Page 13 of The Highlander’s Tempestuous Bride (The Highlander’s Bride #3)

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 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 will it be 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, 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 behind 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 nae 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.

“Here is what likely spooked the horses.” Returning to the small clearing, Ranald held up the remains of a partially-eaten rabbit, the blood dry on its pelt. His horse snorted as if in agreement.

“Supper?”

“Nae likely. Even a skilled hunter couldnae catch rabbits last night. This is too fresh.” He tossed the carcass into the brush. “I would have said ’twas a wolf’s lair, but I found the ashes of a fire inside.”

Finlay nodded. “Mayhap they sheltered there and left before the wolf returned.”

Ranald raised his gaze to his friend, a bleak expression on his face. “The ashes were scarcely warm. If Gilda and Ryan sheltered there, they are at least an hour ahead of us.”

He took his reins and swung up onto his horse, wheeling it in a tight circle. “We ride to Ard Castle.”

* * *

Gilda clung to Ryan, swaying with the rhythmic motion of the galloping horse as it broke the shelter of the forest. The pink light of dawn gave them confidence, but great clouds of mist boiled up from the ground, obscuring the path before them.

“Look! Ard Castle.”

Ahead loomed the walls of the castle and Gilda drank in her first sight of her new home. The stone, wet from the night’s rain, glimmered pink and yellow in the early morning rays. Torches, their flames blending into the growing light, winked from the heights. Men, black slashes against the pearl-hued sky, strode the ramparts .

Wind tangled loose tendrils of hair across her face, and Gilda brushed them away.

“A Macraig!” Ryan’s cry whipped across the ground, alerting the guards. They clustered above the gate, and the sound of the portcullis being lifted screeched in discord.

Suddenly, Ryan stiffened and Gilda turned her head. Caught in the streaks of sunlight piercing the mist, two riders rode hard after them, stretched low against their mounts’ necks.

Gilda could not see their faces, but she recognized them, nonetheless.

Her heart leapt to her throat.

Finlay and her da.