The Highlander's Reluctant Bride

by Cathy MacRae

  He tucked Riona’s head under his chin. “Wheesht, now, lass,” he murmured. “Dinnae worry.” He rocked his body in time with her movements, seeking to comfort her. “Nae one will harm ye or Gilda.”

  In response, Riona burst into tears. Sobs shook her body, and Gilda’s wails spiraled higher. At a loss, Ranald glanced up and saw Finlay standing impotently in the doorway. With a sharp jerk of his head, he motioned for the man to enter. Gingerly, Finlay crossed the room.

  Ranald nodded at Gilda. “Take the wean.”

  Eyebrows raised in alarm, Finlay thrust out his hands. Gilda pulled away from Ranald and Riona’s grasp and gained her feet, tottering across the mattress, her eyes streaming tears as she launched herself into Finlay’s arms.

  “Wheesht, lass,” he rumbled softly. “Ye cannae hear the story of the sea swine if ye greet so.”

  The promise of a story stopped Gilda’s tears, and Finlay, visibly relieved, carried her to a comfortable chair near the fireplace. As he settled her on his lap he crooned, “There once lived a princess in a far away land . . .”

  Ranald pressed his lips against Riona’s hair, shushing her as he rubbed her back in long, soothing strokes. Her sobs died away, fading into snuffling gasps, and at last into shuddering sighs.

  Picking up a corner of the velvet coverlet, he dried her cheeks. Snuggled close in his arms, she did not protest, and after a moment sat up, eyes downcast, her hands clasped in her lap.

  Relief warring with anger at her earlier outburst, Ranald took a calming breath before he spoke. “D’ye care to tell me what happened downstairs?”

  Riona took a deep breath of her own. “Morgan MacEwen was on the beach this morning?”

  “Aye.”

  She lifted a devastated gaze to him. “And Gilda was with ye?”

  Ranald nodded.

  “Did he see her?”

  Understanding streaked through him, and his stomach churned. He clenched his jaw, knowing to speak too hastily would ruin the tentative bond they’d formed.

  “Is he the one who raped ye?”

  Riona did not answer, but her eyes told Ranald what he needed to know.

  He turned to Finlay, noting the story of the sea swine had ceased. “Find Manus. Double the guard. Send men to search every corner, every stair, every possible inch of the castle.”

  The guard in the doorway stepped forward, his young face stark white in the darkened room. “Laird. Nae one knows where Manus is. He hasnae been seen since supper.”

  Chapter 13

  Sentries flanked either side of Riona’s door. More guarded the stairwells and doorways, halls and every nook and cranny of Scaurness Castle. Morgan MacEwen would have to climb the sheer rock in order to reach Riona or Gilda. With a sense of foreboding, Ranald peered over his shoulder at the window slits high above his head.

  “Position guards to watch the tower. I dinnae want MacEwen scaling the walls.”

  “There are guards at every point of the castle, Laird. I’ve sent six men to patrol the beach to the north, six along the coast to the south. I’ve kept half the men in reserve to replace those on duty.” Finlay grasped Ranald’s shoulder, compelling him to meet his solemn gaze. “We are pledged to protect them, Ranald. The MacEwens willnae get into the castle.”

  Ranald clenched his jaw, returning Finlay’s stare evenly, the promise of violence simmering. “Have ye discovered Manus’s whereabouts?”

  “Nae, but he isnae in the castle. The men are going to each door in the village, looking for him. ‘Tis late and they’re doing their best, but ‘tis slow going.”

  “I want him found.”

  “Ye believe him a traitor?”

  “I want to ask him.” Ranald did not care what it took to get answers.

  “We cannae do more, Ranald. See to Riona. I will let ye know if there is news.”

  Ranald hesitated. He knew Finlay was right. Every able-bodied man in the castle, soldier or not, had been called to duty. Finlay was a capable captain, and nothing would escape his notice. The responsibility to lead the soldiers still fell to him as laird, but something inside tugged at him, insisting he go to Riona, reassure her yet again nothing would harm her or Gilda. The memory of the lass’s face, reflecting her mother’s fear, spurred his decision.

  Though the guards knew him as laird, assessing gazes followed him as he mounted the stairs, entered the hallway, and approached Riona’s door. The scrutiny was unnerving, but Ranald appreciated the soldiers’ alertness, relieved he did not have to clarify further. Protect them with yer lives, he’d ordered. That they did was a reassurance.

  Ranald opened the door and edged inside, his gaze coming to rest on long, slender arms wrapped around the small bundle of nightclothes and red-gold hair that was Gilda. Riona’s braid trailed across her pillow, disappearing in the shadowed darkness beyond the reach of the banked fire. Both were fast asleep.

  Riona’s eyes flicked open, wide and wary, the fear damped down by sheer exhaustion. Ranald crossed the room, and Riona struggled to sit up. Gilda whimpered in her sleep.

  “Shush, dearling. Ye are fine.”

  Gilda settled at the sound of his voice, and nestled against her pillow with a faint sigh. Ranald stroked her hair, gathering his thoughts.

  “Have ye found him?” Riona asked.

  Ranald hiked a hip on the edge of the bed next to her. Shadows beneath her eyes gave her a haunted look, though he suspected it would be much the same in clearer light.

  He shook his head. “Nae. Guards are posted everywhere, and men patrol the beach and the village. Neither Manus nor the MacEwens have been found.”

  Riona’s stiff nod tore at Ranald’s heart and he drew his fingers over the side of her face in a soothing gesture. Bending her cheek to his fingers, she accepted his simple embrace. Ranald slid onto the bed, propping his back against the wall. He pulled Riona against his chest, settling Gilda next to his thigh, wrapped in a blanket and sleeping like an tiny angel.

  “How is it the MacEwen dinnae know he was Gilda’s father?”

  Riona leaned her head on his shoulder. “None knew about the bairn until I could hide it nae longer. By then, it had been nearly seven months. The entire clan sheltered me, loved Gilda from the moment she was born, and seemed to understand her father was no’ an honorable man. They had nae reason to spread the news, and the MacEwens are no’ much at Scaurness.”

  “D’ye think Manus missing has anything to do with the MacEwen missing as well?”

  Riona reached across Ranald’s lap and ran her fingers through Gilda’s hair, brushing the fine strands from her face. He took a deep breath to steady his response to the caress only a few inches away.

  “Manus’s loyalty to our clan has never been questioned, but it is well-known his mother left his father when he was but a bairn,” she reflected. “His ma took Manus with her, and he lived with the MacEwens until he returned here as a lad to join his father and train as a warrior.”

  Riona lifted away from Ranald’s chest and propped a hand on the mattress. “Mayhap this sounds silly, but knowing he’d once lived with the MacEwens made me distrust him after Morgan . . .” Her voice trailed off and she looked away.

  “Get some rest, Ree,” Ranald said, unable to think of anything to ease her very real fears. Manus’s unexplained absence after the MacEwen’s disappearance was too much of a coincidence to be ignored. But he didn’t have to burden Riona with his own worries.

  He rested a hand on Gilda’s back, feeling her small body move as she breathed. Riona had enough worries of her own.

  Ranald sat astride Hearn’s broad back, his attention focused on the tree line beyond the grass field the workers had cut only a few days earlier. It left no opportunity for an enemy to hide in the shorn expanse, though the forest beyond, especially at this early morning hour, held too
many shadows for his peace of mind.

  Finlay’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “D’ye think the MacEwen would use Gilda to force Riona to marry him?”

  As Ranald pondered the question, Hearn shifted his weight and pawed once at the hard ground. Ranald rolled easily with the movement, checking the horse’s restlessness with a flick of his hand on the reins.

  Finally, he shrugged, “‘Tis possible. Laird Macraig only wanted her dowry.”

  Finlay growled under his breath.

  “I told ye he dinnae want the bairn,” Ranald reminded him.

  Finlay’s reaction brought to mind his offer to ensure the Macraig laird didn’t leave Scaurness alive. It had been a close thing, but Latharn and his soldiers had ridden away shortly after the storm broke the night before. Disgruntled his claim to Riona had been dismissed, the man didn’t know he was lucky to still breathe without the pain of at least a few broken ribs.

  Thoughtful for a few moments, Finlay queried, “Could MacEwen claim the wean and force the marriage?”

  “I dinnae think so. King Robert doesnae want Scaurness in the hands of pirates.”

  “I thought ye suspected the Macraigs of piracy.”

  “Riona says everyone knows the MacEwens employ a timid manner to hide their thieving souls. The Macraigs, while excellent sailors, are no’ pirates.”

  Quick hooves sounded on the packed ground behind them, and Ranald and Finlay pivoted in their saddles, bringing their horses around to face the two soldiers who rode to meet them, recognizing one as Hamish, Manus’s second-in-command.

  Both men reined their horses to a halt. “Laird—”

  Ranald nodded for them to continue.

  “Laird, Ennis here spoke to Manus yesterday.” Hamish tossed a glare in the other man’s direction, but the wizened old man seemed to take no offense.

  Ranald’s hard gaze bored into the older man. “Was he leaving Scaurness when ye saw him?”

  Ennis nodded. “Aye. He scarcely took more than the clothes on his back and a bag of bread and cheese.”

  “He was in a hurry?”

  “Aye.”

  “Where was he going?”

  “I dinnae know exactly.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “Aye.”

  Ranald’s rage jumped to a boil, and he ground his teeth to keep from giving the man the tongue-lashing he deserved. From the amiable look on the man’s face, he was oblivious to the fact Manus’s disappearance had caused quite an uproar.

  “Why, then?”

  “He said he had a lead on the man who jammed the postern gate and nearly allowed ruffians into the castle nigh on a sennight ago.”

  The twin doors to the great hall opened, admitting sunlight and fresh air, two things Riona craved but was unlikely to receive. Until Manus was found and the whereabouts of the MacEwens known, both she and Gilda would remain inside the secure walls of the castle. A decision singularly unacceptable to the four-year-old pulling at her hands.

  “I dinnae want to stay here! I wanna go outside!”

  Sensing an imminent tantrum, Riona caught Gilda’s wrists and tugged to force her daughter’s attention. “I am close to losing patience with ye, Gilda. There will be no outing this day. I’ve already told ye the why of it. If ye cannae behave, ye will return to yer room.”

  Booted footsteps rang on the stone floor and Gilda tore away from Riona, fleeing across the room to throw herself at Ranald. Startled, he scooped up the lass, chucking her beneath her chin with affection.

  “Wheesht, lass, what’s this about?”

  “I wanna go to the beach!” Gilda howled, burrowing her face in Ranald’s neck.

  Ranald’s quick gaze found Riona and he pulled away from Gilda’s tight grip. “Yer ma and I will discuss this later. Right now ye are to go to yer room and wait.” He set Gilda on her feet. Pulling from her clinging hands, he pointed to the stairs. She flung him an anguished look, before racing from the room.

  Ranald murmured something to Finlay before he changed direction and strode toward Riona. She tensed, expecting his blistering reprimand for her daughter’s outrageous behavior.

  He stopped a foot away and looked her over briefly before his eyes finally met hers. “‘Twould seem the restrictions dinnae set well with the lass.”

  “I’m sorry, Ranald. She isnae usually like this.”

  “I would feel the same, locked inside on such a beautiful day.”

  Riona shot him a startled look. “Ye are no’ angry with me?”

  “With ye? For no’ being able to control a child who is bored and needs a bit of freedom?” His sudden smile crinkled his eyes. “Nae. There isnae much to be done, controlling a frustrated woman. Let her get it out of her system.”

  Riona easily caught the thinly-veiled barb. “So, ye condone her behavior?”

  “Nae.” It was Ranald’s turn to look shocked. “She’ll cool her heels in her room until she can remember her manners. Afterward, we’ll see about some time outside.”

  “But, the MacEwens . . .”

  “Have been sighted back on their own beachhead. I received word a few minutes ago and came to let ye know.”

  Relief washed over her, and for a moment the room swam around her. She took a hesitant step for balance, and felt strong arms around her.

  “Wheesht, lass, dinnae faint on me.”

  She pulled herself together, but did not step out of the comfort of his arms. “I’m sorry. I dinnae get much rest last night.”

  “Nor I.” His voice rumbled low, and she glanced up to see a teasing expression on his face. She blushed to remember how he’d stayed with her until she’d fallen asleep, curled in his arms and feeling very safe. She’d woken hours later to find herself wrapped in the blanket with Gilda. Though she dozed fitfully after, she’d missed his presence.

  “Thank ye,” she said softly, suddenly unable to meet his gaze, confused by the sensations sliding through her, startled to discover she liked sleeping in his arms.

  “For what?”

  “For protecting Gilda and me.”

  Ranald kissed her forehead. “Always.”

  A firm knock sounded at the door to the laird’s chamber. With a look of apology to his steward, Ranald turned his attention to the door.

  “Enter.”

  The heavy door opened a few inches, and then a few more. Before Ranald could do more than stare at the peculiar action at the portal, a large, rough hand grasped the edge of the door and pushed it open further.

  “Gae on in, lass,” the gentled voice of one of the guards encouraged.

  Realization struck, and Ranald leaned back in his chair, folding his hands at his waist. A pink, freshly scrubbed face peeked around the doorframe, wreathed in a beatific smile the instant she spied Ranald. His heart took a direct hit and he hid a grin.

  Gilda stepped carefully into the room, a slight sashay to her walk as she approached his desk. Ranald groaned to himself. What on earth were he and her mother to do when she was a few years older? There were sure to be broken hearts aplenty laid at his door before she wed.

  “How are ye this afternoon, Gilda?”

  Gilda shrugged, bouncing her freshly braided hair across her shoulders.

  Ranald leaned forward, his forearms on his desk, as he peered at the wee lass. Gilda twisted a toe on the floor. “Cat got yer tongue, then, aye?”

  She giggled and glanced at him, her gray eyes wide and innocent. Ranald raised an eyebrow, prompting her to respond.

  “Nae,” she replied, her voice pitched to a sweet timbre.

  “So, what brings ye here?” Ranald nodded toward his steward, who waited silently for instructions to stay or leave. “I have important business with the steward. Did ye need to tell me something?”

 
“Aye. I’m sorry for being bad.”

  “Ye forgot yer manners, did ye?”

  “Aye.”

  “And ye hurt yer ma’s feelings by acting that way.”

  “Aye.”

  “Where is yer ma?”

  “Sleeping.”

  Ranald frowned. He had been waiting for Gilda’s appearance before going outside, but would not take the child without Riona’s knowledge. Telling the bairn to wait until her ma woke, however, was tantamount to telling her to go wake her ma. He sighed. Business with his steward had some advantages.

  “I will be taking a walk when I’ve finished here. Would ye care to go with me? I willnae be going to the beach,” he added with a note of warning.

  Gilda’s eyes lit. “Aye,” she replied, excitement banishing the repentant child she’d been moments before.

  “Run along, then, and be ready when I send for ye.” Ranald gave a dismissive wave of his hand, then his voice checked her as she darted for the door. “Gilda?”

  She slowly faced him.

  “Dinnae wake yer ma.”

  With a bob of her head, she was gone.

  Riona woke, clear-eyed and refreshed, then immediately panicked when she realized Gilda was gone. She leapt from her bed, crossing the floor on rubbery legs to fling the door open wide. The guard to her immediate left regarded her questioningly, his calm demeanor reassuring her nothing was amiss.

  “Have ye seen Gilda?”

  The guard nodded, dragging his eyes away and staring at a fixed point on the far wall. “She is downstairs with the laird, I believe.”

  Riona followed his gaze to the empty wall ahead, frowning as she wondered what he found so interesting. Then with a gasp, she realized he was looking, not at something, but away from her, for she wore only a thin shift. Mumbling her thanks, she slipped back inside her room, shutting the door firmly.