by Cathy MacRae
“Nothing,” she replied in a breathless whisper. “I fear nothing with ye.”
He gently brushed his lips against her cheek, the soft warmth teasing him mercilessly. He lingered at the corner of her mouth, urging her to meet his kiss. A tiny gasp slipped from Riona’s throat. The simple buss was destined from the start to be something much more, and Riona’s hands rose to his chest, bracing against him.
Ranald struggled to remember the people around them. Despite his teasing words, he knew things could quickly get out of hand if he let his control slide the least bit.
He grasped her hands, holding them between their bodies, keeping them from touching more than they already had. The flavor of wine lingered on her lips, and Ranald wondered how the mere taste of her could leave his head reeling as though he’d drunk the entire flask.
A blaring, clarion blast of a horn, muted by the closed door of the keep, rang out. A dropped piece of crockery crashed on the rush-strewn floor in the suddenly hushed room. Tearing himself away from Riona in a drench of cold reality, his head came up, alert. Around him the people in the hall were silent, dreadfully, fearfully so.
As one they faced the doors of the great hall.
* * *
Ranald was gone so quickly from her side, Riona felt the wind of his movement swirl her gown against her legs. Passion’s fog cleared with a rush of panic, and she spun, searching for Gilda. The tense knot in her stomach relaxed slightly to see the lass huddled against Tavia’s skirts. The urgency to hold her daughter warred with the need to know the reason for the single warning note of the horn. Ignoring Tavia’s hissed command, Gilda tore herself from the old woman’s grasp and darted across the room, flinging herself into Riona’s arms, taking her indecision from her.
Scooping Gilda into her arms, Riona turned her attention to the great double doors of the hall, closed and latched firmly behind Ranald and his men. Soldiers stood on either side of the doorway, their attention fixed through the arrow slits beside the doors on the unfolding scene in the bailey.
Her stomach churned and she tasted bitter fear in the back of her throat. A silent scream shrieked through her head and her arms shook.
“Ma.” Gilda whimpered as Riona clutched her tighter.
“Sorry, mo chroi.” Riona pressed a kiss against the side of her head. Gathering her courage, she walked to the door, elbowing her way past the outer ranks of the soldiers huddled at the arrow slits.
“What is it, Ennis?”
The old man hesitated before dragging his gaze from the narrow window. “Riders approaching, milady.”
“Why has no further alarm gone out?”
Ennis shrugged. “’Twould seem they arenae openly aggressive. Mayhap, since the laird is out there . . ..”
Riona shook her head. “Nae. The men would alert the villagers if there was danger, whether the laird was there or not.”
He nodded reluctant agreement. “Aye. They would.”
With a sigh of frustration, Riona retraced her steps through the crowd. A shout stopped her. The hall was instantly a teeming cauldron of activity as the soldiers put their shoulders to the massive bar securing the doors. Though trying to convince herself there was no danger, her heart pounded and her pulse raced.
The doors, released from their restraints, swung open, and pale, late afternoon sunlight spilled inside. Riona’s gaze flew to the Macrory soldiers, their backs to her as they stared at the massive double gates to the castle, and the single rider standing beside his sweat-foamed horse.
* * *
Ranald rushed from the room, anger mixed with a peculiar sense of anticipation. A warning from the guard meant someone advanced, and Ranald couldn’t shake the gut feeling something was wrong. When would it end? He’d been at Scaurness barely a sennight, laird less than that, and both the castle and Riona were in constant contention.
An oath burst from his lips. He was neither born to nor trained for this. His brother Eaden was the one groomed to be laird. Raised to the rank of earl by the king, and once the king’s own herald, Eaden was more than qualified to face the unending challenges of lairdship.
Ranald barked a command at Hamish, newly raised to Manus’s vacated position as captain of the guard. “Close and bar the doors of the hall. Let none in without my permission.”
He gave Finlay a hard look. “Ye are in charge should anything happen to me.”
Finlay’s nod was curt and he waved to the boy, Brian, given the job of caring for their weapons. “Fetch shields from the armory.”
“Yer weapons?”
Finlay and Ranald both sent Brian a withering stare. Ranald strode to the stone stair leading to the parapet, his sword strapped at his belt, daggers secure at his waist, a knife in his boot.
Shaking his head at the boy for his youthful ignorance, Finlay followed. “Be quick, lad!” he tossed over his shoulder as Brian scurried to do as bid.
Reaching the parapet, Ranald immediately discovered the reason the guard had not repeated the warning. The evening breeze lifted the banners before the impressive procession of soldiers on horseback riding toward Scaurness Castle. The golden standard with red rampant lion was unmistakably that of King Robert II of Scotland.
Slightly behind it, the smaller blue pennant and stag could only mean one thing. The Earl of Craigievar, Laird Scott, once the king’s herald, was again in the king’s employ.
The riders drew closer. Ranald counted thirty mounted soldiers and half again that many men on foot. Eaden, Earl of Craigievar, rode at their head.
The procession reined to a halt several yards from the castle gate. A single rider was dispatched and Ranald gave a nod to the guard to open the main gate and portcullis to admit the rider. He descended the stair, Finlay on his heels. The soldier dismounted and waited patiently beside his horse.
“I am Laird Scott. What is yer business at Scaurness?”
“The Earl of Craigievar requests permission to enter, Laird.”
Protocol met, Ranald gave a stiff nod, examining all the possible reasons for his brother’s visit. The gates swung open wide. A welcoming smile on his lips, he watched his brother and his men ride into the bailey.
Eaden swung down from his horse and handed his reins to a stable boy. “Surprised to see me?”
“Ye could say that.” Ranald nodded to the king’s standard. “I thought ye resigned.”
Eaden shrugged. “After ye left, I knew there was a chance ye would remain here. When King Robert received word Laird Macrory had died, he informed me ye were now laird and supposed to marry the laird’s daughter within the week.” He looked around the bailey, his gaze coming back to rest on Ranald. “Who’d have thought ye’d marry Kinnon’s little sister?”
The corner of Ranald’s mouth twitched into a grin he couldn’t quite contain. “Eaden, ye have no idea what goes on at Scaurness.” He closed the distance between them and clapped his brother’s shoulder. Eaden returned the gesture, and Ranald hid the grimace at the force of the blow by turning to Finlay.
“See to the horses then send the men inside for food and drink.” He motioned Eaden to enter the castle. “Come with me. There are people inside I want ye to meet.”
Eaden matched Ranald’s stride across the bailey. “How are things here?”
“More important, how is Mary? When is the bairn due?”
The smile lighting Eaden’s face proved his brother was still very much in love with his wife and looking forward to becoming a father soon. “She is glowing. She sends ye her love and regrets she couldnae come with me. I wouldnae have made the trip even to appease King Robert, had it been closer to her time. She assures me the bairn willnae arrive for another eight weeks or so.”
“Ye are a lucky man. Too bad ye took this long to realize it.” Ranald couldn’t resist the barb, recalling the rocky start to his brother’s marriage. He grinned broadly and swept a hand forward, motioning Eaden to enter the hall.
“Welcome to Scaurness Castle.”
* * *
At a curt command from Tavia, servants hurried to light candles in their sconces, their actions hindered as they continually slowed to gaze anxiously at the doorway. Riona didn’t have the heart to correct them. She was unable to focus on anything but the action outside.
A large group of men spilled into the bailey, some blocking others so she could not get an accurate count. Her arms ached from Gilda’s weight, but she ignored the strain, still not confident the soldiers meant no harm.
Ranald spoke with the man who could be none other than their leader. They were too far away for her to make out his features, but Ranald’s relaxed stance reassured her even before the two men embraced with a clout to the shoulder.
Riona gasped and leaned forward, trying to get a better look. The stranger was almost the same height as Ranald, and had the same dark hair and general build, though Ranald was leaner. Eaden?
The pair strode across the bailey and entered the hall. Ranald’s voice echoed across the silent room.
“Welcome to Scaurness Castle.”
Riona’s heartbeat turned thready with relief. A deep breath dispelled her worry and she smiled broadly at the man who looked unerringly to her, a grin of recognition on his face.
“Lady Caitriona, ye havenae changed at all.”
Riona laughed and the rest of her panic faded away. She dropped a quick curtsy, balancing Gilda on one hip. “Laird Scott,” she chastised, “ye dinnae have to be so formal with me. I still remember the puddies in my bed that croaked and leapt at me when I pulled back my covers one night.”
Eaden roared with laughter. “Will ye use my given name, and forgive a man for his boyhood sins?”
Riona took relieved note of at Eaden’s easy manner. “Aye. Ye are forgiven. Though there are a host of other pranks I could lay at yer feet as well.”
“Och. The three of us werenae always nice to ye.”
Riona shrugged, shifting Gilda on her hip. The lass buried her face deeper in Riona’s shoulder, still unnerved by the fear which permeated the hall only moments before.
“And who is this wee lass, eh?” Eaden stretched out a hand and tickled a tiny bare toe. Gilda snatched her foot away and peeked at Eaden, refusing to budge an inch from the safety of Riona’s arms.
Eaden’s eyes flew open wide, his face a study of disbelief. “Good Lord!” he exclaimed, dragging his gaze from Gilda to Riona. “She looks exactly like ye.”
Riona felt heat rise in her cheeks. “This is Gilda, my daughter.” She lifted a hand to stroke the lass’s red-gold hair. “Gilda, say hello to Laird Scott.”
Gilda ducked her head again, mute.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “The arrival of so many soldiers has her suddenly shy. She will warm to ye.”
Ranald stepped forward. “Aye. And then she’ll have ye carrying her cubbie to the beach to collect sea shells.”
Riona saw him exchange looks with his brother. “I’ll have food sent to the laird’s chamber and ye may have privacy.”
Patting Gilda’s head, Ranald dropped a kiss on Riona’s cheek. Grateful for the show of support, Riona smiled and sent a servant for food.
Eaden presented Riona with a short bow. “My lady, I will see ye in the morn. My goal is to keep yon lad too busy to bother ye tomorrow while ye finish preparations for the wedding.”
“And how do ye propose to do that?” Riona asked with a smile.
“I think I’ll take him fishing.”
Chapter Sixteen
The door closed behind the serving girl. Eaden filled a plate with cold meats and bread from a platter on the desk, and Ranald poured them both a glass of wine. He’d save the whisky for later. He sank into his chair, unsure which of the problems plaguing Scaurness he wanted to broach with his brother.
Eaden speared a chunk of meat on the tip of his knife. “Well?” he said, popping the bite into his mouth.
“D’ye want a list of what is most pressing, or d’ye have a particular question ye’d like answered first?”
Eaden chewed thoughtfully before he swallowed. “That bad? Tell me what has happened since ye arrived and I’ll ask questions as they arise.”
“Ye know I dinnae exactly jump at the chance to come here. I was fully prepared to secure the castle and land for the king, but hoped there’d be no need to see the rest of his orders through. Ye know Riona and I dinnae get along so well as weans.”
Eaden nodded, a look of sympathy on his face. “I remember we called her a wee toughie. As did Kinnon. Have ye heard from him?”
Ranald shook his head. “Nae. The last word anyone has is he is missing and presumed dead. We havenae heard otherwise.” He shifted in his chair, angling for a more comfortable position. “We arrived outside Scaurness about a sennight ago. ’Twas verra late and I was in nae hurry to meet with Riona and her da. My plan was to approach the next morning, but the castle came under attack and we rode in. The enemy was routed, but no one claimed to know who they were. None were captured alive. Someone jammed a dagger in the postern gate to hold it open. I set the Macrory captain, Manus, to finding out who.”
“And did he?”
Ranald nodded slowly. “He claims he did.”
“Where is he now?”
“The accused? Dead. Manus? Under guard in the barracks.”
“Why?”
“For killing the man without request or permission from me.”
Eaden halted the next morsel to his lips. “Ye’ve a bit to straighten out.”
Ranald rose from his seat and rounded the corner of his desk, stopping to perch a hip on the edge. “I have the Macrory captain under guard, an unknown man with his throat slit being readied for burial. The Macraig laird claims he was betrothed to Riona, and wants recompense. Riona has a child I dinnae know about until recently, and it took a storm and a surprise visit from the MacEwen laird to force her to tell me who’d fathered the lass.”
Eaden choked on a piece of bread. “What?”
“She was raped five years ago.”
“By whom?” Eaden’s voice was a rumbling, deep boom, echoing the thud of Ranald’s heart as he recounted the offense against Riona.
“Morgan MacEwen.”
* * *
Gilda clung to Riona’s skirts, petulant and out of sorts. Neither she nor Riona had slept well the night before, and with the work still to do, Riona was fast approaching her limits, even at this early hour.
“Mo chroi, run and play with yer doll for a bit, please?” Riona attempted to disengage Gilda’s fingers from her gown, but Gilda flung herself against Riona’s legs and held tight.
“Would ye like a rag to help clean with?” Riona asked.
Gilda shook her head violently.
“Ye are hindering me, lass, and I willnae tolerate it. If ’tis a nap ye need, hie upstairs and I’ll come check on ye in a bit.”
In response, Gilda released Riona’s legs and collapsed to the floor, silent tears streaming down her face. Concerned, Riona knelt beside her, cupping the lass’s face in her hand, feeling the heat and texture of her skin with a mother’s gentle touch.
“What is it, mo chroi? D’ye not feel well?”
“I can take her outside, if ye’d like.”
Startled by the boyish voice, Riona glanced up. Brian, Ranald’s ghille, shrugged. “The laird is off with his brother and I dinnae have anything else to do.” He squatted, eye level with Gilda. “’Sides, I know where the ginger cat hid her kittens.”
Gilda swallowed and stared at Brian, her tears drying to a slow roll. She sniffed once and wiped her face with the back of a hand. “D’ye really?”
“Aye. But ye’d have to promise to come quietly. I dinnae want to scare her off. She might leave a kitten behind if she moves them again.”
Gilda shot Riona an appealing look. “Can I go?”
Riona considered the request. Brian was often a handful, but seemed to have grown up noticeably in the week since Ranald had taken him as ghille.
“Aye. But have her back by dinner. She wi
ll be twice as cranky if she misses her meal.”
Brian nodded. “I will.” Gilda smiled and accepted his help to rise. “Come on, then. Ye must promise ye willnae tell any of the others where the ginger cat’s kittens are. Just ye and me, aye?”
Riona marveled at the magical transformation of her daughter from a clingy, stormy-eyed wean to an obliging, sweet-tempered lass with the mention of kittens to play with.
Relieved, she rose to her feet and turned her attention back to the tasks at hand.
* * *
The horses picked their way down the hillside path, Senga and Pol leashed to the saddle to keep them from straying. Ranald’s gaze never left the horizon, searching constantly for signs of danger. The clank of harnesses rang loud in the misty air, the threat of rain only a few hours away.
“I still dinnae understand how she kept his name a secret all these years,” Eaden said.
“I told ye. She feared retribution on both sides and dinnae want blood on her hands. She also feared he’d try to take the bairn if he knew ’twas his.”
“‘Tis not too late to avenge this.”
Ranald sighed. “Eaden, I promised her I wouldnae sit justice until after the wedding. We’ll discuss this afterward, as well.”
“Nae. I willnae stay around after the wedding. The king tasked me to see his order fulfilled and to be sure ye had things under control. I’ve a wife and bairn of my own to see to.”
Ranald nudged his horse close to Eaden. “I would ask ye a boon, if ye can grant it.”
Eaden lifted an eyebrow. “Name it.”
“I would like to take Riona away after the wedding, two or three days. Understand, she has some fears to overcome, and I dinnae want the distraction of the castle and Gilda on our wedding night.”
“What can I do?”
“The seer’s cottage on the beach is secluded and easily protected. Tavia is willing to let me borrow it, though I asked she not mention it to Riona. She sent kitchen lasses to clean and freshen things a bit. But Riona willnae go if she is worried about Gilda.”