Page 18 of The Highlander’s Tempestuous Bride (The Highlander’s Bride #3)

Gilda absently twirled a strand of her hair around one finger as she stared into the distance. From her high perch along the parapet, she could see the treetops of the forest, already exposed to the morning sun’s piercing rays as mist fled before the radiant onslaught. It promised to be a beautiful day.

I cannae abide sitting here any longer . Her insides quailed at the thought of spending yet another day cooped inside the castle. Tensions were running high and heated tempers simmered just below a facade of brittle politeness. Conn and Ryan had reached a grudging truce, but Mairead couched numerous complaints and demands in a longsuffering, yet apologetic way that was slowly driving Gilda and all around her to impending madness.

“How are ye this fine morn, my bonnie bride?”

Gilda whirled at the sound of Ryan’s voice and, to her dismay, burst into tears. His arms enveloped her and his cheek brushed against her hair as she gulped back her sobs.

“Here now, a stor . Why are ye greetin so?”

Wiping away the unexpected tears, Gilda snuffled. “I dinnae mean to do that. I am just so tired of being cooped up in the castle. Mairead has been here less than a week but it seems like months!” She grasped the front of his shirt. “Could we please take a walk outside today? There have been no signs of pirates, the weather is clear, and I will die if I have to listen to that woman’s complaints even one more day! ”

Not giving Ryan a moment to reply, she pushed away from his embrace and began to pace the stone, bitter words tumbling from her mouth, her tone pitched high to mimic Mairead’s voice. “ I know ye are busy, but the candles in my room have burned down almost halfway and I require new ones. And there is no way ye should know, but the smell of burning tallow makes my head ache. I dinnae suppose Ard castle has even a few beeswax candles . . ..”

She raised a hand dramatically to her brow. “ Nae, dinnae trouble yerself on my account. If there are no beeswax candles to be had, I am sure I will simply endure until I return home .”

Gilda halted on a quivering, half-wailing note, glaring at Ryan, fisting her hands on her hips. He said nothing, and for a moment, she was sure he would chastise her for mimicking Mairead in such a manner. But instead, he shook his head and reached for her.

Reluctantly, she allowed him to pull her close. He cupped her face in his hands. “I believe Cook may need some berries for pastries. Do ye think there are any left on the bushes?”

Hope rose in her. “The season is not yet over.”

“Ye are the best berry-picker I know.” Ryan’s mouth curved into a smile.

Gilda beamed with happiness. She twined her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly, then flung herself away, twirling with excitement. “Can we leave now? Before the others are up?”

Lissa’s voice piped from the doorway. “Leave? Where are you going?”

* * *

Gilda chewed her lip impatiently as the riders mounted. A small cart had been brought when Mairead announced she did not like riding. Gilda had felt a wee hope at the news, that perhaps Mairead would not join their outing. But the woman continued to pout and at last declared she was simply desperate for an outing away from the castle.

Gilda had bristled at the way Mairead accented the word ‘castle’ to mean ‘ancient heap of rocks.’ And she’d done her best to hide her anger when the laird ordered a wagon brought forth for Mairead’s use.

Sim settled his charge onto her seat and she carefully arranged her skirts around her. With a regal inclination of her head, Mairead accepted a blanket to lay across her lap to protect her dress from the detritus of the road.

“We will never get to go if we have to wait on her.” Lissa’s petulant tone rose.

“Wheesht! Lower yer voice. We dinnae need to give her another cause for resentment.” Gilda leaned forward to stroke her mare’s silken neck. “We can risk a canter once we are free of the castle.”

Lissa’s golden eyes gleamed. “I will race ye to the trees!”

“That will get us sent back to the castle,” Gilda scolded. “We cannae leave our guard so far behind.”

“’Tis nae dangerous,” Lissa scoffed. “The pirates are gone. Our soldiers will keep us safe.”

Gilda frowned. “Dinnae talk like a child. We must be careful.”

Shoulders slumped at the chastisement, Lissa reined her pony toward the castle gate as the guard filed out. Gilda urged Fia forward and leaned toward her friend. “Dinnae fash. Mairead willnae want to walk through the brambles and gather berries. We will have the entire morning to ourselves.”

“Mayhap. But she asked for one of yer auld dresses to wear. So she wouldn’t tear any of her pretty ones.”

Startled, Gilda’s eyebrows twitched. “She would wear one of my dresses to keep from dirtying her own? The besom! ”

“Keita says that is a bad word!” Lissa hissed.

Both girls nodded and smiled at the guards as they passed through the gate. Riders paced before them and Mairead’s wagon and guard brought up the rear, Ryan and Conn riding midway down the line. The squeak of wooden wheels groaned loudly in the din of movement. Metal bits chimed against the horses’ teeth, mingling with the slap of leather.

Lissa and Gilda rode side by side, their mounts prancing with excitement. “Aye, ’tis a bad word, and I am sorry I said it,” Gilda apologized once they were clear of the castle and listening ears.

Lissa giggled. “I am not. Her tongue is clippie and she has not been very nice, especially to you.”

“She has had a rough time of it, Lissa.” Gilda looked back toward Mairead. The woman sat stiffly upright on the hard wooden seat, hands folded on her lap. “Ryan says she tormented them when they were lads. I wonder if she has any friends.”

“I dinnae want to be her friend,” Lissa declared. “I dinnae trust her. ”

Gilda pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Nae. I dinnae trust her, either. Do ye think she is this unhappy at her own home?”

“I dinnae think she likes anything.” Lissa settled back in her saddle. “Or anyone.”

With a toss of her head, Gilda shook off the seriousness. “Let’s pick up the pace a bit, aye? Just enough to feel the wind,” she cautioned her young friend.

Grinning, Lissa leaned forward, shortening her reins as she urged her pony into a canter. Fia exploded beside her, scarcely needing the prompting of Gilda’s heels. They flew past the guards at the head of the column, laughing at the startled looks on their faces. Several lengths later, the girls wheeled their mounts and raced back to their place in line, Ryan in place and awaiting them.

* * *

“If the day passes without sighting pirates, I will suggest Mairead and I leave the day after tomorrow,” Conn said.

Pain sliced cleanly through Ryan at his friend’s words. Their friendship had been patched, but the easy camaraderie was gone, and he felt its loss acutely. “Ye dinnae have to leave with her. I was angry—”

“I know. We have said this a hundred times. But it is right I accompany her home. She needs the added protection.”

Ryan perused the line of soldiers he’d ordered out to protect three women on a morning outing and could not argue the truth. The roads were dangerous and if Mairead was attacked by ruffians or pirates, Conn’s fighting ability would likely turn the balance.

“Look!” Conn jerked his chin toward the front of the line. Anger burst white-hot as Ryan watched his wife and sister break past the guard, their horses flying.

“Shite!” he snarled, yanking Duer around and sending him into a gallop. Moments later the girls wheeled their mounts and Ryan pulled his horse back to a walk. They reined neatly back to their place in line and met him with flushed faces and sweet smiles.

Gilda flinched and her smile vanished, but she squared her shoulders and did not look away. Unable to bring himself to spout the blistering reprimand on the tip of his tongue, Ryan struggled to hold his peace .

“The gallop felt wonderful,” Gilda offered. Lissa opened her mouth, but closed it as Gilda’s mare collided with hers. As much as Ryan wanted to hear what Lissa had to say for herself, he had to admit it was probably best she kept silent just now.

“I dinnae want ye haring off on yer own again,” he managed in a stern voice.

“I wouldnae dream of putting us in danger,” Gilda replied breezily. “We but galloped a few lengths and returned.”

“All the same, it wasnae a good idea.”

To his surprise, neither Gilda nor Lissa protested. They rode a bit further in silence. As they approached the forest, the soldiers tensed visibly. Apprehension sizzled along Ryan’s spine, racing through him, sharpening his senses. The devastation of the seaside village loomed, still stark in his memory. Overhead, tree limbs swayed gently in the breeze, causing the shadows on the forest floor to shift beneath the horses’ hooves. Birds called overhead, but their song didn’t seem distressed at the line of horsemen traveling the paths below. Still, Ryan tensed.

They emerged from the shadows of the trees above the beach. The air was fresher, tart with the tang of seawater. Waves crashed on the rocks far below. The only way to the sea was a narrow trail that wound through sea grasses and outcroppings of weathered rock.

Ryan raised his arm and the party halted. “Ye ladies may spread yer blankets for lunch here. Gilda, there are berry bushes deeper in the forest, but I’d ask ye only go with guards. Aye?”

Gilda slipped lightly to the ground and handed him her mare’s reins. “Aye. We will get started now!” she sang out happily. Lissa landed beside her and untied the basket laced to the back of her saddle. They clasped hands and ran across the grass, skirts and hair flying behind them, woven cubbies bouncing at their sides.

Ryan shook his head ruefully. For all that Gilda was now a married woman, she scarce seemed older than his sister. With a tilt of his head, he sent four soldiers after the two women.

A prim cough from Mairead interrupted his thoughts. “I dinnae want to sit here unsheltered. ’Tis unfair to ask it of me. My skin will burn in this wind and sun.”

Then why, by St. Andrew’s teeth, did ye come? Ryan grumbled to himself as he prepared to meet Mairead’s complaint.

* * *

“Look! They are setting up a shelter for Mairead!” Lissa pointed to the white canvas fluttering from four rough-cut timbers. The slender poles swayed gently and Gilda gritted her teeth, damping down the image of the entire structure caving down upon Mairead and her ceaseless harping.

“Wheesht, and it will be nice to eat our lunch in a bit of shade, won’t it?” Lissa’s unladylike snort answered Gilda’s question. She patted her partially-filled cubbie. “I am getting hungry. Let us settle and eat our lunch. We will then have time to finish filling our baskets before returning to the castle.”

“I wish we could stay out longer,” Lissa whined. “I havenae seen a pirate or anything dangerous all morning.”

“I am sure yer brother has better things to do than nursemaid us,” Gilda answered tartly, ignoring the longing in her own heart to bask in the open air and freedom. She grasped Lissa’s hand and tugged her along. “We must not put the men in danger by staying out past gloaming.”

They reached the rigged shelter and sank down on the blanket spread beneath, dropping their baskets beside them.

Curled on a large blanket, Mairead leaned forward and peered at the berries. “Were there no more than that?” Her question was little more than a plaintive sigh. “That willnae make many pastries at all. Hardly worth the time and effort.”

“At least ye dinnae get yer gown soiled,” Gilda replied as she popped a juicy berry in her mouth. At Lissa’s small gasp, a pang of guilt went through her at baiting Mairead so. Especially at Mairead’s look of horror which sent a warring feeling of smug satisfaction through her middle.

“’Tis not my gown,” Mairead said with a tiny shudder. Her long, delicate fingers plucked at the coarse linen. “I asked for a rag to wear so my clothing wouldnae be soiled or torn. I dinnae have such an item in my chests, but I felt sure one could be garnered.” She turned her dark gaze directly on Gilda. “From ye.”

Heat traveled up Gilda’s neck and along her arms, prickly as a rash. Her hands trembled but she forced her fingers to pluck another berry from the basket.

“I wouldnae ask ye for a thing, Lady MacLaurey.” Gilda ate the berry in her hand and flashed Mairead a mirthless smile. “Ye have nothing I need, and everyone knows ye cannae gather berries off a whinbuss .”

Ryan’s knife thudded onto the blanket and she knew she’d shocked him with her two-sided proverb.

I dinnae care. She is an ill-tempered besom and I wouldnae ask a favor of her if my life depended on it. Gilda smoothed her hands on her skirts and rose to her feet. “Lissa and I have baskets to fill. If ye would excuse us, please.”

There was a murmured chorus of eager assent from the nearby soldiers. “Aye, lass, and I look forward to the pastries tonight—”

“They are my favorite, they are—”

“Ye are kind, Lady Gilda—”

With a flurry of movement, Mairead stood. “I will help ye, Gilda.”

Lissa tugged at Gilda’s sleeve. “What is she about? She doesnae know how to pick berries.”

“She dinnae like us getting all the thanks,” Gilda whispered as she bent to pick up her basket. “Bothersome besom .”

No longer shocked at Gilda’s words, Lissa snickered. They filed from under the shelter and toward the berry patch.

“Race ye to the berries!” Lissa shouted. Gilda hiked her skirts above her boots as she took up Lissa’s challenge.

“Wait!” Mairead demanded as she stumbled on the rocky ground. “I cannae leap about. Ye are disobedient and ’tis a wonder the men of this clan dinnae stripe the both of ye.”

Without remorse, Gilda and Lissa faded into the shadows of the edge of the forest. Gilda watched as soldiers fanned out around Mairead, far enough from her to dampen the sound of her complaints, close enough they would still be seen to guard her. Faith, but she could not summon the decency to feel sorry for the woman.

As Mairead fisted her hands on her hips, Gilda stepped into her line of vision. “The best berries are deeper. Where ’tis harder to reach. The others have either been picked already or are smaller and less plump.” With that bit of information, Gilda slipped among the bushes and began to fill her basket.

“I am glad I am not wearing one of my good gowns,” Mairead grumbled as she tugged her skirt free of the brambles.

“I am, too,” Gilda admitted, “but ’twas not nice of ye to insist on one of mine. ”

“Mayhap not, but what else have ye offered me other than cold hospitality?”

“Cold hospitality?” Gilda sputtered. “Are ye never satisfied? ’Tis a sorry day to find yer betrothed marrit to someone else, but ye arenae making things easy, either.”

“I dinnae have to make things easy for ye. Ye stole my husband!”

“And I would have to say he is glad I did!” Gilda glared at Mairead then whirled away, grasping the basket handle tight enough to throttle it had it been the other woman’s neck. She stomped deeper into the thicket, yanking berries from the slender branches, flinching as she pricked her finger on a bramble.

Mairead followed close on her heels. “Ye insufferable child! Ye will never be the lady of Ard Castle!”

“Well, I am Ryan’s wife, so we shall have to see, aye?” Gilda retorted.

“I am so thankful to be leaving! I hope it is tomorrow!”

“Ye couldnae pack yer bags fast enough to suit me.” Gilda slid effortlessly through the thicket and out the other side. She didn’t bother to stifle a grin when she heard Mairead’s startled yelp. Plucking more berries, she waited for the woman’s next grievance. There was only silence. Curious, Gilda stole back into the thicket.

Mairead stood rigid, fear etched into every line of her body. Coldness washed over Gilda as she peered into the thicket and the fey eyes that stared back at her.