Page 21 of The Highlander’s Tempestuous Bride (The Highlander’s Bride #3)

Gilda buried her face deep in her pillow and screamed. She pounded the feathered softness with clenched fists, but the pain inside did not lessen. Bitterness ate at her, taunted her, consumed her. On the bed next to her, Lissa whimpered softly. Gilda envied the girl her sleep, drugged though it was, and craved the oblivion of numbing rest for herself. But she also feared the nightmares that would come with it, reminding her of what she had lost. She curled into herself. Deep inside, a hole burned ever larger, deeper, hollow, cold. A fierce pain that might never go away.

Over and over the voices swept through her mind, reliving the hours after she and the others had regained the castle after the pirate attack. Without Ryan. Hours during which the laird had questioned them until Gilda thought she would go quite mad. A mirthless laugh swept through her. Perhaps she was. She clutched her pillow tightly and bit her lip.

“We had no warning, laird. The Macraig soldiers fought hard, yer son hardest of all.”

“Without the help from the castle, we would have all perished.”

“I saw yer son fighting near the edge of the cliff. When I looked again, he was gone.”

“His sword was retrieved on the rocks of the shore below. There was no sign of his body.”

Nameless faces whose words she had tried desperately to shut out. How could Ryan be gone? Death was ever a reality, but not now, not when their love was so young. They had years ahead of them, aye? She and Ryan had only been married a little over a fortnight. It wasn’t possible he was gone.

The love in her heart said he still lived.

The burn constricting her chest told her she would never see him again.

Gilda rubbed her swollen, gritty eyes and rolled to her back, pulling the blanket close around her. As if to mock the previously beautiful day, the weather had turned bitter, winds whistling about the castle, bringing a storm in from the sea. She shivered as lightning streaks lit the moonless sky.

She remembered Conn’s defeated stance as he rode toward them. He had refused to talk to her as they mounted their horses for the ride back to Ard Castle. His averted gaze spoke volumes to her even as she begged him to tell her what had happened to Ryan and the others. Hunched over his saddle, he had led them home, his silence destroying her hopes.

Restless, her eyes refused to close, and she slipped from the bed, pulling a heavy arisaid over her shoulders against the cold. Gently turning the latch, she left Lissa to her uneasy dreams.

Below, a murmur of voices rose and the warm glow from the huge fireplace in the great hall painted the stone pale gold with its light. Gilda shivered. She longed for the warmth of the fire, but did not wish to face the pitying looks of the people still gathered. Had Lissa not cried and pleaded with her to stay, she would have gone back to Scaurness Castle hours ago, before the storm arrived.

Laird Macraig’s grudging words for her to do as she pleased scarcely hid his hatred of her. It was clear he blamed her for Ryan’s death. Had she not insisted on the outing, he would have been well-protected at the castle when the pirates struck. Gilda swallowed another scream. She blamed herself as well.

The fire’s warm promise drew her downward and she clung to the shadowed edges of the room. Finally close enough for the heat of the flames to seep through the wool of her gown, Gilda sank onto a chair. She tucked the edges of her arisaid about her and closed her eyes. Voices faded in and out as she tried to erase from her mind the events of the day.

* * *

Conn watched Gilda folded herself gingerly into a chair near the hearth. Shadows all but obscured her features, but he knew her well. Her form, her very presence burned deep in his soul. He fingered the mug of ale on the table beside him, longing for whisky to dull the ache within him.

Damn her! Why could she not have been content to stay safe within the castle walls? Why could she not have left well enough alone? Conn jerked the mug to his lips and took a deep drink. Ryan never could nae-say the red-haired wench. Bluidy little temptress almost got all of us killed .

He set the mug down with a thump and a glower. Gilda had not been the only one eager for a day out of the castle. The others had been impatient, too. But it had been Gilda who had stood firm against the pirate, Gilda who bound his arm and stopped the bleeding. He surveyed her huddled form. And it was Gilda who had lost her husband, even as Conn lost his closest friend. Hell, it was Gilda’s wolf that held the pirate at bay until Conn arrived.

Unsure if it was a good idea or not, Conn rose to his feet and shuffled to Gilda’s side, feeling at least a hundred years old. With a soft groan, he lowered himself to the chair next to hers. She glanced at him, pain pooling deep within her eyes. He handed her his mug.

“It willnae make the pain go away, but mayhap ’twill help ye sleep.”

Without a word, she accepted the drink, downing it in a gulp. “It willnae bring him back, either, will it?” she whispered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Conn clenched his teeth. “Nae, lass. Ryan isnae coming back. ’Tis something I will live with all my life.”

Gilda tilted her head. “Why? Ye did everything ye could to help.”

“I wasnae there when he needed me.”

He felt her touch on his knee and saw her earnest look. “Ye did what he asked. Ye saved Mairead and Lissa.” She frowned. “And me.”

“I could have sent someone else. It dinnae have to be me.”

Gilda pulled her hand back, tucking it beneath the edge of her arisaid. “Nae. It dinnae have to be ye. But it was. And ye killed the pirate, Acair, who would have kidnapped us. Another man might not have.”

“Ye are sure it was Acair MacEwen?”

“I heard it from his own lips. He was the one who promised revenge on my father. ”

Silence lengthened between them. Conn remembered the clan meeting at Scaurness Castle and the night Laird Macrory asked for help against the pirates. Laird Macraig had refused his help. What good his prideful scorn now?

The noise around them faded as people sought their rest. Gilda and Conn sat unmoving in their chairs.

“Will ye stay here?” he finally asked.

“Hm?” Gilda bestirred herself, shifting in her seat. “I will stay for a bit. Lissa seems to need me. But I will return to Scaurness as soon as possible.” She picked at the hem of her gown. “Laird Macraig has no use for me.”

Conn had seen the hatred for Gilda on the old laird’s face, and wondered if she shouldn’t leave immediately.

“Is Ard Castle not yer home, now?”

Gilda flinched. “Nae. And I dinnae want it to be.” Her voice broke on a sob and Conn had to lean forward to hear her next words. “I want my ma.”

He stared at her, truly seeing her for the first time since they’d returned to the castle. The temptress who had stolen Ryan’s heart was gone. As was the brave young woman who had stood up to the menacing pirate. The girl who sat next to him was heartbroken and vulnerable. She needed her ma.

But it was not his concern, and he had other matters to consider.

“Mairead and I will leave on the morrow. The storm should be past by then. I believe we are no longer welcome here.”

Gilda lifted her gaze to his, bleakness darkening her eyes. “Nor am I.”

* * *

Lissa sobbed as Gilda mounted her mare. “I cannae stay here, dearling,” she told the girl. “I need to be with my family now.”

“But am I not yer family, too?” Lissa queried, her voice thick with tears.

Gilda leaned forward and cupped the lass’ cheek in her palm. “Of course ye are. And welcome at Scaurness any time. And I will visit ye sometime.” She darted a look at the laird, daring him to gainsay her. In her father’s presence, however, Laird Macraig said nothing .

Her da spoke. “Let us be away, Gilda. Yer ma is expecting us.”

Tears prickled Gilda’s eyes at her da’s soft words, but she refused to shed them. For just a little longer she would be strong, give Lissa the smile of encouragement she so desperately needed, hide the brittleness deep inside.

“Let the wench go, Lissa,” Laird Macraig grumbled. “Her home is with her people.”

Lissa whirled on him. “Da! She was Ryan’s wife! How can ye turn her away?”

His face darkened. “So she says. No priest married them.”

“He loved her.” Lissa’s voice broke. “ I love her.”

Beside her, Ranald stiffened and Gilda quickly reined her mare away. “Da, let us go. Ma is waiting on us.”

The group of Macrory soldiers surrounded Gilda and her da, riding through the castle gate as Conn and Mairead and their men had the day before. The path leading from Ard Castle was churned to mud by the passage of many horses and Mairead’s wagon, but the Macrorys soon veered south to the forest that divided the Macrory and Macraig lands.

Huddled deep in her arisaid, Gilda took little notice of her surroundings, trusting her da to get her home. As they entered the forest, the trees formed a barrier against the worst of the wind, though she could still hear it swaying through the tallest branches.

Ryan. Ryan . The wind sighed his name. Gilda flinched and urged Fia faster. After a moment the mare broke into a trot and without comment, the rest of the Macrorys kept pace.

A single rider reined his horse next to her da and leaned close. “There is a wolf on the trail following us.”

Ranald shrugged. “There are too many of us for him to be a threat. Make sure none lag behind.”

The soldier pulled his horse back and regained his position at the rear of the column. Gilda swiveled around in her saddle.

“Da? ’Tis my wolf.”

“ Yer wolf?”

“Aye. I freed him from a trap a few weeks ago and he attacked and killed the pirate when I was threatened. But he was injured. I want to help him. Please, Da. He needs my help.”

Her da stared at her. At best he would think her daft. At worst?

Gilda wasn’t sure it could get much worse.