Page 22 of The Highlander’s Tempestuous Bride (The Highlander’s Bride #3)

Gilda woke to the scent of berries. Something tickled her nose and she blearily opened her eyes. Sticky jam plastered the tousled blond locks of the small head next to her. For a moment, she stared at the strange sight, then memory dawned. Finn and Jamie curled against her, one on either side despite their ma’s dire warnings should they bother Gilda during the night.

They had clung to her when she entered Scaurness the night before. They had bracketed her like bookends, their fiercely protective glares keeping all but her ma and Tavia at bay. For which she had been grateful. Exhausted and brokenhearted, she’d not wanted to hear the condolences and sad welcomes home. Ever the bolder of the pair, Finn had announced he and Jamie would be spending the night in her room and she had been touched, though a little leery of their loyalty. After only one instance of boyish bickering as she nodded off to sleep, Gilda was surprised to find she’d slept rather well after all.

She eyed the broken lines of sunlight spilling through the thick panes of glass in the window. From where the yellow rays pooled on the floor, she guessed it late morning. Spying the partially eaten platter of food on the small table against the wall, she decided the twins had helped themselves to her meal before settling back in for a nap. Well, it was too soon to think of the lads as perfect.

“She is awake,” Finn hissed loudly.

Gilda ruffled his hair, the side without the smeared jam. “And ye have been into my repast, ye imp. ”

He sat with a jolt and drew himself up indignantly. “I dinnae! Ma would skelp my hide if I ate yer food.”

On the other side, Jamie leaned across Gilda and pounded his brother’s shoulder. “Ye have jam in yer hair, ye bampot .”

“Dinnae call me an idiot, ye clype !”

“I dinnae tattle! She already knew!”

Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Gilda shoved both boys toward the edge of the bed. “Away with ye both, ye wee louns . I dinnae want to listen to ye haver while I dress.”

The twins scurried off the bed and across the floor, filching toast from the tray as they passed.

“Have Cook send up a fresh meal!” she called after them. “And then wash yer hair!”

The door slammed behind the boys and Gilda sighed. She was home.

* * *

“Did the wolf really eat the bad pirate?” Jamie’s eyes grew round. Both boys crept closer and Gilda felt a small hand snuggle inside one of hers. With a smile, she gently squeezed the chubby fingers and Finn scooted against her hip. Those seated closest to her at the table feigned disinterest, but the story was too fresh, too tempting to be ignored.

“Wheesht, ye bloodthirsty lad,” Gilda chided. “The wolf dinnae eat the pirate. Though he did attack him.”

“What happened to the wolf?” Finn asked.

“The pirate stabbed him.”

“But ye found him and fixed him, aye?” Jamie chimed in, not to be outdone. They’d heard the story enough times by now to know its entirety, but they eagerly awaited every word.

Gilda obliged them with the tale. “He followed me on my way here. The wound the pirate gave him was deep and he needed my help.”

“Where had the pirate stabbed him?” Both boys’ eyes grew round with anticipation.

“The knife bit deep in his chest. I bound it as best I could and brought him home with me.”

“The horses dinnae like that!” Finn snorted and reared back, waving his hands in the air, mimicking pawing hooves .

Gilda ruffled his hair with one hand. “Nae. They werenae pleased at all. But he followed me quietly as I led him the rest of the way home. He was verra ill for several days before he was strong enough to leave the little shed in the bailey. But he is likely hunting rabbits in the woods again, doing things wolves do in the forest.”

“Ye had helped him afore, aye?”

Gilda cupped Finn’s cheek fondly. Amazing how much the twins had changed in the past few weeks. “Aye. Once before, I had saved him from being caught in a trap.”

“He remembered!” Jamie crowed.

“He saved her life!” Finn announced.

“After she saved his!”

Gilda took a deep breath. A tussle was brewing. As she’d thought before, perhaps it was a bit early to claim the two had changed much.

“Finn! Jamie!”

Ma’s voice settled the lads. “Away with ye, now. Let yer sister finish her meal.” She surveyed Finn’s hair. “And give yer hair a wash. Ye have jam in it.”

“Again?” With a huff of martyrdom, Finn slid from his chair. “I washed it yesterday.”

“That was several days ago and ye had jam in it then, too.” Ma gave him a stern look. “Dinnae come back to the table with sticky hair.”

The boys slunk from the room, Jamie keeping to the far side of his brother and out of Ma’s direct view.

Riona slipped into the chair beside Gilda. “Ye are sweet to entertain them, but ye need to eat.”

Gilda eyed her plate, the cheese an unappetizing lump atop the bread rapidly going stale. Her mug of hot tea had long since grown cold. “I cannae even try it this morning, Ma.”

Riona touched the back of her hand to Gilda’s forehead. “Ye dinnae have a fever,” she murmured. “Is it yer stomach, then?”

Gilda nodded. “Aye. I cannae seem to abide food so early in the day.” She offered a bright smile. “I will be fine by midday. I am not sick.”

With a frown, her ma rose. “’Tis why ye havenae broken yer fast in the past week and why ye settle in for a nap in the afternoon. Come with me. I will have Tavia fix ye something to settle yer stomach. This has gone on long enough.”

* * *

Ranald was glad he was sitting down. He wasn’t sure he could have handled the news standing up. As it was, his knees felt rubbery and his legs quivered. He eyed his wife with concern. “Are ye certain?”

Riona sank into a chair with a whoosh of skirts. Apparently her legs weren’t up to the job, either.

She traced the design on the fabric adorning the arm of the chair with a fingertip before answering, “Aye. Gilda is with child. The bairn should arrive mid-summer.”

Ranald leaned back and rubbed his jaw. “How is she?”

His wife’s grey eyes were dark, her expression worried. “I cannae say. Right now I believe she is shocked.”

“I believe I am a wee bit fashed myself.” He grimaced. “Married just over a fortnight, her husband dead these past weeks, and the lass is expecting. Sweet Jesu, but this is unexpected.”

“She asked me to break the news. Ye dinnae have to pretend ye dinnae know.”

Ranald shook his head. “I willnae treat the lass any different. She is my little Gilda, even if now a woman grown and about to make me a grandda.”

Riona leaned forward and eyed him intently. “Then what worries ye so?”

“If she births a lad, he will be the Macraig heir. That changes everything.”

* * *

“I dinnae like being mid-bearne , Tavia.” Gilda stripped the gown over her head and tossed it across a chair. “None of my gowns fit.”

“Wheesht, lass. ’Twill be only a wee bit longer. The lad is growing every day.”

“How do ye know ’tis a lad? I would like a lass just as well.” Gilda’s voice muffled through layers of cloth as she pulled on another gown.

Tavia settled the fabric around Gilda’s belly. “This high-waisted gown fits ye best right now.” She pointed to the bulge. “See how low the babe rides? If the babe were a lass, it would sit much higher, and ye would havenae been able to wear yer old gowns so long. And ye tend to sleep on yer left side. That always means ye are having a lad.”

“If I slept on my right side would the babe be a lass?”

“Six months gone is a wee bit late to change the sex of the babe. Ye were queasy at first, but not truly sick. That means a lad as well.”

Gilda sighed. “’Tis why Laird Macraig is here today, isn’t it?”

* * *

Lissa flung herself into Gilda’s arms with a shriek of happiness. She bounced against Gilda’s belly and backed up a pace, eyes wide with surprise.

Gilda laughed. “Do ye not know where bairns come from, then?”

Lissa’s cheeks colored. “Of course I do. Ye look different, ’tis all.”

“Different? Fat?”

“Och, no, Gilda! Ye look wonderful!”

“Wonderful, is it? With my belly popped out?”

Laird Macraig cleared his throat and the girls stopped their banter. Gilda recalled her manners and motioned to a chair.

“Please make yerself comfortable, Laird. I will have refreshments brought.”

Laird Macraig shifted his feet and looked decidedly un comfortable. “My daughter wished to see ye.”

“And bring her home, too!” Lissa reminded him with a pointed look.

“Pardon? What do ye mean, bring me home?” Gilda felt the blood rush from her head. A faint dizziness swept over her.

Laird Macraig’s face darkened and he waved his hand in the air impatiently. “Surely ye understand. Ye cannae stay here. Ard Castle is yer home.”

Gilda raised an eyebrow, her ire rising. “Since when?”

From the corner of her eye, she saw her da move toward them. “Ye cannae force the lass to return with ye.”

Gilda blessed his timely intervention.

Laird Macraig folded his arms across his chest, a belligerent stamp on his face. “She carries the Macraig heir. She belongs at Ard.”

“We dinnae know if the babe is a lad or lass. We will let ye know when it arrives. ”

“She can deliver the babe at Ard.” The laird flicked his gaze back to Gilda. “Where she belongs.”

“I willnae go anywhere with ye, ye old goat!” The words were out of Gilda’s mouth before she could stop them. She slapped a hand across her mouth, eyes wide.

Her ma grasped her other arm. “Wheesht, Gilda. We will settle things with the laird with kinder words, aye?” Ma’s voice floated soft enough so only Gilda could hear.

Gilda inclined her head, returning the faint whisper. “Ma, he hates me. I am the reason his son is dead.”

“Men die in battle, Gilda. ’Twas nae yer fault. There are long-standing reasons he doesnae like the Macrory clan. Let yer da handle this. Dinnae fash .”

Ranald was firm. “My daughter makes her own decisions, Macraig. We willnae force her.”

Stubbornness carved deep lines in the Macraig’s face. “She married my son.”

“Ye never acknowledged it before.” Gilda was just as stubborn.

“The bairn is my heir.”

“ If ’tis a lad.”

“Oh, Gilda, do ye not see?” Lissa clutched Gilda’s free hand, her eyes brimming with tears. “This babe is our very last link to Ryan. Ye couldnae be so cruel as to keep him from us. ”

Gilda glanced helplessly from Lissa to her ma. She did not wish to disappoint Lissa, but she would not birth the babe under the watchful eye of Laird Macraig.