wife. If he was to die, he wanted to do so thinking of Brenna. He’d never have the chance to beg her forgiveness. Perhaps he would be destined to spend eternity a restless soul. It was what he deserved.

***

It was growing dark when Brenna and the warriors came upon Brahstraud.

Will had told them tales of playing there with Ewan and Ronan as a child. It offered shelter despite it having fallen to ruin nearly a century ago. They’d left the horses behind, and moved on foot, not wanting to give Ewan any warning of their attack.

But as they crested the small rise that dropped off with a view to the ruins, they encountered another problem.

“This is the only way in,” Gabe said, having investigated the entire perimeter. “Until we make it down to them, the laird’s throat will be cut. ’Tis a proper defense Ewan’s set up here,” the man added, sounding begrudgingly impressed.

Will nodded once before casting a serious gaze on her. “We’ll need an archer to take him down.”

“From this distance?” Hugh asked still looking out over the ledge. “To miss will mean death for the laird. Either because Ewan will have time to respond, or because Ewan’s standing too close to the laird and we could hit him by accident.”

Will was still watching her, and she knew what he would say before he spoke. “Brenna can make that shot.”

Gabe and Malcolm both nodded as Hugh winced. “She’ll not be hunting a wee rabbit, Will.”

“I’d say a rabbit moves faster and is a smaller target than Ewan makes,” Malcolm put in.

“Aye, but if she misses a rabbit, the stew may be a little thin, but no one loses their life.”

It was true enough and only what Brenna had been thinking since Will had honed his gaze on her. She looked down through the narrow opening where Ewan paced on the far side of her husband.

She waited a moment to hear them discuss another plan, but when she turned back, they were all still looking at her expectantly. There was no other plan.

The foundation of the old castle clung to a cliff. Rubble from the larger towers had fallen, blocking off most of the one side. Gabe was right. This was their only chance.

She was Ronan’s only chance.

“I shall not miss,” she said, hoping speaking it would make it so. “We need to hurry before our light is gone.”

Gabe retrieved her bow and arrows and held them out to her. She wiped her damp hands down her skirt before taking the weapon with shaking hands.

If she missed, it wouldn’t only be her husband’s demise. Ewan would become laird of the Grants, and many other good people would suffer.

She could not fail. Everyone was counting on her.