Page 2 of His Forgotten Highland Bride

As Brenna stood close to them, ready to beg he not run off, she heard the older man’s whispered response.

“Ronan, you know why we must move forward with the match. Think of Ewan.”

Her intended, Ronan—not Henry—frowned at his grandsire and then narrowed his gaze on her again.

“Perhaps we may all retire to our chambers to wash and prepare for the last meal,” the elderly laird suggested.

Ronan gestured she should follow him into the keep. When he did the same to her sister, Hannah snaked her arm through Ronan’s and was now being properly escorted inside like a queen. Why hadn’t Brenna thought of this?

The only thing keeping Brenna from shoving Hannah away from her intended was the knowledge Hannah was also betrothed. An elaborate ceremony was being planned for the nuptials between the eldest daughter of Laird Innes and the Laird of the MacIntosh clan in the most important alliance to grace the Highlands in centuries.

Meanwhile, Brenna’s offer was made only a few days ago, and she’d be handfasted in the morning without even the benefit of a new dress, for there had been no time. Looking over her shoulder, Brenna saw her sister flirting with her intended. Hannah managed to earn a few low rumbles of laughter from his broad chest. Brenna straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin.

What she should have been doing was watching where she was walking. Her boot found an uneven brick, and she sprawled on her stomach. How was she so adept seated on a beast with four hooves yet unable to master her feet?

A curse left Brenna’s lips. She’d thought it had been whispered, but her mother’s whimper proved it’d been louder than she’d thought. Hannah snickered behind her as Ronan came forward to offer a hand she didn’t need. She was capable of getting up on her own. Another benefit of wearing breeches…covering her arse when she fell.

Frowning at the man, he hastily pulled back his hand as she brushed her scraped hands on her legs. This first meeting could have been better. But what had she expected?

If this man wanted a biddable wife who spent her days sitting in the solar sewing and reading, he would be disappointed and likely frustrated with her.

Should she attempt to hide the less acceptable things about herself? The late-night wandering, the hunting, the racing, the running, the cursing and general disorder? All the things that made her who she was. Her very soul.

It was too late, she thought, as she watched Hannah take his arm yet again.

Besides, it was no matter what happened today, for, in the morning, Brenna would be wed to Ronan and they’d have the rest of their lives, without Hannah’s presence, to get to know one another. And maybe, someday, even fall in love. Not that she knew much about falling in love or how one went about making it happen. Her parents, while always respectful in their dealings, weren’t overly fond of one another.

But Hannah often spoke of the emotion as if it was the most coveted thing one could hope to acquire. She described it as a partnership where the subjects accept each other through their faults and shortcomings. The idea that someone would take her as she was and choose to be with her above all others sounded divine.

She didn’t know how to get her new husband to fall in love with her, but she would stop at nothing to make it happen. She spent all her days feeling as if she didn’t belong in her own family, always falling short and disappointing them when she acted herself and failing when she tried to be who they wanted her to be.

Hannah once told her she was most likely a changeling, an inept replacement for the proper sister who fairies had taken. Despite her mother’s promise it was untrue, Brenna thought it made a good bit of sense. If the real Brenna Innes lived with the fairies, did she feel as out of place as Brenna felt here among her clan?

This marriage would be a fresh start, a chance to belong.

She could not make a mess of it.

***

As soon as Ronan extricated himself from the green-eyed beauty who’d escorted him to his room, he left his chamber to speak to his grandsire. Having only spent summers with the Grants since his mother married the MacPherson laird when Ronan was ten, he wasn’t as close with his grandfather as most heirs would have been. But he felt comfortable enough to complain about the man’s plan formally.

“I canna marry the hellion. Did ye see her?”

“Aye. My sight has not abandoned me yet. The lass is feisty.”

“Feisty? She’s a menace. How am I to take such a woman to wife? I believe she was drunk, based on the inability to keep on her feet, calling me the wrong name, and the cursing.” He rubbed his forehead. “She was wearing men’s clothing, and don’t even get me started on the sticks in her nest of hair. Is that the way she greets guests?”

His grandsire offered a wink. “The spirited ones are better in bed. I can think of worse things than having a bride unafraid to get some sticks in her hair.”

Ronan rolled his eyes. At twenty summers, he had more on his mind than taking a wife. He’d had no trouble getting women to warm his bed when he’d shown interest. There was much more to life than bed sport. The glory of being a soldier, for one. But if he didn’t agree to this ridiculous arrangement, his grandsire would not allow him to go to the war in France with his stepbrother, Shane. They’d entered into this agreement a few days before. But now Ronan felt sure he was getting the worst part of the deal. As an heir, only his grandfather could grant his permission to leave Scotland. The man had refused until, thanks to Ronan’s uncle, he’d needed Ronan’s help.

The lift of his grandfather’s bushy, gray eyebrow proved he knew he had Ronan by the cods. Still, there might be another way…

“The older daughter,” he said. “She’s quite lovely, and from the way she gripped my arse before leaving me, she’d be agreeable to a match.”

Before he’d even finished speaking the words, the laird shook his head.

“The pretty one is already betrothed to the MacIntosh clan. There’s no getting her free of it. I’d marry you off to the MacIntosh laird if it could be done.” The man chuckled at his jest.