by Cathy MacRae
“See? I dinnae touch it. Only my finger.”
“Aye. The fabric is delicate and the stitches no’ finished. Ye must be patient.”
Gilda looked back at the gown. “‘Tis beautiful.”
Riona stepped to Gilda’s side. “‘Twas my ma’s wedding gown. Someday ‘twill be yers.” She pointed to the jeweled neckline of the heavy, cream-colored satin, where diamonds and topaz sparkled. “She sewed these among the embroidery herself. The stones were a bridal gift from yer grandda.”
“Will Ranald give ye a bridal gift?”
Riona smiled. “I dinnae know, mo chroi. It may not be a practice where Ranald is from.”
“He’s no’ from here, is he?”
“Nae. But he is a cousin of sorts. And a very nice man, don’t ye think?”
Gilda pondered this. “My cousin, too?”
“Well, a verra distant one.”
“I like him.”
“I know ye do.” Riona smiled at Gilda’s earnest face. “I do, too.”
Chapter 15
Only one day remained before the wedding. Supper was consumed quickly, servants bustling to clear the tables, anticipating an early start the next morning. Propped against a massive column supporting the minstrel’s gallery over his head, Ranald rubbed the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger, his exhaustion taking many forms as he reviewed the day.
“Has the deer and grouse been properly dressed?”
Finlay, looking comfortable in his seat at the table, propped his feet on the chair next to him, hands clasped in his lap. “Aye.”
“Is Manus still locked away?”
Finlay shot a curious look over his shoulder, his eyebrows lifting. “D’ye mean to question him tonight?”
“Nae. But I dinnae want him to go missing again.”
The sudden touch of a hand at his elbow diverted his attention. He stared at the graceful fingers, and following the line of the slender arm beneath the narrow fabric sleeve and beyond, allowed himself the pleasure of imagining the form hidden by the fabric. If he lingered at the smooth white skin teasing him from beneath the delicate lace edging the modest neckline, Riona did not remark on it.
He smiled when he met her gaze. “Aye?”
A faint blush crept past the lace, tinting her cheeks. His smile deepened.
The edges of her lips quirked upward, and a silent rebuke lit her eyes. “Do be serious, Ranald,” she chided softly.
Ranald schooled his features into mock sincerity. “What does milady request of me?”
Riona sighed. “Could ye leave Manus until after our wedding?”
Ranald lifted a brow, his levity and smile vanishing in an instant. “Why?”
“‘Twill divide the clan. Though I dinnae trust him, there are many people who look to him as the Macrory captain. No matter what he has done, to punish him will cause strife.” Her face paled, and Ranald regretted telling her the probable outcome for Manus’s actions.
How could he deny her request? Yet his blood heated to remember the scene with Manus in the bailey earlier. Ranald gritted his teeth, bringing his sudden temper down enough to reply, “I dinnae want anything to spoil the day, so I willnae call him to justice until after the wedding.”
Riona’s anxious look softened immediately, and her lips parted on her outward sigh of relief. Ranald stared at her hungrily, his attention immediately diverted to the sweet promise of Riona’s kisses. He laid a hand over hers, still resting on his forearm, giving her fingers a lingering squeeze. Turning her hand over, he lifted her palm to his lips. Her fingers curled and he grinned at her, causing her to blush even deeper than before.
“Would ye care to seal the promise with a kiss?”
Riona threw a quick glance about the room, returning to meet his eyes from beneath partly lowered lashes. “Here?”
Ranald’s grin broadened. “Ye can consider it practice.”
“For what?”
Unable to suppress his mirth, Ranald laughed. “Dearling, ye should see yer face. Ye will kiss me before the entire clan on the morrow.” He pulled her close, placing his lips to her ear. “What are ye afraid of?”
“Nothing,” she replied in a breathless whisper. “I fear nothing with ye.”
He gently brushed his lips against her cheek, the soft warmth teasing him mercilessly. He lingered at the corner of her mouth, urging her to meet his kiss. A tiny gasp slipped from Riona’s throat. The simple buss was destined from the start to be something much more, and Riona’s hands rose to his chest, bracing against him.
Ranald struggled to remember the people around them. Despite his teasing words, he knew things could quickly get out of hand if he let his control slide the least bit.
He grasped her hands, holding them between their bodies, keeping them from touching more than they already had. The flavor of wine lingered on her lips, and Ranald wondered how the mere taste of her could leave his head reeling as though he’d drunk the entire flask.
A blaring, clarion blast of a horn, muted by the closed door of the keep, rang out. A dropped piece of crockery crashed on the rush-strewn floor in the suddenly hushed room. Tearing himself away from Riona in a drench of cold reality, his head came up, alert. Around him the people in the hall were silent, dreadfully, fearfully so.
As one they faced the doors of the great hall.
Ranald was gone so quickly from her side, Riona felt the wind of his movement swirl her gown against her legs. Passion’s fog cleared with a rush of panic, and she spun, searching for Gilda. The tense knot in her stomach relaxed slightly to see the lass huddled against Tavia’s skirts. The urgency to hold her daughter warred with the need to know the reason for the single warning note of the horn. Ignoring Tavia’s hissed command, Gilda tore herself from the old woman’s grasp and darted across the room, flinging herself into Riona’s arms, taking her indecision from her.
Scooping Gilda into her arms, Riona turned her attention to the great double doors of the hall, closed and latched firmly behind Ranald and his men. Soldiers stood on either side of the doorway, their attention fixed through the arrow slits beside the doors on the unfolding scene in the bailey.
Her stomach churned and she tasted bitter fear in the back of her throat. A silent scream shrieked through her head and her arms shook.
“Ma.” Gilda whimpered as Riona clutched her tighter.
“Sorry, mo chroi.” Riona pressed a kiss against the side of her head. Gathering her courage, she walked to the door, elbowing her way past the outer ranks of the soldiers huddled at the arrow slits.
“What is it, Ennis?”
The old man hesitated before dragging his gaze from the narrow window. “Riders approaching, milady.”
“Why has no further alarm gone out?”
Ennis shrugged. “‘Twould seem they are no’ openly aggressive. Perhaps, since the laird is out there . . .”
Riona shook her head. “Nae. They would alert the villagers if there was danger, whether the laird was there or no’.”
He nodded reluctant agreement. “Aye. They would.”
With a sigh of frustration, Riona retraced her steps through the crowd. A shout stopped her. The hall was instantly a teeming cauldron of activity as the soldiers put their shoulders to the massive bar securing the doors. Though trying to convince herself there was no danger, her heart pounded and her pulse raced.
The doors, released from their restraints, swung open, and pale, late afternoon sunlight spilled inside. Riona’s gaze flew to the Macrory soldiers, their backs to her as they stared at the massive double gates to the castle, and the single rider standing beside his sweat-foamed horse.
Ranald rushed from the room, anger mixed with a peculiar sense of anticipation. A warning from the guard meant someone advanced, and Ranald couldn’t shake the gu
t feeling something was terribly wrong. When would it end? He’d been at Scaurness barely a sennight, laird less than that, and both the castle and Riona were in contention.
An oath burst from his lips. He was neither born to nor trained for this. His brother, Eaden, was the one groomed to be laird. Raised to the rank of earl by the king, and once the king’s own herald, Eaden was more than qualified to face the unending challenges of lairdship.
Ranald barked a command at Hamish, newly raised to Manus’s vacated position as captain of the guard. “Close and bar the doors of the hall. Let none in without my permission.”
He gave Finlay a hard look. “Ye are in charge should anything happen to me.”
Finlay’s nod was curt and he waved to the boy, Brian, given the job of caring for their weapons. “Fetch shields from the armory.”
“Yer weapons?”
Finlay and Ranald both sent Brian a withering stare. Ranald strode to the stone stair leading to the parapet, his sword strapped to his back, his dagger secure at his waist, a knife in his boot.
Shaking his head at the boy for his youthful ignorance, Finlay followed. “Be quick, lad!” he tossed over his shoulder as Brian scurried to do as bid.
Reaching the parapet, Ranald immediately discovered the reason the guard had not repeated the warning. The evening breeze lifted the banners before the impressive procession of soldiers on horseback riding toward Scaurness Castle. The golden standard with red rampant lion was unmistakably that of King Robert II of Scotland.
Slightly behind it, the smaller blue pennant and stag could only mean one thing. The Earl of Craigievar, Laird Scott, once the king’s herald, was again in the king’s employ.
The riders drew closer. Ranald counted thirty mounted soldiers and half again that many men on foot. Eaden, Earl of Craigievar, rode at their head.
The procession reined to a halt several yards from the castle gate. A single rider was dispatched and Ranald gave a nod to the guard to open the main gate and portcullis to admit the rider. He descended the stair, Finlay on his heels. The soldier dismounted and waited patiently beside his horse.
“I am Laird Scott. What is yer business at Scaurness?”
“The Earl of Craigievar requests permission to enter, Laird.”
Protocol met, Ranald gave a stiff nod, examining all the possible reasons for his brother’s visit. The gates swung open wide. A welcoming smile on his lips, he watched his brother and his men ride into the bailey.
Eaden swung down from his horse and handed his reins to a stable boy. “Surprised to see me?”
“Ye could say that.” Ranald nodded to the king’s standard. “I thought ye resigned.”
Eaden shrugged. “After ye left, I knew there was a chance ye would remain here. When King Robert received word Laird Macrory had died, he informed me ye were now laird and supposed to marry the laird’s daughter within the week.” He looked around the bailey, his gaze coming back to rest on Ranald. “Who’d have thought ye’d marry Kinnon’s little sister?”
The corner of Ranald’s mouth twitched into a grin he couldn’t quite contain. “Eaden, ye have no idea what goes on at Scaurness.” He closed the distance between them and clapped his brother’s shoulder. Eaden returned the gesture, and Ranald hid the grimace at the force of the blow by turning to Finlay.
“See to the horses then send the men inside for food and drink.” He motioned Eaden to enter the castle. “Come with me. There are people inside I want ye to meet.”
Eaden matched Ranald’s stride across the bailey. “How are things here?”
“More important, how is Mary? When is the bairn due?”
The smile lighting Eaden’s face proved his brother was still very much in love with his wife and looking forward to becoming a father soon. “She is glowing. She sends ye her love and regrets she couldnae come with me. I wouldnae have made the trip even to appease King Robert, had it been closer to her time. She assures me the bairn willnae arrive for another eight weeks or so.”
“Ye are a lucky man. Too bad ye took this long to realize it.” Ranald couldn’t resist the barb, recalling the rocky start to his brother’s marriage. He grinned broadly and swept a hand forward, motioning Eaden to enter the hall.
“Welcome to Scaurness Castle.”
Evening dimmed the interior of the hall. At a curt command from Tavia, servants hurried to light candles in their sconces, their actions hindered as they continually slowed to gaze anxiously at the doorway. Riona didn’t have the heart to correct them. She was unable to focus on anything but the action outside.
A large group of men spilled into the bailey, some blocking others so she could not get an accurate count. Her arms ached from Gilda’s weight, but she ignored the strain, still not confident the soldiers meant no harm.
Ranald spoke with the man who could be none other than their leader. They were too far away for her to make out his features, but Ranald’s relaxed stance reassured her even before the two men embraced with a clout to the shoulder.
Riona gasped and leaned forward, trying to get a better look. The stranger was almost the same height as Ranald, and had the same dark hair and general build, though Ranald was leaner. Eaden?
The pair strode across the bailey and entered the hall. Ranald’s voice echoed across the silent room.
“Welcome to Scaurness Castle.”
Riona’s heartbeat turned thready with relief. A deep breath dispelled the sudden fogginess in her head and she smiled broadly at the man who looked unerringly to her, a grin of recognition on his face.
“Lady Caitriona, ye havenae changed at all.”
Riona laughed and the rest of her panic faded away. She dropped a quick curtsy, balancing Gilda on one hip. “Laird Scott,” she chastised, “ye dinnae have to be so formal with me. I still remember the puddies in my bed that croaked and leapt at me when I pulled back my covers one night.”
Eaden roared with laughter. “Will ye use my given name, and forgive a man for his boyhood sins?”
Riona took relieved note of at Eaden’s easy manner. “Aye. Ye are forgiven. Though there are a host of other pranks I could lay at yer feet as well.”
“Och. The three of us werenae always nice to ye.”
Riona shrugged, shifting Gilda on her hip. The lass buried her face deeper in Riona’s shoulder, still unnerved by the fear which permeated the hall only moments before.
“And who is this wee lass, eh?” Eaden stretched out a hand and tickled a tiny bare toe. Gilda snatched her foot away and peeked at Eaden, refusing to budge an inch from the safety of Riona’s arms.
Eaden’s eyes flew open wide, his face a study of disbelief. “Good Lord!” he exclaimed, dragging his gaze from Gilda to Riona. “She looks exactly like ye.”
Riona felt heat rise in her cheeks. “This is Gilda, my daughter.” She lifted a hand to stroke the lass’s red-gold hair. “Gilda, say ‘hello’ to Laird Scott.”
Gilda ducked her head again, mute. Riona apologized, “I’m sorry. The arrival of so many soldiers has her suddenly shy. She will warm to ye.”
Ranald stepped forward. “Aye. And then she’ll have ye carrying her cubbie to the beach to collect sea shells.”
Riona saw him exchange looks with his brother, and assured, “I’ll have food sent to the laird’s chamber and ye can have privacy.”
Patting Gilda’s head, Ranald dropped a kiss on Riona’s cheek. Grateful for the show of support, Riona smiled and sent a servant for food.
Eaden presented Riona with a short bow. “Milady, I will see ye in the morning. My goal is to keep yon lad too busy to bother ye tomorrow while ye finish preparations for the wedding.”
“And how do ye propose to do that?” Riona asked with a smile.
“I think I’ll take him fishing.”
Chapter 16
&nbs
p; The door closed behind the serving girl. Eaden filled a plate with cold meats and bread from a platter on the desk, and Ranald poured them both a glass of wine. He’d save the whisky for later. He sank into his chair, unsure which of the problems plaguing Scaurness he wanted to broach with his brother.
Eaden speared a chunk of meat on the tip of his knife. “Well?” he said, popping the bite into his mouth.
“D’ye want a list of what is most pressing, or d’ye have a particular question ye’d like answered first?”
Eaden chewed thoughtfully before he swallowed. “That bad? Tell me what has happened since ye arrived and I’ll ask questions as they arise.”
“Ye know I dinnae exactly jump at the chance to come here. I was fully prepared to secure the castle and land for the king, but hoped there’d be no need to see the rest of his orders through. Ye know Riona and I dinnae get along so well as weans.”
Eaden nodded, a look of sympathy on his face. “I remember we called her ‘the brat.’ As did Kinnon. Have ye heard from him?”
Ranald shook his head. “Nae. The last word anyone has is he is missing and presumed dead. We havenae heard otherwise.” He shifted in his chair, angling for a more comfortable position. “We arrived outside Scaurness about a sennight ago. It was verra late and I was in nae hurry to meet with Riona and her da. My plan was to approach the next morning, but the castle came under attack and we rode in. The enemy was routed, but no one claimed to know who they were. None were captured alive. Someone jammed a dagger in the postern gate to hold it open. I set the Macrory captain, Manus, to finding out who.”
“And did he?”
Ranald nodded slowly. “He claims he did.”
“Where is he now?”
“The accused? Dead. Manus? Under guard in the barracks.”
