by Cathy MacRae
Gilda began to shake.
A low growl sounded. Acair paused as the sound strengthened. The pirate shifted the dirk in his hand. Gilda’s gaze flew to the thicket where the wolf had lain. Beside her, Lissa gasped and Mairead sobbed behind trembling hands.
“Silence!” Acair gestured with a slicing movement of the dirk.
Gilda grabbed Lissa and Mairead and stepped backward, pulling them with her. “We willnae be yer prisoners.”
“Dinnae move again.” His voice threatened, but he spun as the growl in the thicket rumbled once more. He flexed his hand and the steel winked in the mottled light.
“No!” Gilda tore free of the other girls’ grasps as she plunged forward to stop his throw.
With lightning speed, Acair flipped the blade in his hand, grasping it by the tip. An instant’s pause for aim as he drew his arm back, he sent the long knife singing into the shadowy brambles—and missed.
Leaves and twigs exploded as the wolf launched himself at the pirate. Acair took the weight of the wolf’s body directly in the chest and stumbled back, falling almost to the ground. One arm came up instinctively to protect his face and neck, and the wolf’s teeth sank deep into his flesh. Blood spurted from the wounds and Acair cried out. He snatched another blade from his boot and tried to push to his feet, but the wolf released his arm only to leap at his throat again, fangs flashing white in the gloom. His snarls filled the air, raging amid Acair’s shouts. Rooted to the spot, Gilda watched in rising panic.
The wolf’s teeth drew blood yet again. His grizzled coat a blur in the dappled light of the glen as he struck, Gilda could scarce keep up with his lightning moves. The pirate grappled with the ferocious beast, shielding himself with one ripped and bloody arm, the other seeking a target with his knife amid the animal’s determined onslaught.
The wolf slashed at him again, his teeth missing their mark this time, and the beast danced out of reach, preparing for another attack. In the instant’s respite, Acair lunged to his feet, bringing his blade to bear as the wolf sprang again. Acair’s arm swung, and the wolf gave a yelp of pain.
Goaded into action, Gilda flew at Acair, grabbing his arm and holding onto it with terror-driven tenacity.
The pirate struck her with his bloody arm, breaking her grip and sending her to her knees several feet away. Dazed, Gilda lifted a trembling hand to her head, watching in shock as Acair turned to the wounded wolf.
“Ye damned beast!” he spat, crouching to counter another attack. His hands splayed wide, the bloody knife a deadly extension of himself. The wolf stood before him, head down, yellow gaze on his foe. A growl rolled from his heaving chest. One front foot dangled just above the ground. Gilda could not look away.
“Come eat my blade,” Acair taunted, waving the short knife in the air.
“Pick someone yer own size,” an unexpected voice commanded. The deadly tableau broken, all four whirled to the newcomer.
Mairead was the first to recover. “Conn!”
“Ye know this sniveling wench?” Acair grinned and pointed to Gilda with the tip of his knife. “She isnae such a beauty as yon lass, but ye can have yer pick when I am finished.”
“Ye willnae prey on the helpless again,” Conn replied as he advanced. “Draw yer sword and fight me.”
“No!” Mairead cried, reaching toward the two men. Gilda lunged to her feet and grabbed the other woman.
“Dinnae distract him,” she hissed in warning.
“He is my brother,” Mairead sobbed, but she turned her face into Gilda’s shoulder and muffled her words.
Blinking back tears and the effects of Acair’s stunning blow, Gilda pushed Lissa and Mairead into the thicket, leaving the clearing to the men.
* * *
Conn spared the women a quick look, his sister sobbing into Gilda’s shoulder as Gilda swayed on her feet. Lissa’s sharp gasp shook him out of his inattention and he swung about, narrowly missing the blade that thudded into the trunk of the tree behind him. With a roar, he charged his opponent. Grunting, the pirate reached for his sword with his injured arm. A grimace crossed his face and he shifted the weapon to his other hand. Conn registered the bloody, tattered mess of the brigand’s mangled arm.
There was scant room in the tiny glen for two fighting men to engage their swords. Conn crashed into his foe, slamming him against a tree. The pirate’s breath left him in a low groan, but Conn didn’t have time to follow up the slight edge as the outlaw shoved him away. Ducking, Conn dodged the downward slash of steel, pivoted and brought his sword up to block the vicious blow.
Using the force of his spin, Conn lashed out with one foot. Making solid contact with the side of the pirate’s knee, he sent him crashing to the ground. With a bellow, the pirate rolled to the side, swinging his sword. Conn narrowly avoided the deadly arc, but lost his footing as he slid on the leaves on the forest floor. Arms waving, he caught his balance just before he sprawled atop the pirate, but the man was already on one knee, bringing his weapon to bear. Conn heard the whoosh of the sword as it sliced through the air a split second before it bit deep in his shoulder. Bright shards exploded in his head at the pain.
One of the girls screamed. He braced himself, stumbling to his feet as his vision cleared. A shadowed form burst past him with a rumbling growl and Conn drew back in surprise. The wolf crashed into the pirate, knocking him to the ground. He snarled atop the downed man, and the pirate’s sword, hilt slippery with blood, scuttled from his hand, landing amid the bracken.
Conn staggered to the ravaging beast and grasped it by the ruff. With an effort he heaved the wolf aside and it vanished into the thicket.
Wiping sweat from his brow, Conn stared at the wounded man at his feet. Twisted on the ground, the pirate’s breath whistled from his savaged throat as his life’s blood pumped rhythmically into the fallen leaves. The men’s eyes locked, and in an act of mercy, Conn plunged his sword deep into the pirate’s chest.
For several long moments Conn stood over the dead man. The sound of faint sobbing reached his ears and he staggered to the girls. He saw the looks of horror as they stared at the dead pirate. “Dinnae dare faint on me,” he rasped.
Mairead stared at him. “Ye killed him!”
“He would have killed me, and ye included, had I not.”
“The wolf—” Lissa whimpered.
“Dinnae fash about the wolf. Hie back to the castle. Now!”
The two girls started at his voice, but Gilda’s mutinous look gave him pause.
“Where is Ryan?” she asked.
“He is busy. I am taking ye home.”
“I willnae—”
“Dinnae distract him,” Conn mocked without humor, flinging her own words back at her. “Leave, before more pirates come.”
He saw her pause. “I promised him I would see ye safe. I will come back for him as soon as ye are at the castle.”
Gilda opened her mouth, then pressed her lips in a stubborn line. He bent to wipe his blade in the leaves, but the movement wrenched the gash in his shoulder. With a cry of pain, he grasped the wound and fell to his knees as fresh blood poured warm across his hand.
“Yer arm!” Gilda exclaimed and hurried to his side. Her fingers gently probed his shoulder and he bit back a moan. She tore a strip from the hem of her gown. “Lissa! I will need another piece for bandaging. Mairead, come hold yer brother’s wound together.”
He wanted to tell them to hurry, but his teeth ground against the pain as Mairead, her head averted, used both hands to push the edges of the gash together. With deft movements, Gilda wrapped the bandages around his arm, stemming the rush of blood.
Gilda cupped his cheek in her palm. “Conn, we cannae take the time to go through the forest. We must go back for the horses.”
“’Tis safer through the trees.”
“Ye willnae make it on foot.”
Her observation gave him pause. His body trembled and he was not sure he could rise, much less walk all the way back to the castle. But there was
no guarantee Ryan had held back the pirates. Dare he risk leading the girls back to the clearing above the beach?
* * *
Gilda saw the grimace on Conn’s face. “Come. We will be careful.”
Shouts and the sound of a horn suddenly echoed through the trees. Tremors ran through Gilda and Conn’s hesitation told her he warred with his decision.
“Something is happening. Ye must go,” she pleaded.
At his reluctant nod, they skirted the edge of the glen, pressing into the safety of the trees. Winding amid the trunks, Gilda clutched Lissa’s hand, Mairead bringing up the rear while Conn struggled to keep the lead. Gilda’s heart beat faster as they approached the edge of the forest. Voices rose in the air, but there were no sounds of fighting, no clash of steel or battle cries. She swallowed against the acrid rise of fear.
Conn halted, lifting his arm in command. “Stay here.”
“But—”
He shook his head. “Ye three must stay together. I will bring the horses back. And Ryan, too.”
Unsaid words of uncertainty hung between them, adding to Gilda’s worry.
She saw Conn waver and he would not meet her gaze. She wanted to argue, but Lissa and Mairead pressed against her and she knew they were too frightened to be of help. “Aye,” she agreed. Blinking back the sudden sting of tears, she added. “Find Ryan.”
Without answering, Conn slipped through the trees and was gone. Gilda waited in silence, straining to hear anything that would tell her news of the Macraig soldiers and her husband. The forest remained eerily quiet.
“I cannae stand this,” she whispered to the others. “I must at least see what has happened.”
Mairead grabbed her arm. “Nae! Ye could be seen!”
Lissa’s eyes, red and swollen, cast a silent plea against such risk.
“Yer brothers and my husband are out there. I must know what is going on.”
“Conn will be back soon,” Mairead urged. “Please dinnae leave us.”
“I willnae leave ye. Ye will follow me to the edge of the trees. No further.”
Lissa gulped audibly. Mairead squared her shoulders and nodded once. “Aye.”
Cautiously, Gilda led the two girls through the bracken, their footsteps dulled in the thick layer of dead leaves. Moments later, they stooped behind a large bush, peering through its branches at the clearing ahead.
Lissa gasped and buried her head in Gilda’s side.
Bodies lay scattered everywhere. Many more men than had ridden out with them crowded the field, their horses reassuring Gilda they were not pirates but soldiers from the castle who had ridden to their aid. Two men placed a body in the wagon, pulling the edge of his kilt forward to cover his head.
Quickly, Gilda scanned the area. Her heart plummeted when she did not see Ryan among the men. For several agonizing minutes, she watched the scene below as it repeated itself over and over. Finally, Gilda counted eight riderless horses as men roped them together for the trip back to the castle.
“Look! Here he comes,” Mairead hissed in her ear. Gilda’s gaze followed Mairead’s pointing finger to the edge of the plateau and saw Conn, three horses in tow, riding toward them.
Alone.
Chapter 20
Gilda buried her face deep in her pillow and screamed. She pounded the feathered softness with clenched fists, but the pain inside did not lessen. Bitterness ate at her, taunted her, consumed her. On the bed next to her, Lissa whimpered softly. Gilda envied the girl her sleep, drugged though it was, and craved the oblivion of numbing rest for herself. But she also feared the nightmares that would come with it, reminding her of what she had lost. She curled into herself. Deep inside, a hole burned ever larger, deeper, hollow, cold. A fierce pain that might never go away.
Over and over the voices swept through her mind, reliving the hours after she and the others had regained the castle after the pirate attack. Without Ryan. Hours during which the laird had questioned them until Gilda thought she would go quite mad. A mirthless laugh swept through her. Perhaps she was. She clutched her pillow tightly and bit her lip.
“We had no warning, laird. The Macraig soldiers fought hard, yer son hardest of all.”
“Without the help from the castle, we would have all perished.”
“I saw yer son fighting near the edge of the cliff. When I looked again, he was gone.”
“His sword was retrieved on the rocks of the shore below. There was no sign of his body.”
Nameless faces whose words she had tried desperately to shut out. How could Ryan be gone? Death was ever a reality, but not now, not when their love was so young. They had years ahead of them, aye? She and Ryan had only been married a little over a fortnight. It wasn’t possible he was gone.
The love in her heart said he still lived.
The burn constricting her chest told her she would never see him again.
Gilda rubbed her swollen, gritty eyes and rolled to her back, pulling the blanket close around her. As if to mock the previously beautiful day, the weather had turned bitter, winds whistling about the castle, bringing a storm in from the sea. She shivered as lightning streaks lit the moonless sky.
She remembered Conn’s defeated stance as he rode toward them. He had refused to talk to her as they mounted their horses for the ride back to Ard Castle. His averted gaze spoke volumes to her even as she begged him to tell her what had happened to Ryan and the others. Hunched over his saddle, he had led them home, his silence destroying her hopes.
Restless, her eyes refused to close, and she slipped from the bed, pulling a heavy arisaid over her shoulders against the cold. Gently turning the latch, she left Lissa to her uneasy dreams.
Below, a murmur of voices rose and the warm glow from the huge fireplace in the great hall painted the stone pale gold with its light. Gilda shivered. She longed for the warmth of the fire, but did not wish to face the pitying looks of the people still gathered. Had Lissa not cried and pleaded with her to stay, she would have gone back to Scaurness Castle hours ago, before the storm arrived.
Laird Macraig’s grudging words for her to ‘do as ye please’ scarcely hid his hatred of her. It was clear he blamed her for Ryan’s death. Had she not insisted on the outing, he would have been well-protected at the castle when the pirates struck. Gilda swallowed another scream. She blamed herself as well.
The fire’s warm promise drew her downward and she clung to the shadowed edges of the room. Finally close enough for the heat of the flames to seep through the wool of her gown, Gilda sank onto a chair. She tucked the edges of her arisaid about her and closed her eyes. Voices faded in and out as she tried to erase from her mind the events of the day.
* * *
Conn saw how Gilda folded herself gingerly into a chair near the hearth. Shadows all but obscured her features, but he knew her well. Her form, her very presence burned deep in his soul. He fingered the mug of ale on the table beside him, longing for whisky to dull the ache within him.
Damn her! Why could she not have been content to stay safe within the castle walls? Why could she not have left well enough alone? Conn jerked the mug to his lips and took a deep drink. Ryan never could nae-say the red-haired wench. Bluidy little temptress almost got all of us killed.
He set the mug down with a thump and a glower. Gilda had not been the only one eager for a day out of the castle. The others had been impatient, too. But it had been Gilda who had stood firm against the pirate, Gilda who bound his arm and stopped the bleeding. He surveyed her huddled form. And it was Gilda who had lost her husband, even as Conn lost his closest friend. Hell, it was Gilda’s wolf that held the pirate at bay until Conn arrived.
Unsure if it was a good idea or not, Conn rose to his feet and shuffled to Gilda’s side, feeling at least a hundred years old. With a soft groan, he lowered himself to the chair next to hers. She glanced at him, pain pooling deep within her eyes. He handed her his mug.
“It willnae make the pain go away, but mayhap ’twill help ye sleep.”
Without a word, she accepted the drink, downing it in a gulp. “It willnae bring him back, either, will it?” she whispered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Conn clenched his teeth. “Nae, lass. Ryan isnae coming back. ’Tis something I will live with all my life.”
Gilda tilted her head in curiosity. “Why? Ye did everything ye could to help.”
“I wasnae there when he needed me.”
He felt her touch on his knee and saw her earnest look. “Ye did what he asked. Ye saved Mairead and Lissa.” She frowned. “And me.”
“I could have sent someone else. It dinnae have to be me.”
Gilda pulled her hand back, tucking it beneath the edge of her arisaid. “Nae. It dinnae have to be ye. But it was. And ye killed the pirate, Acair, who would have kidnapped us. Another man might not have.”
“Ye are sure it was Acair MacEwen?”
“I heard it from his own lips. He was the one who promised revenge on my father.”
Silence lengthened between them. Conn remembered the clan meeting at Scaurness Castle and the night Laird Macrory asked for help against the pirates. Laird Macraig had said ‘nae.’ What good his prideful scorn now?
The noise around them faded as people sought their rest. Gilda and Conn sat unmoving in their chairs.
“Will ye stay here?” he finally asked.
“Um?” Gilda bestirred herself, shifting in her seat. “I will stay for a bit. Lissa seems to need me. But I will return to Scaurness as soon as possible.” She picked at the hem of her gown. “Laird Macraig has no use for me.”
Conn had seen the hatred for Gilda on the old laird’s face, and wondered if she shouldn’t leave immediately.
“Is Ard Castle not yer home, now?”
Gilda flinched. “Nae. And I dinnae want it to be.” Her voice broke on a sob and Conn had to lean forward to hear her next words. “I want my ma.”
He stared at her, truly seeing her for the first time since they’d returned to the castle. The temptress who had stolen Ryan’s heart was gone. As was the brave young woman who had stood up to the menacing pirate. The girl who sat next to him was heartbroken and vulnerable. She needed her ma.