Page 17 of The Highlander’s Tempestuous Bride (The Highlander’s Bride #3)
Piercingly dark eyes met Gilda’s questioning gaze. She brushed her skirt with work-roughened hands and wished she’d taken time to brush her hair as she took in Mairead’s appearance. After a long, tiresome journey, the other young woman’s night-dark hair was smoothed in a tight, flawless braid, her cloak fresh and untainted by the dust of travel. Gilda decided to hate her on the spot.
She sighed. Perfection was no reason to dislike anyone, even if this particular annoyingly effortless piece of flawlessness believed herself betrothed to Ryan. She watched as Mairead was handed down from the wagon, her descent stately and unhurried. Gilda quelled the impatient tapping of her foot and stretched her lips into a tight smile.
Laird Macraig strode forward, his head high as he passed her without acknowledgement. Arms spread in welcome, he greeted the burly man standing at Mairead’s side.
“Welcome to Ard Castle. I trust yer journey was pleasant?”
The man gave a curt nod. “Me name is Sim and I have the charge of m’lady, here. The laird bids ye pardon his absence, as there was a matter he had need to settle.” He watched his charge step daintily to the ground and give her skirts a quick shake.
Sim turned to Laird Macraig. “The journey was long enough, though ye could have sent an advance party to warn us of the trouble ye’ve had with pirates. We saw a spiral of dark smoke from the coast and sent a scout to check it. My man reported an entire village all but wiped out. ”
Cold tendrils of fear clenched Gilda’s heart. Mairead forgotten, she approached the MacLaurey’s man.
“Please, tell me what ye found.”
“Milady, pirates hit the village early this morning, destroying most of the buildings and killing many of its people. He said Macraig soldiers came, but they were too late to do much beyond try to save as much of the crofts as possible.”
“There was no fight?”
“He said the pirates disappeared when the soldiers approached.”
Just then, Mairead cleared her throat with a small, kitten-like noise.
Sim took a step back and offered a short bow. “M’laird, this is Lady Mairead, daughter of Laird MacLaurey, betrothed to yer son, Ryan.”
Mairead smiled thinly and nodded to the laird. Pausing a moment, she turned her questioning gaze to Gilda. “And, who are ye?”
Gilda met her look evenly. “I am Lady Gilda Macraig. Ryan’s wife.”
* * *
Gilda and Lissa huddled together in their chairs at the middle of the head table, trying hard to pretend nothing was wrong as they stabbed haphazardly at the food on their platters. On the other side of the laird’s chair, Mairead sat arrow-straight as she picked at her own meal with a noticeable lack of appetite. Servants busied themselves around them, but the three places between the women were glaringly empty. Ryan, just in from patrol, his father, and Sim were still closeted in the laird’s chamber.
“Was Ryan really supposed to marry her?” Lissa whispered in Gilda’s ear.
Gilda nodded and tried to swallow the piece of venison she’d been chewing for the past several minutes.
Lissa pushed a piece of bread around on her platter then leaned around Gilda to peer at Mairead again. “She doesnae look verra friendly, does she?”
Gilda turned her head and looked at the girl three empty chairs away. Her cheeks flamed pink as she dropped her hands to her lap and Gilda felt a surge of pity for her .
She rose, pushing back her chair, and gave Lissa a stern look. “Friendly or not, she is our guest.”
She stepped to Mairead’s chair and laid a hand on the armrest. The young woman’s lips drew back in a pained grimace. Gilda took a deep breath and forced a reasonable tone to her voice. “Would ye rather have a tray brought to yer room? I would imagine ye are tired after yer travels.”
“That would at least get me out of yer sight, aye?”
“Wheesht! Ye shouldnae worry. Ryan told me his father spoke of a betrothal between ye. However, ’twas after he and I wed. I am simply sorry ye made this journey and offer ye a chance to recover without all the prying eyes ye see here.”
Mairead’s lips pulled into a frown. “I would prefer not to be the subject of speculation.”
Gilda laughed. “My lady, ye and I are the most fascinating objects of speculation here whether ye wish it or not. Come. Let us take ye to yer room. The men are likely to be in discussion for a while yet.”
She reined in her irritation as Mairead rose stiffly from her chair, pulling her skirts back as though reluctant to come in contact with her rival. Signaling for a serving girl to bring a tray of food, Gilda motioned toward the stone staircase.
Mairead looked at the ancient stone fortification and squared her shoulders. Head high, she glided across the floor and to the room she’d been assigned earlier.
Gilda and Lissa followed, the serving girl in tow. Mairead entered her room and, without pausing, closed the door behind her. The trio drew up short, trading startled looks. With a shrug, Gilda turned the latch and entered the room.
Mairead glared at them, hands fisted on her hips. “Is there no lock for this door?”
The servant girl deposited the tray on a low table near the window and scurried away. Gilda felt a tug of envy as the girl left, but held her ground. “Ye may throw the bolt if ye wish. But there are only four rooms on this floor and easy enough to keep secure.”
“If those stairs are the only way to get up here, then ye are right.” Mairead’s tone was derisive.
Gilda bristled, raking Mairead’s elaborate clothing with a glare. “Those sturdy stairs were built to withstand a direct attack, and ye best appreciate the fact. After yer fancy men are bloody on the ground, my braw soldiers could hold back a horde bent on taking the castle.”
“Yer soldiers?” Mairead scoffed.
“Aye. Any Macraig soldier is worth at least three MacLaureys.”
“Mayhap our guest would like to eat her dinner before ’tis cold.” Lissa’s voice piped through their hostility.
Gilda settled, guiltily reminded of her resolution to behave as lady of the castle and not the laird’s son’s young, untried bride.
“My apologies, my lady. It has been a long day for everyone and we all need food and rest. Mayhap we could meet again in the morning with clearer heads.”
Mairead sent her an appraising stare. Without another word, Gilda and Lissa left, each seeking her own room and solace.
* * *
Ryan found his wife curled beneath a blanket on their bed some time later. He watched the rise and fall of her breast as she slept. With an impatient tug, he loosened his garments and let them fall to the floor, heedless of the jumble as he sought his young wife’s passionate welcome. Heart-sore after the long hours closeted with his da and Laird MacLaurey’s captain, he was at last able to recognize the untenable position he’d put Mairead in.
Though he would not trade his impetuous marriage with Gilda for anything.
Flaming curls tumbled across the pillow, and with a groan, he reached for her. He wanted absolution in her arms. His weight dipped the mattress and Gilda stirred, rolling sleepily to face him. The edge of the blanket fell from her shoulders and he realized she wore nothing but a thin shift.
Shadows beneath the sheer cloth beckoned him, more alluring than any faerie light and he slid beneath the covers and into her welcoming embrace.
Their loving was hard and fierce, demanding commitment, taking them quickly to the edge of passion. Her arms closed tight around his body as she shuddered beneath him and he rained kisses across her face, tasting salt on her cheeks. His world exploded and he shouted her name, tremors wracking his body.
Spent, he slipped carefully to the side and gathered her in his arms. His breathing slowed, and he touched the pad of his thumb to Gilda’s damp cheek. “What is wrong, a stor ?”
Wordless, Gilda tightened her grip and buried her face against his shoulder. He stroked his hand over her hair. “I am sorry for what this day has cost ye. I never would bring hurt or shame to you willingly.”
Gilda nodded and sighed. She sat up and pulled the crumpled shift over her head, and Ryan lost his line of thought as she settled her hair about her shoulders with a toss of her head. She slid back beneath the blanket, tucking herself close against him and he swallowed a moan as her soft flesh pressed against his.
“What will happen now?” she asked.
Ryan blinked, shifting his focus to her question. “Mairead and her escort will stay here a few days to rest. Also, the pirates are actively plundering the coastline. Sim will take her home soon, but not until the danger is gone.”
Gilda slid a hand down his chest, and his skin tightened. “Not soon enough, a stor ,” she whispered. “Not soon enough.”
* * *
Morning’s sun found Ryan on the parapet, his body relaxed against the damp, cold stone, his mind running over and over Mairead’s arrival.
How could I have handled things differently or better? He stared across the misted grass, seeing no answer in the muted sparkle. A gull languished on the drafts of the early morning wind, suspended in the air, moving neither forward nor back.
He felt the same. He couldn’t take back his marriage to Gilda. Nor did he want to. Yet until this was resolved with Mairead, he couldn’t move forward. He slammed his fist backward into the stone. How was I to know she would arrive so soon?
Footsteps slapped on the walkway behind him, pulling his attention from the bird above. Conn reached a spot near him and slouched his frame over the rock wall, between the crenellated stones.
“Ye look fashed. ” Ryan noted the slump to his friend’s shoulders, his head dangling near his chest.
Conn waved him off but did not look up. “My head is pounding.”
“Nae surprise, as fast as ye were tossing back whisky last night.”
“I was fashed then. I am hung-over now. ”
Straightening, Ryan pushed away from the wall. “I dinnae mean to cause yer sister ill.”
Conn spun about, fury glinting from his narrowed eyes. “My sister is in yer home being treated as yer discarded leman—”
“I never touched her!” Ryan roared, shock at his friend’s words sparking more anger.
“She is too good for the likes of ye!” Conn advanced, chin jutting out, shoulders hunched forward.
Ryan’s eyebrows jerked upward in amazement at Conn’s sudden defense of Mairead. “I dinnae like yer sister!”
“And now everyone knows it! How do ye think she feels to be promised to ye in marriage, to have traveled all this way to form an alliance with someone she doesnae have a fondness for, and to be cast aside without a care. Without the least pity or concern.”
The pair met eye to eye, fists clenched, each man’s breathing deep and labored. Ryan broke the silence. “Ye know I dinnae like her. I dinnae bring her here. I would have stopped her if I could. Why are ye against me?”
Conn relaxed his shoulders, his outrage stepping down slightly. “I agree she is a wee bit difficult—”
With a snort, Ryan indicated his opinion of Conn’s allowance. Conn glared, anger lighting anew. “She isnae just any man’s woman. But I am her brother and supposed to protect her. At home, I never had to. Here, seeing her upset, slighted—it bothers me, Ryan. I cannae help it. She shouldnae be so shamed.”
“At least ye dinnae blame Gilda,” Ryan stated. Conn continued to stare at him, offering no word of agreement. Ryan scowled. “Ye cannae blame her. She knew nothing of what my da had done.”
“Ye knew. Ye knew and still ye married her before ye could make amends with Mairead.”
“Again, that isnae Gilda’s fault.” Ryan’s voice grew harsh as he defended his bride.
“Nae, but having her here is a slur against Mairead’s honor.”
Ryan threw his hands in the air. “Where do ye want me to keep my wife? She belongs here!”
The stubborn line to Conn’s chin told Ryan he had no answer to that, and no thought beyond his sister’s hurt.
“Mayhap ye should see yer sister home,” Ryan offered quietly.
“As soon as ’tis safe to do so,” Conn replied, a hard, bitter line to his mouth, “I will. ”
Movement behind Connor caught Ryan’s attention as sunlight glinted off Gilda’s burnished hair. She stepped through the parapet door, pausing as surprise lit her face. “Ryan?”
Conn shoved past them and stomped away. Ryan took a deep breath and forced his lips into a smile. Clearing his throat, he managed to greet his wife pleasantly. “Good morning, a stor ,” he said, lifting a hand in welcome, inviting her close.
Gilda approached, leaning into his embrace as she peered around him. “Is Conn upset about something?”
Ryan struggled to keep the hurt from his voice, but his friend’s words wounded him deeply. “Mairead’s arrival has left him a bit nippet .”
“Bad-tempered? He wasnae for the match, was he?” Gilda stepped back in surprise. “Ye told me how she tormented the both of ye as lads.”
Running a hand through his hair, Ryan sighed. “Nae. He knows what a targe she can be. Hell, we spent plenty of time over the years avoiding her and her demanding ways.” Ryan shook his head in light remorse. “Mayhap too much time.”
He felt a light pressure on his forearm, Gilda’s slender hand laid against his sleeve. Her clear gray eyes stared at him, their corners rounded in concern. “Does he blame me for this?”
Ryan glowered at the anxiousness in Gilda’s voice and tried to dismiss her worry with a laugh. But her skin paled and he knew he missed the mark. “Ye willnae fash over it, a stor . ’Tis nae important what he thinks.”
“I dinnae care what he thinks of me. Except . . ..” Gilda bit her lip and glanced down. Ryan caught her hands and drew her toward him. She resisted briefly then took a stumbling step forward.
“Except what?” he urged.
Her eyes full of anguish, Gilda tilted her face to him. “Except he is your friend and I dinnae wish to cause a rift.”
Wrapping her in his arms, Ryan tucked her beneath his chin as he stroked the satin of her hair. She needed all the comfort he could provide her, and he did not want her to see his face when he lied to her. “Ye cannae ruin our friendship, Gilda. We have been like brothers for more than ten years. ’Tis a disagreement, nothing more. Conn and I will be fine. Dinnae fash. ”
But their heated conversation played over and over in his head as he stared beyond the castle walls where a darkening cloud stained the horizon. In his heart he wondered if Conn would ever forgive him.