by Cathy MacRae
* * *
Tavia paused, tasting spoon at her lips, as a pounding at her door sounded. She set the long wooden utensil on the hearth and dusted her hands on her apron as she crossed the tiny room. Worry creased her forehead as she pondered the significance of a visit to her wee house. She’d long since trained a healer for the clan, and other than the laird’s own family, the new healer was usually sufficient.
She yanked the door open and peered into the bright midday sunlight. In the backlighting from the darkened cottage to the brilliant sun reflecting off the water of the firth, her goddaughter looked ghastly.
Tavia hurried to usher her inside. “Wheesht, lass! Ye look as though ye’ve seen a ghost! Sit down. I will take the bairn.”
In short, commanding movements, she whisked a chair out for Gilda to sit, slipped young William from her arms and perched him on her hip. Peering up at the guards at the doorway, she shooed them away.
“Not enough room inside for that many braw men, and thank goodness for that. They only get in the way.” She poured hot water from a steaming kettle over a spoonful of dried herbs. She stirred it slowly then set the mug on the table in front of Gilda. “This will put a wee bit of color in yer cheeks, lass.”
Gilda forced her lips into a tight line of thanks and Tavia could think of no clear reason for it.
“Tell me what has upset ye, a stor. Has something happened at Ard Castle?”
Gilda wrapped her hands around the mug. “Aye.”
Mustering patience, Tavia placed Will on a blanket in a large basket near the hearth and returned to the chair next to Gilda. She slid a hand across her shoulders, noting the tension and the way the lass flinched at her touch.
“Has someone hurt ye?”
Gilda shook her head violently. “Not my body. My heart.”
“Conn MacLaurey, the wee scunner!” Tavia exploded.
Gilda placed a restraining hand atop Tavia’s. “Nae. ’Tis nothing Conn has done.” She tilted her face and Tavia wilted at the despair written in the tear streaks on her too-pale cheeks.
“Ryan Macraig is home.”
It took a few moments for Gilda’s words to register, and Tavia could tell how hard it was for her to say them. Gilda leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, wrapping them about her waist as though shielding herself.
“Lass, tell me what happened.”
Gilda stared at the mug of brewed herbs before her in silence.
Tavia searched for something to say. “This has come as quite a shock. I know how much in love the two of ye were—”
“He doesnae want Will!” The words burst from Gilda’s mouth even as her hand flew to her lips, a horrified look on her face.
“Och, Gilda, that cannae be true.” But despair slashed every line of Gilda’s body and Tavia folded her into a tight embrace.
Slowly, Gilda began to speak. “Conn arrived at Ard Castle this morning. Lissa and I had planned to take Will out on the beach for a picnic, but she wasnae feeling well, so Conn went with us instead.”
She took a shuddering breath. “As we finished, a birlinn docked and I was frightened—remembered the pirate attack a year ago. Conn thought it would be good if I walked to the beach, faced my fears.” She fell silent and Tavia waited for her to regain her composure.
“A man on a beautiful white horse rode up the path. In a few moments he was close enough for me to recognize him.” Her voice dropped to an agitated whisper. “’Twas Ryan.”
“Did he see ye?”
“Aye. He saw me. He stared, no, he sneered at me! His eyes went from me to Will and back, and he sneered at me! As though he couldnae believe I had a bairn!”
Tavia placed a fond kiss on Gilda’s temple and smoothed the fiery curls back from her face. “I imagine he was startled to see ye.”
“He hates me. I saw it on his face. Why does he hate me?”
Tavia shook her head, swallowing against the tears clogging her throat. “I dinnae know, a stor. I dinnae know.”
* * *
Ryan stood at his open window, surveying the land from his vantage point. Every dip and rise, every tree and stone were as familiar to him as his life’s own blood. Conn’s words still ran rampant through his mind. He sought peace, a refuge from the terrifying months with the pirates. Gilda had suffered, too, and he tried to wrap his thoughts around why she would turn to Conn at such a time. He had faced death more than once, and watched too many people die to continue to blame her for needing comfort in another man’s arms. She had thought him dead, after all.
He scowled. Conn had not handled the situation well. He knew better than to take advantage of a young girl’s distress. For that, he would consider thrashing him later. But for now, he needed to know if he and Gilda had a chance for a life together.
I could raise the bairn to know his da, to give him security and a good life. I could adopt him as my heir if I had no other. Though I dinnae know if Conn would agree.
He shoved his hand across his forehead in frustration. She is the love of my heart. I would let her go if she was set against me. But if there is a chance, any at all…
His da and the clan awaited him downstairs. But he would not face them without answers. Keita told him Gilda had not returned to the castle and Conn had ordered her things sent on to Scaurness.
Draping a plaide about his shoulders, Ryan slipped down the stairs unseen and hurried to the stables.
In the act of saddling his own horse, Conn was startled to see Ryan enter the stable. He stepped to the door of the stall as Ryan led his mare down the aisle.
“A nice-looking mare ye have. I dinnae think I have seen one so fine.”
“A Frenchman I met gave her to me. I will tell ye the story sometime.”
Conn leaned his forearms across the top of the half-door. “Where are ye going?”
Ryan finished saddling his horse quickly and swung into the saddle.
“I am going to talk to Gilda.”
“She said she was going to stay with Tavia for a day or so.”
Ryan pulled his mare’s head around and gave Conn a long assessing look. “I thank ye.” Putting his heels to his horse’s sides, he sent her out the door into the evening.
Conn called after him. “Young Will is a good lad. Ye will like him.”
Ryan did not answer.
Chapter 33
Gilda stared groggily at her mug. In the corner of the room Will slept, tucked in his blanket on the cot. Tavia had left them to check on a woman near birthing in the village, and she’d tried to nap as well, but, as tired as she was, both emotionally and physically, sleep would not come. Staring at the thatched ceiling, she’d waited until Will’s eyes closed, then slipped quietly from the narrow bed.
She jumped at the rap on the door frame, nearly knocking over the table in her haste to stop whoever it was from making so much noise and waken her sleeping son. She jerked the door open, rocking back on her heels in disbelief.
Framed in the doorway, his shoulders taking up most of the open space, Ryan stood before her. His build was stronger, yet leaner than before, his hair tied neatly back, but still longer than she remembered. Deeply tanned skin contrasted vividly against his white leine, but his amber eyes glowed fiercely from his familiar face.
In spite of the shuttered look he gave her, her heart lurched longingly.
Dead over a year and he still makes my heart tremble. The admission brought an irreverent tilt to her lips which she quickly raised a hand to conceal.
Recovering her poise, she recalled his earlier dismissal of her and Will and put her hand to the door, intent on closing it.
He pressed his side of the door with spread fingertips, stopping her. “May I come in?”
His voice rumbled through her, recalling passion, and her heart warred with her head. She peeked past him and was reassured to see the guards only a few feet away. Without enthusiasm, she stepped back, motioning him inside.
“Aye, but please keep yer voice low. I dinnae want ye to
wake Will.”
His eyes slid from hers at the mention of the bairn, and Gilda’s efforts at politeness slipped a notch. Her jaw clenched as she offered him a chair.
“Would ye sit?”
Ryan gave her a sharp look, but she maintained her calm as she seated herself across the table from him. He touched the table with a forefinger, drawing an invisible design on its surface. Gilda waited for him to break the silence.
“I believe we got off on the wrong foot earlier.”
“Och, well, I was a wee bit surprised to see ye on yer fine horse at the dock.” Gilda could not hold back her sarcasm at Ryan’s poor opening statement, and was satisfied to see him wince.
But his voice remained even. “I am sorry for that. I can only tell you about these past months and hope ye understand.”
Gilda’s eyes widened and her voice dropped to a whisper, her hand at her throat. “I dinnae want to hear!” She cringed at Ryan’s wounded look, and she battled down the fear stirring inside. “Ye dinnae know the nightmares I had after the pirates—”
“I am sorry, a stor. I dinnae mean to cause ye more distress. Will ye not hear me?”
Not immune to his endearment, she hesitated, biting back the insistent No! roaring through her head. She pleated the fabric of her skirt with trembling fingers then leapt to her feet and added hot water to her mug. The soothing aroma of herbs wafted in the air and she took a small sip of the liquid. Cradling the cup between her hands, she nodded. “Aye.”
“The day the pirates came, I sent Conn to protect ye and the other girls—get ye to the castle and out of harm’s way. We were outnumbered, and I prayed reinforcements from the castle would arrive in time. We just had to hold them off until Conn got ye to safety. Soldiers arrived and we fought the pirates back to the cliffs, but the battle was fierce. I took a blow to the head and that was the last I remembered for a very long time.”
Gilda eyed him, puzzled. “What happened?”
“I fell over the cliff and floated down the coastline. The pirates fled our beach and picked me up as they sailed away sometime later.”
“Why did they not ransom ye? Why did we not hear?”
“My wound was severe, Gilda. There was no one who recognized me. I learned later their leader was dead. When I finally woke, I dinnae remember who I was.”
Gilda rose slowly and paced the small room. He’d been alone and unable to remember his name. Visions of Acair’s death leaped through her memory. The sound of the wolf’s snarls, the pirate’s anguished cry. The sight of the sword Conn slid through his chest.
A nameless emotion seared her insides, leaving her breathless and cold. She startled as a hand clasped her shoulder and she whirled to meet Ryan’s gaze.
“Will ye not sit with me?”
She nodded and followed him back to the table. Catching her chair by its rungs with his foot, he slid it next to his. Gilda sank slowly onto the woven seat and jerked as his thigh brushed hers. Ryan cleared his throat, a surprised look on his face as Gilda edged away.
“I lived with the pirates, Gilda. I saw many things I dinnae like, but couldnae change. They kept me as a slave for many months, shackled, starved. They made their living plundering foundered ships, and I hated every moment.
“One day they pulled an old man from the battered remains of his small boat and tossed him below decks to either live or die. I nursed him back to health as best I could, and he gave me the first clue to who I was. He said my eyes marked me as a Macraig.”
His words stirred Gilda from her dread of his story. “Aye! Ye and Lissa both have the same eyes.” She started to rise. “Even—”
Ryan caught her hand. “Please let me finish.”
She glanced over to where Will lay sleeping and reluctantly dropped back into her seat. He did not release her hand, and she found the warmth of his palm stirred pleasant memories. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and Ryan tightened his hold.
“Not long afterward, Greum and I decided to escape. The pirates had stumbled across another sinking ship and planned to take its treasures and send the rest to the bottom. I managed to convince the ship’s captain I was there to help him, and Greum loosed the grapples. Together, we turned the tables on the pirates, leaving them on the sinking ship and taking over theirs. By then, we were near the coast of France.
“Captain Rousseau’s wife and daughters had been on board the ship and were verra distressed, so we took them home. I was their guest for a week or so while he arranged passage for Greum and me back to Scotland. Our trip was long, but uneventful.
“On the last leg of the journey, we were held up by bad weather in Ireland, and I met Laird Maclellan and his son, Boyd. They recognized me and that was the first I knew my name. I bribed a ship’s captain to leave immediately, and arrived here this morning.”
Something in the bland, impersonal way he spoke, told her he left out many details she had little desire to know. She finally understood why he had stayed away so long, and why no word came to them to tell them he lived. Perhaps she did not need to know exactly what had happened to create the gaunt man she saw before her, and she mulled over his story.
She gazed upon the sharp lines of his face, cheekbones prominent, his skin reddened from sun and wind. Fine lines stretched from the corners of his eyes. His fingers wound through hers, lean and strong. There was a look of sadness about him, resoluteness replacing the carefree young man he’d once been.
“Conn talked to me a lot about ye. Told me stories about ye and him as lads. It was hard to get over ye, but he helped.”
His hands gripped hers almost painfully and she flinched in surprise. His brow furrowed angrily and muscles twitched in his jaw as he clearly ground his teeth.
“Please dinnae be angry! He has been wonderful to me.”
“And how wonderful was that?” His mocking words taunted her and she snatched her hands away.
“Ye are jealous! How can ye possibly have the right to be jealous?”
He exhaled a long breath and scrubbed his face with his hands. “I dinnae know, Gilda, but I am. And ’tis tearing me apart.”
The agonized look on his face pulled at her heart. “Conn has been a dear friend this past year. He couldnae visit much, but he made a point of doing so after he found out I was with child. He was there the day Will was born, and has been so good to the bairn.”
“I can imagine.” His words scraped past clenched teeth.
“He really loves Will.”
Ryan’s snort of derision astounded Gilda. She rounded on him angrily. “What is wrong with ye? I loved ye so much, but ye werenae here for me, and I am sorry I couldnae be there for ye.” Tears burned her eyes and she jabbed at them furiously with the heels of her hands.
Ryan picked up a cloth spread across the back of his chair and gently wiped her cheeks. “I am sorry, Gilda. When my memory returned, all I could think of was ye and how good we were together. As soon as I knew I rushed home to ye. I wasnae counting on seeing ye and Conn together—and the bairn.”
Small, snuffling noises came from the bed in the corner of the room, and Gilda broke away. She lifted Will, cuddling him against her, her mind a whirlwind of thought as she tried to jostle him back to sleep. Tiny fists waved sleepily in the air and his face scrunched tight.
Ryan peered over her shoulder. “He is a braw lad.”
His voice was quiet, but her heart swelled. I never thought he would see his son! Oh, how I longed for this. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she touched Will’s fist. Instantly his tiny fingers wrapped around hers and his eyes opened wide. She was struck anew at how much he resembled his father, his night-dark hair framing his amber eyes.
“Whose child is this?” Ryan suddenly demanded.
Gilda hesitated, flustered by his tone. “What?”
Ryan grasped her shoulders and forced her to face him. “His father, who is he?”
Gilda’s heart tripled its beat, fluttering uselessly in her chest as she realized he hadn’t known. Ha
dn’t suspected.
She gasped, “You are.” Then she found her breath again and fresh anger blazed.
Her palm made resounding contact with his face, showing a white imprint on his cheek before it flared bright red. “How dare ye? How dare ye think I slept with Conn mere days after ye disappeared! I was devastated! I would never have done that.” Numb with shock, she stared at him. He had paled noticeably beneath his tan and looked so ghastly Gilda almost lifted a hand to soothe him before she remembered how angry she was.
He held out his palms in a gesture of surrender, then let them drop to his sides. “I cannae believe what an amadan I have been. If there is anything I can do to make ye forgive me, I will do it, a stor. Anything at all.”
“Explain to me how you could think Will could be Conn’s son.”
Ryan shrugged ruefully. “I dinnae think we had been marrit long enough and was so blinded by jealousy, I couldnae think straight. When I saw the three of ye walking down the path and at first dinnae know who ye were. But ye were exactly what I wanted for us. For you and me, Gilda. A family. And then I saw Conn apparently had already taken what I wanted and made my dream come true for himself.” He drew a deep breath. “I was an ass.”
“Aye. A big ass.”
Will began to cry and Gilda gave Ryan an apologetic look. “I must feed him.”
“I want to stay.”
With a hesitant shrug, Gilda unlaced her bodice and slid it over one shoulder, baring her breast. Will latched on hungrily and began nursing. Ryan caught her elbow and guided her to the edge of the cot, helping her to sit. He perched on the edge of the nearby chair, fascination on his face. Heat twisted inside her to have him watch her feed their son.
“Would ye tell me of it?” he asked. “The time before he was born?”
Her voice softened as she gently rocked the bairn. “Yer da couldnae stand the sight of me and I came back to Scaurness to live. I had my family, and occasionally Lissa would visit. But ye werenae there. I was carrying yer bairn and ye werenae there. It was such a relief when he was born and everyone told me how much he looked like ye. I had a part of ye with me again. A part I could hold and cuddle and love. He has meant everything to me.”
