by Cathy MacRae
“Is anything wrong?”
Gilda jumped at the sound of Ryan’s voice. Her hand shot out, fumbling for his. His fingers twined with hers and she felt immediate relief.
“It smells like a wild animal has been here.” Ryan took a step further. “I dinnae see anything now. Sit here. I will find some dry wood for a wee bit of warmth.”
The dusty rock floor was dry, but cool, and Gilda gathered her skirts and arisaid beneath her to cushion her against its chill. Sounds of the storm echoed eerily around the cave, and Gilda focused on Ryan gathering bits of bracken and limbs in the mouth of the cave, which had avoided most of the rain. He reached inside his sporran and pulled out a tiny handful of delicate tinder, then piled the smallest twigs around it on the floor near the cave’s opening.
“Some of this is still a bit green and may smoke, but it will hopefully drift outside.” He produced a bit of flint and steel and within moments, a small flame licked hungrily at the wood.
“I will be back in a moment.” On his promise, he disappeared through the entrance. Gilda scooted close to the small fire and stretched her hands to its meager warmth. Encouraged by the heat, she shrugged out of her arisaid and unlaced her sodden gown. She stripped to her shift and spread her gown over a small boulder to one side of the cave. Hurrying back to the fire, she huddled close, carefully feeding it small, dry twigs.
She looked up as Ryan entered the cave, his arms laden with firewood. He pulled up short and Gilda smothered a smile at the startled look on his face.
“I am warmer without the wet clothes.”
She thought he replied, “Me, too,” but he’d turned away to stack the wood on the floor.
He indicated one of the piles. “I found some of this beneath an old, rotted log. It is fairly dry, and the rest will dry enough to burn in time.”
Ryan pivoted slowly and Gilda’s heart fluttered at the hunger in his eyes. He shuddered.
“Are ye cold?” she asked worriedly.
His lips twitched, but his voice was solemn. “Nae, Gilda. But I wish we had consulted a priest before we fled the village. I dinnae expect to encounter a woodland faerie on my way home.”
Gilda was at a loss at what to say, unaccustomed to the banter between men and women. Yet his words warmed her better than any wood-stoked fire. Memories of the way her ma and da touched, the way their eyes lit when they entered a room to find the other there, raced through her mind.
Here was the same look on Ryan’s face as he stood silent, watchful. It occurred to her he awaited her answer.
“I am not a woodland faerie, but I will soon be yer wife,” she whispered.
His eyes darkened and his breathing deepened, but he made no move toward her. “I will wait ’til then, a stor, if it is yer wish.”
Unsure of all he meant, Gilda did know if he stayed where he was, he would not be able to kiss her. She felt the absence of his arms around her like a physical ache. If he would simply hold her, kiss her…but no, there was something different, deeper, more elemental, exciting. Her skin tingled and her breasts swelled against the confines of her thin shift. She glanced down and saw her nipples clearly outlined through the damp cloth. Embarrassed, she lifted her gaze and saw Ryan eying them as well.
“Ogling me again?” she whispered.
“As often as I can.” Ryan’s voice was hoarse and the sound sent a shiver down her spine.
“Will ye come sit with me?”
“Gilda, a stor, I cannot be that close to ye and not touch ye. Ye have promised to be mine, but we havenae the vows between us.”
Silence stretched as the wind tossed the storm outside to new heights.
“We could make our own vows.” The words trembled on her tongue.
Ryan skirted the small fire and knelt beside her. He took one of her hands in his and brought it to his cheek.
“Gilda Macrory, thabharfainn fuil mo chroí duit.” I give you the blood of my heart.
“Ryan Macraig, tugaim mo chroí duit go deo.” I give my heart to you, forever.
“I pledge my love to ye, Gilda, and everything that I own. I promise to honor ye above all others, and we will remain, forevermore, equals in our marriage. This is my vow to ye.”
Gilda felt a moment of panic. She had nothing to offer him. The clothes drying near the fire were all she now owned. She had even left her fine mare in the stable in her haste to be away.
“I have nothing to give ye, Ryan.”
“A stor, ye have given me everything. I am humbled ye left yer family and trusted me enough to own yer heart. Nothing I possess, now or ever, could measure greater.”
Gilda leaned forward, touching her forehead to his. Tears brimmed in her eyes and tightened her throat. “I pledge my love to ye, and everything that I am. I will honor ye above all others, and it will be into yer eyes I smile each morning. I will love and cherish ye through this life and into the next.”
Ryan tilted his head and she eagerly sought his kiss. His hands moved over her bare arms, igniting heat beneath her skin. Her lips parted and their tongues twined in a feverish dance that swept through her, punctuated by the thunder and lightning as the storm raging outside became a poor imitation to the one inside the cave.
She swept the wet cloak from his shoulders and tugged at the leine tucked beneath his belted plaide. Ryan sucked in a breath, allowing his leine to pull free, and Gilda slid her hands beneath the cloth. His skin was cool but warmed instantly, and she twisted her fingers through the wiry hair on his chest.
“A stor, ye must slow down. I dinnae want to hurt ye.”
Gilda stilled her hands. “Ye wouldnae hurt me.”
Ryan’s laugh was rueful and he ran a hand caressingly down her shoulder and along the curve of her breast. Fire ignited again and Gilda gasped.
He kissed her cheek. “I wouldnae harm ye for the world, but this first time we go slow, aye?”
At Gilda’s hesitant nod, Ryan leaned back on his heels and stared at her for a moment. “Do ye know what happens between a man and his wife?”
“I have seen, that is, horses and cattle… And my ma told me what not to let boys do.”
Ryan grinned and Gilda’s heart tripped. He rose, extending a hand toward her. His strong fingers curved about hers, pulling her to her feet. He leaned her against his body and she felt the same hard planes of his chest and thighs she had the day before. Even the hard ridge pressing intimately against her belly was familiar, though he had not let her explore that much of him then.
He kissed the side of her face, his lips soft, the caress fleeting. He moved down the column of her neck and Gilda arched into the caress, closed her eyes, and let him touch her, too mesmerized to move.
“Ye can touch me, too,” he murmured against her skin as he slid his hands beneath the straps of her shift, moving them over her shoulders. The neckline dipped low and Gilda’s eyes flew open as warmth slid across the top of her breasts. Ryan bent his head and she watched his hands brush the fabric aside, then his mouth closed over one exposed nipple. The gentle tugging nearly buckled her knees, and he slid one arm around her waist, supporting her.
Gilda’s hands caught at his leine again, this time tugging impatiently until she slipped it over his head. She stared at him, her fingers splayed across his chest, reveling in the sight and feel of his body. His hands roamed over her, lifting her breasts to his hungry mouth once again. Her hands dropped to his waist and the leather belt fastened there.
With clumsy fingers, she managed to undo the clasp and pull it free. His plaide hovered a moment on his hips then slid to the floor. His cock, fully erect and straining toward her, was bared to her gaze. She couldn’t keep from gaping.
Ryan pulled her against him, and the heat of him burned through her shift. “Worried, a stor?”
“Nae. But I dinnae know how this will work. What does it feel like?”
Ryan choked. “I will unwrap my leggings while ye slip out of yer shift. Then we will see to yer curiosity. It will work, I promise.”
/>
Chapter 12
Ryan’s blood shot like fire through his veins. Every fiber of his being pulsed with anticipation. His trembling fingers loosed his leggings, needing no instruction from his brain. His attention focused solely on Gilda.
Her body glowed, a pale beacon in the murky cave. Firelight licked across her skin, tinting it honey and amber. Her shift slipped down, revealing more as she let it drop. Ryan’s mouth went dry.
“Ye are so beautiful.”
A pink blush raced across her skin.
“Dinnae be embarrassed, a stor.” He straightened and took her in his arms, the warmth of her crackling against him. “Ye are mine and mine alone.” He kissed the top of her head, then tilted her so he could see her face.
Thunder boomed and startled her.
“The storm cannae touch us. Come with me.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze. “I will be embarrassed if ye think on the storm overmuch.”
Ryan settled them on the ground, cushioned by their mingled cloaks. He rolled to his side, facing her, and Gilda’s exploring fingers became a sweet torture. She draped a leg over his, bringing their bodies as close as possible, pressing against his cock until he thought he would expire. He rolled her gently onto her back and hovered over her, letting cool air pass between them as he battled back the hot desire raging in him.
She whimpered and stretched her hands to him.
“Ye will be the death of me, Gilda.” He smiled at the look of surprise on her face. Grasping her wrists, he placed them over her head. “Leave them here for a bit.”
“This is no fun.” Gilda wiggled her fingers.
“Then place yer hands on my shoulders.”
Her fingers curved around his upper arms as he nudged her knees aside, giving him room to kneel between them. He leaned over her and kissed one breast. His tongue swirled around her nipple and drew it into his mouth, tugging gently until she moaned. Moving to the other breast, he let his hands drift down her sides, across the prominence of her ribs and to the soft skin of her belly. She released a shuddering gasp as she shifted on the bed he’d made of their clothing.
Ryan released her breast and nuzzled her neck. “Still no fun?”
Her breath quickened, giving him the response he sought, and he smiled as he splayed his hands down her abdomen, brushing the soft hair between her legs. Her thighs clenched, but could not close with him positioned between them.
He held her gaze. “Do ye want me to stop?”
Gilda shook her head, meeting his gaze as her teeth caught her lower lip. “I want to be yer wife, mo chroí.”
Ryan kissed her and she trembled as his fingers slid through the damp curls beneath his hand. She moved against him, meeting his demands with her own until she tensed and cried out, surprise in her voice. Ryan gently released the grip of her hands from his arms and Gilda stared at him in wonderment.
He smiled. “Ye can touch me now.”
Her breathing slowed and she looked at him with renewed interest. Ryan closed his eyes as her hands found him, running over the taut lines of his body, lifting her head to tease his hard, flat nipples with her teeth.
With a groan, he lowered his body to hers.
* * *
Riona’s hand flew to her throat as Ranald flung himself toward the door. “What do ye mean Gilda is gone?”
Finlay lifted an eyebrow. “Gilda isnae in her room. I have asked about the castle, but none have seen her. Her horse is still in the stable.”
Ranald whirled to confront her. “Do ye know where she could be?”
Riona blinked, her thoughts jumbled, struggling to remain calm. “Gilda has spent time with Anice in the village in the past few days.”
“With that bastard Macraig, no doubt!”
“Ranald!”
“She deserves better than him.”
Riona placed a steadying hand on Ranald’s arm. “Mayhap she has gone to Tavia’s for a good cry.”
Ranald glared at her then turned to Finlay. “Go to the seer’s and search for her there. I will go to Anice. Dinnae raise an alarm.”
Finlay clapped Ranald’s shoulder in a reassuring grip. “We will find her.”
Riona looked at the men’s grim faces. Yes, but before it is too late?
* * *
Even with the small fire, it was cold in the cave, and Gilda shivered. The corner of her arisaid had slipped to the side, leaving her backside uncovered. Her front was pleasantly warm, curled against Ryan’s side, his arm holding her protectively close. The evenness of his breathing told her he still slept despite the howling winds outside.
She reached behind her, careful not to disturb Ryan, and fumbled for the edge of the woolen cloth. It evaded her fingers, and she wriggled, trying to bring it within her grasp. Ryan’s arm tightened and her gaze flew to his face. A smile curved his lips, the glimmer of passion stirring in his amber eyes.
“Yer arse is cold.”
“Aye. I lost my covers.”
Ryan’s hand splayed across her bare bottom. “I know an excellent way of warming it if ye’ve no objection.”
Gilda pressed closer, liking the way his breath hitched. “Och, none at all.”
* * *
The candles guttered, the flames licking low. Riona stared at the tiny fires, scarcely heeding as one winked out. Outside, she could hear the storm raging off the sea, winds battering the stone walls, seeping into the room through the shuttered windows, lifting the tapestries in a ghostly dance. Caught in a draft, another candle went out.
She shuddered to think of Gilda out in the storm, of all of them at the mercy of the fury of gale-force winds and driving rain. She knew Ranald and Finlay would not return until they found her, and even if the storm halted their search, they would endure the weather until they could continue.
Would they reach Gilda before she arrived at Ard Castle? What would be the cost of her happiness? Long ago, Riona had offered her life for Gilda’s, and she would not hesitate to do so again, but she had given her promise to trust Ranald years ago, and she must await the outcome.
She hated waiting. Riona resumed her pacing.
* * *
When Gilda next woke, Ryan leaned over her, his amber eyes alight. “The storm is dying. We must be away.”
Gilda gave him a sleepy smile. “I dinnae want to leave yet.”
“We must, a stor. If for no other reason than I am fair certain yer da is searching for ye.”
Gilda sat abruptly, grabbing for her shift. If her da was to find her, she much preferred meeting him fully clothed. Ryan donned his own clothing and stamped out the last embers of their small fire. Gilda finished dressing and stepped to the cave entrance, wishing a moment of privacy. Her low shriek brought Ryan bounding to her side.
“What?”
“Look.” She pointed to the disemboweled remains of two rabbits just inside the opening to the cave. “Where did they come from?”
Ryan pushed aside the bracken framing the entrance and gave a short grunt. “I believe yon is the culprit.”
Gilda peered past him. Feral eyes gleamed from a shaggy face.
“’Tis my wolf!”
Ryan chuckled. “Yer wolf? Aye, it seems he returns yer kindness. Do ye think this is one of his lairs?”
“’Twas probably what we smelled when we came here last night.” She turned to Ryan, her eyes wide. “Duer?”
Ryan cursed and darted past her into the misty darkness, ignoring the wolf.
“Shame on ye if ye have frightened his horse again,” Gilda told the animal. The wolf quirked his head at her. Gilda stared into the heavy mists after Ryan. Movement in the underbrush caught her ear.
“I thank ye for yer offering, but I cannae take time to cook this morning.” With a smile, Gilda stepped past the wolf. Ryan appeared but halted some distance away, Duer at the end of his lead, his ears laid back in disagreeable temper.
“He willnae come closer.”
Gilda ran to Ryan and he helped her mount. He sprang onto Duer’s back beh
ind her and pulled her close. “Tonight, a stor, ye sleep in a real bed.”
“As long as ye are with me, it matters not where we sleep.”
Ryan clucked to Duer, sending him into the dense fog.
* * *
Ranald swore loudly. The storm had erased all evidence of a trail. He knew Gilda and Ryan headed for Ard Castle, but he’d wanted to find them before they got there, hoping they’d been forced to stop and shelter along the way. Riding to the stark walls and demanding his daughter back was not his first choice.
Finlay’s muffled voice drifted to his ears. “I cannae see in this fog.”
“Nor I. ’Tis nearly as thick as the rain.”
“Aye, but without the wind driving it.”
“It matters not. I fear we spent too much time waiting the storm out.”
“Dinnae fash yerself, Ranald. It wouldnae have helped to send the horses crashing over the edge of a cliff while we blundered about in the rain.”
Ranald reined his horse to a halt at the edge of a small glen. “Here.” He fingered the splintered edges of a broken branch. “They rode this way.”
Finlay nodded. “’Tis not likely any others were out in this.”
Ranald dismounted, handing his reins to Finlay. He eyed the dangling branch. “Mayhap he tied his horse here.” Slowly, he turned, his sharp eyes missing nothing. He knelt and touched his fingers to the grass.
Finlay leaned forward. “Leaves were stripped from the branch. Do ye think something startled the horse?”
Ranald stared at the churned mud. Shredded leaves littered the ground. His horse snorted and tossed its head. Was that something still here? He stared into the underbrush, but the mists hung heavy in the trees, obscuring everything more than a few feet away. He stood and stepped to his right.
“Over here,” he called. Leaving Finlay to see to the horses, Ranald slipped noiselessly into the bracken.
The musky odor of something wild reached his nostrils. Ranald froze. Ahead, something blacker than the pre-dawn darkness loomed. He took a cautious step forward, pushing aside the tangled brush as he entered the cave.
