Page 14 of Chieftain’s Rebel (Chieftain #6)
Calder had set a guid pace, running hard enough to make his chest heave as he approached the stables, yet he enjoyed the exertion, his muscles sang to the tune of the blood pumping through his veins as he grasped the post and swung into the aisle betwixt the stalls. The Caithness stables were protected on only three sides—nae doubt the wind whistled through them in the winter—and the dung heap was fresh with evidence of a recent cleaning, which would be because of the solstice: a fresh start.
His heart pumped faster as he realised he wasnae alone. Gilda gasped as she recognised him, her eyes widened. It reminded him of the night they had spent out on the water, making guid use of the dragon-boat. He had made her gasp then as well and the thought was enough to send the blood rushing to his groin as he stepped forward, saying her name, “Gilda,” ready to pull her into his arms. It took the sound of a baby’s gurgles to halt him in his tracks. “Ainsel and the bairn. He’s a wee bit young to be learning to ride,” he said, watching the lad wave a hand under a mottled grey’s nose. Unkempt but friendly, the horse blew down its nose, tickling the bairn’s hand, making the lad squeal with excitement. “The lad has nae fear? Does he take after his father or his mother?”
Ainsel’s smile was thin, meagre, as was her answer, “Mayhap it’s both”—a look that made it difficult to see her as the lass whau had engaged Rory in a practice fight the day afore that looked more as if their hearts were in danger than their lives.
Calder nodded. “And what makes this ugly beast so fascinating?”
Gilda covered her mouth with her hand and he could tell she was hiding a smile, but not frae him—mayhap Ainsel but ne’er frae him. But that wasnae the reason she fluttered her eyelashes at him then looked down at her feet. “Ainsel just gave me her horse. It’s mine now.”
His jaw dropped and he would have spoken when his mind cleared if Ainsel hadnae cut in. “I have to go, Axel needs feeding. I’ll see ye later, Gilda. We can go to the bonfire together.” This time her expression said she expected nae argument frae him.
She was as guid as her word and left them alone.
If only he had time for the urges Gilda wrought in him every time he saw her. “Do ye think Ainsel would object if I tagged along with ye both?” He pulled her into his arms, murmuring, “I dinnae want to miss a moment with ye, with all that’s about to come down round our ears. It makes my skin twitch, as if that might not be as long as I hoped for.”
He kissed her hard and fast, fiercely, with his heart pounding and his hands clenched on her shoulders as if some unseen force might drag her away frae him. “Did I tell ye I love ye?”
His remark brought a smile to her lips and eyes, lit up her face. “Aye ye did, o’er and o’er. That’s the reason for the horse.”
“Ye have my permission to call me daft, for I cannae see what a horse has to do with me loving ye. I want ye for yerself not what yer worth, lass.” He spoke forcefully, his mouth close to her ear, needing her to understand how deep in his heart these feeling he had for her resided.
“The horse is for me to ride when I go with ye to Dun Bhuird. I know that’s going to happen sooner than either of us would want, but here’s the truth of the matter: I cannae bear to be without ye, I love ye too much to lose ye again. It wasnae until ye left last year that I realised how much ye meant to me, but ye were gone and there was nae way for me to follow ye, nae chance of finding my way through all yon mountains and wild country with wolves and bears just waiting for a lass with nae notion of what she was doing or where she was going.”
The last made him smile. “Aye, I’ve nae doubt bears and wolves would find ye a tasty wee morsel. I do myself.” He planted another swift kiss on her lips. “I wouldnae have left ye behind this time, with or without a horse. Last year I was a dunderhead. Long afore I was back in Dun Bhuird I was regretting that I hadnae tossed ye across my saddle and carried ye off with me.”
Her new horse nudged him on the shoulder as if saying, ‘What about me? I’ll carry her wherever ye want to go.’
“I’m not sure of the reception Rory, Ghillie and I will get when we return to Dun Bhuird. Gavyn, Rory’s father expressly warned us not to come because of the looming troubles with the Irish, but it willnae matter a whit as long as yer by my side.”
He nuzzled the soft skin under her chin, finishing with a wee lick to her earlobe, which he knew she liked and was proved correct as she let out a contented groan. “All ye have to be sure of is that I would have come back for ye on my own. The peculiar part is that Rory was just as determined as I to return, and I dinnae believe it was simply to dance round a bonfire. Truth to tell, I dinnae remember him whooping and dancing at all. Ghillie knows why, but neither he nor Rory is inclined to let anyone else in on the reason, but then Ghillie has the sight, just like his mother, though for some reason neither of them will do aught to force a conclusion. To me that sounds daft but they, it seems, like to leave all our fates in the lap of the gods.”
Gilda tilted her chin and fixed her mouth against his, as if to prevent him speaking, and she did, asking, once she’d finished, making his knees tremble, “So ye dinnae mind about the horse?”
“I’m happy ye had the foresight. I wouldnae have minded ye sitting in my lap, but ye will be a lot more comfortable. Ye see I wouldnae like ye to bruise yer tidy wee behind frae the hard length that sticks up under my plaid whenever I’m near ye.” He gripped her by the wrist and pushed her palm against the erect prick under his plaid. “Feel…”
Her grip had him moaning his desires aloud as, under her hand, the rough worsted caressed the evidence of his need for this woman he loved, felt that he always had and always would love. “Gilda, yer killing me here.”
“I know. It’s grand is it not, knowing I’m not the only one in thrall to our love? My heart is beating so fast I feel it might burst,” she cried out, her mouth against his chest, her breath dampening the hair growing above the opening of his shirt while her hands reached for his belt buckle. “Have we got time?”
A swift glance o’er his shoulder was enough to see they were alone. “For ye, my lass, I’ll always have time. Mind ye, we’ll have to be quick,” he warned. Thankfully, her new horse didnae worry about the plaid he threw across its back as he walked Gilda to the rear of the stall, saying a silent prayer of thanks to the gods whau had sent some poor bugger to clean the stables afore he arrived.