The Highlander's Tempestuous Bride (17 page)

“’Tis no problem for ye to bathe in private, Gilda.” Lissa’s firm voice cut through Keita’s sullen announcement.

Gilda shook her head. “I can bathe same as the others.”

“I am sure ’tis only right ye bathe in privacy.” Keita sniffed. She turned and planted her hands on her hips as the lads upended the buckets, splashing water on the floor. “Ye wee
louns
! Dinnae make such a mess. Practice is what ye are needing. Go fetch another round of hot water.”

Gilda stared at Keita. The woman might not like her, but she was certainly used to her orders being followed. Could she change her hostility into, if not friendship, at least a truce?

“I thank ye for a chance to bathe this morning. I am afraid I slept later than I am accustomed to. ’Twas a busy day for me yesterday.” Gilda saw the other woman’s lips twitch.

Could Keita be tempted to smile? Perhaps it was too much to expect so soon.

The lads returned in haste with their buckets of hot water. Keita watched critically as they emptied them into the tub. With a curt nod she dismissed them and latched the door. “Into the tub with ye, m’lady. We havenae got all day.”

Gilda slipped out of her shift and slid into the water. She closed her eyes as the heat ebbed through to her bones.

Lissa handed her a square of fabric. “Here is a cloth and some soap I brought with me. Ryan bathes either downstairs or at the barracks.”

Gilda mused over that bit of information. She wiggled her toes, dismayed to realize the tub was too small to consider adding Ryan. Heat licked her ears and cheeks. Perhaps that line of thought should be aside for a bit—especially with Ryan’s little sister near.

Instead she queried, “What are the men about this morning, Lissa?”

The girl perched herself on the edge of a chair by the hearth. “Ryan is out on a patrol. The pirates were pushed back to the water yesterday, and havenae been seen since. Da insisted they double all patrols on the beach.”

Gilda nodded. “A wise move. My da…” She stopped a wave of longing sweeping unexpectedly through her, firmly tamping it down. “My da will likely be doing the same.”

She quickly finished her bath, though she would have enjoyed a quiet soak. It was clear she had let enough of the day pass her by.

Toweling dry, she slipped into her shift and a gown Keita held out for her. “Thank you for helping me with clothing, Keita.”

“We will visit the storerooms today and pick out some fabric. Would you like that?”

Lissa’s eager look warmed Gilda’s heart and she smiled. “Of course!”

As Keita and Lissa gathered the linens, the door opened and Ryan strode in, his smile turning to a look of surprise as he took in the activity in his room.

“’Tis good to see ye so well cared for,
a stor
.” He dropped a kiss on Gilda’s cheek as he tossed his cloak to the chest at the foot of the bed.

“They have been verra kind.” Her smile of thanks faded to concern as she turned to her husband. “Have ye seen any more of the pirates?”

“Come downstairs and sit at the table with me and I will tell you what I know. I am starved and the tables were being set as I came up.”

Gilda’s heart tripped with anticipation. She knew she would just die if they were confined to the castle again. The sea called to her and her lungs ached for the clear air above the firth.

She grasped Ryan’s hand, fairly skipping down the stairs.

Chapter 15

Excitement swept the castle several days later, even as turmoil rushed through Gilda. Word had reached them that visitors approached and would likely arrive in the next day or two. Ryan’s patrol had been absent for the past three days and Gilda’s tension was already high.

The expression on Lissa’s face as she shared the news of their visitors set off new anxieties for Gilda. She’d discovered the visitors were none other than Laird MacLaurey and his daughter, Mairead, the woman for whom Ryan’s da had signed a betrothal contract.

Servants bustled about, preparing the tower rooms, and Cook kept a close watch on the kitchen staff as food was prepared. Gilda and Lissa oversaw their actions, though very little help was needed. Keita, acting chatelaine since Lissa’s mother died three years earlier, had things well in hand.

“Is there anything ye would do different, Gilda?” Lissa asked. “Ye must have many visitors at Scaurness. I’ve been told ’tis a wondrously large castle.”

Gilda blanched at the thought of suggesting Keita change how she ran Ard Castle. Taking Lissa by the hand, she found an alcove beside the hearth where they could be out of the way.

With a sigh, she sank into one of the chairs. “I think everything is fine,” she confided to the girl. “Yes, Scaurness is a larger castle, and not as old. My da has visitors frequently, and my ma handles things much as Keita does here.” She gave Lissa a rueful smile. “In short, she works us half to death cleaning and preparing food, but on a grander scale.”

Lissa nodded, apparently satisfied with Gilda’s answer. “Would ye like something to drink?” She shot a quick look over her shoulder. “We could take a wee break as long as Keita doesnae suspect.”

Gilda swept the area with a look. “Nae. What I would like is whatever ye can tell me about Mairead.”

Lissa gave her a startled look. “She is Conn’s sister. Why?”

Gilda chewed her lip. “Oh, I suppose I just wondered about our visitors.”

Lissa leaned close. “I dinnae think Ryan or Conn are particularly happy they are coming.”

“Why not?”

The girl shrugged. “Just a feeling I have. They both are quiet and grim whenever her name is mentioned.”

Gilda sighed. “Well, I suppose we should get back to work. I thank ye for stopping to talk with me.”

Lissa smiled as she rose. “Dinnae fash about Mairead. She likely willnae stay long.”

Worry clutched Gilda again. If only she felt as confident as Lissa sounded.

* * *

Riona blew softly on the parchment, the shine of wet ink dulling as it dried. She touched the words she had written with gentle fingers, as to infuse them with her feelings of love for her daughter.

“Are ye ready?” Ranald approached, his hand out to receive the message she had written to Gilda. Folding the parchment in thirds, she sealed it with wax from the candle on her desk. Giving it a moment to dry, she held it out hesitantly to Ranald.

She sighed. “I wish I was taking it to her.”

Ranald took the missive and lifted Riona’s fingers to his lips for a quick kiss. “I know ye do, but ’tis still too dangerous for ye to travel. ’Twill be enough for her to know ye are thinking about her. I swear I will take ye for a visit as soon as the pirates are gone.” He echoed her sigh. “Or at least chased back. If we could find their camp, ’twould be a simple thing to erase their threat.”

Riona’s eyes rounded with concern. “’Tis no simple thing to battle pirates,
mo chroí
. Nor any man bent on destruction.”

“Ree, I would have all threat to ye and our family eliminated. ’Tis my job as laird and yer husband to see ye safe.”

She smoothed slow fingers across his jaw, turning them to cup his cheek. “Promise me ye will be safe taking this to Gilda.”

Ranald grinned at her. “I will go armed and guarded as always, dearling. Dinnae fash about it.”

“I will worry until ye return, ye know.”

Noise clashed in the hallway as shrieks rent the air. Ranald hurtled across the room, his hand on the hilt of his sword. He threw open the door, one aggressive stride landing him in the corridor. Something small and hard hit his legs, buckling his knees. Riona was a step behind him and paused when she saw the source of the commotion.

“Ye are a pirate, Jamie!”

Ranald righted himself and caught the blond-thatched imp grabbing at his trews, sliding around his legs. A wooden sword waved in the air, and Ranald twisted neatly out of its path.

“I dinnae want to be a pirate, Finn. I want to be a warrior.”

“One of us has to be a pirate,” Finn pointed out as he came to a stop on the other side of his da. “’Tis a fight to the death and ye always lose.”

“I dinnae!” Jamie shouted his outrage and dove at his brother, his hands balled into tight fists, wooden sword ringing on the floor as he discarded it for hand-to-hand combat.

Ranald grabbed each boy by the scruff of the neck, pulling them apart. He released them, his body firmly between the dueling pair. “Wheesht, the both of ye! ’Tis no way for brothers to act.”

“Fergus says brothers always fight,” Finn replied, his voice matter-of-fact.

“’Tis only because he see the two of ye.” Ranald grunted. Riona made a mental reminder to speak to Fergus about the weans having big ears.

“Finn willnae let me be a warrior,” his brother complained.

Ranald surveyed the lads. “Take turns, the both of ye. Or I will put yer energy to better use.”

With the threat implied, both ducked their heads, not willing to test their da’s temper further. Riona relaxed against the door frame, arms folded across her chest, teeth firmly clenched to hide her mirth.

“Off with ye, now.” With a shooing motion, Ranald sent the twins on their way, their feet scudding on the floor as they beat a hasty retreat.

“Will ye engage a tutor for them as ye did Niall?” Riona let the corners of her mouth tug upward, unable to resist teasing her husband. His harried look broke her self-control.

He shoved a hand through his hair. “They need bailiffs, not a tutor.” He shrugged. “Mayhap they should be fostered separately.”

Riona frowned at the thought of sending the lads away. “I think that would be best, though not for another year or two.”

Ranald grinned. “Ye are willing to keep them around that long? Ye are indeed a saint.”

This time Riona laughed. “Just a worried mother, and afraid of losing friends willing to foster lads from Scaurness.”

“Aye. I am afraid their reputation will precede them. It may not be so easy to foster them.”

Riona regarded him solemnly. “Mayhap ye should start negotiations now.”

* * *

A single horn blast sounded, startling Gilda. Her stomach clenched. Could the MacLaureys be here already? She scrubbed her damp palms down the sides of her skirt and hurried to the hall door.

The Macraig captain, Breac, approached her. “M’lady.” He gave a nod.

Gilda turned her anxious gaze on him. “Aye?”

“Riders approaching from the south.”

“From the south?” Her eyes narrowed in puzzlement. “I thought the MacLaureys would arrive from the east.”

“Aye. I believe they are from Scaurness.”

Gilda’s jaw dropped open and she closed it with a snap. Her heart raced and she struggled to regain her wits. Hurrying footsteps sounded behind her and she peered over her shoulder.

Laird Macraig blustered past her, not sparing her a look. “Who approaches?”

Breac ducked his head in deference. “Riders from Scaurness, Laird.”

Red splotches of anger stained the older man’s face. “Dinnae let them in. Warn them away.”

“Nae!” Gilda darted past the men. The iron-studded gates stood open, though the portcullis barred the way. She waved at the guards. “Let them in!”

Gazes flickered from her to the two men behind her.

Damn! Stubborn old fools!
The guards would never obey her orders over the laird’s. She whirled, her gaze seeking the narrow gate in the wall well away from the main entrance. She lifted her skirt with her hands, yanking the cloth out of her way as she rushed to the slender portal.

With a fierce look daring them to stop her, she startled the posted guard into inaction as she gave the latch a solid yank. Pulling the gate open, she ran through the door and straight into the path of the approaching horsemen.

Her eyes misted; whether from the emotions swirling inside her or the cold wind in her face, she wasn’t sure. Her heart pounded in her chest and in a move she’d long perfected, she lifted her arms to her da’s embrace.

He swung her up to his horse’s back, reining him to a halt as he tightened his grip on her. “Are ye wanting to go home, lass?”

His rough voice filled her with the sense of security she missed, his willingness to champion her evident. Realizing how her actions must seem, Gilda shook her head, speechless as tears clogged her throat. They sat for a moment, wrapped tight together as she steadied herself.

She dragged the back of a hand across her eyes. “Nae. I am just glad to see ye. I dinnae expect…”

Her da cupped her chin in his hand, tilting her face up. “Dinnae expect what, dearling?”

Gilda swallowed and tried to still her trembling smile. “I dinnae expect to see you again. Not so soon.”

“I still love ye,
mo chroí
. Ye will always be my sweet Gilda.” He peered at the archers posed on the parapet above them. “Do I sense a less-than-cordial welcome from yer father-by-marriage?”

She followed his gaze and nodded. “Aye. He dinnae want ye allowed inside.” She laid a hand on his arm as her gaze traveled over the twenty men with Da; stout, armed and ready for battle. “I am not sure if he would honor my request to see ye welcomed and fed.”

Her da snorted his opinion. “I have no doubt of our welcome.” He shifted in his saddle and reached inside his sporran. Pulling out a piece of parchment, he handed it to her. “Yer ma sent this to ye. She wanted to bring it, but ’tis still too dangerous.”

Gilda gave him a startled look. “But ye came.”

He smiled at her. “I dinnae think the pirates will bother the lads and me. And I brought ye Fia.”

Beaming with delight, Gilda spotted her mare tethered to a soldier’s saddle.

Her da touched her hand. “I dinnae know what the letter says, though I can guess. Mayhap ye would like to read it when ye are alone.” His face held a gentle, loving expression.

Why had she doubted Da had her good at heart? Not that she believed he would have allowed her to marry Ryan, but she should never have wondered if he loved her. Tears filled her eyes and she leaned against his chest.

His arms settled around her and held her close. “Yer ma and I would like to visit when things settle down. Ye are always welcome at Scaurness, Gilda. No matter what.”