by Cathy MacRae
Her ma gasped, one hand flying to her throat in an astounded gesture. “Gilda! Ye must never say such a thing!”
“Och, I know Da has never treated me as such, and I thank ye for not marrying Laird Macraig. But ’tis the truth, though it was harsh of him to demand ye give me up.”
Tears glistened in her ma’s eyes and Gilda ran to her. She threw her arms around her waist and gave her a fierce hug. She leaned back in the circle of her mother’s embrace and peered at her.
Her ma seemed to hesitate some before she stated, “Yer da has had an offer of marriage for ye.”
“Really?” Gilda tried to ignore the sudden hole that bore through her stomach. “Why dinnae he say something to me?”
“He hasnae come to grips with the young lady ye are becoming.” Her ma smoothed back a curl from Gilda’s face with a wistful smile. “He still thinks of ye as his wee Gilda.”
“I am not a bairn anymore.”
“I know. If he takes the offer seriously, he will talk to ye.”
“Who was it from?” As apprehensive as she was, Gilda couldn’t stop the curiosity spreading through her.
“Laird Maclellan on behalf of his son.”
Gilda wrinkled her nose, her brows furrowed in distaste. “Laird Maclellan makes me feel eerysome.”
“I agree he is a bit overbearing. But he is a powerful man and wouldnae be laird if he was soft and not respected by his enemies.”
“I dinnae want to marry his son.”
“Och, I should not have told ye he spoke to yer da. ’Twill only worry ye.”
Gilda chewed her lip. “I love ye, Ma. I am glad ye told me. I promise I willnae worry.”
“Good.” Her ma pressed her cheek then released her. “Now, help me find yer brothers. I must get them washed for supper. I dinnae know how they can get into such messes in such a short amount of time.”
“Aye, I will help ye. And tomorrow I need to take Fia to the village blacksmith to have a shoe checked. I think it is loose.”
“Why not have the blacksmith here take a look at her?”
“I thought I would visit Anise, too.”
Her ma frowned. “I dinnae know what yer da would say.”
Gilda remained silent. She knew exactly what her da would say.
* * *
The noise of the busy village grated on Ryan’s nerves. He was tested in raids and skirmishes with clans bordering the MacLaureys, and he recognized the fine lashes of tension racing through his veins as he awaited Gilda.
Chickens squawked noisily in their wooden crates and pigs herded down the narrow street grunted a low baritone. A high-pitched squeal jerked Ryan’s attention from the blacksmith’s shop. There, just within sight, was a glimpse of red hair amid the throng of villagers, and his heart leapt at the sight. His gaze followed the flaming beacon through the crowd, and he sighed with disgust as a young lad, his arms laden with a stack of fresh-cut peat, proved to be the owner of the brilliant thatch of hair.
A horse nickered behind him, much too close. Ryan whirled, tension fleeing as he encountered Gilda’s sweet smile.
“Ogling boys, are ye?”
Ryan gave her an abashed grin. “I thought ’twas ye.”
Her eyebrows rose in challenge. Ryan’s gaze slid from her dancing eyes to the slender white column of her neck and the deep neckline of her simple, blue dress.
He shook his head slowly. “Nae. The hair may have been the color of yers, but the body could never match.”
A pink flush rose from the scooped neckline and Ryan gave a nod of satisfaction.
“Ye are still a rogue, Ryan Macraig.”
“’Tis why ye agreed to meet me.” Ryan’s eyes locked on Gilda’s and they stared hungrily at one another.
Her horse snorted and stomped a foot, breaking the spell. Gilda laid a settling hand on the horse’s shoulder. “Let me turn her over to the blacksmith. She may have a loose shoe, ye know.”
Ryan gestured for her to lead her horse to the open stall. Heat billowed in palpable waves from the fire pit. He watched Gilda tie her black mare to the post and exchange words with the blacksmith. The burly man gave a curt nod of understanding.
A moment later, Gilda rejoined him. “I have a friend I want ye to meet.”
Ryan frowned. “I dinnae come here to meet yer friends.”
Gilda tugged his hand, her eyes slanting in promise. “Ye will like this one.”
Ryan allowed himself to be led to a tiny cottage on the edge of the village. Gilda rapped once on the door then entered. He ducked his head to avoid hitting the low lintel and blinked against the interior gloom. Peat glowed in a fireplace against one wall, and a petite young woman stared at him with an assessing look.
Gilda gripped his hand tighter. “Anice, this is Ryan.” She turned her gaze to him. “Ryan, this is my best friend. She has given us permission to stay here and talk to avoid meeting anyone from the village who might know me.”
Ryan heard her subtle stress on the word talk, and fought the question on his tongue. Did she really think they would sit and chat like a couple of silly girls?
He dragged his attention to her friend. “’Tis my pleasure to meet ye, Anice. I am grateful ye would give us a wee bit of privacy to talk.”
The lass didn’t seem impressed. “I have known Gilda since we were bairns. I trust ye to treat her honorably.”
“Of course. She has my very highest regard.”
Anice turned to Gilda, her eyes flashing as she tossed a saucy look at him over her shoulder. “Ye watch yon rogue. He doesnae deceive me.”
Ryan held his tongue as Anice and Gilda embraced and tried not to be concerned as they each whispered in the other’s ears. Judging from the heightened color in Gilda’s cheeks, she dinnae think they were here to talk, either.
With a last pointed nod at him, Anice collected her woolen plaide from a hook by the door and left the cottage, closing the door firmly behind her. Gilda turned to him, and he was staggered at the open adoration on her face. And the hesitation.
Spreading his arms wide, he beckoned her, and to his delight she required no further urging. She darted across the floor, trusting him to catch her as she flung herself against him. He crushed her slight body to him, savoring the slender curves that fit against him so perfectly. Her arms wound tight around his neck and he nuzzled her hair. Gilda tilted her face to him in invitation, and he met her lips with his. Her fingers tangled in the hair at his nape. Chills raced up and down his spine, fueling his passion as he deepened the kiss, splaying one hand across her buttocks as he pulled her closer.
Gilda abruptly stiffened in his arms and reality washed over him. She may have confessed to being nearly seventeen years old, but she was clearly overwhelmed by such a raw show of passion. Ryan took a deep breath and allowed her take a half-step back.
He bent his head to hers, their foreheads touching. “I have missed ye badly.”
Gilda gave a shaky laugh. “I thought I missed ye more.”
“Mayhap we should sit, but I confess I dinnae want the table between us.” He scanned the cottage but found nothing suitable for sitting but the oversized bed in the corner of the room. Not at all proper.
“Mayhap we could sit there,” she gestured with her chin.
Surprised to see her nod at the bed, he realized she was much more naïve than he thought. Ryan stifled a groan. The lass would be the death of him.
“Let us try the edge of the hearth.” He lifted an eyebrow in a wry smile. Gilda gave a startled gasp, turning wide grey eyes on him as realization dawned.
Mayhap she isnae so naïve after all. Just inexperienced. Satisfaction shot through him. He liked that notion.
The hearth was swept clean, but Ryan grabbed a folded blanket from the foot of the bed to cushion the hard stone. Gilda’s smile of thanks was all he required. He sat next to her, their hips and thighs touching. Heat flared instantly between them.
He picked up one of her hands and twined his fingers through hers. “I apolog
ize for my da’s behavior the other night. I had no idea he would react as he did.”
Gilda shrugged. “We cannae spend our time apologizing for our parents. We would never get to anything of importance.”
“What is important to ye, Gilda?”
With a gentle gesture, Gilda swept the backs of the fingers of her free hand across his cheek and leaned forward to brush her lips in their wake. “This.”
Chapter 10
A knock at the door signaled their time was at an end. Gilda hastily shrugged the shoulders of her gown into place, but could not bring herself to leave her half-reclining position against Ryan’s side.
Anice peeked around the door before stepping inside the cottage, and Gilda waited for the censure she felt sure to see in her friend’s expression. Anice’s brown eyes glittered as she took in the sight of them snuggled comfortably side by side on a thick blanket on the narrow hearth, the bed untouched.
Her lips curved in a gentle smile. “I need to see to Colin’s supper.”
With an effort, Gilda pushed away from Ryan, uncurling her legs. She stood, tugging on his hands until he, too, rose.
He dropped a quick kiss on her nose and turned to Anice. “I return Gilda to yer keeping. She is verra precious to me and I would ask ye protect her.”
Anice nodded her agreement, the need to keep silent about their meeting obvious.
Pushing aside the dismay welling at Ryan’s imminent departure, Gilda faced him with a brave smile. “I will miss ye.”
“And I will miss ye, Gilda.”
“When can I see ye again?”
“I will try to come tomorrow. Do ye think ye can manage?”
“Aye.” Gilda stepped into his embrace. The gentle noises Anice made as she prepared the evening meal faded into the background. Gilda’s world became the beat of Ryan’s heart, the horse and leather scent of him, and the feel of his finely woven plaide beneath her cheek. Warmth from his arms surrounded her and she would have been content to stand there forever.
“I must leave, a stor.”
My darling.
She nodded and reluctantly drew back. “Graim thu.”
I love you.
* * *
The ride to Scaurness Castle was a blur as Fia picked her way home without Gilda’s guidance. Her thoughts were a blissful haze as she recalled the sweet heat of Ryan’s kisses and the slow burn of his lips against her skin. She tingled in places she’d never considered before and had a much greater knowledge of his restraint as she wondered what it would be like for him to touch her in those forbidden places.
Her cheeks heated as she handed Fia to the stable boy, certain he could see a change in her. But he merely yawned and stumped away, obviously annoyed at being woken from his nap. Gilda slipped inside the castle, falling once more into her dream-like state as she contemplated the feel of Ryan’s hands on her breasts.
“Gilda! There ye are! Ye must wash and change quickly. Supper is almost ready.”
Gilda snapped back to the present. Her ma made shooing gestures at her, a frown on her face.
“I will wash and be right back down,” Gilda replied, unsure what the fuss was about. Her ma didn’t usually demand she change her gown for supper.
“We have visitors, Gilda. Hurry. There is a bath waiting for ye.”
A bath? Warning bells went off in Gilda’s head. “Who are our guests, Ma?”
Her ma gave a thin smile. “Laird Maclellan and his son are here.”
* * *
The outer bailey was nearly empty, most of the familiar crowd hurrying for their supper. Shadows lengthened and the glow of torches brightened the walls of Ard Castle.
“Ye are completely out of yer mind.”
Ryan whirled. Conn, directly behind him, pulled up short.
“I dinnae ask for yer opinion,” Ryan growled. “Keep it behind yer teeth or I will see that ye do.”
Conn shook his head. “She is a comely lass, I will grant ye that. But ye are obsessed with her. No good will come of it.”
Ryan stiff-armed his friend, shoving him backward. “I told ye to keep yer opinion to yerself. I willnae tell ye again.” His voice was heavy with warning.
Conn brushed Ryan’s hands away with an upward sweep of his arms as he advanced. “Ye amadan. Yer da will kill ye, and her da will castrate ye.”
“I dinnae dishonor her.”
“I will bet ye came close.”
Ryan slid his sword from its sheath. “Shut up, Conn.”
Conn’s hand went to the hilt of his own sword. “Make me.”
Steel hissed against leather as Conn drew his weapon. The pair circled slowly, warily, blades black in the evening shadows.
“Ye are as testy as an auld boar. Find a willing wench and be done with it. Leave the Macrory lass alone,” Conn warned.
Ryan’s eyes glinted dangerously. “Why should ye care? Do ye want her for yerself?”
“Dinnae be daft. I dinnae want the lass. Ye are betrothed to my sister.”
Ryan lunged at Conn. The move was expected, and Conn slipped easily to the side. They parried, the ring of steel loud in the crisp evening air. At last they fell back, breathing deeply. Conn rotated his arm in a wide circle, rubbing his shoulder. Ryan brushed a hank of hair from his forehead.
“Ye want me to marry Mairead?” he panted.
“I dinnae want a knife in yer back from Gilda’s da.”
“I suppose being knifed by yer sister is a better idea?”
The absurdity of Ryan’s predicament struck, and Conn sheathed his sword. “I cannae kill ye. Though ye may not appreciate my kind gesture in the future. What are ye going to do?”
Ryan frowned. “I must convince two stubborn auld men to end their feud.”
“How do ye plan to do that?”
“I have no idea.”
* * *
“Laird Maclellan?” Gilda’s voice rose in pitch. “Ye said Da would talk to me before he signed a betrothal contract!”
“Wheesht, Gilda. Yer da dinnae ask them here. I would guess a betrothal is on their minds, though it could as easily be the pirates.”
Gilda forced herself to calm. “I cannae marry him.”
Her ma sighed. “Gilda. No one is asking ye to marry the lad tonight. Come to supper, be pleasant, talk to the lad. Ye may like him.”
Mutiny and desperation set Gilda’s jaw.
Her ma flung up her hands. “Fine. Mayhap ye willnae like him. He seems over-quiet, though that may just be a natural response around his father.” Her ma shooed her once again toward the stairs. “I can send Kyla up to attend ye.”
Gilda understood the threat for what it was. “Nae. I can dress myself.”
She hurried down the corridor, not to obey her mother’s command, but because her world was crashing around her and she needed sanctuary. She managed to make it without encountering the twins, and slipped inside her room, latching the door firmly behind her. On a sudden sob, Gilda slid to the floor, tasting salt as tears ran down her face.
What was she to do? She did not want to sit at the table and smile and pretend nothing was wrong. She especially did not want to smile at the silent, feartie lad or his overbearing father. Gilda hiccupped on a breath at the thought of the huge man as her father-in-law. Surely, her da wouldn’t marry her to a man whose father frightened her?
Her thoughts turned to Ryan. She loved everything about him. His easy smile, his quick wit—though he used it to vex her often enough. It was exciting to be in his arms, to savor his kisses. She shuddered. Never could she allow the Maclellan’s son to touch her in the ways Ryan had.
Gilda swiped the back of her hand across her face, using the fabric of her sleeve to dry her tears. She would wait and see what the Maclellans intended. If they proposed a betrothal, she would simply tell her da she was not interested. Should they be here to talk of the pirates, she would have worried about nothing.
Taking a deep breath, Gilda rose and stripped away her gown, stepping into the lukewarm water of
her bath. It was too late to wash and dry her hair, but the bath refreshed her and she felt confident again as she dressed in a thin woolen gown of peacock blue with a modest neckline and simple, fitted sleeves. She braided her hair and let it hang down her back, unwilling to waste time on a more elaborate style. There was no one downstairs she wished to impress.
Fergus met her at the head of the stairs as she left her room. “Yer ma is waiting for ye.”
Gilda smiled at the old man, knowing he deserved her respect, not her pique at being summoned before their guests like a horse her da wished to sell.
“I am hurrying, Fergus. We dinnae want to be late for our meal.”
She suited her actions to her words and lifted the hem of her skirt as she increased her pace. The sounds of mealtime in the great hall were nothing out of the ordinary, but as she entered the room, one look told her there was very little normal about this gathering.
* * *
The hall was dim as Ryan made his way to the kitchen in search of a bite to eat. His dalliance at Scaurness had meant missing his supper, but that did not bother him. There would be enough tucked away in the larder to fill his belly, and, to his surprise, he really wasn’t that hungry.
His mind was full of Gilda’s sweetness, and he absently tucked a wedge of cheese and a chunk of bread into a linen napkin as visions of unbound red hair and pale, glowing skin slid through his memory. Half of a small pastry sat on a platter, and Ryan added that to his haul. A corked bottle of ale completed his search, but he had to shift the pastry to his mouth to manage everything.
He turned, halting in surprise. His da stood in the doorway, a disapproving look on his face.
“Where have ye been?”
Ryan placed the bottle of ale back on the table and removed the pastry from his mouth, setting it aside. “I have been exploring.”
“There is so much to explore in the hamlet ye cannae make it home in time for supper?”
“Several things occupied my time.”
His da stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. “Lissa says ye took her riding yesterday.”
“Aye.”
“And ye met Macrorys on the beach.”