The Ghost Greyson, Maeve (reading an ebook .txt) 📖

everything washed, Magnus stood and started skipping stones, too. “Love is a strange thing, lad. The MacCoinnichs love me as if I’m their family.” He smiled down at the boy. “I dinna ken if my falcon, Merlin, loves me, but he seems to like me well enough.”

“Did ye love my mother?”

The question caught Magnus off guard so badly, the stone he threw landed in the water with a dismal kerplunk.

“Ye didna do that one verra well at all,” Keigan observed.

“I did not,” Magnus admitted, wondering how the hell the conversation had taken such a turn.

“Well?” the boy prodded. “Did ye love Mama? Is that why ye laid with her? Auntie says when I’m grown to be a man, I should never lay with a woman unless I love her enough to never, ever leave her. She said that’s the way it’s ’posed to be. Is she right?”

Hell fire and demon tails. “Aye, Keigan. Yer auntie’s right.”

“Then why did ye lay with Mama, then leave her?” He skimmed another rock across the water, then turned back and frowned up at him. “And did ye ever love her? Ye never said if ye did or no’.”

“I cared about yer mother. Was verra fond of her. Considered her a treasured friend.” Damned, if he wasn’t babbling like a fool. Magnus looked all around, wondering where the hell Evander had gotten off to and why he wasn’t here to distract Keigan.

“But ye didna love her,” Keigan surmised with unnerving insight.

“Nay, lad. I did not love her,” Magnus admitted. He had sworn to never lie to the boy, and he had meant it.

“Then ye should not have lain with her,” the child gently scolded.

“Nay. I should not have.” Magnus knelt to Keigan’s level. “But if I hadna lain with her, then ye never wouldha been born, and this world wouldha been robbed of an amazing young man.”

“And ye should never have left her either.”

“Nay. I should not have. And for that, I have no excuse. All I can do is beg yer forgiveness and yer auntie’s forgiveness.” He would rather take fifty lashes across his back than continue this review of his poor choices. But he reckoned he deserved this, and all things considered, he had gotten the easiest share of the bargain. Keigan and Brenna had fought to survive because of the choices he made, and who knew what trials and suffering Keigan’s mother had endured before she died.

The boy’s head tilted, and his eyes narrowed. After what seemed like forever, he gifted Magnus with a precious smile. “I forgive ye—as long as ye promise to forgive Auntie whenever she yells at ye. She’s kinda like a hurt animal sometimes, ye ken? Snarling ’cause she hurts inside, not ’cause ye’ve done anything wrong to her. She canna help it really. Just be kind and forgive her, aye? If we love her enough, maybe she can get better.”

Magnus pressed a fist to his chest and lowered his chin in a solemn nod. “I shall forgive yer auntie each and every time she yells at me. I do so swear.” And he meant every word of it.

Keigan beamed up at him. “Good. ’Cause she likes ye better than she does most folks.”

More interested than he cared to admit, Magnus did his best to act indifferent. “Why do ye say that?”

The lad brushed off his hands and picked up the pile of stacked dishes. “Auntie never sleeps unless she feels safe. She never wouldha slept while riding with ye unless she liked ye and felt safe.” His pale brows arched with an impressed seriousness. “Trust me. I know about these things.”

“I am sure ye do,” Magnus agreed.

“Keigan!”

Magnus shooed the boy along. “Best run now but mind those dishes. I’ll bring along the skillet. Ye dinna want to keep her waiting.”

The lad trotted ahead, hugging the plates and bowls to his chest.

Drumming his fingers against the bottom of the frying pan, Magnus stared in the camp’s direction, thinking back over all Keigan had told him. Brenna had not had an easy time of it. Never, from the sounds of it. Nithdane Keep had been no loving sanctuary—especially not for the women living there. And then he had made the situation even worse. He stepped up on the embankment, then came to a halt. Since Brenna had already agreed to come to Tor Ruadh, why the devil did this uneasiness still plague him?

He swallowed hard and stared down at the warped iron pan that belonged in the smithy’s scrap bin. That warm stirring, the unnerving tightness the thought of her always triggered in his chest, squeezed him even harder than before. Brenna mattered. Her happiness mattered. What she thought and felt about him mattered more than he cared to admit.

“Dammit.” How the hell had he allowed his heart to soften toward her? He knew better. “I am a damned fool,” he muttered, knowing what had to be done. To undo the sins of his past and protect Brenna and Keigan both. She had to become his wife. But how he would ever get her to agree, he didn’t have a clue. “She will never agree to it. Not after all I’ve put her through.” Whacking the skillet against his thigh, he trudged back to camp, then came to a halt at the edge of the clearing. As silent as a breath, he eased behind a thicket, watching the comforting scene before him.

Brenna had Keigan sitting on a rock in front of her, washing his face with a wet rag. His chin trapped in her hand; the lad looked less than pleased about the scrubbing. But she had a serenity that only appeared whenever she dealt with the boy. She was the picture of a loving mother, taking care of her child.

Her child. Keigan was as much her son as his. More so, in fact, because she had raised the bairn. A heavy sigh escaped him. He had to make her realize he wanted to do better by her, and