Page 10 of The Highlander’s Tempestuous Bride (The Highlander’s Bride #3)
Ryan’s hand tightened on his reins. He knew they crossed into Macrory territory, but he was unable to force himself to turn back. Lissa was charmed by the ride to the beach, and her wind-burned face glowed with happiness.
Conn pulled his horse to a halt. “There are others up ahead.”
Ryan nodded as he urged Duer down the sloping bank. He recognized the red-haired lass. “Aye.”
Lissa’s voice piped up. “Where are we going?”
“To look for seashells.” Ryan didn’t bother looking over his shoulder. He could feel Conn’s disapproving gaze burning a hole in his back. He shrugged off the sensation. Hell, he wasn’t the one who’d suggested the outing.
Duer’s massive hindquarters lurched side to side as he half-slid down the embankment. Ryan swayed in the saddle, echoing the horse’s movements. His sister’s voice rose in excitement and he knew she’d spotted people on the beach.
Gilda’s thick braid glinted fiery gold as it bounced across her shoulders. She pushed at the lad beside her, but to no avail. The lad drew against her then straightened, and Ryan smiled at his attempt at bravery.
“Who are ye?” the lad demanded.
Ryan reined Duer to a stop and leaned forward, his arms crossed casually across the high pommel of the saddle. “My name is Ryan.” His gaze cut to Gilda. Her eyes were round with uncertainty, and he winced. Damn two old men who couldn’t see past their feud.
“Ye arenae a Macrory.”
Ryan returned his attention to the wee, puffed-up lad before him and slid from his horse. “Nae. But I am a friend.”
He heard a dainty snort and flashed Gilda a grin. That’s my lass. Quick-tempered and full of yer own opinion .
Ryan leaned casually against his horse’s shoulder and turned back to the lad. “What is yer name?”
“My name is Finn. And ye cannae be a pirate, can ye?”
Ryan heard the half-hopeful lilt in Finn’s voice and sighed with exaggeration. “Nae. I am no pirate. I have a sister, Lissa, and a friend, Conn.” Ryan gestured to the two behind him.
“Watch what I can do!” With the abrupt decision-making given to the very young, Finn left his defensive posture and turned excitedly to other things. Taking the rock already clutched in his hand, he flung it at the stagnant tide pool. It skipped once, then sank to the bottom.
His hands flew to his hips and he stuck out his chin. “My sister can do it better than that.”
The disgust was so evident in the lad’s voice, Ryan smothered a laugh and bent to find a rock of his own. “Here, lad. Choose yer rock carefully, then give it a solid toss.” With honed skill, Ryan slid his rock through the incoming waves.
Finn’s eyes grew wide as the rock made four complete skips before vanishing beneath the foam. “Can ye teach me to do that?”
Ryan took a step back, aware Conn stood just behind him, and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Nae. This man is much better at skipping rocks than I am. He is the one ye need to ask.”
With a firm, meaningful shove, Ryan forced Conn toward the lad. “Take this braw lad and Lissa and teach them to skip rocks.”
Conn brushed past Ryan. “I dinnae know what ye will owe me for this, but ye will owe me.”
Ryan didn’t care. Even if it only lasted a moment, he was again alone with Gilda.
* * *
Observing how Ryan smoothly sent the others away, Gilda half-admired his confidence, half-feared he would hear her heart trying to beat out of her chest. She should be angry with him for abandoning her the other night, without explanation or word that he would try to meet with her again.
His gaze drifted over her and she weakened. Utterly boneless and too overwhelmed at seeing him again, she forgave him everything.
Ryan took a hesitant step toward her, a question in his eyes. Gilda smiled and relief washed over his face. His amber eyes danced and Gilda longed to rush into his arms, but the last bit of sanity left to her kept her feet glued to the sandy ground.
“I have missed ye.” Ryan’s voice pitched low, but Gilda heard every word.
“Why did yer da . . .?” She hesitated.
Ryan waved his hand in an abrupt gesture. “He is still consumed with anger at being denied his request to marry yer ma. We must talk fast. Do ye wish to meet me again?”
Gilda’s skin tingled. “Of course, I do. But—”
“Ye must listen to me, then. Are ye allowed out of the castle without an escort?”
Gilda stole a look down the beach. Fergus stood tall, his gaze fixed on her and the newcomers. He motioned to Jamie and began to jog toward them.
She made her decision. “I can get away. Where?”
“Meet me at the blacksmith’s in the village tomorrow just after noon. If ye cannae come, I will be there again the next day, but I cannae say if I can return after that.”
Gilda touched his arm, feeling the warmth of him beneath her fingers. She trembled. “I will be there.”
Ryan slid his hand into hers and gave it a quick squeeze before he dropped it and strolled casually to where Conn and the children tossed pebbles into the sea. Gilda released a breathless sigh and picked up her skirts to hurry after him.
Finn’s voice rose over the sounds of the lapping water. “Watch this, Fergus! I can make my rock skip all the way to those fishing boats!” He threw his pebble in a sweeping, underhanded arc. It struck a partially submerged stone and bounced high in the air again, landing several feet out into the incoming tide.
“It dinnae go so far.” Lissa’s voice piped scornfully and Finn whirled on her.
“It did! Ye dinnae see how far it went under the water. ”
Gilda grabbed Finn’s shoulder, hauling him back from the argument in time to turn a sweet smile on her protector. “’Tis not I who needs watching, Fergus, but this wee loun with the atrocious manners.”
Lissa gave a regal shrug. “Ach, he is just a lad. I dinnae expect better.”
Gilda’s smile froze on her lips. ’Twas good the lass dinnae say, just a Macrory .
Fergus ignored the children’s banter, his eyes fixed on the two young men. “Where aboots are ye from?” His question rang with challenge, barely civil. Gilda cringed.
“We are from up the coast. ’Twas a pleasant day and my sister had been too long cooped up for fear of pirates.”
Gilda flashed Ryan a grateful look for his calm answer.
Fergus’ eyes narrowed. “Macraigs?”
“Aye,” Ryan answered easily. “I fear we have trespassed. I beg yer forgiveness.”
Fergus’ gaze scanned the group. With heightened awareness, Gilda glanced around. Surely he would see little wrong with their innocent conversation? Finally, he advised gruffly, “Be gone back to yer clan’s holdings. We dinnae tolerate the likes of ye here.”
Gilda’s heart fell. What would Fergus say to her ma?
* * *
“He is not like his da.” Gilda struggled to keep her tone light.
Her ma sighed. “It doesnae matter. He isnae welcome at Scaurness.”
Gilda swallowed her dismay. Truth, she’d expected that sort of reply, but she’d hoped, oh, how she’d hoped her ma would understand.
“I dinnae meet him on the beach on purpose.” But, heaven help her, she planned to meet Ryan at the blacksmith’s tomorrow.
“Mayhap not. But ’tis not the point. Yer da would have a fit if he knew ye were friendly with Laird Macraig’s son.”
Gilda shrugged and looked away, trying for nonchalance. “Och, he showed Finn how to skip a rock, and his sister seemed nice.”
“Gilda. I know ye think it would be good for the clans to end their feud. The Macraigs were offered a chance and not only dinnae take it, but were arrogant about their refusal. Dinnae push this.”
Lifting her gaze, Gilda met her ma’s concern. “I know why ye and Da dinnae like the Macraig laird. ’Tis because he wanted to marry ye but dinnae want me because I am a bastard.”
Her ma gasped, one hand flying to her throat in an astounded gesture. “Gilda! Ye must never say such a thing!”
“Och, I know Da has never treated me as such, and I thank ye for not marrying Laird Macraig. But ’tis the truth, though it was harsh of him to demand ye give me up.”
Tears glistened in her ma’s eyes and Gilda ran to her. She threw her arms around her waist and gave her a fierce hug. She leaned back in the circle of her mother’s embrace and peered at her.
Her ma hesitated. “Yer da has had an offer of marriage for ye.”
“Really?” Gilda tried to ignore the sudden hole that bore through her stomach. “Why dinnae he say something to me?”
“He hasnae come to grips with the young lady ye are becoming.” Her ma smoothed back a curl from Gilda’s face with a wistful smile. “He still thinks of ye as his wee Gilda.”
“I am not a bairn anymore.”
“I know. If he takes the offer seriously, he will talk to ye.”
“Who was it from?” As apprehensive as she was, Gilda couldn’t stop the curiosity spreading through her.
“Laird Maclellan on behalf of his son.”
Gilda wrinkled her nose, her brows furrowed in distaste. “Laird Maclellan almost frightens me.”
“I agree he is a bit overbearing. But he is a powerful man and wouldnae be laird if he was soft and not respected by his enemies.”
“I dinnae want to marry his son.”
“Och, I should not have told ye he spoke to yer da. ’Twill only worry ye.”
Gilda chewed her lip. “I love ye, Ma. I am glad ye told me. I promise I willnae worry.”
“Good.” Her ma pressed her cheek then released her. “Now, help me find yer brothers. I must get them washed for supper. I dinnae know how they can get into such messes in such a short amount of time.”
“Aye, I will help ye. And tomorrow I need to take Fia to the village blacksmith to have a shoe checked. I think it is loose.”
“Why not have the blacksmith here take a look at her? ”
“I thought I would visit Anice, too.”
Her ma frowned. “I dinnae know what yer da would say.”
Gilda remained silent. She knew exactly what her da would say.
* * *
The noise of the busy village grated on Ryan’s nerves. He was tested in raids and skirmishes with clans bordering the MacLaureys, and he recognized the fine lashes of tension racing through his veins as he awaited Gilda.
Chickens squawked noisily in their wooden crates and pigs herded down the narrow street grunted a low baritone. A high-pitched squeal jerked Ryan’s attention from the blacksmith’s shop. There, just within sight, was a glimpse of red hair amid the throng of villagers, and his heart leapt at the sight. His gaze followed the flaming beacon through the crowd, and he sighed with disgust as a young lad, his arms laden with a stack of fresh-cut peat, proved to be the owner of the brilliant thatch of hair.
A horse nickered behind him, much too close. Ryan whirled, tension fleeing as he encountered Gilda’s sweet smile.
“Ogling boys, are ye?”
Ryan gave her an abashed grin. “I thought ’twas ye.”
Her eyebrows rose in challenge. Ryan’s gaze slid from her dancing eyes to the slender white column of her neck and the deep neckline of her simple, blue gown.
He shook his head slowly. “Nae. The hair may have been the color of yers, but the body could never match.”
A pink flush rose from the scooped neckline and Ryan gave a nod of satisfaction.
“Ye are still a rogue, Ryan Macraig.”
“’Tis why ye agreed to meet me.” Ryan’s eyes locked on Gilda’s and they stared hungrily at one another.
Her horse snorted and stomped a foot, breaking the spell. Gilda laid a settling hand on the horse’s shoulder. “Let me turn her over to the blacksmith. She may have a loose shoe, ye know.”
Ryan gestured for her to lead her horse to the open stall. Heat billowed in palpable waves from the fire pit. He watched Gilda tie her black mare to the post and exchange words with the blacksmith. The burly man gave a curt nod of understanding .
A moment later, Gilda rejoined him. “I have a friend I want ye to meet.”
Ryan frowned. “I dinnae come here to meet yer friends.”
Gilda tugged his hand, her eyes slanting in promise. “Ye will like this one.”
Ryan allowed himself to be led to a tiny cottage on the edge of the village. Gilda rapped once on the door then entered. He ducked his head to avoid hitting the low lintel and blinked against the interior gloom. Peat glowed in a fireplace against one wall, and a petite young woman stared at him with an assessing look.
Gilda gripped his hand tighter. “Anice, this is Ryan.” She turned her gaze to him. “Ryan, this is my best friend. She has given us permission to stay here and talk to avoid meeting anyone from the village who might know me.”
Ryan heard her subtle stress on the word talk , and fought the question on his tongue. Did she really think they would sit and chat like a couple of silly girls?
He dragged his attention to her friend. “’Tis my pleasure to meet ye, Anice. I am grateful ye would give us a wee bit of privacy to talk .”
The lass lifted a brow. “I have known Gilda since we were bairns. I trust ye to treat her honorably.”
“Of course. She has my very highest regard.”
Anice turned to Gilda, her eyes flashing as she tossed a saucy look at him over her shoulder. “Ye watch yon rogue. He doesnae deceive me.”
Ryan held his tongue as Anice and Gilda embraced and tried not to be concerned as they each whispered in the other’s ears. Judging from the heightened color in Gilda’s cheeks, she dinnae think they were here to talk , either.
With a last pointed nod at him, Anice collected her woolen plaide from a hook by the door and left the cottage, closing the door firmly behind her. Gilda turned to him, and he was staggered at the open adoration on her face. And the hesitation.
Spreading his arms wide, he beckoned her, and to his delight she required no further urging. She darted across the floor, trusting him to catch her as she flung herself against him. He crushed her slight body to him, savoring the slender curves that fit against him so perfectly. Her arms wound tight around his neck and he nuzzled her hair. Gilda tilted her face to him in invitation, and he met her lips with his. Her fingers tangled in the hair at his nape. Chills raced up and down his spine, fueling his passion as he deepened the kiss, splaying one hand across her buttocks as he pulled her closer.
Gilda abruptly stiffened in his arms and reality washed over him. She may have confessed to being nearly seventeen years old, but she was clearly overwhelmed by such a raw show of passion. Ryan took a deep breath and allowed her take a half-step back.
He bent his head to hers, their foreheads touching. “I have missed ye badly.”
Gilda gave a shaky laugh. “I thought I missed ye more.”
“Mayhap we should sit, but I confess I dinnae want the table between us.” He scanned the cottage but found nothing suitable for sitting but the oversized bed in the corner of the room. Not at all proper.
“Mayhap we could sit there,” she gestured with her chin.
Surprised to see her nod at the bed, he realized she was much more na?ve than he thought. Ryan stifled a groan. The lass would be the death of him.
“Let us try the edge of the hearth.” He lifted an eyebrow in a wry smile. Gilda gave a startled gasp, turning wide grey eyes on him as realization dawned.
Mayhap she isnae so na?ve after all. Just inexperienced. Satisfaction shot through him. He liked that notion.
The hearth was swept clean, but Ryan grabbed a folded blanket from the foot of the bed to cushion the hard stone. Gilda’s smile of thanks was all he required. He sat next to her, their hips and thighs touching. Heat flared instantly between them.
He picked up one of her hands and twined his fingers through hers. “I apologize for my da’s behavior the other night. I had no idea he would react as he did.”
Gilda shrugged. “We cannae spend our time apologizing for our parents. We would never get to anything of importance.”
“What is important to ye, Gilda?”
With a gentle gesture, Gilda swept the backs of the fingers of her free hand across his cheek and leaned forward to brush her lips in their wake. “This.”