The Highlander's Tempestuous Bride

by Cathy MacRae

  Gilda settled, guiltily reminded of her resolution to behave as lady of the castle and not the laird’s son’s young, untried bride.

  “My apologies, my lady. It has been a long day for everyone and we all need food and rest. Mayhap we could meet again in the morning with clearer heads.”

  Mairead sent her an appraising stare. Without another word, Gilda and Lissa left, each seeking her own room and solace.

  * * *

  Ryan found his wife curled beneath a blanket on their bed some time later. He watched the rise and fall of her breast as she slept. With an impatient tug, he loosened his garments and let them fall to the floor, heedless of the jumble as he sought his young wife’s passionate welcome. Heart-sore after the long hours closeted with his da and Laird MacLaurey’s captain, he was at last able to recognize the untenable position he’d put Mairead in.

  Though he would not trade his impetuous marriage with Gilda for anything.

  Flaming curls tumbled across the pillow, and with a groan, he reached for her. He wanted absolution in her arms. His weight dipped the mattress and Gilda stirred, rolling sleepily to face him. The edge of the blanket fell from her shoulders and he realized she wore nothing but a thin shift.

  Shadows beneath the sheer cloth beckoned him, more alluring than any faerie light and he slid beneath the covers and into her welcoming embrace.

  Their loving was hard and fierce, demanding commitment, taking them quickly to the edge of passion. Her arms closed tight around his body as she shuddered beneath him and he rained kisses across her face, tasting salt on her cheeks. His world exploded and he shouted her name, tremors wracking his body.

  Spent, he slipped carefully to the side and gathered her in his arms. His breathing slowed, and he touched the pad of his thumb to Gilda’s damp cheek. “What is wrong, a stor?”

  Wordless, Gilda tightened her grip and buried her face against his shoulder. He stroked his hand over her hair. “I am sorry for what this day has cost ye. I never would bring hurt or shame to you willingly.”

  Gilda nodded and sighed. She sat up and pulled the crumpled shift over her head, and Ryan lost his line of thought as she settled her hair about her shoulders with a toss of her head. She slid back beneath the blanket, tucking herself close against him and he swallowed a moan as her soft flesh pressed against his.

  “What will happen now?” she asked.

  Ryan blinked, shifting his focus to her question. “Mairead and her escort will stay here a few days to rest. Also, the pirates are actively plundering the coastline. Sim will take her home soon, but not until the danger is gone.”

  Gilda slid a hand down his chest, and his skin tightened. “Not soon enough, a stor,” she whispered. “Not soon enough.”

  * * *

  Morning’s sun found Ryan on the parapet, his body relaxed against the damp, cold stone, his mind running over and over Mairead’s arrival.

  How could I have handled things differently or better? He stared across the misted grass, seeing no answer in the muted sparkle. A gull languished on the drafts of the early morning wind, suspended in the air, moving neither forward nor back.

  He felt the same. He couldn’t take back his marriage to Gilda. Nor did he want to. Yet until this was resolved with Mairead, he couldn’t move forward. He slammed his fist backward into the stone. How was I to know she would arrive so soon?

  Footsteps slapped on the walkway behind him, pulling his attention from the bird above. Conn reached a spot near him and slouched his frame over the rock wall, between the crenellated stones.

  “Ye look fashed.” Ryan noted the slump to his friend’s shoulders, his head dangling near his chest.

  Conn waved him off but did not look up. “My head is pounding.”

  “Nae surprise, as fast as ye were tossing back whisky last night.”

  “I was fashed then. I am hung-over now.”

  Straightening, Ryan pushed away from the wall. “I dinnae mean to cause yer sister ill.”

  Conn spun about, fury glinting from his narrowed eyes. “My sister is in yer home being treated as yer discarded leman—”

  “I never touched her!” Ryan roared, shock at his friend’s words sparking more anger.

  “She is too good for the likes of ye!” Conn advanced, chin jutting out, shoulders hunched forward.

  Ryan’s eyebrows jerked upward in amazement at Conn’s sudden defense of Mairead. “I dinnae like yer sister!”

  “And now everyone knows it! How do ye think she feels to be promised to ye in marriage, to have traveled all this way to form an alliance with someone she doesnae have a fondness for, and to be cast aside without a care. Without the least pity or concern.”

  The pair met eye to eye, fists clenched, each man’s breathing deep and labored. Ryan broke the silence. “Ye know I dinnae like her. I dinnae bring her here. I would have stopped her if I could. Why are ye against me?”

  Conn relaxed his shoulders, his outrage stepping down slightly. “I agree she is a wee bit difficult-”

  With a snort, Ryan indicated his opinion of Conn’s allowance. Conn glared, anger lighting anew. “She isnae just any man’s woman. But I am her brother and supposed to protect her. At home, I never had to. Here, seeing her upset, slighted—it bothers me, Ryan. I cannae help it. She shouldnae be so shamed.”

  “At least ye dinnae blame Gilda,” Ryan stated. Conn continued to stare at him, offering no word of agreement. Ryan scowled. “Ye cannae blame her. She knew nothing of what my da had done.”

  “Ye knew. Ye knew and still ye married her before ye could make amends with Mairead.”

  “Again, that isnae Gilda’s fault.” Ryan’s voice grew harsh as he defended his bride.

  “Nae, but having her here is a slur against Mairead’s honor.”

  Ryan threw his hands in the air. “Where do ye want me to keep my wife? She belongs here!”

  The stubborn line to Conn’s chin told Ryan he had no answer to that, and no thought beyond his sister’s hurt.

  “Mayhap ye should see yer sister home,” Ryan offered quietly.

  “As soon as ’tis safe to do so,” Conn replied, a hard, bitter line to his mouth, “I will.”

  Movement behind Connor caught Ryan’s attention as sunlight glinted off Gilda’s burnished hair. She stepped through the parapet door, pausing as surprise lit her face. “Ryan?”

  Conn shoved past them and stomped away. Ryan took a deep breath and forced his lips into a smile. Clearing his throat, he managed to greet his wife pleasantly. “Good morning, a stor,” he said, lifting a hand in welcome, inviting her close.

  Gilda approached, leaning into his embrace as she peered around him. “Is Conn upset about something?”

  Ryan struggled to keep the hurt from his voice, but his friend’s words wounded him deeply. “Mairead’s arrival has left him a bit nippet.”

  “Bad-tempered? He wasnae for the match, was he?” Gilda stepped back in surprise. “Ye told me how she tormented the both of ye as lads.”

  Running a hand through his hair, Ryan sighed. “Nae. He knows what a targe she can be. Hell, we spent plenty of time over the years avoiding her and her demanding ways.” Ryan shook his head in light remorse. “Mayhap too much time.”

  He felt a light pressure on his forearm, Gilda’s slender hand laid against his sleeve. Her clear gray eyes stared at him, their corners rounded in concern. “Does he blame me for this?”

  Ryan glowered at the anxiousness in Gilda’s voice and tried to dismiss her worry with a laugh. But her skin paled and he knew he missed the mark. “Ye willnae fash over it, a stor. ’Tis not important what he thinks.”

  “I dinnae care what he thinks of me. Except…” Gilda bit her lip and looked down. Ryan caught her hands and drew her toward him. She resisted briefly then took a stumbling step forward.

  “Except what?” he urged.

  Her eyes full of anguish, Gilda tilted her face to him. “Except he is your friend and I dinnae wish to cause a rift.”

  Wrapp
ing her in his arms, Ryan tucked her beneath his chin as he stroked the satin of her hair. She needed all the comfort he could provide her, and he did not want her to see his face when he lied to her. “Ye cannae ruin our friendship, Gilda. We have been like brothers for more than ten years. This is a disagreement, nothing more. Conn and I will be fine. Dinnae fash.”

  But their heated conversation played over and over in his head as he stared beyond the castle walls where a darkening cloud stained the horizon. In his heart he wondered if Conn would ever forgive him.

  Chapter 17

  Gilda absently twirled a strand of her hair around one finger as she stared into the distance. From her high perch along the parapet, she could see the treetops of the forest, already exposed to the morning sun’s piercing rays as mist fled before the radiant onslaught. It promised to be a beautiful day.

  I cannae abide sitting here any longer. Her insides quailed at the thought of spending yet another day cooped inside the castle. Tensions were running high and heated tempers simmered just below a façade of brittle politeness. Conn and Ryan had reached a grudging truce, but Mairead couched numerous complaints and demands in a longsuffering, yet apologetic way that was slowly driving Gilda and all around her to impending madness.

  “How are ye this fine morn, my bonnie bride?”

  Gilda whirled at the sound of Ryan’s voice and, to her dismay, burst into tears. His arms enveloped her and his cheek brushed against her hair as she gulped back her sobs.

  “Here now, a stor. Why are ye greetin so?”

  Wiping away the unexpected tears, Gilda snuffled. “I dinnae mean to do that. I am just so tired of being cooped up in the castle. Mairead has been here less than a week but it seems like months!” She grasped the front of his shirt. “Could we please take a walk outside today? There have been no signs of pirates, the weather is clear, and I will die if I have to listen to that woman’s complaints even one more day!”

  Not giving Ryan a moment to reply, she pushed away from his embrace and began to pace the stone, bitter words tumbling from her mouth, her tone pitched high to mimic Mairead’s voice. “‘I know ye are busy, but the candles in my room have burned down almost halfway and I require new ones. And there is no way ye should know, but the smell of burning tallow makes my head ache. I dinnae suppose Ard castle has even a few beeswax candles…’”

  She raised a hand dramatically to her brow. “‘Nae, dinnae trouble yerself on my account. If there are no beeswax candles to be had, I am sure I will simply endure until I return home.’”

  Gilda halted on a quivering, half-wailing note, glaring at Ryan, fisting her hands on her hips. He said nothing, and for a moment, she was sure he would chastise her for mimicking Mairead in such a manner. But instead, he shook his head and reached for her.

  Reluctantly, she allowed him to pull her close, and he cupped her face in his hands. “I believe Cook may need some berries for pastries. Do ye think there are any left on the bushes?”

  Hope rose in her. “The season is not yet over.”

  “Ye are the best berry-picker I know.” Ryan’s mouth curved into a smile.

  Gilda beamed with happiness. She twined her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly, then flung herself away, twirling with excitement. “Can we leave now? Before the others are up?”

  Lissa’s voice piped from the doorway. “Leave? Where are you going?”

  * * *

  Gilda chewed her lip impatiently as the riders mounted. A small wagon had been brought when Mairead announced she did not like riding. Gilda had felt a wee hope at the news, that perhaps Mairead would not join their outing. But the woman continued to pout and at last declared she was simply desperate for an outing away from the castle.

  Gilda had bristled at the way Mairead accented the word ‘castle’ to mean ‘ancient heap of rocks.’ And she’d suffered anger when the laird ordered a wagon brought forth for Mairead’s use.

  Sim settled his charge onto her seat and she carefully arranged her skirts around her. With a regal inclination of her head, Mairead accepted a blanket to lay across her lap to protect her dress from the detritus of the road.

  “We will never get to go if we have to wait on her.” Lissa’s petulant tone rose.

  “Wheesht! Lower yer voice. We dinnae need to give her another cause for resentment.” Gilda leaned forward to stroke her mare’s silken neck. “We can risk a canter once we are free of the castle.”

  Lissa’s golden eyes gleamed. “I will race ye to the trees!”

  “That will get us sent back to the castle,” Gilda scolded. “We cannae leave our guard so far behind.”

  “’Tis not dangerous,” Lissa scoffed. “The pirates are gone. Our soldiers will keep us safe.”

  Gilda frowned. “Dinnae talk like a child. We must be careful.”

  Shoulders slumped at the chastisement, Lissa reined her pony toward the castle gate as the guard filed out. Gilda urged Fia forward and leaned toward her friend. “Dinnae fash. Mairead willnae want to walk through the brambles and gather berries. We will have the entire morning to ourselves.”

  “Mayhap. But she asked for one of yer auld dresses to wear. So she wouldn’t tear any of her pretty ones.”

  Startled, Gilda’s eyebrows twitched. “She would wear one of my dresses to keep from dirtying her own? The besom!”

  “Keita says that is a bad word!” Lissa hissed.

  Both girls nodded and smiled at the guards as they passed through the gate. Riders paced before them and Mairead’s wagon and guard brought up the rear, Ryan and Conn riding midway down the line. The squeak of wooden wheels groaned loudly in the din of movement. Metal bits chimed against the horses’ teeth, mingling with the slap of leather.

  Lissa and Gilda rode side by side, their mounts prancing with excitement. “Aye, ’tis a bad word, and I am sorry I said it,” Gilda apologized once they were clear of the castle and listening ears.

  Lissa giggled. “I am not. Her tongue is clippie and she has not been very nice, especially to you.”

  “She has had a rough time of it, Lissa.” Gilda looked back toward Mairead. The woman sat stiffly upright on the hard wooden seat, hands folded on her lap. “Ryan says she tormented them when they were lads. I wonder if she has any friends.”

  “I dinnae want to be her friend,” Lissa declared. “I dinnae trust her.”

  Gilda pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Nae. I dinnae trust her, either. Do ye think she is this unhappy at her own home?”

  “I dinnae think she likes anything.” Lissa settled back in her saddle. “Or anyone.”

  With a toss of her head, Gilda shook off the seriousness. “Let’s pick up the pace a bit, aye? Just enough to feel the wind,” she cautioned her young friend.

  Grinning, Lissa leaned forward, shortening her reins as she urged her pony into a canter. Fia exploded beside her, scarcely needing the prompting of Gilda’s heels. They flew past the guards at the head of the column, laughing at the startled looks on their faces. Several lengths later, the girls wheeled their mounts and raced back to their place in line, Ryan in place and awaiting them.

  * * *

  “If the day passes without sighting pirates, I will suggest Mairead and I leave the day after tomorrow,” Conn said.

  Pain sliced cleanly through Ryan at his friend’s words. Their friendship had been patched, but the easy camaraderie was gone, and he felt its loss acutely. “Ye dinnae have to leave with her. I was angry—”

  “I know. We have said this a hundred times. But it is right I accompany her home. She needs the added protection.”

  Ryan perused the line of soldiers he’d ordered out to protect three women on a morning outing and could not argue the truth. The roads were dangerous and if Mairead was attacked by ruffians or pirates, Conn’s fighting ability would likely turn the balance.

  “Look!” Conn jerked his chin toward the front of the line. Anger burst white-hot as Ryan watched his wife and sister break past the guard, their horses flying.

&n
bsp; “Shite!” he snarled, yanking Duer around and sending him into a gallop. Moments later the girls wheeled their mounts and Ryan pulled his horse back to a walk. They reined neatly back to their place in line and met him with flushed faces and sweet smiles.

  He saw Gilda flinch and her smile vanished, but she squared her shoulders and did not look away. Unable to bring himself to spout the blistering reprimand on the tip of his tongue, Ryan struggled to hold his peace.

  “The gallop felt wonderful,” Gilda offered. Lissa opened her mouth, but closed it as Gilda’s mare collided with hers. As much as Ryan wanted to hear what Lissa had to say for herself, he had to admit it was probably best she kept silent just now.

  “I dinnae want ye haring off on yer own again,” he managed in a stern voice.

  “I wouldnae dream of putting us in danger,” Gilda replied breezily. “We but galloped a few lengths and returned.”

  “All the same, it wasnae a good idea.”

  To his surprise, neither Gilda nor Lissa protested. They rode a bit further in silence. As they approached the forest, the soldiers tensed visibly. Apprehension sizzled along Ryan’s spine, racing through him, sharpening his senses. The devastation of the seaside village loomed, still stark in his memory. Overhead, tree limbs swayed gently in the breeze, causing the shadows on the forest floor to shift beneath the horses’s hooves. Birds called overhead, but their song didn’t seem distressed at the line of horsemen traveling the paths below. Still, Ryan tensed.

  They emerged from the shadows of the trees above the beach. The air was fresher, tart with the tang of seawater. Waves crashed on the rocks far below. The only way to the sea was a narrow trail that wound through sea grasses and outcroppings of weathered rock.

  Ryan raised his arm and the party halted. “Ye ladies may spread yer blankets for lunch here. Gilda, there are berry bushes deeper in the forest, but I’d ask ye only go with guards. Aye?”

  Gilda slipped lightly to the ground and handed him her mare’s reins. “Aye. We will get started now!” she sang out happily. Lissa landed beside her and untied the basket laced to the back of her saddle. They clasped hands and ran across the grass, skirts and hair flying behind them, woven cubbies bouncing at their sides.