Page 16 of The Highlander’s Tempestuous Bride (The Highlander’s Bride #3)

Excitement swept the castle several days later, even as turmoil rushed through Gilda. Word had reached them that visitors approached and would likely arrive in the next day or two. Ryan’s patrol had been absent for the past three days and Gilda’s tension already ran high.

The expression on Lissa’s face as she shared the news of their visitors set off new anxieties for Gilda. She’d discovered the visitors were none other than Laird MacLaurey and his daughter, Mairead, the woman for whom Ryan’s da had signed a betrothal contract.

Servants bustled about, preparing the tower rooms, and Cook kept a close watch on the kitchen staff as food was prepared. Gilda and Lissa oversaw their actions, though very little help was needed. Keita, acting chatelaine since Lissa’s mother died three years earlier, had things well in hand.

“Is there anything ye would do different, Gilda?” Lissa asked. “Ye must have many visitors at Scaurness. I’ve been told ’tis a wondrously large castle.”

Gilda blanched at the thought of suggesting Keita change how she ran Ard Castle. Taking Lissa by the hand, she found an alcove beside the hearth where they could be out of the way.

With a sigh, she sank into one of the chairs. “I think everything is fine,” she confided to the girl. “Yes, Scaurness is a larger castle, and not as old. My da has visitors frequently, and my ma handles things much as Keita does here.” She gave Lissa a rueful smile. “In short, she works us half to death cleaning and preparing food, but on a grander scale.”

Lissa nodded, apparently satisfied with Gilda’s answer. “Would ye like something to drink?” She shot a quick look over her shoulder. “We could take a wee break as long as Keita doesnae suspect.”

Gilda swept the area with a look. “Nae. What I would like is whatever ye can tell me about Mairead.”

Lissa gave her a startled look. “She is Conn’s sister. Why?”

Gilda chewed her lip. “Oh, I suppose I just wondered about our visitors.”

Lissa leaned close. “I dinnae think Ryan or Conn are particularly happy they are coming.”

“Why not?”

The girl shrugged. “Just a feeling I have. They both are quiet and grim whenever her name is mentioned.”

Gilda sighed. “Well, I suppose we should get back to work. I thank ye for stopping to talk with me.”

Lissa smiled as she rose. “Dinnae fash about Mairead. She likely willnae stay long.”

Worry clutched Gilda again. If only she felt as confident as Lissa sounded.

* * *

Riona blew softly on the parchment, the shine of wet ink dulling as it dried. She touched the words she had written with gentle fingers, as to infuse them with her feelings of love for her daughter.

“Are ye ready?” Ranald approached, his hand out to receive the message she had written to Gilda. Folding the parchment in thirds, she sealed it with wax from the candle on her desk. Giving it a moment to dry, she held it out hesitantly to Ranald.

She sighed. “I wish I was taking it to her.”

Ranald took the missive and lifted Riona’s fingers to his lips for a quick kiss. “I know ye do, but ’tis still too dangerous for ye to travel. ’Twill be enough for her to know ye are thinking about her. I swear I will take ye for a visit as soon as the pirates are gone.” He echoed her sigh. “Or at least chased back. If we could find their camp, ’twould be a simple thing to erase their threat. ”

Riona’s eyes rounded with concern. “’Tis no simple thing to battle pirates, mo chroí . Nor any man bent on destruction.”

“Ree, I would have all threat to ye and our family eliminated. ’Tis my job as laird and yer husband to see ye safe.”

She smoothed slow fingers across his jaw, turning them to cup his cheek. “Promise me ye will be safe taking this to Gilda.”

Ranald grinned at her. “I will go armed and guarded as always, dearling. Dinnae fash about it.”

“I will worry until ye return, ye know.”

Noise clashed in the hallway as shrieks rent the air. Ranald hurtled across the room, his hand on the hilt of his sword. He threw open the door, one aggressive stride landing him in the corridor. Something small and hard hit his legs, buckling his knees. Riona was a step behind him and paused when she saw the source of the commotion.

“Ye are a pirate, Jamie!”

Ranald righted himself and caught the blond-thatched imp grabbing at his trews, sliding around his legs. A wooden sword waved in the air, and Ranald twisted neatly out of its path.

“I dinnae want to be a pirate, Finn. I want to be a warrior.”

“One of us has to be a pirate,” Finn pointed out as he came to a stop on the other side of his da. “’Tis a fight to the death and ye always lose.”

“I dinnae!” Jamie shouted his outrage and dove at his brother, his hands balled into tight fists, wooden sword ringing on the floor as he discarded it for hand-to-hand combat.

Ranald grabbed each boy by the scruff of the neck, pulling them apart. He released them, his body firmly between the dueling pair. “Wheesht, the both of ye! ’Tis no way for brothers to act.”

“Fergus says brothers always fight,” Finn replied, his voice matter-of-fact.

“’Tis only because he see the two of ye.” Ranald grunted. Riona made a mental reminder to speak to Fergus about the weans having big ears.

“Finn willnae let me be a warrior,” his brother complained.

Ranald surveyed the lads. “Take turns, the both of ye. Or I will put yer energy to better use.”

With the threat implied and understood, both ducked their heads, not willing to test their da’s temper further. Riona relaxed against the door frame, arms folded across her chest, teeth firmly clenched to hide her mirth .

“Off with ye, now.” With a shooing motion, Ranald sent the twins on their way, their feet scudding on the floor as they beat a hasty retreat.

“Will ye engage a tutor for them as ye did Niall?” Riona let the corners of her mouth tug upward, unable to resist teasing her husband. His harried look broke her self-control.

He shoved a hand through his hair. “They need bailiffs, not a tutor.” He shrugged. “Mayhap they should be fostered separately.”

Riona frowned at the thought of sending the lads away. “I think that would be best, though not for another year or two.”

Ranald grinned. “Ye are willing to keep them around that long? Ye are indeed a saint.”

This time Riona laughed. “Just a worried mother, and afraid of losing friends willing to foster lads from Scaurness.”

“Aye. I am afraid their reputation will precede them. It may not be so easy to foster them.”

Riona regarded him solemnly. “Mayhap ye should start negotiations now.”

* * *

A single horn blast sounded, startling Gilda. Her stomach clenched. Could the MacLaureys be here already? She scrubbed her damp palms down the sides of her skirt and hurried to the hall door.

The Macraig captain, Breac, approached her. “M’lady.” He gave a nod.

Gilda turned her anxious gaze on him. “Aye?”

“Riders approaching from the south.”

“From the south?” Her eyes narrowed in puzzlement. “I thought the MacLaureys would arrive from the east.”

“Aye. I believe they are from Scaurness.”

Gilda’s jaw dropped open and she closed it with a snap. Her heart raced and she struggled to regain her wits. Hurrying footsteps sounded behind her and she peered over her shoulder.

Laird Macraig blustered past her, not sparing her a look. “Who approaches?”

Breac ducked his head in deference. “Riders from Scaurness, Laird. ”

Red splotches of anger stained the older man’s face. “Dinnae let them in. Warn them away.”

“Nae!” Gilda darted past the men. The iron-studded gates stood open, though the portcullis barred the way. She waved at the guards. “Let them in!”

Gazes flickered from her to the two men behind her.

Damn! Stubborn old fools! The guards would never obey her orders over the laird’s. She whirled, her gaze seeking the narrow gate in the wall well away from the main entrance. She lifted her skirt with her hands, yanking the cloth out of her way as she rushed to the slender portal.

With a fierce look daring them to stop her, she startled the posted guard into inaction as she gave the latch a solid yank. Pulling the gate open, she ran through the door and straight into the path of the approaching horsemen.

Her eyes misted; whether from the emotions swirling inside her or the cold wind in her face, she wasn’t sure. Her heart pounded in her chest and in a move she’d long perfected, she lifted her arms to her da’s embrace.

He swung her up to his horse’s back, reining him to a halt as he tightened his grip on her. “Are ye wanting to go home, lass?”

His rough voice filled her with the sense of security she missed, his willingness to champion her evident. Realizing how her actions must seem, Gilda shook her head, speechless as tears clogged her throat. They sat for a moment, wrapped tight together as she steadied herself.

She dragged the back of a hand across her eyes. “Nae. I am just glad to see ye. I dinnae expect . . ..”

Her da cupped her chin in his hand, tilting her face up. “Dinnae expect what, dearling?”

Gilda swallowed and tried to still her trembling smile. “I dinnae expect to see you again. Not so soon.”

“I still love ye, mo chroí . Ye will always be my sweet Gilda.” He peered at the archers posed on the parapet above them. “Do I sense a less-than-cordial welcome from yer father-by-marriage?”

She followed his gaze and nodded. “Aye. He dinnae want ye allowed inside.” She laid a hand on his arm as her gaze traveled over the twenty men with Da; stout, armed, and ready for battle. “I am not sure if he would honor my request to see ye welcomed and fed.”

Her da snorted his opinion. “I have no doubt of our welcome.” He shifted in his saddle and reached inside his sporran. Pulling out a piece of parchment, he handed it to her. “Yer ma sent this to ye. She wanted to bring it, but ’tis still too dangerous.”

Gilda gave him a startled look. “But ye came.”

He smiled at her. “I dinnae think the pirates will bother the lads and me. And I brought ye Fia.”

Beaming with delight, Gilda spotted her mare tethered to a soldier’s saddle.

Her da touched her hand. “I dinnae know what the letter says, though I can guess. Mayhap ye would like to read it when ye are alone.” His face held a gentle, loving expression.

Why had she doubted Da had her good at heart? Not that she believed he would have allowed her to marry Ryan, but she should never have wondered if he loved her. Tears filled her eyes and she leaned against his chest.

His arms settled around her and held her close. “Yer ma and I would like to visit when things settle down. Ye are always welcome at Scaurness, Gilda. No matter what.”

She nodded and sniffed as she straightened. “I would like to visit. How are the twins?” She laughed at her da’s pained look. “And my wee sister?”

“She grows every day.” He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “She will be a beauty like ye.”

Gilda’s breath hitched. “I miss ye. Mayhap even the twins. But I love Ryan.” She took note of the men who stood at attention on the walls. “I should go.” She clutched her ma’s letter to her chest. “Tell Ma I love her.”

Da’s eyes clouded, but he nodded his assent. “I will.”

Gilda slipped to the ground, accepting Fia’s lead. She placed a restraining hand on his leg and looked up at him. “I love ye, too, Da.”

* * *

Ryan’s eyes narrowed as he peered across the water. Behind him, horses snorted and pawed the ground. Bits jingled and leather creaked. One of the men coughed.

“Still no sign of them?” Conn asked.

Ryan shook his head. “I dinnae know how they disappear so quickly.” He turned his unwilling gaze to the still-smoking ruins of the tiny sea-village. Faces blackened with soot stared hopelessly at him, their lives in shambles, their numbers decimated.

He gestured toward the destruction. “Where am I to get the men to replace those lost? How will I house them soundly before winter?”

Conn edged his horse closer. “Leave a few of your men here to do the work. Have them build a few large cottages instead of one for each family. The labor will be less, and house them quicker.”

“Aye. And a few fighting men may tip the odds in their favor should the pirates return.” Ryan reined Duer in and faced his soldiers. “We must rebuild. If any of ye are without family and can stay to help, I ask it of ye. We will not let our clan’s people starve this winter.”

To his surprise and pleasure, six men rode forward. With grim expressions boding ill for returning pirates, they headed toward the village with the promise of supplies to come. Ryan motioned for the rest to follow him. Tired though they were, no one complained.

He shifted in the saddle. “My arms are sore from hauling water to put out the fires. My butt is sore from days in the saddle chasing down pirates who refuse to be caught. My lungs are tight from breathing the foul smoke of burning cottages.” He crooked his head to first one side then the other, stretching sore muscles, the bones of his neck shifting with a crack.

Conn sighed. “Thank goodness we are headed home. I am ready for peace.”

* * *

Gilda set the letter gently on the coverlet, her lingering touch not wanting to release the connection, however tenuous, with her ma. Her heart grew heavy and silent tears streamed slowly down her cheeks. How could her ma have known the words to give her the encouragement she needed? Why had she convinced herself she was no longer welcome at Scaurness?

She slid from the bed, feelings of peace nibbling away at the invisible wall she’d set against the rejection she’d feared. Leaning against the narrow window aperture, cool air dried the tears as she lifted her face to the waning sun. She looked to the horizon, willing Ryan to return, wanting to feel his arms around her, to hear his voice whisper all would be well. A week ago she had no words to describe the incredible sensations of giving herself fully to the care of another, releasing herself to the wonder of passion, to the joy of caring for another and of being loved in return.

Wrapping her arms tight around her waist, she closed her eyes and imagined his footstep in the hall, his voice in the bailey as he called for a stable lad.

A shout startled her from her reverie, and she jerked upright, pressing herself against the aperture, seeking the reason for the guard’s alert. Her heart tripped, hammered in her chest. From her narrow vantage point she spied the edge of a cluster of armed men. On the parapet guards faced the land outside the castle walls. Beyond, riders approached, a banner flapping in the wind. The party stretched forty or fifty strong, and she knew it was not Ryan and his patrol.

“Gilda!”

She pushed away from the window. Crossing the room, she opened the door. Lissa’s face, excited but pale, met hers.

“Come, Gilda! We must see to our guests!”

Dread settled cold in her stomach as she forced a smile to her lips. “I was hoping Ryan would make it back before the MacLaureys arrived.”

“I know, but ye must come. As Ryan’s wife, ye are now Lady Macraig.”

Gilda patted her hair, wishing she had time to comb and rebraid the rebellious curls. At least her gown was clean and freshly donned that morning. As though granting a silent wish, Keita appeared in the doorway, an overdress draped across her arms.

“Here, m’lady. Put this on.” She settled the fabric over Gilda’s head and arms, smoothing the gold trimmed, costly velvet over her gown. Sleeves, split from the shoulder, fell with regal splendor past her wrists where they fastened with elaborate gold braid.

“I thank ye, Keita. I feel like Lady Macraig, now.”

Keita narrowed her eyes, her lips pursed as she waved away Gilda’s praise. “Ye willnae face guests in anything less than proper attire.” She cast a critical look over Gilda. “Yer hair could use a comb, but the curls are becoming. Ye may go down.”

Mirth threatened as Gilda considered the maid’s words. She turned conspiratorially to Lissa, leaning close as they headed down the hall. “I believe I have just been given Keita’s approval. Surely I can face anything now!”