by Cathy MacRae
“A lass and her brother. Aye, they were Macrorys.”
“A crofter’s lass doesnae have a soldier for a guard.”
“I dinnae say she was a crofter.”
Laird Macraig exploded. “Dinnae play games with me! Ye are betrothed to Mairead MacLaurey and ye willnae disgrace this clan by consorting with the Macrory bastard!”
Ryan dropped the linen napkin. The cheese and bread tumbled unheeded across the table. He advanced on the older man. “Ye willnae call Gilda a bastard again. Neither in my hearing nor out of it.” He stopped just a step distant and pointed a finger at his sire’s chest. “I willnae marry Mairead MacLaurey. She is a complaining besom who will make her husband’s life a constant misery. And ye will treat whomever I marry with the utmost respect, be it Gilda Macrory or another.”
His da drew back. “Ye are a disrespectful lad.”
“Nae. I give ye the respect due ye as my sire and as laird of this clan. It doesnae mean I always agree with ye.”
Laird Macraig snorted. “I have signed the contract.”
“I havenae signed it. And I willnae.”
Ryan waited, breathless, for his da to speak again, but the man seemed deflated, his bluster gone. Repacking his dinner, Ryan nodded. “Good night to ye.”
* * *
“I hope there is a flask of whisky in that bundle.”
Ryan jumped. Conn pushed away from the shadows of the hallway and strolled alongside.
“I heard yer discussion with yer da.”
Ryan looked at the items in his hands. “Damn. I forgot the pastry.”
“’Tis whisky ye need, not sweets.”
“Ye are most likely right. But I was all set for a nice pastry.”
“Will he cease harping on the Macrory lass?”
“The bigger question is, will he stop trying to foist yer sister off on me?”
Conn nodded. “Aye. That needs to be stopped. Mayhap he will send a rider before they leave home. ’Twould do no good to give her the sad news after she is already here.”
Ryan stopped at his doorway, a pained expression on his face. “Do ye have any happy thoughts to impart, or do ye just want to go away now?”
Conn thought for a moment. “I will get the flask of whisky from my room and come back. Ye will need it.”
* * *
The head table had been rearranged to accommodate the guests. Rarely did her da seat guests on the dais with the family. Gilda’s gaze slid to her chair and the golden-haired boy seated to her right. Her chest grew tight in panic. The space left for her was too small, too close to the Maclellan heir.
Her gaze flew to Finlay, her da’s captain and her own trusted confidant since she was a small child. The kind look on his face nearly undid her. Even Finlay knew why the Maclellans were here.
“Here is my daughter.” Her da’s voice pierced the fog surrounding her. “Come, Gilda, and take yer seat. We are nearly starved waiting on ye.”
“Starved, but not parched!” Laird Maclellan’s laugh boomed heartily and he raised his goblet. “’Tis a fine wine ye serve at yer table, Laird. After supper, ye will break out yer best whisky, aye?”
Gilda halted her steps. Did the man expect to toast the betrothal? Or was he just looking to indulge in her da’s well-known drink?
“Come, lass. Take yer seat.” The Maclellan motioned her forward and Gilda moved to her chair. Casting a wary eye on the lad next to her, she tucked her skirt close and slid her chair beneath the table.
“Should have held the chair for her, ye wee loun!” the Maclellan announced with an air of disapproval. The lad’s cheeks flushed and he gave Gilda a sullen smirk of apology.
“My son, Boyd. A fine young man he is. Scarcely a year older than yerself, lass, and already has the lasses at home eating out of his hand.” Laird Maclellan’s laugh burst forth again, perhaps a bit forced.
Gilda lifted an eyebrow at the way Boyd Maclellan hunched in his seat, his gaze on his plate as he studiously avoided looking at her.
“Sit up, lad, and hand the lass some food. She needs some meat on her bones,” the Maclellan snapped.
Somehow Gilda managed to make it through the meal, though the food stuck in her throat and she changed her wine for clear water to wash it down. At last the servants began to clear the dishes away. Gilda’s heart pounded too quickly, the moment of truth imminent.
With an explosive, rolling belch, Laird Maclellan pushed from the table and sprawled in his chair. “Laird, I would like to continue our discussion from the other night. The pirates seem to have disappeared from the coast, and it is time to speak of more weighty matters.”
“I think I told ye my daughter is not yet of an age for marriage.”
“Nonsense. Why, look at her. Too thin, of course, but good hair and skin, and of a good size for breeding.”
Gilda heard the collective intakes of breath around her. To her left, her ma shifted in her seat and laid a hand atop hers, grasping her fingers.
“I think the men would be more comfortable in my husband’s private chamber. I will send a servant with whisky,” she said.
“Good idea! Fine woman ye married, Laird. Knows just what to say.” Laird Maclellan rose to his feet. “Show me the way. Business is private, ye know.”
The room emptied except for the few servants clearing the supper remains. Gilda peered at the young man at her side. He was tall and lanky, unlike his sire, though muscles bunched and smoothed in his arms as he moved platters about on the table. A sullen look on his face caused Gilda’s fervent hope her da would simply decline the Maclellan laird’s betrothal suggestion.
Silence between them lengthened and Gilda fidgeted in her seat. She struggled for something to say, finally mumbling, “Ye look to be verra tall.”
Boyd turned. His brown eyes bored into hers, sending a chill down Gilda’s spine. “Ye are verra pretty.”
Gilda flinched at the monotone voice. “Dinnae say that.”
Boyd slouched in his chair. “My da told me to say it.”
Gilda edged away from him. It was apparent he was no more interested in a betrothal than she. Given the conversation taking place behind closed doors between their fathers, she was not sure whether to be alarmed or relieved.
“Boyd, do ye really want to get married?”
He scowled. “Nae.”
“Why not?”
“I have a lass at home. She is verra nice and treats me well.” Boyd’s eyes raked over her. “I like a willing lass, and one who doesnae mind if I stray a bit.”
Gilda’s eyebrows lifted in disbelief. “A man could wake up missing vital parts with an attitude like that.”
Boyd sat straight in his chair, his face reddening. “Ye think to threaten me? My da—”
“Yer da is a bully and so are ye.”
“I am not a bully.”
Gilda sent him a chilling glare and leaned close so he could not mistake her words. “I think ye are, and I wouldnae marry ye if ye were the last man on earth.”
“Och, so the bairns have made friends?” Laird Maclellan boomed as he entered the hall. Gilda jumped at the sound of the laird’s voice and landed back in her seat.
The laird gestured with a beefy hand. “Come, lad. We will rest and take our leave in the morning.”
Gilda glanced at her ma, a shadow in the doorway behind the men. Her spirits rose. Had they not reached an agreement? She frowned. Laird Maclellan was taking his disappointment, if indeed it was, too well. There was no toasting, but no disgruntlement, either.
What had her da promised?
Chapter 11
Ryan cast a critical look at the sky. Clouds rolling in from the sea cloaked the late afternoon sun. His ride home looked to be dark and wet.
Where was Gilda? He battled back his irritation. There was nothing he could do if she was detained at the castle. In truth, he missed her with a ferocity that amazed him. He’d clung to his temper with an iron fist this morning until he finished taking care of clan business with his d
a and could slip away to see her again.
Damn. There was much for him to do tomorrow. He couldn’t dodge weapons practice every day, and someone was bound to become suspicious if he was unavailable for hours every afternoon. He couldn’t risk coming back tomorrow. Ryan chaffed at the empty feeling stretching his insides, knotting him until he could no longer sit still.
“She is late?” Anice queried.
From his vantage point on a stone bench near her front door, he could see much of the narrow trail wending to the village, but no sign of Gilda.
He shoved at his hair in frustration. “Aye.”
Anice stepped outside. “She would be here if she could.”
“I know. It doesnae make the wait any easier.”
“Nor the disappointment.”
Ryan stared at the young woman. “Why do ye do this for us?”
Anice smiled. “Because she is my best friend, and I want her to be happy. I have seen the way ye look at her, the way she lights up when she is around ye. I believe ye could make her verra happy.”
“I love her. I dinnae know how much longer I can tolerate meeting her like this.”
Anice’s laughter bubbled. “Ye have just met her here the once.”
“Aye. And it nearly tore my heart out to leave her then.”
The young woman sobered. “Will ye take her to wife?”
“Aye. ’Tis my plan.”
“What will ye do about her da? He isnae likely to give permission.”
“I would do nothing to estrange her from her family, but if necessary, I would marry her without her father’s blessing.” She isnae likely to receive a blessing from my father, either.
He searched once more down the village path and was again disappointed. With a sigh, he rose. “If she comes here, tell her I am sorry I missed her. I will send word to ye when I can return if ye think ye can get it to her.”
Anice nodded. “I will see she receives yer message.”
Ryan untied Duer from the post. Checking the cinch on his saddle, he led the horse past the cottage and into the cover of a grove of trees. He gathered the reins and placed one hand on the pommel, the other on the cantle as he prepared to mount.
“Ryan, wait!”
He whirled at the sound of Gilda’s voice in time to catch her as she hurtled into his arms. He hugged her to him, glad he had waited as long as he had. He felt her body tremble against him, and it was several moments before he realized she was crying.
* * *
Anice handed Ryan a cup of water. He nodded his thanks and offered it to Gilda. She leaned her head against his chest, cuddled in his lap, her arms wrapped around him.
Anice walked across the room, picked up her arisaid, and draped it over her shoulders. “I will fetch more water. I think I will walk all the way down to the burn.”
Closing the door softly behind her, Anice left them alone in the cottage.
Ryan set the mug on the table. “Tell me again what happened.”
Gilda took a shuddering breath. “Last night Laird Maclellan brought his son to the castle to talk to Da about a betrothal between me and Boyd. When their meeting was over, the Maclellan seemed to be neither cheerful nor angry, and Da didn’t say anything to me. I thought Da had put him off again.”
“The Maclellan had approached yer da before?”
Gilda nodded. “The night of the clan meeting. Ma said he dinnae want to talk about a betrothal because he dinnae think I was old enough to wed.”
“Something changed his mind?”
“Mayhap he realized I will be seventeen tomorrow.” She shrugged. “I dinnae know what happened. But this morning Laird Maclellan insisted I take his son for a walk through the gardens before they left. And then…”
Gilda turned her face into his chest. Ryan stroked her hair, absently fingering the wayward strands poking out of her braid.
“Da took me to his office and told me he had considered the Maclellan’s offer and it was a good match. He wanted to know what I thought.”
“And ye told him.” Ryan sighed. “Did ye not consider what his reaction would be when he discovered we had met?”
“Oh, Ryan, what will we do? He sent me to my room and I had to wait forever until he and Ma were closed in his private chamber before I could slip away. They will soon realize I am not there and come looking for me.”
“Do ye think they will come here?”
Gilda nodded her head. “Aye. I have visited Anice several times in the past week.”
“They will assume it was to meet me. We must decide what to do, and quickly.”
“I willnae marry Boyd.”
“Ye dinnae have to, a stor. Ye will marry me.”
“Truly?” She leaned back, tilting up her face, hope in her grey eyes. “How? When?”
“As soon as I can find a priest.” He crooked a finger beneath Gilda’s chin, bringing her gaze to his. “Do ye trust me, Gilda?”
Her eyes widened and she nodded. “I do.”
“Then come with me to Ard Castle. Marry me.”
Gilda’s face clouded and Ryan knew the implications sank in. “Ye will leave yer family. They willnae like this and mayhap will even be angry with ye. Can ye trust me to love ye through this and wait for yer parents to understand?”
For a breathless moment Ryan thought she would not do it. Then she relaxed and touched her hand to his cheek.
“Graim thu, Ryan.”
He took her hand and kissed it then pressed it to his heart. “As long as I live, ye will want for nothing. This I swear to ye.”
Gilda smiled and his doubts fled.
* * *
Candle flames flickered in the draft as Ranald spun about, the sweep of his plaide billowing as he paced. His footsteps pounded the floor and Riona fancied the solid rock walls shook.
“What was she thinking?” His low voice growled the much-asked question, and Riona sighed.
“She wasnae purposefully disobeying. Ye hadnae told her not to speak to the Macraig’s son.”
“She should know better. There is no alliance between our clans.”
“Aye. But there is no feud, either.”
Ranald shot her a furious look. There is now.
Riona left her seat and crossed the room to stand before her husband. She placed the palm of one hand gently against his chest and looked into his stormy eyes. Slowly, she fingered the length of plaide draped across his chest until she felt some of the tension leave him.
“Did ye really want Gilda to marry the Maclellan lad?”
Ranald narrowed his eyes. “His clan is powerful.”
Riona raised her eyebrows, but said nothing.
“The Maclellans have been staunch allies.”
This time Riona tilted her head.
“Damn it, Ree, I am new at this. I wouldnae marry her to the first man who offered for her. But it was an honorable proposal.”
“But ye dinnae expect her to fancy herself in love with a young man ye consider the least suitable for her, either.”
“Laird Macraig is not a good man. As overbearing as the Maclellan is, at least he is respectable.” Ranald stroked the back of his hand down her cheek. Riona leaned into the caress. “Macraig insulted ye and Gilda both with his marriage proposal.”
Riona nodded once. “’Twas years ago.”
“The man still holds a grudge.”
“’Tis apparent his son doesnae.”
Ranald’s hands cupped her face, tilting it to his. Eyes the color of the sea at night stared back at her. She leaned up on her toes and pressed a kiss against his lips. Tension of a different sort hummed through him now, and Riona wound her arms about his neck.
“I sent Finlay to retrieve Gilda from her room,” Ranald murmured against her lips. “Mayhap we could explore this more fully later?”
The chamber door burst open behind them. Finlay’s face was pale and strained.
“Gilda is gone!”
* * *
The first raindrops fell before they r
eached the edge of the forest. Gilda stopped and pulled the edge of her arisaid over her head. Thunder rumbled and Gilda grabbed at Ryan’s outstretched hand as though she were drowning.
He urged, “Can ye make it?”
The old childhood fear clutched her as lightning flashed in the distance, but Gilda nodded bravely, her throat too dry to speak.
“We will mount up now we are out of sight of the village. ’Tis over two hours of hard riding to Ard Castle from here, and with us both on Duer’s back, ’twill take longer.”
Ryan’s warhorse was much larger than Gilda’s dainty mare, and Ryan’s hand splayed against her bottom as he boosted her into the saddle. Heat slid through her, overriding her fear of the storm. Before she could remark it, Ryan was behind her, urging Duer on.
Water slid down the leaves and dripped off the edge of Gilda’s arisaid. Warmth from Ryan’s arms around her helped, but the cold, driving rain soon saturated her cloak and seeped through her gown. She shivered and clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering, wishing they could travel faster than the slow pace the storm demanded.
Duer reared in fright as lightning flashed with a loud crack of thunder. A nearby tree toppled, crashing through the underbrush with a great swoosh of sound. The acrid odor of smoke filled the air. Ryan’s arms tightened around Gilda.
He soothed the big horse, but did not send him forward. Gilda peered into the storm-fed gloaming. A small red glow lit nearby, evidence of the lightning strike.
“The rain will put out the fire, but we need to find shelter.” Though he spoke into her ear, Ryan raised his voice to be heard over the deluge. Gilda grasped her arisaid close around her and nodded. She was cold and wet and frightened. This was not how she had envisioned starting her life with Ryan.
“Where is that cave?”
Taking a moment to get her bearings, Gilda blinked through the rivulets of water streaking her face. She pointed to their right, her directions leading them to the shallow cavern they had sheltered in more than a sennight ago. Ryan swung down, lifting his arms to help her dismount.
“I will tie Duer. Get inside.”
Gilda brushed aside the heavy branches covering the entrance to the cave. A musky odor assaulted her and she hesitated. Listening intently, she gave her eyes time to adjust to the darkness, but could detect nothing in the gloom save a couple of large rocks. The wind howled, driving Gilda inside. She stood just beyond the opening, hesitant to go deeper.
