The Highlander's Reluctant Bride: Book 2 The Highlander's Bride series

by Cathy MacRae

  She collected the golden cross Ranald had given her from the table, and Tavia’s gnarled hands took it from her.

  “Let me, lass,” she said, lifting it carefully to avoid tangling it in Riona’s hair.

  The pendant lay on her breast and she stared at its reflection in the mirror, remembering the warmth of Ranald’s hands as he placed it against her skin.

  “Look, Ma! I’m pretty, too.”

  Riona’s gaze slid to Gilda who stood next to her, scrubbed clean, her hair combed and tied back with a green velvet ribbon matching her gown. Gilda twisted about, holding her skirt as she preened.

  “Ye are the prettiest thing I’ve seen, a chuisle,” Riona assured her.

  “I like Ranald,” Gilda announced. “Can I marry him, too?”

  Riona laughed. “Ye are too young, and he may only marry one of us.”

  Gilda sighed. “Can I call him Da?”

  Riona blinked back sudden, emotional tears. “Aye,” she managed softly. “I believe he would like that.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Standing at the head of the stairwell, Gilda gripped Riona’s fingers. A sea of faces turned to view the soon-to-be Lady of Scaurness. With a gentle tug to Gilda’s hand in encouragement, Riona slowly descended the stairs.

  They reached the bottom step and Riona bent to whisper in Gilda’s ear. “Ye remember what to do?”

  Gilda nodded, eyeing the mass of people before her.

  Stepping in from the side, Eaden settled a large palm on Gilda’s shoulder. “Go on, lass. I’ll take care of yer ma.”

  Gilda squared her shoulders and accepted the woven basket of flowers from Brigit, who then handed Riona her own bouquet of heather bound with golden ribbon. The wee lass walked slowly across the room, the path before her widening as people moved to let her pass.

  Riona met Eaden’s smile as he bowed. “With yer permission, milady, I’ll walk ye down the aisle.”

  Tears filled her eyes. She missed her da at this moment so much, she’d not given a thought to asking someone else to walk her to the priest, giving her to her new husband. With a grateful smile, she laid her hand on Eaden’s proffered arm.

  He set his hand over hers, squeezing her fingers reassuringly. “’Tis well. I took Ranald out in a boat yesterday, but I believe he’s over his seasickness, now.”

  A tiny snort of laughter escaped Riona at Eaden’s unexpected words. She bit the inside of her lip to stifle her mirth.

  Eaden patted her hand, the mournful notes of a bagpipe swelling as they assumed a stately pace. Heady with the scent of candles and heather, the rest of the room receded from her reality. Ahead, standing calmly beside the priest, was all Riona could think about . . .

  Ranald.

  He looked wonderful with his beard closely trimmed and his dark hair clubbed neatly. His smile bloomed, gentle and welcoming. Riona took heart and her nervousness bled away, leaving her lightheaded with happiness.

  Ahead, Gilda skipped toward Agnes, standing at the end of the aisle, and leaned against her, her eyes fixed ahead. Sparing a smile of reassurance for her daughter, Riona continued on Eaden’s arm.

  They halted before the priest. “Who brings this woman to be wed to this man?” he asked.

  “She comes with me, Laird Scott, Earl of Craigievar, emissary for King Robert the Second of Scotland, and with the blessings of her family and the king. If she is willing, I am willing.”

  At a nod from the priest, Riona stepped forward, and Eaden placed her hand in Ranald’s. She glanced at him from beneath lowered lashes, her heart racing wildly.

  “Lady Caitriona, do ye come here of yer own free will and accord, without let or hindrance, free of all moral and legal encumbrance, to enter into this contract?”

  Riona inhaled a deep breath. “Aye.”

  The priest’s voice droned on, and she and Ranald murmured the correct responses, pledging their troth.

  “Laird Scott, will ye have Gilda as yer daughter, to act as father and counsel, granting her all the attendant rights, privileges and responsibilities?”

  Riona’s gaze flew to Ranald. This was not part of any wedding ceremony she’d ever attended. What was Ranald promising?

  He squeezed her hand reassuringly and motioned for Gilda to approach. Placing his palm on her shining head, he turned to Riona, his gaze compelling her to listen to his words.

  “Aye. I will offer all this in love and custom, giving her place in law alongside such other children as may arise from this union.”

  Riona barely heard the challenge from the priest for any to speak who had just cause to oppose the marriage. Nor could she stop the tears spilling down her cheeks as she strove to breathe past the lump in her throat. Before their wedding guests and God, Ranald had pledged to give her daughter all the benefits of his own children, and to love and provide for her always.

  Ranald leaned close, brushing the back of a hand over her damp cheek. “Dearling, will ye say yer vows?”

  Abruptly Riona realized the priest was staring expectantly at her and she gathered her scattered thoughts. She handed her bouquet of heather to Gilda and faced Ranald, taking both of his hands in hers.

  “Ye are blood of my blood, and bone of my bone.” She lifted her gaze and found dark blue eyes burning into hers. “I give ye my body, that we two might be one. I give ye my spirit, ’til our life shall be done.”

  Ranald knew he had surprised Riona. By taking Gilda as his daughter, he pledged to his new wife the lass would never want for a home or honor. He meant also to prove they both would never lack for love. The trusting, earnest look in her eyes as she gave him her vows humbled him, and he answered her with a promise of his own.

  “I pledge my love to ye, and everything I possess. I promise ye the first bite of my meat and the first sip from my cup. I pledge yer name will always be the name I cry aloud in the dead of night. I promise to honor ye above all others. The love we forge will be never-ending and we will remain, forevermore, equals in our marriage. This is my wedding vow to ye.”

  The priest nodded and continued the ceremony as Ranald faced Riona, Gilda tucked between them. The lass rested against her mother’s gown, swinging her basket from one hand, back and forth, watching as petals drifted to the floor.

  “Ye may kiss yer bride.”

  “’Tis the best part,” Ranald murmured, drawing an answering smile from Riona that lit her eyes. He lowered his head and touched his lips to hers. Riona leaned into his kiss, and his heart skipped to know she willingly sought him before the enormous crowd around them.

  A subtle cough from the priest ended their pledge, and they parted, only to turn, cheek-to-cheek, to face the cheers of their guests.

  Ranald straightened, pulling Riona against his side, a hand on Gilda’s shoulder. “’Tis my privilege and honor to introduce ye to my wife and daughter. Together we invite ye to have a drink,” Ranald stared pointedly at a guest near the forefront of the crowd who already held a chalice in his hand, “as the tables are set for the banquet.”

  Another cheer went up and people surged forward, congratulating them with hugs or kisses for Riona and a clout to the shoulder for Ranald.

  The banquet was quickly readied and everyone found a seat. At Ranald’s left Eaden stood, raising his goblet in a bid for silence. Gradually the jovial noise subsided.

  “I would be the first to make a toast. My brother has always been a lucky man, but he has outdone himself this time.”

  He faced Ranald and Riona. “A thousand welcomes to ye with yer marriage. May ye be healthy all yer days. May ye be blessed with long life and peace, and may ye grow old with goodness and with riches.”

  “Slainte!” The cheer rose from every throat as Ranald lifted Riona’s hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers.

  * * *

  The long hours of the banquet, as it slid from dinner to supper, were over, though people continually revisited the food platters and the wine skins as they moved about the room in jovial spirits. Riona’s skin pricked
as she realized eyes were on her every move. She glanced surreptitiously over her shoulder and noticed how the stares of several people darted away.

  “They’re waiting for us to show signs of leaving, Ree,” Ranald told her.

  “They wouldn’t . . .?” she asked worriedly.

  “Ye think no’?” He grinned. “They arenae drunk enough to leave us alone yet.”

  “Bring out more wine,” Riona retorted.

  Ranald laughed. “I willnae let them follow us, dearling.”

  She flicked a look about the room, seeing heads turned in their direction. “How will ye do that?”

  His grin widened. “Ye’ll have to trust me.”

  Tavia walked over, Gilda limp against her shoulder.

  “Is the lass asleep?”

  Gilda raised her head and softly whimpered. Riona reached for her, but Ranald put up a hand.

  “Let Tavia put the lass to bed. She’s had enough excitement and needs her sleep.” He nodded to the seer woman. “We will leave her in yer care.”

  Though her heart rent to see the dismay on Gilda’s face, Riona didn’t protest. Her life was no longer her own, and the next few days would be hard on both of them as they adjusted to her new role.

  Instead, she kissed Gilda’s cheek, smoothing her hair with a hand, lingering on the fiery curls. “Stay with Auntie Tavia, mo chroi. I will see ye soon.”

  Ranald met Finlay’s gaze. With a jerk of his head, he sent the man to the old woman’s side. “Take the lass upstairs for Tavia. She’s a wee armful for ye, but a mite burdensome for her.”

  Finlay held his hands out and Gilda slid bonelessly into his arms. It had been a long day, and the child was too tired to do more than sniffle as she ducked her head against his shoulder.

  “We’ll take care of the lass, milady. Have nae worry about that,” Finlay promised.

  Riona nodded as Finlay carried Gilda up the stairs, her unbound curtain of red-gold curls bouncing across his broad shoulder, one small hand trailing down his side. As they rounded the first curve, Riona turned to Ranald and found Eaden standing next to him, the two in earnest conversation.

  Ranald drew away and sent her a reassuring smile. “Make yer way to the kitchen. For anyone who asks, ye are tallying food and wine for our guests. Speak to any who stop ye. Then slip out into the garden. I will be waiting.”

  Her heart raced and her stomach clenched, for she knew he meant for them to be alone as man and wife. She’d told herself she was ready, but she was suddenly uncertain, afraid she’d be unable to go to their bed unhindered by the past.

  “Riona?”

  She quickly damped her fears and formed a bright smile. Rising to her toes, she placed a kiss on his cheek. “Aye.”

  Despite an attempt to quiet her inner turmoil, she heard her own breathlessness. Ranald caught her am and gently brought her close. He placed a proper kiss on her lips, holding her against him a long moment before he released her with a grin of promise on his face.

  Around them cheers rose, and Riona realized he meant for it to appear as though he would await her return. Cheeks flaming with heat, she strolled toward the kitchen, casting a shy glance over her shoulder at her new husband as she crossed the room.

  The glow of cooking fires and torches spilled into the garden as Riona opened the door. She slipped quickly through the portal, shutting it behind her before notice could be made. Bracing her hands against the door, she stared into the gloaming darkness, letting her eyes adjust from the crackling brightness of the scullery.

  A movement to her right caught her attention as Ranald emerged from the late evening shadows. He motioned for her to follow and she picked up her skirts and hurried after him. Near the gate to the bailey, he whirled and grabbed her hands, dragging her into the shadow of a nearby tree. Startled, Riona reared back, but he only kissed her forehead.

  “Are ye ready to leave?”

  “Leave?” Surely she had heard him incorrectly.

  “Aye. I’ve a surprise for ye.”

  Curiosity snaked through her. “What surprise?”

  “I dinnae want ye fashin’ about the people around ye or Gilda down the hall, so I had a cottage prepared for us for a brace of days.” He leaned forward and cupped her face in his hands. “I want ye to myself. I want ye to think only of us. We have responsibilities here, aye, but we need time for us, alone.”

  Disjointed thoughts filled Riona’s head. Alone? A cottage? Just her and Ranald? What about Gilda?

  Her lips parted. “I . . ..”

  “I want to hold ye and kiss ye and not worry about the affairs of Scaurness. I want to touch ye until ye beg me to love ye like I long to.”

  At his words, Riona marveled at the sudden heat coursing through her, though he scarcely held her.

  I’m sorry, dearling. Ye were about to say something?” Ranald brushed back a lock of hair that curled across her cheek.

  Her cheeks flamed, but she resolved to speak her mind. “I was going to say I was cold.”

  Ranald bent to her attentively. “And?”

  “Now, I amnae cold at all.”

  “Will ye come with me?”

  Riona relaxed against his body and kissed the underside of his jaw, feeling the brush of his beard beneath her lips. “Aye.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Ranald drew her to him for a thorough kiss. If any doubts lingered in Riona’s mind of how much he wanted her, the hunger of his mouth and hands quickly dispelled them. His heat burned through her satin gown and silk shift as though she wore nothing at all. There was no question he was anxious to be her husband in full, and though the touch of the hardness against her belly still peppered her with tiny pricks of fear, the certainty of his gentleness soon overcame her reluctance.

  His hands tangled through her hair and she moaned against his mouth. His arms tightened for a moment before he pulled away.

  “We’d best leave before we’re discovered.” His voice was hoarse and low, a rasp against her tightly strung nerves. Heat coiled in her and she nodded. Ranald grasped her hand and led her to the bailey gate. They stepped through, closing it behind them. Beyond, two horses stood, saddled and waiting.

  Riona eyed Ranald uncertainly. “Where are ye taking me?” she asked with a laugh that to her sounded brittle.

  “Nae so far. But we will get there safer and faster if we ride.”

  “I cannae ride in this.” She indicated her wedding gown with a sweep of a hand.

  Ranald raked her with a critical eye. “Nae. The fabric is too delicate. D’ye have a chemise underneath?”

  “Ye want me to ride in my shift?”

  “Ye can have my cloak to cover ye, but aye.”

  She sputtered, “D’ye have any idea of the scandal when my wedding dress is found draped across yon bench?”

  From the amused look on Ranald’s face, she concluded he wasn’t particularly concerned. For a moment she floundered, undecided.

  Ranald sighed, “Ye cannae return to yer room for another gown without someone seeing ye, and we’re moments away from being missed as it is. This will only work if we are quick.”

  “But . . ..” She caught herself about to tell him to turn his back. He now had the right to look all he wished. He quirked an eyebrow, a grin breaking across his lips as though he read her mind.

  With a heartfelt sigh, she spun about, presenting her back to him. Lifting her hair out of the way, she peered over her shoulder at him. “Then ye’ll have to unlace me.”

  Ranald closed the distance between them and his breath tickled her ear. “My distinct pleasure.”

  His fingers made quick work of loosening the laces on her dress. Riona carefully stripped the gown away, using Ranald’s proffered arm for support as she stepped from the billowed folds of fabric at her feet. The evening breeze, cold without the sun to warm it, cut through her silken shift like frosty knives, turning her pendant to ice against her skin, and she shivered.

  “Here.” Ranald swept his cloak about her shoulders. Cl
utching it about her, she absorbed the lingering warmth from his body as he collected her gown and laid it across a low tree limb.

  “‘Twill at least give them something to think about before they continue looking for us,” he commented.

  Suddenly it was funny, exciting, and daring. Riona giggled and grabbed her horse’s reins. With fingers laced together beneath her slippered foot, Ranald boosted her into the saddle. As they guided the horses to the postern gate, Riona noticed riders moving out of the shadows to follow them.

  “Who—”

  “Dinnae fash. Ye dinnae think we’d slip off into the night completely by ourselves, did ye? They will guard the cottage.” His gaze met hers. “Discreetly.”

  Though it made sense, some of the air of adventure drained away. Riona focused her attention on the trail as the horses picked their way down the slope to the beach.

  She glanced back at the receding village. “What cottage are we going to?”

  “Tavia’s.”

  “But . . .”

  “She’s given us her blessing and will keep Gilda at the castle. She, Finlay and my brother have sworn to protect the lass, so we needn’t worry about her.”

  Riona was silent. It wasn’t as though no one knew she and Ranald were now married and only a short time away from being truly alone for the first time as husband and wife. It simply bothered her to know so many people actively plotted the night ahead. Though perhaps it was good they had thought to plan, or who knew what pranks would have arisen this night?

  The horses’ hooves made slight, rumbling sounds on the rocky shoreline. Riona spied slender bands of light around the edges of the shuttered windows. At least they wouldn’t be going into a dark, cold cottage. She sighed. Tavia’s dwelling wasn’t the neatest she’d ever seen, with herbs and spices scattered about, giving the single room a wonderful aroma. But the crockery and such used to compound her medicines, though clean, were rarely put away, and Bridie, the goat, was a presence and odor all unto herself. What was Ranald thinking?