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

Silly fool. His kindness, honesty, and the way he was with Keigan had won her more quickly than she cared to admit. She might not fully love him yet, but she feared it wouldn’t be long—especially when he treated her with more respect than she had ever known in her life.

“We should be there by midday.” Magnus’s arm tightened around her waist. “Dinna fret o’er much. I think ye will find Clan MacCoinnich most welcoming. Catriona, Mercy, Gretna—they’re all kind and wonderful ladies.” His pleased chuckling rumbled against her back. “All three are brutally honest, but they are each of them kind and good.”

“Kind and good,” she repeated, her misgivings churning harder with every thump of the horse’s gait.

“Aye,” Magnus continued. “In the past, they have all battled their own demons, so they’re sure to understand how ye faced down yers.” He paused as though searching for his next words.

His pause made Brenna smile. He worried so much about saying the wrong thing to her. Her amusement melted away as quickly as it came. In part, he agonized over everything he said because of his fumbling betrothal, but he also struggled to choose the right words because of her habit of thinking the worst about everything. She scolded herself as she glanced down at the ring again. Life appeared to be taking a turn for the better. It would only be good sense to enjoy this change of luck rather than ruin it by waiting for something ill to happen. She vowed to change her ways.

“Catriona is Alexander, the chieftain’s wife. Kind but fierce as can be,” he finally said. “Her brother tried to kill her when he failed at selling her to a Campbell chief before Alexander saved her.” He fluttered his fingers in time with his musings, tapping them against her arm. “Mercy is Graham, the war chief’s wife. She is sightless but brave as they come. She lost her sight when her lady’s maid bludgeoned her. Mercy’s father hired the wench to kill her. Gretna is the clan healer, married to Ian Cameron, cousin to the chief. She was a Neal, turned over to the witch hunters by her bastard of a husband, who faked his death.” A growling snort clearly expressed how Magnus felt about that. “As I said, they’ve each of them fought their own battles and won. They all admire courage and tenacity. I think ye’ll find them good friends once ye get to know them.”

“That would nice.” She wouldn’t go into her misgivings. It had been her experience that women were often more vicious and territorial than men. But she would do her best to fit in and give everyone a fair chance—for Keigan and Magnus’s sake. And she would do better about not thinking the worst unless it turned out to be so. She twisted the ring on her finger. “Will ye speak of us to them? About our…pairing?”

“Of course,” Magnus said. “Since Evander knows, I promise ye, it’ll be common knowledge in both the village and the keep before sunset. That lad couldna keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it.”

“Aye, well, I suppose that’s true. Keigan’s been known to share everything he knows as well.” She fell silent and attempted to calm herself by taking in their surroundings. The land was so different here. Lush green glens surrounded by dusky blue mountains. Thick woodlands with ancient trees bigger than what two men could wrap their arms around. Breathtaking crags and dangerous ravines echoing with the gurgling burns that had slowly carved them out of the land. It was all beautiful, but she missed the sea. Waves crashing against the shore. Terns crying overhead. The sharp tang of the salty air. A heavy sigh escaped her before she could stop it.

Magnus pulled their mount to a halt. “I think it’s time we stopped and stretched our legs a bit.”

Before she could comment, the boys came up alongside them.

“We stopping this close?” Evander asked as his horse danced sideways along the trail. It was as though the beast sensed its home stable within reach and was anxious to get there.

“Go on ahead with ye.” Magnus waved them on. “But dinna be racing too fast across the glen and dinna enter the village until we catch up with ye, aye? I wish to be the one to introduce Keigan to one and all.”

Evander grinned and tapped Keigan on the shoulder. “Ye dinna need to rest or make water, do ye? Wouldna ye rather keep going?”

His grip tight on the lip of the saddle, the lad bounced in place. “Aye! Let’s be on our way.”

“No racing!” Magnus ordered again.

“Aww,” the boys groaned in unison.

Brenna turned and spoke low, so only Magnus could hear, “Let them run a bit—as long as they’re careful. They’ve done well, and I trust Evander to keep Keigan safe.”

Magnus still looked unsure but nodded. With a fierce glare, he pointed toward the glen. “Ye may run a bit, but take care, or I’ll have both yer arses, understand?”

“Aye!” Evander grinned and took off before the adults changed their mind.

As the boys thundered away, Brenna twisted in the saddle and tapped Magnus on the chest. “Now, tell me why ye really stopped.” His poor excuse of stretching their legs bordered on a bald-faced lie, and he had always sworn to keep the truth between them.

Without answering, he dismounted, then helped her down, keeping his hands around her waist long after her feet touched the ground. He looked down at her, eyes narrowing as though peering into her soul. “Ye’re tenser than a newly strung bow. I feel yer worry. Hear the fear in yer voice. Tell me what I can do to make this easier for ye.”

Grazing her fingertips across the stubble of his beard, she kept her gaze locked on the small silvery scar on his chin. It was a poorly mended slice from a dagger if she ever saw one. She daren’t meet his gaze. So much