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

I’m sure ye could use some refreshment, too, whilst the men tend to the horses and unload yer things.” With a knowing tilt of her head, she lowered her voice. “They love their gossip as much as we do. I dinna care how much they deny it.”

“That they do.” Gretna gave a conspiratorial wink as she fell in step on Brenna’s other side. “By the by, our refreshments will bolster ye more than a cup of milk.” She grinned. “I’m sure ye’re ready for a wee dram. I know I would be.”

With barely time for a nervous glance back at Magnus, Brenna found herself flanked by the two women and herded into the cavernous main hall of the keep. Tor Ruadh was a grand sight, much larger than Nithdane had ever hoped to be. Built into the mountain of Ben Nevis, the enormous stronghold was a proper fortification.

Servants buzzed around the large main room, scouring the long dining tables, changing out candle stubs for freshly trimmed tapers, and sweeping the stone floors. A formidable woman of mature years marched through their midst with the look of a war chief planning a battle. Dressed all in black, her silver hair pulled into a stern bun, all it took was an arch of her brow to send a servant jumping to correct whatever she found lacking.

“Mrs. Fitzgerald,” Catriona said as the matron altered her course to greet them. “This is Mistress Brenna Maxwell, Magnus’s betrothed.”

“Welcome to Tor Ruadh, mistress.” Mrs. Fitzgerald’s serious air melted into an expression of polite, but reserved, kindness. “Anything ye should have need of, please dinna hesitate to ask,” she said with the slightest dip of her chin. Her attention shifting back to Catriona, she nodded again. “Their suite will be ready in no time, m’lady. I decided it needed a fair bit more scrubbing than we first thought. But I shall see it aired out, good and proper. Fresh water in every pitcher. Decanters filled and washed linens still warm from the sun for the beds.”

“This keep would collapse into chaos without Mrs. Fitzgerald,” Catriona said to Brenna, then turned back to the housekeeper. “As always, I know ye have everything under control. Would ye be so good as to have Cook send refreshments to the solar? We’ll rest there until the suite is ready for Mistress Brenna’s inspection.”

“As ye wish it, m’lady.” The matron bustled off. A snap of her fingers flagged down servants, and her orders sent them flying.

“Mrs. Fitzgerald is a true gem,” Catriona said again as she looped an arm through Brenna’s. “Ye can trust her with anything.”

“She is that,” Gretna agreed. “Loyal ’til death, that lady is.”

Trust. Even though she managed a smile, Brenna struggled against a leeriness born of days past. Learning to trust this clan seemed a monumental task. Best not overthink it. Handle a moment at a time, she urged herself. One moment at a time. “Yer keep is verra fine, m’lady.”

“Ye must call me Catriona, aye?” Catriona patted her arm. “As our newest sister-to-be, this is yer home now, too.”

“We are so glad ye came here,” Gretna said as they passed between the two rows of tables running down the center of the room. “Both Keigan and Evander mentioned there had been some discussion about the matter between yerself and Magnus.”

Brenna failed at suppressing an embarrassed groan. “I can only imagine what those two shared with ye.” She looked away, unable to face either woman. “Please forgive them. I meant no insult to any of Clan MacCoinnich.”

“I dinna blame ye for having doubts. All ye’ve known is hardship, thanks to poor judgment from one of our own.” Gretna shook a finger up and down with every word. “That is why I wanted Evander to see what can come from one moment of thoughtlessness. It isna fair for a man to go on his merry way, whilst a woman pays a price that either cost her life or lasts her a lifetime.” With a shake of her head, she continued, “Why…we didna even know what might have happened to the wee tot or who could have him until Keigan told us about ye. We are so thankful ye were there to care for him.” Her tirade paused, and she had the disturbing air of knowing more than she said. “We know it couldna have been easy for ye. A woman alone. Trying to keep a child fed and safe. We are grateful for Magnus’s sake that ye’re willing to share Keigan with him and with us, after all ye endured.”

Her speech gave Brenna pause. Could it hold a double meaning? Should she be insulted? She smoothed back her hair and tugged at her bodice. “I must look a fright. Forgive me.”

Both Catriona and Gretna halted. “Nay, lass,” Gretna said, color flaring to her cheeks. “Please forgive me for making ye uncomfortable. That was nay my intent. I said what I did because I know how hard it is to raise weans all by yerself. I did it for many years. I promise ye, we think ye brave as any warrior.”

“That we do,” Catriona agreed. “Never doubt how much we admire yer strength and ability to forgive. Not everyone wouldha given Magnus the chance to know his son.”

Their seemingly genuine kindness touched her. “All I knew of Magnus was that he had fathered Keigan and left.” After a deep breath and a silent prayer for composure, she continued, “But my sister’s dying wish was for the lad to know his father, and after a time, I discovered why she had trusted him and loved him as a friend.”

“Magnus is a good man,” Catriona said as they ascended a winding tower staircase. “He has lived a lonely life,” she continued as they climbed. “It has broken my heart to see the loneliness in his eyes when he thought no one saw.”

“Except for that annoying bird, he has had no one,” Gretna added from beside her, then brightened with a wicked grin.