The Highlander's Tempestuous Bride (15 page)

“Here is what likely spooked the horses.” Returning to the small clearing, Ranald held up the remains of a partially-eaten rabbit, the blood dry on its pelt. His horse snorted as if in agreement.

“Supper?”

“Nae likely. Even a skilled hunter couldnae catch rabbits last night. This is too fresh.” He tossed the carcass into the brush. “I would have said ’twas a wolf’s lair, but I found the ashes of a fire inside.”

Finlay nodded. “Mayhap they sheltered there and left before the wolf returned.”

Ranald raised his gaze to his friend, a bleak expression on his face. “The ashes were scarcely warm. If Gilda and Ryan sheltered there, they are at least an hour ahead of us.”

He took his reins and swung up onto his horse, wheeling it in a tight circle. “We ride to Ard Castle.”

* * *

Gilda clung to Ryan, swaying with the rhythmic motion of the galloping horse as it broke the shelter of the forest. The pink light of dawn gave them confidence, but great clouds of mist boiled up from the ground, obscuring the path before them.

“Look! Ard Castle.”

Ahead loomed the walls of the castle and Gilda drank in her first sight of her new home. The stone, wet from the night’s rain, glimmered pink and yellow in the early morning rays. Torches, their flames blending into the growing light, winked from the heights. Men, black stalks against the pearl-hued sky, strode the ramparts.

Wind tangled loose tendrils of hair across her face, and Gilda brushed them away.

“A Macraig!” Ryan’s cry whipped across the ground, alerting the guards. They clustered above the gate, and the sound of the portcullis being lifted screeched in discord.

Suddenly, Ryan stiffened and Gilda turned her head. Caught in the streaks of sunlight piercing the mist, two riders rode hard after them, stretched low against their mounts’ necks.

Gilda could not see their faces, but she recognized them, nonetheless.

Her heart leapt to her throat.

Finlay and her da.

Chapter 13

Gilda grabbed frantically at Duer’s reins. “Stop! Stop!” Her voice sounded shrill and wild as she tore her look from the two men racing toward them to the castle guards, their bows raised and ready. “Dinnae let your men hurt them!”

Ryan reined the horse to a skidding halt and Gilda flung herself to the ground, stumbling as she landed.

“Gilda!”

She heard Ryan’s voice, but did not falter as she fled headlong toward her father. Her breath hitched as she ran and she tensed for the hiss of loosed arrows from the archers on the walls of the castle. The big horse slid on his haunches as her da hurtled from his saddle. She found herself in his arms, his protective grip choking the breath from her.

“What the hell were ye thinking, lass?” His voice, gravelly and deep, betrayed his fear for her, but did not mask his anger.

Gilda tore from his grasp and swept a lock of hair from her eyes, giving him a defiant stare. “I cannae marry Boyd.”

“We will speak of this later.” Her da reached for her, but she took another step backward.

“I cannae go back with ye, either.”

He gave her a thunderous look. “Ye can and ye will.”

Gilda shook her head, her throat tight as she fought tears that threatened. “I cannae. I am wed to Ryan. My home is with him.”

She felt a presence behind her and saw her da glance over her shoulder. A hand gripped her arm with firm reassurance.

Ryan’s voice was steady. “We are committed to this, Laird.”

“Committed? Who gave ye permission to commit yerself to my daughter? Tearing her from her home and family is no way to start a new life together.”

“Da, I…” She whirled to Ryan. “I want to stay with ye.” Her eyes pleaded with him even as her da’s voice rose behind her.

“Gilda. Come home with me and let us discuss this.”

She confronted Da, bitterness in her words. “Like we
discussed
my betrothal to Boyd?”

He winced. “I willnae ask ye to marry him.”

“Will ye bless my marriage to Ryan?”

His jaw clenched and Gilda saw a dark flush of anger cross his face. “I cannae.”

Gilda’s chest tightened and she clung to Ryan’s hand. “Then, I cannae return with ye.”

“Dinnae do this, Gilda. I am taking ye home, but I would prefer ye come willingly.”

Ryan pressed her hand as he drew her close. “Nae. Ye willnae take her against her will. She is my wife.”

* * *

Ranald shrugged off Finlay’s hand the moment the big man’s grip loosened. He watched Gilda and Ryan enter the castle gates, then turned and mounted his horse. Without a word, he yanked Hearn’s head around, kicking him to a run toward the forest trail. The two men rode in silence, neither sparing his mount as the wind whistled angrily and the forest swept past them.

Ranald’s horse stumbled, exhausted from the punishing speed. Scaurness Castle loomed ahead and Ranald finally slowed him to a walk.

Finlay pulled alongside. “Ye would rather she watched ye die beneath their arrows?”

Ranald set his jaw and said nothing.

“Threatening the laird’s son would have been all the provocation they needed,” Finlay added.

A flash of anger infused Ranald’s blood and heated him almost beyond endurance. He squared his shoulders and kept his hands firm on the reins, resisting the urge to smash his fist into something hard. Finlay’s jaw was a tempting target.

The man would not take the hint. “Have ye thought what ye will tell yer wife?”

Ranald leveled his gaze on Finlay. “’Twould be best if ye stayed out of my sight for a bit.”

Finlay lifted an eyebrow. “Aye. Mayhap I have saved yer life one too many times.”

“Ye are my friend, but I dinnae like ye right now.”

“Fair enough. Though I still believe Lady Riona will thank me for bringing ye home alive.”

“I dinnae think so.” Ranald lifted his sights to the tower beyond the castle gate where his wife waited. He felt Gilda’s absence with a bleak hollowness and fear of Riona’s reaction for his failure to bring her daughter home.

A shout went up from a guard at the wall. The muffled sound of well-oiled chains followed as the portcullis rose. Ranald rode into the bailey and left his lathered horse with a stable lad. Taking a deep breath, he strode into the great hall.

* * *

Riona lingered on the stair, the strain of the past hours evident in the taut lines of her body as she stared past him. Her anguished look rushed back to his face, a question silently asked and answered. Gilda was not with him. Ranald gave her a short nod and she turned and climbed the stairs with a faltering step.

He entered their bedroom behind her and closed the door. He looked around the room, seeing it in a haze of suspended reality. How could things appear so normal with Gilda gone? Everything lay in its place, the coverings smoothed across the bed, blankets folded neatly at the foot. At the window, sunlight streamed through the green glass, falling to a colorful muddle on the wooden floor. Even with the cheerful denial of the stormy night just past, a chill gripped Ranald’s heart.

“She is at Ard Castle?”

Ranald turned to his wife, startled at the brittle, hopeful sound to her voice. He crossed the floor to her, cursing himself for his blunder.

“Gilda is fine.” He took Riona in his arms and held her as choked sobs burst from her. Stroking her hair, he murmured reassurances in her ear.

“She and the Macraig lad sheltered in a cave. We caught up with them on the approach to the castle.”

Riona sniffed and wiped her face with the apron tied about her waist. “I am sorry. When I dinnae see her with ye I was afraid… Why did she not return with ye?”

“Our Gilda is in love with the lad and he has made her his wife.”

“In truth?”

“They havenae faced a priest, but she is his wife.”

Riona drew away and stepped to the window. She unfastened the clasp and swung the panes open wide. Silent, she stared into the distance.

Ranald moved behind her. “I was about to force her home, but the lad showed a bit of backbone.” He shook his head. “If Finlay hadnae intervened, I would have accepted the challenge.”

Riona did not answer. Ranald placed his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her to face him. “I would have earned her lasting hatred and started a verra short battle and a bitter war. The archers on the wall had their bows trained on us.” He hesitated, then sighed. “Finlay thinks he did the right thing, stopping me. I am not so sure.”

Riona cupped his cheek in her palm, gentle love showing behind the sheen of tears. “I am.”

* * *

Ryan dismounted and helped Gilda down. Her body trembled and he grew alarmed by the pallor of her skin. He wrapped an arm about her waist and led her forward. “Are ye ready,
a stor
?”

Gilda nodded but did not relax.

The door to the hall opened and Laird Macraig strode through, his boots beating an angry tattoo on the hard ground. He stared from Ryan to Gilda and came to an abrupt stop, rocking back on his heels in surprise.

Ryan stepped before him, tucking her against his side. “Da, welcome my wife, Gilda.”

The laird’s face paled. “What have ye done?”

At a hard glare from Ryan, his sire snapped his mouth shut and drew back. “We will discuss this in my chambers.” He raked Gilda with a contemptuous stare. “Yer betrothal to Mairead will need to be addressed.” With that parting shot, he pivoted and stormed into the castle.

Gilda squeezed Ryan’s hand and a rush of harsh color stained her cheeks. “What did he mean, your betrothal to Mairead?”

“It means nothing,
a stor
. ’Twas the wish of a foolish auld man, not mine.”

“Was there a contract between ye?”

Ryan stifled his impatience. “My da signed the contract, but I dinnae.”

Gilda’s eyes widened into a look of dismay. “Och, Ryan. What have we done?”

He touched her shoulder, wincing as she flinched at his touch. “Nothing matters except we are together. Dinnae worry. Everything will be fine.”

He could tell by the hurt in her eyes she did not believe him.

* * *

Gilda allowed Ryan to lead her into the castle. Stares from the people they passed seemed overly curious to her tightly strung nerves. Her headlong flight into Ryan’s arms on the heels of her da’s furious tirade the day before had seemed so unerringly right. Now, amid strangers and the reality of leaving her family behind, her stomach churned and she could not focus on anything more than placing one foot before the other.

“Gilda.”

Ryan’s voice echoed fuzzily in her head. She peered at him and realized she stopped at the foot of the stair.

He gave her a reassuring smile and cocked his head. “Our room is up two levels. Will ye walk with me?”

She stared at the stone staircase, the handrail a heavy rope clinging to the wall on her right, the left side open. It was nothing like the airy, carved wooden stairwell at Scaurness, with the upper stories open to the great hall below. Ard castle was built solely for protection and defense, its starkness cold and unwelcoming. She placed a foot on the first riser and nodded.

At the curve in the stair, the walls of the castle enclosed the stairwell and a shudder ran through her. Here, no light other than torch flame lit the way. Sinister shadows danced on the walls as she and Ryan passed each flickering blaze. Four doors faced the hall and Ryan led her to the second one.

“This is our room. That one is Da’s. My sister claims the one on the end, and Conn has this first one.”

“There are only four bedrooms?”

“Nae. There are chambers for guests in the south tower, but they are little used. Castle workers either sleep on pallets on the floor in the great hall or have a cottage nearby.”

“’Tis a very old castle, then.”

“Aye. ’Tis more of a fortress, but there are plans to have an addition built soon.” He opened the door. “We will be comfortable enough until then.”

Gilda stepped across the threshold and glanced about the room. Tapestries hung on the walls as they did at Scaurness, lending the room color and warmth. Two narrow windows along the far wall admitted little light, their function defense. But a wider window was glazed with green glass and sunlight forced its way past the thick panes. Gilda crossed the room and released the catch to open the window. Sunshine broke free to warm her face and she stared out to the bailey below. People moved about much as they did at Scaurness and she was comforted.

Turning to the room, she warmed further at the sight of the large bed against an inner wall, its curtains drawn aside to reveal the soft, inviting pile of furs and woven coverings. She bit her lip and shifted her gaze to the other items in the spacious room, the large chest at the foot of the bed, the two comfortable chairs flanking the hearth, and the low table nearby.

“I will have another chest brought to hold yer clothing and such. ’Twill be no problem to have dresses made for ye. My sister, Lissa, will be happy to help ye.”

“How do ye know she will like me? Yer da doesnae.”

“Lissa is a sweet child who will be glad to have a sister to talk to, though she is enough to try the patience of a saint.”

Gilda twisted the fabric of her skirt between her fingers. “But yer da doesnae like me.”

Ryan sighed. “He still harbors a grudge against the Macrorys. Ye must nae let him worry ye.”

Gilda’s eyes burned with tears and she blinked furiously to hold them back.

Ryan rushed to her and folded her in his arms. “Och, Gilda. Ye dinnae think it would be this way.”

“I dinnae know how much it would hurt to refuse to go home with Da. I am so confused.”

“It will take time. ’Tis my hope ye will feel free to visit and talk to yer parents soon.”

His words, meant to comfort, tore at Gilda’s heart.
I miss my ma and my da
. She clenched her teeth to avoid saying the words aloud. She wanted to be Ryan’s wife more than anything in the world. But the price was tearing her apart.

* * *

Ryan found Conn in a corner of the great hall, nursing a hunk of bread, a cup of water at his elbow.

Conn waved him to a chair. “Have a seat. I am afraid this is all that is left.”