Page 82 of A Rogue in Firelight
“Ronan!” She ran to him, arms out. He extended an arm to welcome her into an embrace, holding the bundled lamb close in the other arm.
“Mairi!” He kissed her cheek.
Ellison blinked, feeling the sudden dip of disappointment and bewilderment.
“I did not expect to see you! Donal said you might not have time to visit.” Resting a hand on Ronan’s chest, she turned to her son, who shrugged shyly. “Wicked, the pair of you, for not telling me you were coming today.”
“Sorry, Mother. We did not plan it, but Glenbrae said we must find you when we were down by the Lealtie Burn. The lamb is wounded, you see.”
“Oh, poor dear!” Mairi peeked into the blanket as Ronan and Donal explained what had happened. “Of course I will take care of her, you need not even ask.”
Watching them, seeing the affection there, Ellison shrank a little, feeling a bit diminished. They were close. They were family. She was glad for Ronan’s sake, yet what she sensed between him and Mairi sobered the tiny hope she had been nurturing.
“Will you be here long?” Mairi asked Ronan. “We knew you were—in Edinburgh. But my heart leaps to see you. Now you are home, will you stay?”
Home,Ellison thought. He was home. She was glad for him. Though he had kissed her passionately, truly, the other evening, and though she felt closer to him, he had not mentioned family nearby. He had so many secrets, she thought, and might never let her into his circle. She bit her lip softly.
“I must return to the city soon. We will talk later. Let me introduce my friends, Miss Ellison Graham and Miss Sorcha Beaton.”
Friend. Ellison smiled, stepping forward to greet Mairi. “It is good to meet you, Mrs. Brodie.”
“Welcome to Invermorie.” Mairi took the girls’ hands. “Do call me Mairi.”
“Ellison,” she responded. “And Sorcha.”
“Miss Graham is the daughter of the deputy lord provost,” Sir Ludovic said proudly. “And Miss Beaton is related to the Bethunes of Fife. We are privileged in our guests today.”
“It is an honor. But your clothes are damp! We must let you get dry and rest a little. Will you have tea? Donal,” she directed, “carry the lamb into my workroom and I will be right there.” She turned back. “Miss Graham, Miss Beaton, come sit by the hearth, and we shall fetch blankets and tea. Glenbrae, you too.”
As Donal left the room with the lamb, Mairi took a few moments to make sure they were cozy by the hearth. She built it up with kindling on top of the peat bricks to coax warmth more quickly, and handed blankets around despite the summer day. Ellison sighed in the comfort, feeling her things begin to dry even as she wore them.
Watching Mairi, she felt surprised to learn that the beautiful young woman was old enough to be Donal’s mother, and was, like herself, a widow. Mairi was special to Ronan—that was clear—and Ellison liked her immediately. Yet she could not shake a twinge of jealousy even as she wanted to feel grateful.
*
The great hallwas just as shabby and antique as he remembered, with heavy leather-seated chairs, stiff old red sofa, worn rugs scattered on planked floors, whitewash peeling in places on stone walls. He loved every drafty, crumbling, threadbare bit of it.
Smiling, Ronan looked around at his childhood home while Sir Ludo chatted with Ellison and Sorcha. Ever congenial, Ludo urged them to take more tea, have a scone, an oatcake, Mairi’s rowanberry jam, and tell him all they knew about their family histories. Leaning back, Ronan was content to listen and savor the place and the company. It felt so good to be back.
He had grown up at Invermorie, the castle seat of Glenbrae, had spent countless hours in this room and everywhere in the castle and on the grounds. Every hill and tree and rocky incline were dear to him.
But he had left Invermorie when he had seen his intended, the beautiful young widow Mairi Brodie, kissing his younger brother; he had walked out when he had seen how fervently she returned Will’s embrace, realized how desperately they whispered and clung together. Packing his things, he had sent a message to his cousins, the MacGregor chief and his son, that he would join Evan in the military. Then he informed his father of his decision to leave his apprenticeship in the law for a while to seek travel and adventure. He had not really wanted that. He had wanted the law, and a quiet Highland life with Mairi and her wee son, Donal, from her first brief marriage.
He had changed in the time he had been away. Years in the Highland Black Watch and military duties eventually took him from the Continent to India. He changed regiments to follow his cousin, Sir Evan MacGregor, an officer sent to India.
That led to a day he wished he could erase from memory: a savage attack, Sir Evan’s severe wounding and rescue as Ronan and others barely managed to escape alive. Returning to Scotland months later to take Evan home, he resumed the practice of law and found himself laird of Glenbrae after his father’s death.
All that time, he did his best to avoid his brother and his sister-in-law. Yet he was fond of Mairi’s Donal. Had he married her, Ronan would have adopted the boy as his own. William did so instead, a good husband and father who made Ronan an uncle.
But then Will died on a rocky slope beside their cousin John MacGregor of Darrach, and Ronan had done what he could for Will’s widow and son. He had brought them, along with Mairi’s aging father, into his home at Invermorie. Then he moved into the cottage at the distillery—and took a path he had never planned—distiller and lawyer, aye, but smuggler too.
He closed off his heart from what was so dear to him, making sure they were fine and keeping his distance, though he was determined to provide whatever was needed.
His arrest then interrupted that obligation. Now he was back.
He looked up as Donal returned to the hall. “The fish are wrapped and cool in a bucket of water, but we must get them to Strathniven,” Donal said. “Mrs. Barrow expects to cook fish for supper. We should go soon.”
“Best go back with Miss Beaton and Miss Graham. Leave some fish here for their supper too. I will borrow a horse from the stable and follow later.”
