“Verra good,” was all she could reply through the misgivings churning within her. Her sweet nephew was lost to her for certain. Even though Magnus had offered her a home at Tor Ruadh as well, how could she accept such charity? For that matter, had he truly meant it? Nay, she wouldn’t even consider such. Hanging on to Keigan like a poor relation begging for food and shelter would be nothing but an embarrassment to the child. Besides, Magnus probably had a woman at the keep ready to care for his son. As well as himself, she silently added.
With a stern rolling of her shoulders, she cast aside the self-pity. She would do what she must and do it with pride. What was done couldn’t be undone. Tossing aside the crude broom, she hurried to start a fire and search out rocks that would help with propping the skewered fish and be flat enough to hold her poor battered pans.
A stick snapped behind her, and she whirled about. Keigan stood there, a worried look on his face.
“What’s wrong with my lad?” Brenna rushed to him, chucking a finger under his chin as she searched him for injury. “Are ye hurt? Did ye eat something ye couldna tell what it was? I told ye never to test things without checking with me first.” God help them both if he had eaten a dangerous plant. One that she might not be able to identify or counteract with the herbs she had packed. “Keigan, what is it?”
“My head’s a weighing heavy on my heart, Auntie.”
Rarely was Keigan without a smile unless he had done something he shouldn’t. Brenna stepped back, folded her arms, and waited. Silence paired with a stern look usually worked best at convincing the lad to confess all.
“I havena done a thing wrong,” he said as though reading her mind.
“Then what vexes ye?” Softening her motherly glare, she gave him an encouraging smile. “Ye ken well enough ye can tell me anything, my wee one. Now, what is it that’s troubling ye so?”
He chewed on his lip for a long while, peering up at her with those pale blue eyes that so resembled his mother’s. After puffing up with a deep breath, then blowing it out, he spoke. “I like Magnus.”
Her heart shattered, knowing what he was trying to tell her but couldn’t find the courage to say. Be that as it may, the child needed to learn to speak his mind, even when it might not be easy to do so. She forced herself to act as though his announcement was perfectly understandable. “Magnus has been verra kind. In fact, I’m certain he saved us by carrying us away from those villagers so quickly.”
The boy nervously shifted in place, avoiding her gaze and narrowing his eyes as though sighting in a target just past her shoulder. “Aye, but that’s no’ exactly what I meant.”
“Then perhaps ye should say what ye mean,” she prodded. “A man knows how to speak his mind clearly.” She cleared her throat to cover the trembling in her tone. “Mercy! Stirred up a storm of dust making camp.” With the threat of tears back under control, she gave him another nod. “Well, what is it, lad? Tell me now.”
“I think I want him to be my da,” he said so softly she almost failed to hear him. “I think he needs me for a son.”
Brenna forced a smile. “Of that, I have no doubt. Any man would be blessed to have ye as a son.”
“But what about ye?” He frowned and dug the toe of his boot into the soft ground. “If I take Magnus as my da, will I lose ye? I know ye have never liked him.”
She crouched down and pulled him into a fierce hug. “Ye will never lose my love, no matter yer choice. Remember that always, my fine warrior—always, ye ken?”
He hugged her tight, digging his chin into the crook of her neck like he used to do as a wee bairn. “Aye, but since ye dinna like him, I know ye willna wish to come and live with us at his clan’s keep. He said ye could though, ye remember?”
“I remember. But ye could always visit me wherever I decide to make my home,” she countered with a reassuring pat on his back. “Besides, I doubt he really meant the offer of a home to me. Folk often say things they dinna mean when they’re trying to win ye over.”
“I damn well did mean it,” Magnus declared as he stepped into the clearing. “If I hadna meant it, I would never have said it.”
His interruption startled her, nearly knocking her back on her heels. She unwound Keigan’s arms from around her neck and slowly stood, assuming a self-righteous air. “Eavesdropping is a verra rude habit.”
“It also appears to be a verra necessary one.” Magnus strode forward, his look thunderous. “I realize I have erred in many a way when it comes to Keigan, yerself, and yer sister, but I have never lied to any of ye, and I never will. I swore ye would always have a home at Tor Ruadh and the protection of Clan MacCoinnich, and I meant it.”
Keigan took her hand, his proud grin betraying that perhaps he’d had this confrontation planned all along. “Ye see? We would all be together, and then my heart wouldna be so heavy with having to choose between the two of ye.”
If the wee beastie had set this snare on purpose, she would tan his backside for him. “Keigan Ruari Maxwell—”
“—de Gray,” Magnus added.
“What?”
“Keigan Ruari Maxwell de Gray,” he said louder, saying the words slowly so she wouldn’t fail to understand them. “That is my son’s name.”
“So, it’s come to that, has it?” She shot him an angry glare, then turned her disapproval on Keigan. “Ye sided with him? Against me? Thought to trick me into doing what ye wished? Is that how ye treat someone ye love?”
“Keigan—” Magnus strode forward and pushed his way between them. His glare clashed steel with hers as he spoke with the lad. “Evander snared a pair of ptarmigans to go with the fish. Ye might help him clean them whilst yer auntie and I speak privately.”
Keigan turned and ran as though the devil himself nipped at his heels. The boy was not a fool.
“Dinna ever speak to my son that way again.” Magnus’s voice was low, but his intent raged loud and fierce. “The lad’s fear of losing ye is real. Have all yer trials hardened ye to his needs?”
“Keigan needs to know the meaning of loyalty to those ye love.” The man’s scolding grated like the cut of a rusty knife. Perhaps, she shouldn’t have spoken so harshly to Keigan, but the wee one should have just been honest with her, not set up some foolish ruse to get what he wanted. “I wouldna have said what I did if he’d had the grace and courage to talk with me honestly—as he shouldha.”
“He’s a bairn,” Magnus defended. “Ye’re the only mother he’s ever known. Not only does he love ye, but he fears losing ye and yer approval.”
“Grand words from a man who just hours ago claimed to know nothing of parenting!”
“He wishes to be my son. Wants to come to Tor Ruadh and see how life with a family can be.” With the force of a charging beast, he backed her up a step. “But he canna bear the thought of a day without ye, and as far as I am concerned, he doesna have to.” He shoved his face close to hers. “Why, in the name of all that’s holy, would ye refuse to come with us to the keep?”
“Because I’d be a burden,” she shot back. “All would pity him for being tethered to an impoverished woman of no name, and I am sure they would assume no moral standards. They would gossip about how I cared for the both of us for as long as I did without a man at my side.” She fisted both hands, tempted to strike him. “I willna put Keigan through that.”
“Ye are a healer,” Magnus retorted. “And it’s also none of their damned affair how ye kept him fed.”
“So, ye want yer son associated with a woman yer clan might brand as a whore, or maybe even a witch?”
Before she realized what he meant to do, he grabbed hold of her shoulders. Holding her tight, he spoke through clenched teeth. “My mother was executed for being a witch.” He paused, the muscles in his square jaw rippling. “Gretna Cameron, Evander’s mother, came close to being burnt at the stake for the same reason. Alexander has ordained that if any in Clan MacCoinnich accuses another of such, they damned sure better be able to prove it. True, factual evidence
. Not the charades of a well-paid witch pricker.” Nostrils flaring, his jaw flexed again. “And I willna grace yer other insult with a response. Folk always gossip. Their foolishness isna worth yer time or worry.”
She could tell he wanted to shake her hard enough to snap her neck but held himself in check. Devil take him. The fool man couldn’t even be accused of being abusive. Where in heaven’s name had her sister found this oddity when it came to men? Managing to yank free of his hold, she shoved away and put an arm’s length of space between them.
His nearness bothered her. Not because she couldn’t stand him, but because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t despise him either. No wonder Keigan already loved the irritating beast. Kindred souls attracted each other like bees to heather. She waved him away as though he were a midge. “Ye should be proud of yerself. Won him outright, ye have, and all will be just as ye wished. Dinna fash yerself, he will be fine with visiting me now and then. Ye’ll see. He’ll adjust. Bairns always do.”
“I will see nothing.” He closed the distance between them again and took hold of her. Locking his fingers in her hair, he tipped her face up to his and tightened his other arm around her waist. “I willna take him from ye, nor will I leave ye alone and unprotected. It wouldna be right, and I willna burden my conscience with such a deplorable act.”
By heavens, if he was determined to churn her emotions into a storm, she would do the same to him. A futile shove to push herself free again only made his embrace tighten. “What am I to ye other than an annoyance?” she goaded, doing her best to vex him even more so he might release her.
“Ye speak the truth about that,” he agreed in a low, dangerous tone that sent a breathtaking tingle through her, a tingle no man had ever triggered before. “Ye’re a damned annoyance for certain.” Teeth bared, he held fast for a moment longer, then his grip flexed in her hair. “But ye are the woman my son needs and…” His words trailed off as the space between them disappeared.
“And what?” she dared, digging her fingernails into the iron of his muscular arms as she squirmed to be freed.
“And ye are the woman I need, too, damn ye.” Another growl escaped him, then he kissed her with such an intensity it shook her.
The action frightened her to the core. Not because she feared him. Nay, far from it. The only thing she feared was that he would let her go—and that feeling frightened her even more. Tossing both caution and fear to the wind, she clutched him tighter. Their delicious war raged, fire against inescapable fire. She reeled with its heat.
After an entirely improper amount of time, her good sense finally surfaced and freed her of his spell. For that’s surely what it had to have been. Some sort of powerful witchery. Had to be. She had gotten her fill of men while working at Wickhaven. The stench of them. Their greedy pawing while she served them food and drink. All the men she had ever known, including her father, had treated their dogs better than they treated their women. She shoved at Magnus again, and this time he released her. Edging backward, one slow step at a time, she battled herself just as fiercely as she was prepared to battle him. Her ridiculous wants and needs would only lead to folly. “How dare ye! I will thank ye to never take such liberties again. Ye have no right.”
“Ye will be coming to Tor Ruadh,” he said softly, but somehow the quiet edict rumbled loud as thunder.
“Are ye asking or telling?”
He stared at her so long, she thought she would lose control and throw herself back into his arms, revealing all the loneliness and yearning to be cared for that he had uncovered within her.
“I asked ye before,” he said. “Now, I’m telling ye.”
“What if I dinna wish it?” she provoked. “What if I refuse?”
“Dinna challenge me on something ye have no hope of winning, lass.” He took a step toward her. “Because I grant ye, I willna hesitate to accept yer challenge and win it for us both.”
The suggestive innuendo in his tone made her shudder, but his self-satisfied smile stoked her anger. “I will go to Tor Ruadh—but for Keigan’s sake. Not because ye ordered it. My sweet boy’s happiness is all that matters.”
Magnus had the grace to jerk a nodding approval. “Good. I am glad ye chose to come willingly.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Because I dare say…” The man’s infuriating look turned into an even more irritating smirk. “Keigan wouldha been a damned sight embarrassed when we arrived at the keep with ye tied and thrown over the arse of my horse.”
Then he turned and disappeared into the woods before she could wrestle her rage under control enough to speak.
“Damn ye to Hell!” she shouted after him.
His deep laughter echoed back to her through the trees, making her wish she had slapped him when she had the chance.
Chapter Six
Folding the last of his fried bread, Magnus sopped the drippings off the dented pewter plate Brenna had refused to leave behind. He glanced over at her as he shoved the food in his mouth. She knelt on the other side of the fire, scraping the last of their bountiful dinner into Evander’s bowl. He couldn’t fathom what the woman might be thinking. She kept her expression as blank as a fresh sheet of parchment. Not a word had passed between them since their explosive encounter.
What the devil had come over him? He ran his thumb along the dent in the plate, rubbing it as he stared at her. What the devil hadn’t come over him? Already a beguiling temptation, she had become impossible to resist as she raged and threatened not to come with him and Keigan. Never had he reacted toward a lass in such a way before. A wry snort escaped him. Never had he been so inclined. But what stirred him even more, was the way this gloriously furious woman had responded to him. Fire and lightning straight from the heavens had filled that kiss.
He rose from his seat on a fallen tree and walked over to her. She acted as though he wasn’t there, keeping her attention locked on her useless frittering of a stick through the softly glowing coals. Fine. He would leave her be for now. Without a word, he picked up the pile of soiled dishes and the iron skillet she seemed to cherish more than gold.
She started as though waking from a dream. “What are ye doing?”
“The lads hunted and fished. Ye cleared the camp and cooked. I intend to carry these to the stream and wash them. I do my part, aye?” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked away.
“Mind that skillet’s handle,” she called after him. “There’s a crack on the underside that’ll cut ye quick as a blade.”
Keigan appeared at his side. “That’s how she stole it out of the bin,” he said in a loud whisper after a quick glance back toward the camp. “She’s ’shamed about how she got most of our things before folk started paying for her healing. But I think she did good. Like treasure hunting for whatever we needed!”
“I think she did damned fine, m’lad.” They walked alongside the gurgling stream until they reached where the embankment leveled out and opened into a shallow with small enough pebbles for scrubbing. Magnus submerged the dishes, leaving them to soak as he washed them one by one.
“Dinna be angry with her,” Keigan blurted after a lengthy silence. “She loves me fierce, ye ken?”
“I am nay angry with her, son.” He paused in his rubbing of sandy grit against the inside of the pan. “I admire yer auntie, but I also wish she would allow me to make her life easier. It is my hope she’ll see that for herself once we reach Tor Ruadh.”
“Auntie’s the way she is because folks havena been all that kind to her.” Crouched at his side, the youngster peered up at him with the wisdom of an old soul flickering in his eyes. “She cries a lot at night when she thinks I canna hear her ’cause I’m ’posed to be asleep.”
“Why do ye think she cries?” Magnus set the skillet aside and reached for a dish. He had to keep the boy talking. The young one’s insights about Brenna could be more than a little helpful.
Keigan picked up a plate and half-heartedly swished it in t
he burn. “I reckon sometimes is ’cause she misses Mama.” He filled the dish to the rim, then barely tipped it, and watched the water trickle out. “Before we left Granny Wick’s place, she would always cry after mean old Mr. Wicklow hit her and made her go to the rooms I wasna allowed in. But I think that was ’cause she was angry at him, not ’cause he hurt her.” After a thoughtful pause, he nodded. “Aye, most definitely ’cause of her ire. If ye ever see her crying when her temper’s on the loose, ye best lie low. ’Cause her crying makes her rage even harder.”
“I shall bear that in mind.” Magnus hoped the boy kept talking. This information was golden.
Scooping up a handful of rocks, the lad clunked them into the dish and swirled them all around. “But now I think she cries mostly cause her heart’s awful lonesome.” The rattling pebbles inside the metal plate stilled as he looked up and met Magnus’s gaze. “She doesna have a soul in this world that loves her ’cept me. Told me so herself.” Dumping the rocks and wiping the dish on his shirt, he stood and added it to the stack of clean ones. He scooped up some larger stones, took aim, and threw them one by one across the water. “Do ye have a lot a folk who love ye?” he asked as he sent another pebble skittering along the stream’s rippling surface.
With 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?”
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