Page 19 of The Highlander’s Tempestuous Bride (The Highlander’s Bride #3)
Gilda’s heart skipped a beat. The amber eyes glowed unwaveringly from the darkness of the thicket. Black-tipped gray fur cloaked the young wolf’s lithe body. Gilda stared at the motionless beast, unsure its intent, unable to make the first move. Something about the animal seemed familiar, however, and Gilda’s gaze fell to the wolf’s front paw, resting lightly on the ground. The initial jolt of fear lifted as she recognized the wolf as the one she’d set free from a trap only a few weeks earlier.
“Step behind me, Mairead,” she called in a low voice, praying the woman would do as she was told without questioning. Mairead appeared to be frozen to the spot and didn’t so much as bat an eyelash.
“He willnae hurt ye if ye move slow.” Gilda held out a hand, palm up, motioning for Mairead to come to her.
Her movements dreamlike, not tearing her gaze from the ferocious-looking beast, Mairead reached for Gilda. She stumbled and the wolf let out an anxious whine.
“Gilda!” Mairead’s plaintive voice sliced through the still air and Gilda grimaced at the sound.
“Dinnae fash , Mairead. I know this wolf. He is a good lad.” Please let it be so , she added under her breath. Let him remember me .
With measured tread, Gilda edged toward Mairead, meeting her several feet from the wolf, still caught in his unwavering gaze. Mairead grasped Gilda’s arm, her fingernails digging into the flesh. Gilda winced at the pain. Willing to believe the forceful grip unintentional, Gilda patted Mairead’s shoulder gently to get her attention.
“Ye are shaking, Mairead,” she chided. “And ye will draw blood if ye dinnae loosen yer fingers.”
“I . . . ye . . . ’tis a wolf !” the other woman hissed. Rather than release Gilda’s arm, Mairead pulled her closer.
Gilda forced a smile and managed to work her arm free. “Wheesht, he’s nae but a wee wolf. ’Twould take him several bites to eat ye.” She bit her lip as Mairead’s skin blanched white. It really was bad of her to tease so. “Come. Let us get back to the others. I am sure there are other woodland creatures the wolf would find better sport than a girl like ye who cannae run verra fast.”
“Ye are mad!” Mairead sputtered, her eyes wild, her tongue suddenly loosed in panic. “I am glad ye married Ryan Macraig! Glad, do ye hear me? ’Tis a horrid, damp, ruin of a castle, full of pirates and wolves . . ..” Her voice hitched and she glared at Gilda through red-rimmed eyes. “I willnae stay here a day longer! I want to go home!”
Grimacing at her tone, Gilda relented. “Ye are in no danger. Come along. I will take ye back to the wagon.” She caught Mairead’s sleeve and tugged, urging her to follow.
With a screech, Mairead jerked away. “Dinnae touch me, you wretched girl!” Her demand ended on a sob and she whirled, plunging through the thicket, heedless of the brambles that tore at her skirts and snagged her hair.
“St. Columba’s bones, but she is a right girn , so she is! I can truly say I am glad I rescued Ryan from her peevish complaining.” Gilda fisted her hands on her hips. “And she has no regard for a perfectly good dress.”
A rustle of leaves interrupted her indignant recital and she spied Lissa peering through the branches.
“Gilda?” The girl’s voice was a frightened squeak.
“Och, dinnae tell me ye are afeared of this poor beastie, too.” Gilda harrumphed.
“’Tis a wolf!” Lissa’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped.
“I am not so daft as to walk over there and pet it like a dog.” Gilda tossed her head. “But I released it from a trap a couple of weeks ago and fed him a wee bit. I have seen him since, and he has never threatened me.”
Lissa peeked at the animal dubiously. The wolf’s gaze slid from one girl to the next before he settled and began licking his paw.
“See? The swelling in his foot is almost gone. Poor lad. I suppose one or more of the bones were broken as well as the skin. But he appears to be healing well.”
Shaking her head, Lissa smiled. “Ye are brave, Gilda. I would have been too terrified to try to help him.”
Deciding to keep a generous distance between herself and the wolf despite a slight feeling of friendship, Gilda began plucking berries from the bushes, keeping one eye on the beast as she worked. “Let us hurry. ’Twill be dark soon, and the men will want to leave. I dinnae want them to find the wolf. They may think him dangerous.”
“If Mairead has anything to say about it, they will be here quickly.”
Suddenly there was a crashing sound in the brambles. With a horrified gasp, Mairead plunged through the thicket, landing with a sprawl at Gilda’s feet. From behind her, a man leaped into the little clearing, his eyes gleaming, a dirk clenched between his teeth. The tang of sweat and salt assaulted Gilda’s nose even as she noted his stained clothing and the band of cloth wrapped about his forehead.
She released a soundless gasp.
Pirate!
* * *
Ryan surveyed the open area above the sea cliffs. No suspicious birlinns or other sailing vessels had been sighted in several days along the coast, but he was not foolish enough to assume Acair MacEwen and his men had merely drifted away. Reason told him they would plunder up and down the shoreline for supplies before returning to Macrory land. His gut told him they would not be gone long and reminded him Macraig land abutted that of the Macrory clan. Something needed to be done, and soon.
Around him, soldiers leaned or reclined casually, the quiet talk among them carried away by the breeze sweeping the rocky plateau. Ryan peered at the sky, his attention on the clouds building in the west. A possible storm was brewing, but that was not uncommon. A day without rain, such as this one, was much more rare. The warm day pleased him, as though he were able to gift his wife with one last beautiful autumn day before winter arrived with winds crying off the firth, bringing ice and frigid temperatures to permeate the ancient Macraig castle.
This winter, however, he would have a willing wife to warm his bed and heat their nights. The thought cast a broad smile to his face. He settled on the ground, his back against a boulder shedding warmth from the rays of the sun. ’Tis a ferlie thing to be marrit. Truly a marvel and a wonder .
His gaze roamed the little shelter where the women had rested as they ate. A frown of distaste tugged at his lips as he marked the spot where Mairead had sat. But only when marrit to the right woman . Sending up a short prayer of thanks for deliverance from the bossy MacLaurey woman, Ryan closed his eyes and indulged himself with thoughts of a slender Macrory lass with fiery curls.
I need to start breaking camp. The words formed somewhere in the back of his mind, but Gilda’s saucy image danced before him, and he shifted his shoulders, seeking a more comfortable position. In a moment , he allowed as the warmth building within him began to vie with the heated rock he leaned against. In the distance the cry of gulls could be heard, blending with the sound of crashing waves below the edge of the cliffs.
A feminine shriek split the air.
Ryan leapt to his feet, sword in his hand. Around him, Macraig soldiers took up battle stance, forming a shield of drawn swords around the perimeter of the area.
“Where are the women?” Conn shouted, racing toward him from across the field.
“Four men are with them at the edge of the woods.” Ryan’s reassurance rang flat as the sound of the shriek rang through his head. Together he and Conn sped toward the trees. Hoarse shouts from behind them spun Ryan around.
Men swarmed over the edge of the cliffs, weapons in hand, their war cries sending a frisson of dread down Ryan’s spine as they engaged the Macraig soldiers. Steel clanged as grunts and curses filled the air.
He caught Conn’s arm in an iron grip.
“Find the women. Do whatever ye have to, but get them safe to the castle.”
Conn faced him with a look of surprise. “Those are pirates, Ryan! I could— ”
Ryan squared his jaw. “I know. Save the lasses. Dinnae fash about me.” He sensed Conn’s indecision and he released his friend’s arm with a forced laugh. “Ye will have the bigger fight on yer hands dealing with the lasses.”
With a scowl that told Ryan their long friendship had just been seamlessly repaired, Conn nodded briskly and pelted up the slope to the forest, leaving Ryan and the remaining six men to battle the pirates.
* * *
Gilda stared at the man, her limbs frozen. Run! She thought wildly, but the words would not pass her lips.
The man wiped the dirk on his kilt as his gaze roamed over the three girls. “What have we here? Lovely lasses picking berries, aye? And no one to run to or call for help.”
“Our guard . . ..” Gilda managed to utter the words, her throat tight with fear. At her feet, Mairead choked on a sob. Gilda jerked her gaze to the woman and saw tears streaking her face. Denial ripped through her as she looked back to the man. His grin taunted her knowingly.
“There were guards, lass. The only men left now are mine.”
“That . . . that isnae possible,” Gilda stammered. “There were—”
“Four,” the man interrupted. “Four men in the woods, eight more on the cliff. But dinnae fash . My men will have dealt with them in a moment.” His manner became serious. “The three of ye come with me, now.”
Hands clutched Gilda from behind. “Dinnae let him take us, Gilda,” Lissa whimpered.
The man quirked an eyebrow. “Ye are Gilda, aye?” His eyes roamed over her assessingly. “Laird Macrory’s daughter?”
“I am Ryan Macraig’s wife.”
Shaking his head, the man grinned. “Ye willnae claim the Macrory as yer da, then. Mayhap because it is known the MacEwen sired ye?
Dizziness swept through Gilda. Mairead stumbled to her feet, clutching Gilda’s arm. Lissa clung to her other side. Gilda swayed. Her vision darkened, narrowed to the evil leer of the man before her .
“Who are ye?” The words slipped from her, scarcely heard even in the suddenly silent glen.
“I am Acair MacEwen. Yer half-brother.”