Page 74 of The Highlander's Temporary Bride
“But—”
“Reuben made a choice,” another voice interjected.
Emma gasped as Brenda came forward. The older woman was pale, and her eyes were red-rimmed, but they seemed sharper and clearer than ever.
“I had hoped and hoped he wouldnae, but long ago…” She touched the scar on her face. “Long ago, I lost him. I saved one son, but I couldnae save the other—their faither made sure of that.”
“Oh, Lady Ronson. I?—”
“Listen to me child,” Brenda said and came forward. “He was a lost cause. Conspirin’ with criminals, plottin’ with terrible men, sellin’ secrets to Clan Grierson, tryin’ to kill ye—kill the Laird. All so that he could have power. All so that he could use his people for his own twisted ends, with complete disregard for their lives.” A sigh escaped her lips. “They were the traitors, the disgrace to the Ronson name.”
Silence fell over them, and Emma heard the rain pelting the window, the rumble of the wind and thunder.
“I just…” She stared at her hands. “I am still sorry.”
“I am not,” Grant said, and she looked up as he stood up. He caught her hand and kissed it. “I willnae apologize that I saved ye.”
Emma’s heart throbbed, and she looked to Brenda, who smiled softly.
“Rest, child. All will be well.” Brenda pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I ken it doesnae seem like it, but ye have rendered a great service to Banrose today. To me son. And I willnae ever forget that.”
“Drink this, Emma,” Kyla spoke up, coming forward. “It will help ye sleep. Ye’ve experienced a terrible shock, and as Lady Ronson said, ye need to rest.”
Nodding, and feeling like a weak fool, Emma drank the hot, bitter concoction and then fell back against the pillows.
This time, she sank into a golden sort of haze, and the last thing she saw was Grant looking back at her from where he stood at the window, his green eyes soft with yearning.
Or perhaps I’m already dreaming.
The next day, Emma awoke to the sound of her door closing and saw Brenda approaching the bed. The woman’s green eyesbrimmed with both relief and worry, which Emma did not feel that she rightly deserved.
“Here,” Brenda said as Emma sat up, and handed her a cup of water.
Emma gratefully drank from it and handed it back, her stomach twisting with horror and guilt.
I cannot believe her kindness, her strength…
“Ye must nae blame yerself,” Brenda urged.
How, when it is all my fault?
“Here, let’s get ye bathed and dressed.”
Emma thought she should protest, but she was too weak, too cowardly to say otherwise. All her energy and heart seemed drowned in the loch, lost when Reuben had betrayed them—because of her. And she barely paid any attention as Brenda, along with the maids, bathed her and dressed her.
Not until they entered the small chamber downstairs where Emma had first dined with Grant, where he now waited, a smile spread across his face.
And she fell down on her knees, gasping out a sob.
“Oh, child,” Brenda said in alarm, her hands pressing into Emma’s upper back. “I wondered… Grant, help her up.”
“No!” Emma cried and pressed her hands against the hard stone. “No more of this. I do not deserve such kindness after what I have done to your family.” Hot tears streamed down her face as she looked up at Grant, who slowly knelt in front of her. “Do not kneel,please.”
Not again.
“This—everything has gone terribly wrong since I arrived, since you saw me in those woods, Grant,” Emma choked out. “We both know it. And I must beg for your forgiveness, though I do not deserve it.”
“Emma, come now,” Grant said softly. “Ye are overwrought, and no one blames ye.”
