by Cathy MacRae
A lull in the storm had been enough to launch the ship, and though the night had been taxing as they rode the rough seas ahead of the next squall, morning dawned bright and clear. Ryan chose to ignore the dark clouds as they threatened to overtake them. He’d spent the hours keeping his own dark questions at bay.
How will I be received? Spending a year living with pirates could make my character suspicious, mayhap an outcast even. Will people trust me? Will they even believe me? Will they accuse me of staying away on purpose?
He took a mental inventory of his appearance. Dirty, ragged, still too thin. Did he even look like the person they remembered? Would they recognize him?
Doubt crept in and he searched for other questions. At least he knew Da and Gilda still lived. Laird Maclellan would have said otherwise. And his wee sister, Lissa. A smile touched his lips. She has such a sweet way about her. I wonder if Da has thought to her future yet? She would make someone a fine wife one day.
Gilda. My wife. He remembered the passion in her, the exciting, fulfilling nights they’d shared. Too few of them. Will she still grieve me? Will she still be at Ard Castle, or would she return to Scaurness? His father wouldn’t have been likely to have offered a reason for her to stay on, wife or not.
Widow, he corrected himself.
Morning light chased away the darkness and he gave himself over to the scenery before him.
“A bit of a sea brack following us, but worth the choppy seas to get us home.” The captain’s voice drifted over his shoulder.
Ryan tore his gaze from the sight of the misted mountains as they slipped down to the blue waters of the firth. “I thank ye. I know the risk to yer ship was great.”
Eyes gleaming with avarice and challenge, the captain grinned a gap-toothed smile. “Och, I had no intention of becoming shipwrackt. This ship has proven herself against worse storms than this.” He peered into the distance. “We should put to port soon. Yer da willnae deny us mooring space, will he? I dinnae want to be mistaken for a pirate ship.”
“Nae. I will take my horse and go ashore as soon as we land. The men at the docks will know me.”
The captain gave a grunt of acknowledgement and clapped Ryan on the shoulder. “Then I will leave ye to yerself whilst I manage the ship. ’Twas our pleasure to have ye on board.”
Ryan nodded absently as they entered the bend that marked the beginning of Macraig land. The sight was familiar and a lump rose in his throat. A year of no memories, and suddenly he was home!
The realization squeezed his chest. Gilda. I’ve been gone a year. Has she thought to put aside her mourning? He remembered Boyd Maclellan’s spiteful words. And marry Conn?
He scratched his head, unable to make sense of Boyd’s statement. Conn did not like Gilda, and would have had reason to hate her, blame her for the dishonor to his sister, and left to see his sister home. He would have blamed her for my death.
Boyd cannae be right. There would be no reason for them to marry, no reason for them to have ever seen each other again. He remembered the night in the cave as they fled Scaurness and said their vows to each other. Gilda was sweet and innocent—and ready to be his wife in every way.
My ‘death’ would have crushed her. My sweet darling. Living with my da for the past year with no one but my wee sister for company. She will be overjoyed to see me. His blood warmed and his breeches became uncomfortably tight.
Tonight she would be his again.
Chapter 30
Gilda stretched her arms over her head, letting slip a sigh of satisfaction. The days at Ard castle had flown by, made almost pleasurable by Laird Macraig’s conspicuous absence in whatever room she happened to occupy at the time. He had inspected Will the day they’d arrived, his belligerent stare twisting with a grimace as Will opened his amber gaze to his grandfather’s sight. With no more than a grunt of acceptance, Laird Macraig had since left the two of them strictly alone.
Lissa had been a welcome distraction, fussing over Will almost to the point of being a nuisance. But her love for the baby was obvious and Gilda could not bring herself to scold the lass for spoiling the bairn. Today, however, Lissa had snuffled and sneezed her regrets through a partly-opened door, revealing her illness and sadly unable to help with Will or attend the picnic on the beach they had planned.
Gilda sighed. I suppose I could spend the day packing and leave for Scaurness in the morning. One day earlier than planned, but with Lissa ill, there was little to keep her here.
Footsteps pounded in the hall and ended at her door. A gentle yet urgent knock sounded. Curious, Gilda opened the portal.
“M’lady, there is a young man here to see ye!” Keita’s normally dour face broke into a smile. Gilda’s eyebrows rose.
“Who is it, Keita?”
“Will’s favorite uncle, of course,” a deep voice sounded as Conn skirted the maid. Gilda flung her arms wide with delight and stepped into his embrace.
“I dinnae expect to find ye here. I must be back at Morven tomorrow and couldnae wait for ye at Scaurness.”
“Och, I cannae keep Will away just because his grandda and I dinnae get along.”
Her voice was light, cheerful. It was difficult to hide her happiness at seeing Conn. She motioned him inside the room and toward the sleeping bairn. Conn took a step forward and paused. Keita’s dour, untrusting look returned, causing Gilda to wonder what she thought Conn planned.
“He is here to visit Will, not ravish me,” she scolded. Conn coughed and Keita’s face reddened. With her nose tilted in the air, the maid pivoted on her heel and stalked down the hall.
Laughter burst from Gilda as she led Conn across the bedroom to the cradle lined with silver birch bark to keep evil spirits and faeries at bay.
Amber eyes blinked sleepily at them, tracking from one face to the other. A toothless grin split Will’s face and he kicked his feet beneath the blanket, waving his chubby hands in the air.
“So, ye are awake, my lad?” Gilda tucked the bairn into her arms and turned to Conn, offering the chance to hold Will. With eager hands, he took the bairn and lifted him into the air. Will chuckled and thrust a fist into his mouth.
Gilda sighed. “Ye best give him back to me before he realizes how hungry he is.” Her face brightened. “We were going to break our fast on the beach, but Lissa isnae feeling well. Would ye go with us?”
“Aye. I can linger the day.” He handed Will back as the bairn began to chew vigorously on his fist. “I will meet ye in the great hall when ye both are ready.”
He cleared the room, shutting the door behind him, and Gilda unlaced her bodice as she sang softly to her baby.
Feeding, burping and a change completed, Gilda made quick work of getting a basket of food together. Duncan and Archie, as well as Conn’s men, would act as guards, and Gilda bade the cook to include plenty of food for all. She settled Will against her in a heavy cloth sling after she climbed aboard Fia, and, taking the reins, began the sedate walk to the beach.
Later, Gilda’s heart swelled with contentment as she watched Conn and Will together. Conn lay on an elbow, propped above the bairn, and dangled a late-summer flower above his face. The baby’s amber eyes tracked the slow movements and his fists alternately fanned the air and retreated to his mouth.
“Ye are so good with him.”
Conn glanced up, the foolish smile with which he’d entertained Will lingering on his face.
“Ye know how much I enjoy spending time with him.” His look turned serious. “And ye.”
Gilda dropped her gaze and fingered a tiny flower poking through the grass at her side. Her forefinger traced the silken petals and down the hairy stem. The air was bright with morning sunshine, and the thin canvas stretched over them and anchored by four slender poles, flapped gently in the breeze. The soldiers formed a distant perimeter around them, giving both privacy and protection. Beyond the wiry salt grass, waves broke on the shore, a repetitive, lulling sound giving Gilda reassurance and courage.
“D
o ye often think of that day, last year—” She could not finish the question, but Conn nodded. He rolled to a seated position and draped one forearm across his knee, twirling the flower between two fingers as Will cooed.
“Aye. ’Tis not so frequent now, but for months not a day went past I dinnae wonder what I could have done differently, how things would have changed—if it had been me killed that day instead of him.”
Gilda lightly touched Conn’s upper arm in sympathy. “I used to blame myself for wanting an outing that day. As I dinnae lure us out to help the pirates attack, and truly dinnae know they had returned, I finally had to admit ’twas not my fault.”
“Gilda, ’twas never yer fault.”
“I know.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “In here, I know. Up here?” Her finger pointed to her head. “’Twas not so easy to understand.”
Conn paused thoughtfully then turned his attention to Will, who appeared to be studying the undulating canvas overhead with awed intensity. The baby’s rosebud lips puckered in an ‘O’ of delight and he chortled happily.
“I am amazed every time I see him,” Conn murmured.
Gilda swallowed past a sudden lump in her throat. “He needs a father, Conn.”
Conn glanced up sharply. “What are ye saying, Gilda?”
She shot him a teasing look. “I cannae be a mother and father to him, ye know.”
“Are ye ready to be my wife, then?”
Gilda hesitated. Was she ready to be Conn’s wife? He doesnae stir me as Ryan did. But would there ever be another man such as her true love? Did she want to live with Conn, love him, bear his children? She was no longer a starry-eyed girl. She knew full well what Conn asked of her.
It could be sweet between us. Is that enough?
Somberly, she nodded. “Aye.”
“Do ye love me?”
Again, Gilda looked for the truth in her answer. Would Conn settle for her dedication to their marriage, her companionship and her acceptance of him in their bed? Oh, Conn, I cannae love ye as I did Ryan.
“I love how ye love Will. I love how ye make me feel wanted and safe.” She worried her lower lip. “I dinnae know if I love ye like ye want. But I would do all in my power to be sure ye never regretted marrying me.”
Conn stared into the distance. “I thought if I loved ye, if ye let me love ye, it would be enough. But I want ye to love me, too.” He turned an intense gaze to her. “Do ye still love Ryan?”
A tremor shot through Gilda and she closed her eyes, fiercely holding the memories at bay. His face had faded in her mind, the look and smell and touch of him slowly becoming a mere ghost of the past. But the space in her heart only he inhabited was still empty, still tender.
At last she opened her eyes. “There will always be a place inside that remembers him. Seeing Will every day keeps that alive. I dinnae know how to change that.”
Conn scooted across the few inches that separated them and pulled her against him. It was the first time in more than a year she’d been held by a man, one who wanted to be her husband, her lover. Her breath quickened and heat swirled through her, banishing the emptiness inside. As his lips met hers, she slid her arms around his neck and curved her body to his.
With a groan, he cupped her face in his hands and ended the kiss, slowly pulling his lips away. He rested his forehead against hers, his breathing a rasping echo of Gilda’s own.
“I thought our lives would fit, regardless if ye loved me or not. I am not sure that is true anymore. I have loved Will since the day he was born, but I also love ye, Gilda. God help me if I hear Ryan’s name on yer lips while loving ye.”
Cold doubt washed over her. Am I making a mistake? “What if—”
Conn touched his finger to her lips, silencing her.
“Let me help ye forget him, Gilda. I dinnae want him to come between us.”
His next kiss stirred her, warmed her.
And for a moment, she believed he could make her forget Ryan forever.
Conn brushed a final kiss against Gilda’s temple and rose to his feet. She tilted her head in question.
“What is it?”
He gave her a reassuring look. “A birlinn approaches the dock. I would not have thought any would chance the weather. The seas have been choppy for several days. Likely a storm brews up the Channel.”
A chill shivered down Gilda’s spine. “Think ye ’tis a pirate ship?” She attempted to make the question lighthearted, but her voice broke, betraying her sudden fear.
“Och, nae. Dinnae fash yerself. There are soldiers at the dock. They will be watchful.”
Gilda tried to steady her heart as it raced in her chest. She forced herself to take slow, even breaths, but it left her light-headed, and her throat was dry. She rose to her feet.
“I believe ’tis time to take Will back to Ard. We will likely travel home to Scaurness tomorrow since Lissa is not feeling well.” She began gathering the remains of their meal, tossing food and cloths in the large wicker cubbie.
“Here. Let me give ye a hand.” Conn reached across the basket to help, but his movement startled Gilda and she knocked against the lid. It fell with a thud, rapping her fingers still gripping the edge.
“Oh!” She jerked her hand free, thrusting the throbbing fingers to her lips as tears sprang to her eyes.
“Gilda! I am sorry. Let me see.”
“’Tis not your fault,” she murmured, her voice high and tight in her ears. But she let him hold her injured hand in his, inspecting the light red line across her knuckles. “I am more startled than hurt.”
He lifted her hand and gently kissed the back of her fingers, one at a time. By the time he finished, Gilda’s heart rate was racing more from pleasure than fright.
“The thought of pirates still upsets ye?”
“Aye. I thought it had passed, but when I left Scaurness, one of the twins shouted for me to beware of pirates. For several moments, it was as if it were happening all over again. I could see, hear, smell everything.”
Conn glanced past her to the dock. “I believe the birlinn is carrying sea sales and likely the last until after the storm. Mayhap a walk to the pier, seeing the normal shipping would help put yer fears to rest?”
Gilda chewed her lip and cast a doubtful look at Will who had managed to kick a foot free of his blanket and grab his toes. He seemed content to pull his foot back and forth, and Gilda took a deep breath, steeling her nerve.
“Aye. A walk would do us all some good. Mayhap I will get a glimpse of some of the goods before they are sent up to the castle.”
“Looking for cloth for a new gown? Mayhap a wedding gown?” Conn’s teasing grin sparked an answering one from Gilda.
“Ye will want to talk to my da, but, aye. I will need cloth for my wedding gown.”
* * *
Shona displayed her displeasure at the rough sea crossing by nipping the first lad who tried to enter her makeshift stall, and turning her back on the second, adding an ill-tempered swish of her tail in warning.
A large wooden chest, no longer secure after the tossing waves, suddenly crashed to the deck, spilling its contents as its slats burst apart. Bottles scattered across the planks with the sound of rolling thunder and Shona shied at the rumbling noise, tossing her head as she lifted her forefeet off the floor of her stall.
“Steady, lass.” Ryan watched as her ears twitched in his direction. She shook her long mane and stamped a hoof irritably. “Let the lads sort out the mess and we will be off this ship. Ye dinnae want to be risking a cut leg on one of those broken bottles.”
The ship’s captain stalked past, anger showing as he berated the hapless lads clearing the deck. The sweet odor of claret permeated the air as it bled from the broken bottles across the wooden planks. Within a few moments, the salvaged flasks were packed away amid fresh straw, and the remaining shards swept away.
Ryan slipped the leather halter over Shona’s head and led her from the stall. She butted his back with her forehead in her eagerne
ss to leave the ship, and he took a skip step forward. “Wheesht, lass. I am sorry for the delay, but I will have ye saddled in a trice and give ye a bit of a run.” He raised a hand to his brow, shielding the sun. “Looks like we will need to be careful of the people headed to the docks. Likely the captain will do well with his sea sales today.”
A lad met him in a covered area just off the dock and handed him Shona’s saddle and bridle. With a nod of thanks, Ryan tossed the lad a coin and quickly tacked up the mare. She danced on the end of her reins, obviously eager to put distance between herself and the ship. With a grin for her antics, he stepped lightly into the stirrup and swung aboard.
“Give yer muscles a bit of time to warm up and get used to dry land.” His hand firm on the reins, he guided her through the crowded path up the beach. His heart quickened its beat and his head grew light with anticipation. He’d cleaned up as best he could in the moments before the ship docked, and managed to change into a moderately fresh leine. A complete transformation from ship voyager to laird’s son would have to wait. Announcing his return from the dead would likely be a long, joyful event.
What would Gilda think? What would she do? He imagined her now, a year of mourning behind her. It must have been verra rough on the lass. I doubt she’s smiled much in the past months. My poor, sweet Gilda. She had likely wasted away, devastated, no appetite to speak of. He’d heard of women whose hair had turned prematurely gray after they’d endured such a traumatic event. Would her beautiful hair have faded?
He reined Shona away from a cart full of produce and settled her beneath a canvas overhang in front of a tiny tavern as he took in the activity around him. The scene was much the same as the day he’d arrived home more than a year ago, how he had left Conn nursing a sick stomach and traveled along the beach searching for memories.
And found Gilda.
Sunlight glinted off thick red curls as a woman walked in his direction. Her face was tilted away as she listened to the man beside her. His hair shone gold and his attention turned to the bundle she carried in her arms. He took it from her, lifting it in the air. A section of cloth fell away, revealing a bairn who waved chubby fists at him.